Hide.

  Alleria ducked into a grimy gap between buildings, crouching low against the ground. She let out a deep breath and counted to ten. At nine, a slouching, hooded man crept forward, passing her without notice. He’d been shadowing her for a few streets, never getting too close, but dogging her steps nonetheless and slinking between the alleyways.

  “He could’ve been a normal bystander.”

  But were we willing to take the risk that he wasn’t?

  She readjusted her hat and continued down the dingy street. Rather walk the poorer streets of Fordain than risk the bustling and crowded main road. If she could, she would leave no trace of her presence in the memories of those she passed. Which was a tall order in Carathiliar, where having any skin lighter than cloudy grey would naturally turn eyes your way.

  Her eyes darted side to side, taking in the dimly lit streets and alleys. Dawn was only just arriving, but already dark figures crept out of their homes, like contemptuous creatures leaving their caves.

  She blinked and shook her arms a little. Character. She needed to be untraceable, just another foreigner in over their head, a stranger in a new land. She’d be noticed as much as any light-skinned Human, but that was all she’d be remembered for. What was she? She was…she was…

  Her eyes darted to a slumped-over figure, their face half covered in mud and dirt. His clothes were losing colour but had the hallmarks of long-lost grandeur, and in his eyes she saw what was.

  She Blinked.

  Alleria was a merchant, an inexperienced merchant, mind you, but working for powerful men. She’d trained as best she could for this moment, a trip to sell her wares in Carathiliar, the land of the grey-skinned dragonhunters. Now she wandered the worst of their streets, their streets of squalor, her mouth hanging open as she stared in abject horror at the state some were forced to live in. To hear of it was one thing, but to see it before her very eyes…

  The skills of bartering and trade ran through her head. The cost of living with basic amenities must have skyrocketed due to the shutdown of trade here over the last decade or so. Surely this was an untapped market that could be monopolised by a large enough Trade Charter from the Kingdom of Moren to the west, or even the Kingdom of Floraine to the South. Ah, but was the cost of travelling and establishing yourself here enough to entice a large economic entity to commit itself to such a long-term investment, especially in a foreign land known for its distrust of others…

  She snapped out of it. Drowning in the knowledge she had copied from that Carathiliar would let her retain it longer, but at risk of distracting herself, losing herself in the character she needed.

  Remember why we’re here.

  Barely half an hour later, she found herself deep within the district, standing in front of a small, maroon building; with its curved roof and jingling metal ornaments, at least the one’s not left discarded and rusted in the dirt, it was not unlike any other Carathiliarian home. The only thing that made it stand out was a symbol painted rather haphazardly on one of the walls, a symbol known throughout the South-West as the mark of an information-broker.

  She knocked once on the door and was answered with silence. She knocked a second time just to be sure, but likewise, after a minute, was rewarded with nothing. Sighing, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a quick reminder of what to do if this happened, as it was rumoured to do so.

  “In the name of Kraton, instructor of the True Chaos, bear me passage.” The words made her feel sick; no self-respecting merchant would dare utter the name of the God of Chaos, God of Unluck.

  Finally, the door swung open, revealing the face of, to her surprise, a foreign woman. Curious. She hadn’t known many would stomach permanently living in Fordain, of all places. Her skin was actually the opposite of what the Carathiliar found sensible and attractive, pale white and ghostly in disposition, like the Sun itself was an enemy she hid from day in and day out.

  “You are an information broker.” It wasn’t a question.

  The woman nodded. “That is what you seek?”

  “I’m told you are one of the best.”

  She was ushered into the building. The room was dark and illuminated only by a few candles set in corners, but it seemed well furnished from what dark shapes she could see. Certainly better decorated than a house in this part of town should be.

  “Certainly not a pleasant side of Fordain to put your roots down. You’d be better positioned closer to the main road, I’d think.”

  The information-broker, walking over to what looked to be a desk at the far end of the room, looked back and scoffed, “Only if you want everyone, their mother, father, and brother included, to know what you’re doing and where. No, this place is more practical.” Alleria thought there was a little bit of edge to her voice near the end.

  The woman sat down at her desk. “So? What is it you want to know, and I will tell you if it is in my power to give to you or find out.”

