-Rainer-

“Tell me, everything you know about the unblessed.”

Somehow, the Inquisitor seemed thrice his size as he glared down at the two minotaurs. The darkened steel armour glimmered menacingly against the torch-light, the stone walls in the room feeling narrower. Both minotaurs were reduced to glancing at each other with doubt.

The young male had felt rage at Arwen not having been killed then and there, but that feeling was quickly evaporating by the glare levelled at him through the armour’s vizor.

“We… already have, Inquisitor.” Yselda spoke up. “He had oddities, but… we never...”

The hulking man’s gaze swivelled from her and focused on Rainer, the male minotaur feeling small under the intensity. “Tell me how your former Master captured him.”

“He bought…” The words died in his throat with the growl the Inquisitor let out.

“That man took the effort to learn several phrases in Common, specifically to denounce he’d been captured illegally by your former dwarf Master.” A second growl. “Now, answer..”

Rainer gulped, clenching his fists at the overwhelming feeling of helplessness that began to burn in his chest. A powerful urge to remain silent coursed through him, and for a fleeting instant, he considered carrying through with it.

Yselda’s hand brushed against his, and he looked at the female minotaur with doubt. As if reading his mind, she shook her head.

Master Cu was dead, and they weren’t.

“I was with the Master when he found the human; at the time, Master Cu had just been told his request for a permit to own a mage-slave was denied.” He sighed deeply. “We were in the main street, and we saw this oddly dressed and oddly behaving human.”

“Oddly how?” The Inquisitor pressed on.

“He was just… he appeared dazed.” The minotaur shook his head. “My Master told me to remain at a distance unless I was needed, and he approached the human. Master managed to convince him to go with him to eat at…” Rainer’s throat tightened. “...at the Brimming Mug.”

He felt a sense of exasperation surging from his chest at the thought of his father, but the feeling of Yselda’s hand against his fingers gave him what he needed to quickly focus past that. “My Master tested him for…”

“Tested him how?” The booming voice snapped dryly. “Give me the details.”

“Uh…” Rainer frowned and shook his head slightly. “Master had… an item, made of glass, it was a…” He was looking for the word but it didn’t come to his mind, he’d never really paid much attention to it.

“Master Cu had an orb he carried with him at all times.” Yselda stepped in with the explanation. “It shone with colours when someone touched it with their unprotected hands.”

“A Mana Tester.” Their superior nodded. “So the human touched it and it shone red and black and your Master didn’t know what that means?”

Rainer shook his head. “I saw them from outside, when the human touched the orb, it shone brightly like a rainbow. That was when Master Cu had him drink something that had been drugged and restrained him and had me carry him on horse all the way to the manor.”

Silence followed, the Inquisitor neither changing his expression nor saying anything. “...like a rainbow. Are you certain?”

He nodded. “It was white and with many different colours.”

There was an imperceptible shift in the man, a small shift in the shoulders, a sudden thickness to the air that made it harder to breathe, a slight forward tilt to the helmet. What had once been a generally threatening and imposing man abruptly felt dangerously sharp as if a knife were placed against one’s throat.

“So you’re telling me your former Master did something to that human that resulted in him becoming...” A pause. “No, your former Master took away someone’s blessing.” The tremor in his voice carried with it the rumbling of thunder. “Do you even realize what… no, it doesn’t matter.”

Both minotaurs took a step back in apprehension.

“You’re going to tell me everything that dwarf was involved in.”

Somehow, the underground stone room became colder, Rainer felt himself cornered even as it was he who stood nearest to the center of the room. The doubt about whether or not he should reveal what he knew about his former Master was swept away as he realized further loyalty would only earn him (and most importantly Yselda) an early grave.

So he spoke about the dealings Master Cu was prone to making while in the city. There wasn’t much in terms of things that could be deemed illegal, save of the illegal enslavement of one low-life or another before cleaning them up and selling them off for a small profit.

“It was when Master Cu had come back from an auction with the altar that he began showing interest in acquiring a slave-mage.”

The Inquisitor had not moved since the beginning of the questioning, not a single millimetre. The only sign of life he gave from within his impenetrable steel armour was asking questions for further explanation of something. “The altar he later used to recharge artifacts, correct?”

“Yes.”

With the slightest nods, the man turned to leave. “That will be all, I will send someone to retrieve the altar from the ruins of your former Master’s manor.”

Rainer mustered what courage he could find to speak out. “Inquisitor, if I may.”

That brought the mass of metal to a stop. “Speak.”

“I… will Arwen pay for his crime?” The male minotaur tensed as he stepped forward. “As Inquisitor, do you swear-.”

“Stop.” The voice thundered from within the confines of the steel armour, the entirety of the Inquisitor’s body shifted to face him. “Step forwards.” At his command, the minotaur did as told. The Inquisitor’s glare burned through the helmet’s visor. “Tell me, Rainer. What are you?”

Hesitation followed the question, Rainer gulped. “I’m an Initiate.” A momentary pause. “Inquisitor.” He hastily added.

“And what gives you the impression an Initiate has any right or privilege to doubt their superior, let alone order them to make any kind of oath?” His voice was calm and level, but chillingly so.

Rainer shuddered. “None… sir.” He bowed his head.