  She fiddled with her fingers. “I’m representing a trading association from the Kingdom of Moren that is interested in establishing relations and the ferrying of trading goods via way of a company known to reside in these parts.”

  “As do many who find the gold and services of many to make a living. What of this requires my services? Surely a woman such as yourself is more than capable of conducting such a search.”

  She shifted her feet nervously, making her figure seem smaller and diminutive. “Well… the truth is my master wanted me to make contact with this company close to a fortnight ago, and I have yet to find even a trace of them. The locals do not seem as… forthcoming to me, what with me being an outsider and all.”

  Even in the darkness, she could feel eyes boring into her. “This will cost you, more so if I have to conduct a search on your behalf and in a rush at that.”

  “Of course, I understand. I will pay any price to have this done.”

  The information-broker stood up and turned to a cupboard hidden in the dark, or something like that. In the dark, she couldn’t be sure, but she heard the sound of rustling parchment, then she turned back and began scribbling on it with a quill. Was she… writing in the dark?

  “And the name of this company? And the name of their leader, if you know it.”

  “The leader’s name is Brakenus, and he rides with the Company of the Degormanus.”

  Even in-character, the words felt foul, like rotting meat lathered over her tongue. She swallowed it back down.

  The scribbling stopped. “Brakenus of the Degormanus? Why do you seek the Demon Hunter General?”

  She tried to control her nerves. “It’s my master who seeks him, not I. He simply sees a potential partner in them.”

  “I was not aware that the Degormanus was seeking involvement with foreign traders.”

  “He is willing to supply their efforts for their aid in protecting trading shipments through the region.”

  She saw her head twitch. “Their cause is not looked kindly upon by all. Your master must know this. And yet he persists in making dealings with them?”

  “I can only hope to understand what he may see in them.”

  Silence.

  “Does he believe in their cause?”

  “I believe he does, but who can say?”

  “An interesting stance for a merchant to take.”

  “It would seem so.”

  There was another gap where neither said anything. She could feel her heart beginning to beat faster, and her hand twitched to the shortsword at her waist.

  “Do you-”

  “You dress strangely for a merchant, a new trend in Moren?”

  Her heart went cold. “Perhaps, but I find it safer, as a woman, to travel in disguise when I’m abroad, rather than run amok of any ne'er-do-wells.”

  She couldn’t see the woman’s face. “Rather smart.” The comment didn’t make her feel flattered.

  “Well, that’s-”

  “Why are you wearing a hat indoors?”

  Her arm locked in place, and the inexperienced merchant left her. She was left as just Alleria. And Alleria’s fight or flight instincts were screaming at her. Neither woman said anything, and as she strained her eyes to see her movements, a hand crept down to her sword’s hilt.

  It happened in an instant. There was a flash as light refracted off a blade, swinging towards her. She dropped to the ground, drawing her own blade. A thump above her and the draft of air on her head made her realise what the strike had really been aimed at.

  The light of dawn shone through the windows behind her, illuminating enough of the room that she saw, out the corner of her eye, a mirror leaning against a wall. In it was a crouching figure in well-worn clothing, a battered shortsword in their hand. And protruding from her skull, green ethereal horns of fire that curled around her hair.

  Gods damn her beyond death.

  “A fickle disguise, Demon. Did you think I wouldn’t know the moment you crossed into my home?”

  The woman stepped forward, crossing from behind her desk. As she did, her skin was hit by the rays of the light shining in. It wasn’t just pale or sickly, it was white, like the lilies of home or the clouds of the sky. Pale didn’t even begin to describe it. She stood out in the dark like the tales of ghosts that Humans told their young.

  She knew what this woman was. And she hated it.

  “Do you think I could not smell your stench, Demon? The rancid aroma of your accursed flesh as it stains my floors. It is the smell of a monster, the stench of a race of murderers. You. Are. Marked.”

  She tilted her blade, staying crouched low to the ground as she picked her hat up. The woman was fast, and if she was who Alleria thought she was, then the disadvantages of the low light would do nothing to hinder her.

  “You seem well informed of my kind. Is that a grudge I hear or a childhood interest?”

  “You are foul.” She growled, “As if you don’t know who I am, what you did to my people.”

  She bobbed her head side to side and smirked. “Of course, I always leave my schedule open for messing with a Talradian wench. Killing you would be a mercy, so you’re welcome.”