“Good.” The Inquisitor nodded, turning towards the other minotaur. “Yselda, take Initiate Rainer and look for Captain Pearl; you are to inform her that by my authority I’m placing Rainer exclusively under her direct authority and she may do with him as she wishes. You are to return to the inn immediately afterwards and remain there until tomorrow, you’ll receive further orders then.”

“Yes, Inquisitor.” Yselda spoke, barely a quiver in her voice.

A breath of silence, and Inquisitor Benavidez stepped aside, showing them the door. Both minotaurs looked at eachother, and the female quickly took the lead opening the door so the male could follow.

“Initiate Rainer.” Their superior’s voice remained calm as he stared at the frozen male minotaur right before he could step out. “I expect that whatever order Captain Pearl gives you, you will carry it out eagerly and diligently regardless of its nature or scope.” A firmness in the voice gave it a sense of finality. “Am I understood?”

“Yes… Inquisitor.” The male minotaur realized there was more to the nature of the punishment he was receiving than what was readily seen. He grit his teeth with a feeling of impotence and bowed his head, not needing further prompting to leave and close the door behind him.

Yselda was looking at him with a mix of pity and apologetic understanding. It was a look he had not seen from her in years, but one he understood well. The female minotaur did not speak, merely taking a moment to grasp his hand in hers and giving him a slow meaningful nod.

The words needed not be spoken. ‘I’m sorry.’

Rainer returned the nod and followed her as they took the only path they knew towards the upper levels. The male minotaur did not speak while Yselda asked the various guards and soldiers for directions to the Captain. The garrison was easy to navigate but right now the both of them felt as if trapped within a labyrinth of stone and torches. Neither of their minds were focused on the halls and corners they traversed but rather on what was about to happen.

Two knocks against a wooden frame. A voice called out. “Come in.”

The room was above ground and there was a small window through which sunlight streamed inside. Both minotaurs stopped in front of the woman that was Captain Pearl, the wind-mage having lowered her hood to reveal her short and unevenly cut silver hair. A moment ago, she’d been talking with a dark-skinned soldier, but at the sight of the two minotaurs she dismissed the man with a wave of her hand.

“You two are Inquisitor Benavidez’s recruited Initiates, correct?” She asked while calmly facing them, arms behind her back. “Why are you here?”

“Yes… Captain, we are Initiates.” Yselda hesitated slightly as she spoke. “We are here because the Inquisitor ordered that… Initiate Rainer be put under your personal command.”

The woman’s steel blue eyes turned towards the male minotaur. She stepped towards him and slowly let her gaze move down his body before coming back up. There was the slightest upturning of her lips at this, but it was quickly replaced by a stern nod. “You will be immediately put to work with the reconstruction efforts.” She declared, then stopped for a second as she acknowledged Yselda’s presence a second later, the female minotaur’s hands tightly clenched into fists. “Unless there’s anything else, you are dismissed, Initiate.”

She tensed, her brows knitting together into a single line. “Yes, Captain.” Her voice was strained as she turned to leave, her eyes meeting Rainer’s and only the most marginal sense of anger making it through her deep brown eyes. He wasn’t sure why Yselda had reacted that way, but he couldn’t ask as his partner left, the door closing behind her.

The near silent click of the door felt just as if it had been slammed shut.

“Initiate Rainer.” Pearl’s voice spoke smoothly, regaining his attention. “Look for Acolyte Hammerblow in the northern districts. He should be easily recognizable by the scar on his face. Tell him I sent you and give him this.” She reached within her robes and pulled out a small wooden coin. “He will be the one to assign whatever tasks you are to carry out in regards to the reconstruction.”

“Yes, Captain.” He replied reaching out to grab the coin.

Her fingers trapped his as he grasped the small wooden object. Blue eyes focused on his once more as a grin formed albeit only on the right side. “Don’t lose it.”

“Yes, Captain.” The minotaur pulled his hand from her grasp and the slight sense of unease before bowing and stepping out not wanting to remain in that room any longer.

-Inquisitor Benavidez-

He had waited for merely a minute once the minotaurs had left before exiting the room and heading to leave the garrison, but not before leaving behind orders for the soldiers to organize a small group to send to Cu’s burnt manor. That altar was to be retrieved and inspected, the last thing the world needed was the means to remove the blessing of the ordinary people.

But the prisoner wasn’t ordinary, that was Benavidez’s current hope. That whatever the altar did it only caused such an effect in very few, rare cases. What would happen if that wasn’t the case and the number of blood-mages could be increased by such drastic numbers? It could very well spell out the doom of the world at large.

As he walked down the street, his mind returned to the threat the prisoner had issued, of the death of the dragon.

The very thought brought a chill to the hulking man. His greatest secret had been discovered. Who else knew about it? Were there any in the Church aware of that young dragon’s full name? Memories turned to the past, to that fateful day he had brought the cult to its knees and released the dragon from its magical constraints. Of the mystical being’s blessing and of its oath of gratitude.

“Inquisitor.” The man who’d rushed out of the garrison to catch up to him panted slightly. “We have news regarding the spirit-mage.”

Benavidez looked at the man with an impassive expression on his face. Silence was the only thing that came from him.

“There’s only one in the city. She goes by the name of Nana.” The soldier was still struggling to recover his breath. “The court refuses our request for they need her services currently.”

He needed answers and he needed them now. The Inquisitor gave the soldier a nod to dismiss him and his march gained much purpose in each of his steps.

If the language the prisoner spoke was that of spirits then so be it. He would acquire one to serve as translator. Thundering steps moved across the cobblestone, the Inquisitor turning his march straight towards the main castle.

Whoever stepped into his path would hastily realize their folly and move away. Guards and beggars alike, neither kept their position blocking his way for longer than it took them to turn their heads and see him coming like an unstoppable force.

But stop it did as soon as it reached the gates to the castle. “I am here to talk to the mages.” He intonted coldly. “Take me to mage Nana.”

The guards at the door looked amongst each other with uncertainty. One of them whispered something to another and the second quickly stepped past the gate to head inside. The first guard turned towards Benavidez. “This could take a while, Inquisitor.”

“I will wait.” Was the only response he gave.

And he did.

Throughout the whole two hours he spent waiting he did not move nor give any signs of discomfort as he remained fully armoured under the sun. Something that caused a mild sense of amusement course through the Inquisitor; his ability to ignore the discomfort and not move was one that had been trained into him during his early years in the service of the church but it was one he had honed well.

When the guard came back there was someone else who’d came along with him. It was a rather young looking man. His clothes fine silk and the look in his eyes one of exasperation. That look quickly turned awry at the sight of the Inquisitor. “Inquisitor.” He bowed his head slightly in greeting. “I thought we’d answered the inquiry regarding the request for a spirit-mage?”

Benavidez looked down at him, more precisely down at his brown, neatly combed hair. “You did. That is why I’m here.” Bending down slightly he growled from inside his helmet. “The Church needs the services of the spirit-mage. More precisely, we require a bound spirit.”

“Ah…” He gulped and stepped back slightly attempting and failing to seem unaffected a moment too late. “Unfortunately, the few bound spirits we had available were lost during the dragon’s rampage.”

The Inquisitor’s jaw tightened as he mentally estimated the time and resources a spirit-mage would take to bind even a low rank spirit. It was too much time. Time he did not have. “Then we will be asking for the services of Nana the spirit-mage.”

“Quite the predicament, I assure you, but I am quite certain that’s not possible.” The man spoke hastily. “The kingdom has tasked her with a rather delicate matter and as such she is not available. I assure you she would be open to discuss the terms of a contract with the Church in three or four days.”

Not enough time. “No.” He stepped forward. “Take me to whomever has the authority to reassign her work.”

“That… that would be me…” He was turning paler with every word, tucking the neck of his tunic in an attempt to breathe better.

That brought a moment of pause to the Inquisitor, the gears in his head turning slowly but surely. He had magic that could puppet the man’s body but it would be useless in this context, not to mention unnecessarily risky. A spell was muttered under his breath and the guards very suddenly froze in place, deaf, blind, mute, petrified on the spot by the powerful curse Benavidez had cast.

He reached behind him and pulled from his pouch a small silk cloth. He handed it to the panicking man and allowed him to inspect the red cloth and its gold embroidered sigils. “One favor from me.” The Inquisitor stated firmly. “No questions asked.”

With but a thought the curse was released and the guards screamed as one jumping back and pulling out their weapons.

“Stop!” The noble declared firmly clutching the cloth and tucking it into his pocket looking equal parts nervous and filled with anticipation. “Return to your posts, immediately.” At his words, the men glanced at one another but nodded, shooting fearful glares at Benavidez.

“Well?” The Inquisitor insisted.

Silence, the man closed his eyes. “Tonight, the mage is with the Queen.”

Benavidez grimaced but nodded. “Tonight then.” He’d been about to leave but raised a hand. “And warn her she will have a geas put on her, were she to reveal the nature or details of what the Church will ask her to do, she will die.”

A grim nod and they parted ways.

-Margad-

It didn’t make sense.

Margad had received tutoring from the best mentors, demons who’s age could be easily tens of times his own. He had certainly paid far more attention to the practical application of the classes, but he hadn’t been allowed to slouch on the theory.

Not to mention that, once he started being an active member of the demon-army, he had always kept a close eye to the reports regarding what magics, techniques, and skills the enemies of the demon-race showed to have.

He hadn’t once heard of blood-mages being able to cast magic through rune inscriptions even after their magic had been sealed. “That’s because mages as a rule never really draw a rune in blood and let it sit waiting to be used; so whatever weak effect the rune might have shown didn’t get the chance to manifest.” He’d explained. “And blood-mages that were captured likely never really thought to test it or most likely never got the opportunity to.”

‘But you’d said that it was only now that you’ve learnt you’re a blood-mage.’ The words remained within the blue demon’s mind, but he did not voice his opinion. Arwen, the human, always had the perfect explanation, the perfect excuse. No matter how Margad would try to probe, he would be deflected.

‘He is lying.’ Was the conclusion he had come to. ‘But where is the lie?’ The question inevitably followed the statement.

Margad carefully showed Arwen the various runes he was absolutely certain he knew how to draw perfectly using only his tail. But his mind was elsewhere, attempting to look for the truth. ‘What has he shown to know? What are you certain is not a lie?’