  With a snarl, the woman lunged forward, her thin blade thrusting forward to cut into her.

  She Blinked.

  In an instant, she spun her blade forward and deflected the attack. The sound of grinding metal filled the air. She was a swordswoman, trained in the blade for all her life in the hopes of felling Demons. And in this moment, she had the skill to match the woman before her.

  Their weapons met in a deadly melee, strike parrying thrust, slash missing as they dodged aside, only to return in another attempt for a lethal blow. The woman took a deep slash to her leg, but in return, Alleria left herself open to one of her thrusts. The blade dug deep into her shoulder, making her grunt in pain.

  She danced back, holding her sword forward in a defensive position. She put her free hand over her wound and felt her blood start to drip down her chest.

  “A Demon of House Elevar, I should have known.” Her tone was mocking.

  “The scum of all Demons, right?”

  Her glare was mirrored. “Even amongst Demons, you are the lowest. Your cousins destroyed us with their own hands, but you-”

  She spun her sword in a complicated, mesmerising thrust. But Alleria knew it; she slashed her blade forward and knocked back the attack, wincing at the strain it put on her muscles. The Talradian in front of her looked livid.

  “-only steal from others, rather than earn it yourself.”

  Well, she’s not that far off.

  The ground shook beneath her. Without warning, the stone floor warped and rippled into thin, knife-like shards that pierced her legs, locking her to the ground. She grunted as blue blood dripped down her thighs.

  “So it’s true then.”

  Another shard appeared and embedded itself in the back of her leg. She gritted her teeth, eyes darting across the room. No use, there was no indication of where the next spell would come from; she might as well be trying to catch a fly in the dark.

  “What now, daughter of Elevar? Is this a dance you hope to win?” She gloated, “Why prolong the inevitable?”

  Alleria ripped her leg free of the stone with the heartless disregard for her well-being only found in a swordswoman. Then the other, splattering the ground blue with her blood. Looking back at the shocked expression of the Talradian before her, she allowed herself one dry, waning smirk.

  “Thank you for your services.

  Before stumbling out the door behind her as fast as she could.

  She heard shouts behind her. She clambered around the corner, her legs screaming in pain. Confused shouts, no doubt from pedestrians, joined her chorus as the morning air filled with chaos. She felt for the wound at her chest but found it already sealing shut.

  Good.

  Scrunching her face in concentration, she focused all her energy on the legs to stop the bleeding and heal the muscles, pushing the broken skin and flesh back in her mind as an afterthought; she needed to prioritise. Gradually, strength returned to them, and she was able to move from a quick stumble to a slow run.

  And just in time to, she heard the shouts multiply and grow louder behind her as she darted between houses. The Talradian must’ve been vocal about what had happened, and the drops of blue blood on the ground no doubt gave what she said credence. The day was beginning, and more and more people would be wandering the streets, which meant her hope for subtlety was draining away fast. She’d be in trouble if she didn’t disappear soon. No doubt that woman would chase her to the ends of Andwelm.

  She held her wide hat down firmly on her head and sheathed her blade. As it currently stood, she would lose to a mage nine times out of ten, and that didn’t include the likes of her.

  Gods damn her. Damn her and those you marry swordsmanship and magic.

  They were always the worst to fight, the hardest to predict. How could you know if they were going to try and cut your head off or just blow it apart with a fireball?

  She fell onto a large, commercial street, no longer in the slums and well-kept for Fordain. That was to say, the buildings were less chipped, and the streets only slightly littered rather than completely rancid. Her time ran out as the veteran swordswoman disappeared from her mind, leaving her feeling open… and exposed.

  Changing directions, she darted down the road before disappearing into the closest gap between buildings. There, leaving herself barely enough time to breathe, she threw her green cloak off, pulled it inside out, and pulled it back over her shoulders, now dark crimson. She spared a minute to inspect her legs. The skin was still marred and broken, causing considerable pain, but the muscles had healed to the point where running was no longer an issue.

  The downside was the fatigue. Pushing that much healing in a short space of time had made her famished and tired, even after only being awake a few hours. She cut a wad of her cloak off and cleaned off the visible blue blood. Then, taking a deep breath, she took a step out of the alleyway, into the morning rush of Fordain, and Blinked.