He knew the true name of a dragon. He’d known exactly how the Second-Princess looked like, and the fact that it was Margad’s deepest shame. He knew the inner workings of magic in a way that allowed him to easily explain it, secrets so simple a child could comprehend them. Secrets Margad was certain no mage would have divulged to anyone other than their direct successor. He was fearless once he began to talk with a confidence in his own words only a noble could possess. But he would also speak with little refrain or care about one’s position in the world.

Margad’s frustration mounted. It just didn’t make sense. No matter who he thought of, anyone in the situation Arwen was in would’ve taken vastly different decisions. It was as if the very way the human thought was completely incompatible out of principle.

He gazed at Arwen uneasily as he carefully drew a rune with the blood he’d gathered from the wound on his arm. “Arwen.”

The word caused him to turn towards the demon, inquisitive brow raised. “Hm?”

“Do you know how the world was made?”

The question brought a shrug from Arwen as he returned to closely observing the rune he’d made. “Which version? Because I know there’s at least three different interpretations.” He appeared bored at the question. “The Church insists the whole world is but an island in an endless sea, the stars and the very sun rising from the watery depths and going back into them. The believers of the ‘older gods’, or rather, most people, believe the world was carved out of the heart of the Mother Titan.” The pause came as he began intently observing the rune, waiting, fingers drumming against the cold stone. “And the demons believe the world lies on a bowl atop a massive tree that sprouted, with some aid from the Gods, from the balls of a slain Titan.”

‘Belief.’ The word grated Margad, noting quite easily how the human spoke as if the creation of the world itself was merely an idea. “And what do you believe?”

Arwen shrugged. “I believe that there’s little point to thinking about it; it’s not like one idea being true over another would make any difference.”

“It would if you deal with spirits though.” Margad prompted.

That made the human hum to himself and tilt his head in thought. “Oh, yeah, I guess it would. The Old Gods teach that spirits are dreams from the Gods made manifest; the Church state they’re the memory-less souls of deceased heroes and saints; and the demons…” He tilted his head slightly. “Demons believe dragons and spirits were once a single existence, but they were split in two by the Gods as punishment for attempting to go against the Celestial order.” A humourless laughter escaped him. “So in the end, spirit-mages have to decide whether they’re talking to a manifestation of a God’s subconscious, a fallen millenia-old ghost of a hero, or the ‘other-half’ of a dragon.”

“You’ve met the Ruler of Spirits, you have glimpsed into his nature.” The demon declared with a humourless chuckle. “What did you think?”

“Hm…” Arwen looked upwards as he rubbed his chin in consideration, it was not the sort of expression someone would make when seeking an answer but instead when considering how to word the response properly. “I think it’s a little too convenient how all the religions have come to claim that spirits hold an intrinsic connection to whatever entity the belief itself regards in great esteem.”

The demon suppressed the sense of shock from the words and put aside the thoughts that were now starting to assault his mind in regards to the nature of spirits and instead doubled down on the human. “And what impression did you get of the Ruler of Spirits?”

He laughed slightly. “And why would you wish to know that?”

Margad grit his teeth and growled. “Tell me.”

The smile on the human’s lips vanished. “No.”

Anger swelled. “Why not.” Grumbled the demon.

“You know why.” Arwen replied with a snap. “I never really considered that you’d have discovered that the impression someone has of the Ruler of Spirits is directly linked to who they are as a person.” He said with words that felt akin to praise in some vague sense for some reason. “So no, I’m not going to answer your question any more than you would were I the one asking… not unless you’d rather I lie about it.”

The answer made Margad feel unease. There was something about the way he’d said it that was wrong.

A pale, red flame sparked into existence above the drawn rune. Arwen’s focus shifted, eyes widening as he laughed, grinning from ear to ear before quickly muddling the rune with his feet and standing up. When he glanced back towards Margad, all signs of hostility were entirely gone. “Anyways, it seems my theory was correct so how about we start working on our escape plan?”

The demon glanced at the remains of the rune and pondered. “What’s your plan?”

“How’s your magical power holding up?” He replied.

A second of consideration passed.

Ah, of course. Margad nodded, if they managed to remove his shackles he’d be able to cast magic. Maybe he wasn’t in the best of conditions but demons were sturdy even with what meager food made its way into his belly, he should be quite capable of slaughtering his way out.

“We’ll want to make a tunnel or find some way to access the underground ruins.” Arwen stated.

“Why?” The words made the demon scowl. “No human here would stand a chance against me now that I have recovered some of my power.”

“Benavidez.” He shrugged. “That Inquisitor may not have as much power as you do, but I’ve also little doubt his armour can keep him alive for long enough for him to put some nasty curse on you.” Pausing, the human’s gaze locked to the door as if he could see past it. “I could feel it when he was preparing to cast his magic, he’s a blood-mage like me. A powerful one.”

Margad had felt the human’s power as well and though he would’ve normally dismissed it, the fact that it was from a blood-mage gave the demon enough of a pause. A curse from a sufficiently strong blood-mage would be impossible to remove.

Not something he wanted to experience.

As much as he would’ve wanted to kill every human within this structure, escape should take priority. “We’re deep enough that it shouldn’t be too hard to find a connection to the underground ruins.” Margad spoke, carefully twisting his wrists inside the metal bindings and grimacing at the uncomfortableness of his restrains.

“Not only that, if a tunnel is made and then destroyed they’d know we’re in the ruins and sound the alarms.” Arwen stated. “I’m quite sure your subordinates are attentive enough of the Church’s movements that they’d know what’s going on and make a move.”

A nod marked the understanding but then Margad frowned. “And what will you do once you’re in the ruins?”

The human seemed surprised at the question then shrugged. “I’ll probably follow you and yours until we’re out of the Church’s immediate grasp. Then I’ll give you what I came here to give in the first place and we’d each be on our way.”

“Orders from the Demon Lord?” The question was loaded, no one was allowed to consider their orders changed unless they received the order through a magically sealed message.

“No, just some information, as well as a message for the Demon Lord.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

Margad frowned. “You don’t have any way to send the message yourself?”

“I do, it’s just that the information is urgent and you’d be the quickest way to get it there.” Arwen sighed while he sat down. “Thank fuck mana-rich blood prevents infections…” He muttered under his breath.

A question would’ve been raised regarding what he meant but it soon became clear as the human clenched his teeth and stuck his toe into the cut wound the Inquisitor had made near his elbow. A groan escaped him and the blood began to dribble out once more. “So… the unlocking rune-set?”

The blue demon took a second to process what was happening and shook his head. “We should wait until night time.”

Arwen shook his head. “The Inquisitor knows I’m a blood-mage now, and has decided not to immediately kill me. That means he will want to avoid me from having ways to bleed on whoever is going to come over and give me the tough-love kind of interrogation.” He showed the bleeding wound. “That means this is going to get healed as soon as he’s given the update in protocol to whoever’s in charge. And I doubt I’ll get my hands on anything that’ll make this big a wound anytime soon.”

Conceding the point after a moment’s consideration, an idea formed in Margad’s head and he began to chew on it. Attempting to conceptualize a known spell into its runic form took him a handful of minutes, but he managed since it wasn’t intended to be too grand. “It’s going to be more complex than the flame one. You’re going to start drawing a circle about as wide as your hips. It should also be the thickest line you use… considering the restraints you have, you may need to pour blood on to it repeatedly.”

“This is gonna suck.” The human muttered, carefully following the instructions. The more he progressed the more his arms began to shake which made the smaller rune drawing harder. But at least he managed to ensure that whenever the little stream of blood would drip, the droplet would fall on to the larger circle he’d been drawing.

“Now all you have to do is place your cuffs on top… if it doesn’t work then it will need more blood.” Margad spoke calmly, hiding the sense of anticipation that began to blossom in the near imperceptible twitch of his tail.

Arwen did as told, and as soon as the shackles touched the inscription they clicked and fell off. “It worked!” He said, only a moment too soon before the magic of the inscription leapt from the circle and towards his hands. With a yelp, the human jumped back and rubbed at his wrists where there was now a black line emerging.

Confusion followed, and then realization that led to shock. Margad could only smirk. “It seems you don’t know much about simple runic contracts.”

Arwen’s face stiffened into a serious glare. “What does it do.” It wasn’t a question, it was a growl.

“It exchanges one set of chains for another.” Margad’s lips curved further upwards, eyes glinting in the dark. “The cuffs were removed but now you’re unable to tell lies… if you do, your hands will be cut off.”

“Oh.” The human looked down at the black stripe running around his wrists then back up to the demon. "Shit." A mutter, a growl, the frown deepened, anger was quickly mounting. "Do you even realize how badly you’ve fucked up?” It was increasing, frown turning into a scowl, lips curling as his face appeared to wrinkle all together. “Try to use that brain of yours. Try to take a moment and process the consequences of what you’ve just done.”

Marga growled in return. “How dar-”

“SHUT UP YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!” Arwen roared as he slammed his hands to grasp at the bars that kept their cells separated. “You removed my ability to lie when we’re still within the very heart of power of the Church! Do you even…!? AGH!”

“We will escape.” Margad said simply.

“Oh, yeah? Tell me how you’re going to escape, oh chained demon.” Arwen sneered as he turned his back against him and crouched to look at the runic drawing he’d made closely. “Because you just gave me every reason not remove those cuffs from you unless I have a fucking bear-trap on your balls… something I really would have wanted to avoid.” Dipping the fingers from his right hand into the cut on his left arm, he retraced the individual runes separate from one another, five in total. “You also gave me the means to get out of here without you if I wanted to take that option.”

“You don’t know the spell.” The demon scoffed, irritated.

“No, but I know it’s among these.” Arwen replied calmly, taking the removed cuffs and closing them before putting them atop the first rune to watch how it reacted. “You can’t write a ‘Open lock, put curse of truth’ without using a ‘Open lock’ rune now can you?”

“You won’t make it ten steps out of there.” The unease increased and he growled.

“Well, that’s more your fault than mine; you proved you are someone I can’t trust.” Pausing, Arwen shot him an evil grin. “Oh, and you’re a bastard by the way, your father lied to you about who your mother is.”

Margad’s eyes widened and locked on the black bands around Arwen’s wrists, expecting them to turn red and burn their way through his flesh, they had to. “You lie.” He growled.