  .   .   .

  A perfect resolution to her problems? Far from it. What she’d hoped for, an inconspicuous arrival in town, gathering what knowledge she needed from an information-broker before disappearing just as easily, had now turned into a failed duel with said information-broker and by the end of the day likely a manhunt being led with the sole purpose of putting her head on a spike.

  Now, the last thing she needed was the Tiana, the ruler of Fordain, to take a personal interest in her arrival. Which was exactly why Alleria the baker cursed under her breath as she watched a group of guards bearing his standards appear near the centre of town, surrounding a pompous-looking man who read from a scroll to inform all of Fordain, or at least those present, that a Demon had assaulted a citizen and was now at large.

  Just what we needed right now.

  And that got people talking. The Carathiliar were as afraid of Demons as the Talradians were wrathful. Disguise or not, she had to avoid crowded streets like the plague, keeping to the smaller paths and roads would have to do. There was no doubt the alleys and slums, her otherwise default, would now be the subject of rigorous searches.

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  So Alleria the baker shuffled down the streets, arms laden with bread to sell. The batch wasn’t that fluffy and a bit dry, but to the untrained eye, there would be little difference, and if she was smart, she’d be able to bag a handful of coppers for the lot. The Talradian would be looking for a sneaky Demon, not a foreign baker just trying to do her job. That’s what they always got wrong when trying to track them, thinking they would always try to avoid contact with Humans.

  Well, she did try to do that most of the time, but only because it was convenient.

  “Excuse me!” A voice called out. She spun around, adopting a curious and innocent expression. The grey-faced man, bearing numerous red tattoos over his face and clothed in robes that ran down past his waist, raised a hand. “Are you selling those?”

  “Why yes. Are you willing to buy them? Only five coppers a loaf.”

  He tilted his head as he came to a stop. “Are they fresh?”

  In response, she flashed him a smile. “Just baked them this morning.”

  He looked shocked at that. “You? A hithnadrr?” He called her the dirtiest Carathiliarian word for a foreigner with the same nonchalance one might make note of the weather or a person’s clothing.

  Her smile was unwavering. “I work at a bakery on Mtharida Street.”

  “Oh. Well, I don’t have my coin pouch on me, but the Ritual Palace isn’t too far away. If you would accompany me there, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Oh. Why, of course.” She beat herself mentally for not realising which side of town she had found herself in. “But I wouldn’t want to waste the time of an esteemed member of the UnOrder.”

  “Please, I was given the honour of distributing food to less fortunate areas of the town this week, so procuring quality food would be of great service to myself and those in need.”

  He began to walk away, leaving her with the only option of following him, lest she break character. She ground her teeth together at his words, though.

  Honour? He thought there was honour in anything the UnOrder did? That they could mask their brutish and zealous practices behind feigned altruism? Did they think they could mask the crimes and murders their religion had committed by what? Giving out free food? It made her sick.

  She breathed out, regaining control of herself.

  “It may seem strange to an outsider, but we consider it a part of our purpose to donate to either the wealthy members of society, those making it by, or those hard-pressed and forced into poverty,” the monk continued.

  “All for the sake of the True Chaos?”

  “Without question.”

  It wasn’t long before she was standing in front of the tall, obtrusive building they called a temple. She could actually hear some people outside admiring its design and comparing it to what other towns had. Well, to be fair, every Ritual Palace was completely different in design. Because of course they were.

  Once inside, she took in the smells of food and drink, not at all that unpleasant, but underlying it, the iron smell of blood. Definitely not her favourite. The monk asked her to stay near the front of the Palace while he disappeared through a side door, presumably to get his coins. As was natural whenever she’d found herself at a site of the UnOrder, her light skin caught stares from those indulging in its pleasures. The nicest were simply curious, and the worst tended to only be scornful or distrustful at most. There had been one time where she’d been threatened with violence by a particularly drunk worshipper, but those encounters tended to be few and far between.

  What did catch her off guard was when one of them saw her, turning in his seat, and spat on the ground in front of her. She blinked and stared at him, but just received a glare in response. A dozen rebuttals ran through her head in an instant, but the baker simply smiled and turned away from him, hoping not to provoke an escalation.

  “Bloody outsiders…”

  “… probably wants to lecture us like the last one.”

  Odd. It seemed someone had overstepped themselves here recently, and a foreigner at that. She honestly found that impressive, not many could be daft enough to preach within the halls of the Karatinian UnOrder, much less a ‘hithnadrr.’ Now that could get violent quickly.

  After a few more minutes of having to endure hateful gazes, she breathed a sigh of relief as the monk reappeared with a coin pouch in hand.

  “Would twenty-five bonara be enough?”

  “Of course.”

  Once she’d exchanged the loaves of bread with him and added the new copper coins to her pocket, he led her from the temple, and whether intentionally or not, he didn’t offer her any of its services. Sometimes the Carathiliar could be the masters of subtlety, but most of the time it was the opposite.

  At the steps, she bid him farewell and turned to leave when he shouted, “Please tell Mrs Althmera I wish her my best.”

  She paused, and against her better judgment, turned back. “Excuse me?”

  “You said you worked at the bakery on Mtharida Street? Unless I’m mistaken, the only one there is owned by Mrs Althmera.”

  She blinked, then nodded. “Oh yes, of course. I will send her your regards.”

  He cocked his head. “Now that I think about it, she has always been so outspoken, I never thought she would hire a foreigner. When did you start working for her, recently?”

  Her mind threatened to devolve into panic, but she maintained her posture. Thinking of a suitable response to give, one that got her out of this conversation and this area, as fast as possible, she was interrupted by a shout coming from down the street.

  “Florasia, is that you? Well, I’ll be damned.”

  A single horse-drawn cart rolling down the street came to a stop beside them, steered by a grey-haired man smiling without a care in the world. Alleria’s right eye twitched.

  “Grandfather!” She replied with enthusiasm, beaming at him with the brightest smile he’d likely ever seen. “It’s been an Age!” She rushed forward, ignoring the monk, and clambered onto the cart to give him a hug filled with all the emotion she could muster.

  As always, he smells of smoke.

  The Deru Monk still watched with a frown on his face but seemed to dismiss it as he bowed his head to them both, “Well then, I hope you both have a good day.” She nodded in turn, maintaining her enthusiastic smile right until he disappeared. Once he did, she released herself from the old man and shifted away. The baker disappeared, leaving Alleria exhausted, her heart continuing to race.

  “Impressive timing as usual, Velandus.”

  Velandus chuckled, “It’s a gift. But how ironic indeed that I found myself back outside the Palace so soon.”

  She stared at him. “What on Andwelm would’ve compelled you to come here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  He nudged his horse, and the cart began to roll down the road. Runners ran by carrying deliveries, the odd man or woman would be sweeping their bit of the road, and other carts would roll by, carrying crates filled with resources for the craftsmen.

  “Did you hear the Tiana’s decree this morning?”

  “I didn’t have the pleasure, got caught up in this and that.”

  She turned to him. “Well, apparently there was a report issued on behalf of a Talradian, of all people.” His face froze over. “Yes, it seems they were assaulted by a Demon entering town. Now everyone’s a little tense, and guard patrols are sweeping the Eastside as we speak.”

  He slowly turned his head to her and saw the fake smile plastered over her face. “Are you serious?”

  “That’s what they say. You wouldn’t happen to know anything else, right? Like perhaps the fact that the information-broker you recommended to me was a Talradian wench.”

  His face contorted with a mix of emotions kept carefully under wraps. He glanced around, becoming suddenly aware of how many Carathiliar were walking beside or nearby them, and found an emptier street that he pulled them into.

  “I am… so sorry, Alleria. Really. I had no idea she was Talradian.”

  Her fake smile vanished. “I was lucky enough to get out of there alive.” She swore, “Slathir’s Soul, it’s hard enough to avoid attention as it is, now the entire town is going to be on a manhunt for me.”

  “You weren’t able to kill her?”

  “I was caught off guard, unprepared. They knew magic and were well-informed of my sorcery. Of course, all Talradians are to an extent” She grimaced, feeling the wounds on her leg slowly reknitting themselves, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t blame you. It’s strange and entirely out of character for her to be living outside their own streets.”

  Velandus rubbed his chin. “How seriously do you think Tiana Muthlab is going to take the search?”