“No lost hands, see?” The human sneered, moving the cuffs to the second rune. “One rune down, four to go. Now, Margad bastard son of your father’s greatest mistake, let me shed some light as to the severity of what you’ve done.” His eyes shifted from the shackle to the demon. “I know the true name of the dragon that slumbers in the depths of the volcano of the demon realm. And I know that speaking its true name will wake him from his sleep and cause the volcano to erupt and kill almost every single demon.”

The human’s eyes glinted with the threat. “It would take me speaking just twelve syllables and almost every demon would be wiped from the map within the hour. But that’s not all, it gets worse.” His brows knitted together. “Because out there, there’s someone else who knows that dragon’s true name, and they will wake him up unless I prevent it from happening.”

Margad’s stomach dropped. “It’s broken.” he spoke in a single breath. “The spell must have not worked properly.”

Coldly, Arwen raised both wrists for him to see. “The fact that I am a girl…” The black became red, the human grimacing. “...is a lie.” He quickly added, shuddering as the glow died down.

Click

The human’s eyes glanced down at the now unlocked cuffs, and then back at Margad, anger and determination clear in his glare. “So I have put my cards on the table. I really didn’t want to go down this path but you were an utter idiot at the worst of times. I tried doing this the nice way and you’ve proven that your sense of honour only extends as far as demons go… my fault for thinking otherwise, a mistake I won’t repeat.”

He drew the rune on the lock of the cell and after a moment it opened. The next lock was that of Margad’s cell.

Arwen stepped into the cell and glared at the blue demon. “This is how it’s going to work. I am going to free you and you are going to confirm that indeed the binds of truth are working as you designed them to then you will remove them.” He glared at the disbelieving Margad.

The chained demon tensed. “And then?”

“And then you’re going to do what I tell you to do.” Arwen replied. “Because you will know that I didn’t lie when I said I can awaken the dragon that would wipe out the Demon Realm overnight. And you will also know that killing me won’t change a thing because there’s someone out there who will awaken that cataclysm unless I get to do the things I very much intend to do.”

The demon frowned. “What do you intend to do? What’s your objective?”

The human paused, then shrugged. “My objective can be fulfilled with demon-kind growing past the boundaries of their island; or with demons being entirely wiped out. The middle ground where demons slowly die out because they bit off more than they could chew is the worst possible way things could turn out.” He replied calmly, raising his wrist to show it to him. “I will prioritize letting demons grow as a whole because it’s the quickest way for me to achieve my goal… just be aware that it’s not the only way.”

“I’d rather die than betray…”

“Betray who?.” The human rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “If the demons die out, there won’t be anyone you could betray to begin with.”

“Then why ask?” Indignation swelled and he spat. “What difference is there if I agree or not?”

Arwen grinned. “I’m asking because I’m nice that way.” The expression darkened again. “Now, your answer.” He glanced over his shoulder for a second. “And make it quick.”

Margad’s tail lashed with agitation, his eyes burning intensely as he glared at the human. His hands clenching before he growled out the words. “I will.”

“Good.” The blood-mage drew the rune and though he had to use some more blood than what he’d spent on his own cuffs they eventually clicked open.

The demon didn’t waste a second grasping the human by the neck and slamming him against the wall pinning him in place. Though there was a moment of shock, the human quickly recomposed himself and looked the demon in the eyes. The words were spoken through gritted teeth showing his blackened wrists. “Go on, check.”

The spell was cast with but a thought and then it was cast once more. Then one more time. And then a fourth time. Every time the spell came back with the same result, each time the image of the obsidian towers of Namsil crumbling under a rain of fire and ash turning that much clearer.

The panic and dread that had clung so desperately to the idea of the words having been a lie blossomed as Margad’s stomach fell. Suddenly the ground didn’t seem so stable anymore and he had to step back, mind reeling at the implications that now he could do nothing but take them seriously.

His grip released the human and all too suddenly he felt like the one standing in front of him was much more than what his senses could perceive. “Who, no… what are you?” He couldn’t stop the words from escaping his lips. The cell was so much smaller now. He was trapped.

Arwen let out a short, humourless chuckle at his question. “You’re better off not knowing.” His voice had a dark amusement to it.

-Arwen-

Margad hesitated as his finger touched the black ink on my wrists, the panic and fear he’d shown was being, slowly, calmed down. I myself grew doubtful at this sign, not too sure whether it was a good idea to let him think straight or not… but I dismissed the thought of disturbing him further, he needed to be clear-headed to ensure escaping wouldn’t be impossible. That and the fact that I very much doubted I’d be able to keep him in such a disturbed state perpetually.

I mean, I still had munition, but not that much.

“I need to know something.” His eyes hardened and closed before I could read further into them. “What did you mean about me being my father’s greatest mistake?”

“That’s your question?” I snapped back. “We have a short amount of time before things get complicated and I tell you I could kill all of demon-kind with but a phrase, and that is your question?”

The blue demon snarled but looked away, thank fuck, it wasn’t that he was rebelling against our still-fresh agreement or that the effect of the threat had lessened. Were that the case, so soon, I’d be in serious trouble by the time we got out of the Church’s grasp.