  “As serious as any Carathiliar. They’re scared stiff of us. My only pleasure comes from the fact that he’ll be sleeping with one eye open for the next month. I expect an increase in patrols across town and warnings sent to nearby villages.” She paused. “And the Talradian is probably sending a raven to the Degormanus as we speak.”

  “… There’s no chance she’s unrelated?”

  “They all report to Demon Hunter Companies, Velandus. The question isn’t if, but who. And I know that Brakenus and his ilk have been scouring this Domain for years.”

  He wrapped his knuckles against the cart. “How long do you have?”

  “I don’t know, I still haven’t been able to get any sort of knowledge of his whereabouts. Unless you have another Talradian information-broker I should visit, I’m all ears.”

  He winced. “There are others who deal in the trade, but I’ll admit that none are as good as her, at least by reputation. And you might find it… difficult if their usual operating grounds are under search right now.”

  Her foot, which she’d been tapping against the side of the cart, positively stomped on it as her budding anger almost burst through the tarp. “Gods damn it all. I should have just gone south from the beginning.”

  “As you said, we have no idea where they are. You would’ve been caught.”

  “I could outrun them.”

  “And how many Demons he’s slaughtered have thought the same thing?” Velandus’ voice rose. He breathed in slowly, “The best you can do now is lie low for a couple days until things defuse. You can sleep in the back of the cart if you want.”

  She shook her head and willed her rage to dissipate. “Too exposed, plus people might start asking questions. I’ll find accommodations on another side of town. Near the Tiana’s manor?”

  “The Twin-Tail Inn is nearby, and it’s the best Inn in Fordain. Can you afford it?”

  She jingled her coin pouch. “For a few days at least, I’m still full up from my contracts in Selkant. Think you can take me there?”

  “Of course.” He got the horse moving again, and they trailed down the streets as he brought them closer to the main road, probably as bustling with movement as any day. “You should have stayed away, Alleria, instead of returning to these lands. You won’t find anything for you here.”

  Her eyes trailed down slightly, but she pulled them up when she became conscious of people looking at her again. Just another foreigner in these parts, she supposed. “I couldn’t leave you all alone for too long, old man.”

  “You could have made a life for yourself there.”

  She donned a rueful smile, “No, I don’t think so. They may be more welcoming than these lot,” She indicated the Carathiliar, and many gave her an annoyed gaze or shouted obscenities, “but someone would’ve found out eventually. It was only a matter of time.”

  “There are other kingdoms, some more open and willing than most, even if…” He trailed off.

  “Of course.”

  He glanced at her, “And returning-”

  “-still isn’t an option. You know what they’d do to me if I did. I’m as dead there as I am here.”

  Yes, that’s what we tell ourselves every day. That way, it hurts less to think about it.

  .   .   .

  The next morning came, and Alleria awoke on the softest bed she’d ever imagined, in a room that, while the smallest in the inn, was still far larger than she’d imagined. It had everything, from a mirror to a brass tub used for bathing, and even a writing desk in the corner. The Twin-Tail Inn catered only to the finest and most exquisite tastes. Naturally, that meant she could dine by herself if she so wished, which she did, and proceeded to demolish the bowls of food they gave her so fast she barely registered what they were. Probably some apple-flavoured or apple-adjacent delicacies.

  The door she’d had locked from her side, of course, now and throughout the night. Thankfully, the inn understood the need for privacy, meaning only she had a key, which was a blessing she did not take lightly. She could finally let her horns breathe, if only for a little while.

  Velandus had told her to lie low, but isolating herself in her room would draw just as much attention, so she prepared to leave. She needed to look the part of someone living in style, so her dark clothes were replaced with cleaner clothes that at least looked fancier, even if they’d cost her little more than silver. She adorned her hat with a rose, and, after some internal debating, she let one of the inn’s servants apply light makeup to her face.

  So Alleria the highborn traveller, copying the mannerisms of another patron of the inn she’d passed on her way out, left the Twin-Tail Inn and observed the northern district of Fordain. It was by far the smallest and wealthiest area of town, congregating around Tiania Muthlab’s manor, which was itself the largest building in Fordain.