I decided to throw him a bone. “Fine, whatever, if you want this to be the last forced truth I say before you remove these, then so be it.” I took in a deep breath. “The short of it is that your father intercepted slave traders infected with the red plague, fell in love with one of the slaves, hid evidence of the slavers being infected, ignored the risk that the female slave was a carrier, and throughout the next year a third of the demon population had been left crippled and unable to use magic because of it. Your father rightly blamed himself for the whole thing even though he never had the knowledge as to why or how.”

Margad frowned. “What is a ‘carrier’?”

“It’s when you have the disease but you don’t show signs… the illness won’t hurt you, but the disease is still alive and well inside you, so it can still spread to others.” I quickly explained, shaking my wrists at him. “How about we save the questions until after we are no longer in a Church torture room?”

“My mother.” He held my wrists, strongly. It actually made me flinch. “Where is my mother?”

Immediately I realized where he’d been leading to with these questions, and I clamped my mouth shut. No way in hell I was going to release that information, she was part of his redemption arc, but as he was now it would make it impossible to use him not to mention he’d likely start acting more strongly against a peaceful resolution. “I am not going to answer any more questions about your family tree.” I stated flatly.

There must have been something in the way I answered, because his eyes widened abruptly. “She’s alive.”

And here came the part I began to berate myself over all of this. Fucking fuck, I grit my teeth. “She is.” With a growl I shoved against him, well, it was more a token gesture considering how strong he was comparatively. “Get this fucking enchantment off of me NOW.”

“Tell me.” Eyes flared with rage and magic.

Nope, not going to happen, I’d lose a lot of control over him. “If you do not remove the enchantment, the next words out of my mouth will be the name of the dragon sleeping within the volcano.” Good thing I’m not specifying which volcano, dragons liked sleeping in those warm places, I could think of at least four whose names I could speak without bringing about the annihilation of a race.

It might turn into my death as an angry dragon comes my way, but at least for that I’d hopefully have the time to get out of doge.

That got him out of the anger and right back into mild fear and apprehension. I had to crane my neck up to look into his eyes, but I was doing everything I could to stare him down hard. I couldn’t back down, if I did then any and all threats I made would be meaningless.

His hands let go of mine. “Done.” He stated with a much milder tone to his voice albeit still rather begrudging.

I looked down with slight amazement, I hadn’t even felt him dispel it. Oh yeah, he was even scarier like that, able to cast a lot of shit without giving any outward signs… this was going to be a problem when I least expected it, wasn’t it? “I am a little girl.” I spoke, and nothing hurt. Good. My eyes flickered back to him. “Are you going to focus on our escape or will the squishy human meat-bag with the answers die because you got careless?”

The grinding of his teeth was audible. “You will survive, and we will escape. Then I will ask you some questions.”

That made me smirk. “Margad, I hold the fate of the demons in and the knowledge about your mother in my hands.” I stepped towards him, snarling, I was so fucking pissed at this idiot for having put me into this inescapable situation of bluff-or-die, if I was certain a punch could hurt him I would’ve thrown one right about now. “You are mine to do as I please, if I tell you to sit you fucking glue your ass to the floor, and if I tell you to jump you will ask me how high.” With the most powerful glare I could muster, and with every bit of courage I had available, I reached up to grasp at his horn. He flinched in shock and surprise and I took the opportunity to pull him down so we were eye-to-eye. “I don’t care about demons, or your birth-mother, so if you do any further stupid stunts, I will make you regret it. Deeply.”

In other words: Fuck. You.

“Now get to work.” My hands were shaking, I’d been sure I’d die from that, every instinct in my body had told me I should have died from that, that Margad was too proud and powerful, that he’d never let anyone do that to him let alone a human.

And now that I’ve let him go and saw him turn around, I could tell he was angry, but not enraged. Thank fuck. I couldn’t keep pressing my luck like this. I really didn’t want things to go this way, but I’d been cornered, and at this point, there was nothing else I could do about the situation. Man, it would’ve been so much better had I actually managed to befriend him rather than have to put a metaphorical blade to his throat to get things done.

It basically meant I wouldn’t be able to stick around for too long lest he start getting any other smart ideas like that self-enchantment. I guess in a way it was my own fault too. I had made him as the first BBEG the hero would have to overcome. And idiot me had underestimated him.

Not having gold-green eyes looking at me so intently was a relief by itself. My hands were shaking.

Barely a minute passed before he spoke. “The moment I start the tunnelling, they will know.” He called out as his tail twitched. “They would be here before I could finish.”

“Is it a spell to know the moment anyone’s trying to alter the building’s form?” I asked to which he shot me an odd look. “It’s what I’d use if I had the know-how.” Sighing, I scratched my head. “Can’t you just... make it so the tunnel comes all the way from the ruins and stops right before the detection spell’s range? Then we’d just have to knock down the wall and make the tunnel crumble right after we cross, it wouldn’t give them time.”

Again, he looked at me strangely but said nothing, turning his head upwards and muttering something under his breath. This time I could feel the magic. It was like there was a fire right above my head growing brighter every second but there wasn’t really heat so much as… heat? It was odd, a whole new sense on top of my five, and I wasn’t too sure how good a sign it was that I could feel it what with my novice level magic-detection abilities.

“What did you just do?” I asked him as the sensation abated and he looked at the room’s ceiling with a smirk.

“The room will collapse once we’re out.”

Not sooner, I hoped.

He turned towards the wall right of the door and this time I felt his magic but… it was so much more powerful than before. I almost instinctively reached to cover my face from the magic’s ‘heat’ but I was all too aware it wasn’t heat nor could I really use my body to protect myself against it. Inwardly I shuddered, this was Margad’s power in action and what was probably even more frightening was that I was sure if I were to step out of the room I wouldn’t feel a thing.

My first BBEG didn’t only have an large amount of magic, capable of fighting the Hero on his turf and win, but he had also spent sweat and blood on earning finesse in controlling it. Of all the combat mages in this setting, Margad was certainly up there. The Hero would’ve required to learn how to use his brain during a fight.

I had to wonder for a second how deeply I was fucking up the original story’s timeline. Margad wasn’t supposed to learn that he even WAS a bastard son until way down the road and the (not!-Medieval-Space-Marine) Inquisitor hadn’t been meant to even show up in the capitol until the slave revolts… fuck, everything was getting fucked and the whole plot wasn’t due to begin until some months further down the road.

It was almost as if I’d been placed precisely where I would do the most damage to my own story by sheer fact of me existing and not wanting to die or be enslaved and tortured indefinitely.

: 3

“...!”

It took me biting my own tongue to keep myself from saying anything, doing anything, or reacting in any way that would give Margad an excuse to look away from his task at hand and instead focus on me. I glared at that tiny text prompt, the thought clear in my mind. If I ever found the second author...

( ง •̀_•́)ง

My teeth were going to be grinded into dust at this pace. The taunting from the second author was not helping my nerves any, and the fact that he apparently had unrestricted access to my head was… extremely disconcerting. Not to mention disturbing. I felt like I was trapped and someone was looking over my shoulder constantly.

“It’s done.” Margad, thankfully, distracted me from those disturbing thoughts. How long had he been at it? I hadn’t been paying attention.

“Then you’ll be leading the way, captain.” He looked at me slightly startled but quizzically. “Once we get out of here, you aren’t going to tell anyone about our little deal. So as far as everyone else may be concerned, I’m just a human you saved on a whim or because you found a ray of compassion towards this inferior species in your heart.”

A scowl began to form, and his lips were parting as he prepared to say something.

I interrupted him. “We’re wasting time we don’t have. You’re going to be doing most of the work since I’m no fighter, and you know your powers better than anyone else in this room.” Well, for the most part.

I was also making the mistake of trusting him that if he told me to duck I should duck, but this time it was with the caveat that I was sure it came from a mutual interest for our mutual survival. Probably going to bite me in the ass again but there was only so much I could do from my current position and with my current combat powers (which were effectively nill).

Apparently not wanting to say, or hear, anything else, he pulled back his fist to charge it with mana; the air simmered while the glow of his fist was becoming incandescent to my ‘other’ senses. The room wavered with the power he was charging.

He let it loose all at once.

I’m not sure what was worse: the deafening THUD from the attack, the very dangerous way the room’s ceiling had cracked in multiple places or the purposeful shouting that could be heard through the prison-cell’s door immediately after.

I froze at the sense of panic that had so suddenly burst through me.

Margad looked at me expectantly as he stood next to the tunnel that had not been there a second ago. Deciding the scary blue demon was the safer option (talk about being cornered), I took one of the unlit torches and leapt into it.

Immediately I came to regret it, for the thing was far steeper than I’d initially estimated and right after began to tumble my way down. There was the sound of shouts, screams and a tremor that was followed by a cloud of smoke. All of which left me in a heap at the bottom of the newly-made tunnel.

There were sharp rocky edges pressing against my back, not something I was comfortable with.

The absolute darkness wasn’t either.

“They are going to start searching the ruins soon.” Margad’s voice spoke firmly and I very much intended to glare in the direction it came from.

“I don’t have dark-vision.” I stated flatly.

A prolonged silence followed.

“You didn’t seriously think I had dark-vision, did you?” I asked with a sense of dread as I stood up.

Wait, I was barefoot. In underground ruins with God only knew what grew and lived down here… eugh. Cringe aside, this was going to suck so hard. I was going to have to rely a lot on the whole “My blood kills stuff dead,” wasn’t I? I really didn’t want to start bleeding all over the place, probably wouldn’t be good news for the city as a whole.

“Torch?” I offered the one I’d taken with me and it was immediately slapped out of my hands.

“No.” He spoke with a grumble which was followed by his hands grasping my shoulders firmly. The amount of strength he showed was staggering. I was moved like a ragdoll, slung over his shoulder as he began to move.

“Wai-!” The yelp was strangled and immediately after the sense of indignity burned through me as he’d decided to handle me like a sack of potatoes. “I’m not a sack of potatoes.”

“I’d prefer a sack.” He snapped back.

My mouth snapped closed, better not complain about what seemed like the only solution to the current problem.

I just hoped we didn’t get lost down here, or worse, get caught by that crazy terminator-esque inquisitor...

I dared not speak those words out of fear it would jinx everything and yet as I had this thought another followed. A chill ran down my spine. Would it be considered just as bad as me saying it out loud if there was someone peeping into my head?

: P

Fuck.