  There weren’t many nobility in Fordain, it was still a town in a backwater Domain after all, but it had its share of wealthy landowners, traders and merchants that had made enough money to live off of, and the odd highborn traveller passing through seeking to partake in Carathiliarian delicacies on their way to Tandrias City. Such as Alleria. She walked with purpose, her back straight, eyes inspecting everything she saw, by never stooping so low as to make eye contact with those beneath her. She would politely greet anyone she considered matching her status, or curtly nod to a passing patrol of guardsmen, but other than that was left well enough alone.

  She even had the pleasure of seeing the Tiana himself, an overweight and greasy, grey-faced man waddling under heavy escort. It seemed the tales of Demons really had spooked him. Regardless, he was hosting a small gathering of highborn and rich members of the community in the garden outside his manor house, and when Alleria announced herself to one of the guards as ‘Lady Amelia Erisin of Selkant, all it took was one look before she was admitted.

  Mingling with the rich was easy, all you had to do was compliment them on their apparel and wealth and let them do so in kind. When they heard she was from Selkant, a small Moren city near the mountain-border, she received many questions about the latest trends in the kingdom, what trading goods were in or out, and so one and so forth, which she answered to the best of her knowledge, but admitted that she hadn’t been home in months. When she could, she allowed them to lead the conversations, and through it gained valuable insight.

  “A Demon in Fordain, can you believe it? My, I thought the beasts had learned to fear these parts,” a Carathiliarian woman with so much makeup on her face was changing shades said, talking to a greasy-fingered merchant.

  “You would my surprised, ma’am, but you can find them hear more than anyway else, I’ve found.”

  “Truly?”

  He nodded. “Of course. There are always stories of what goes on at the Dead Pool. And Talradius, that is to say, it’s right there.”

  Both of them looked uncomfortable for a moment, and the woman coughed into her silk handkerchief, “Of course, such things must be left unsaid.”

  “Bad luck and all that.”

  Never really got their insistence on it being bad luck to talk about.

  “Did I hear talk of the Demon reporting? Nasty business, that is, and all I’ve heard are fanciful tales,” she said, entering the conversation.

  The two Carathiliar took in her appearance, and she felt their eyes scan everything from her clothing to her skin, to the way she held herself, in an instant, before they responded.

  “Why, of course. You said you were from Moren? There haven’t been many Demon incursions that far west. The companies usually deal with them beforehand,” The merchant replied.

  “Companies?” She tilted her head to the side slightly. “You mean to say there are organisations to combat their nastiness?”

  “Why, naturally, my dear.” The lady said, “Without them, we might have had to face a second demonic invasion. Why, the thought gives me chills even now.” She shuddered.

  “I see. Oh!” She covered her mouth before leaning forward and continuing in a faux-whisper, “This wouldn’t be about the Talradians, would it?”

  Both of them sighed, their expressions mixed with sympathy. “Poor folk. It seems to me it’s all they have left.”

  “Yes, I have heard the same. A very singularly focused people now, but can you blame them?”

  “Not at all, not at all.”

  “Have either of you… met them before? I’ve not had the pleasure.”

  The merchant grimaced. “It can be equal parts pleasure and misfortune, Lady Erisin. A gamble, if you will. Some can be as simple and succinct as you or me, but I have found that others have been left… changed. Lady Aisling?”

  The lady nodded. “It must have been… two years ago? I can’t quite recall, it was Beastas, the middle of the year, and the Tiana was holding a small gathering for whatever reason. It was only memorable because the Demon Hunter General made an appearance.”

  Alleria kept her face straight. “The Demon Hunter General? I believe I’ve heard…”

  “He’s one of the more famous leaders of a Demon Hunter Company. Brakenus, I believe his name is. His company tends to operate in these parts quite frequently, though I recall his appearance being somewhat of an outlier. They say he keeps to himself most of the time.”

  “Of course, one must be quite… busy in his profession.”

  “So I have heard.” The merchant said, taking a sip of wine, “But if it interests you, there’s a Talradian present today who might enlighten you.”

  Her hand froze on the glass of wine she was holding, not having taken a sip. Warning bells were tolling in her mind, but with effort she swallowed down her sudden emotions. “Is there now? I must say the topic does interest me so.”

  The merchant led her through the gathering, giving the names of the others present whom she didn’t even spare a glance, before waving his hand to a lone figure that had just walked away from where the Tiana had been sitting.

  “Lady Erisin. This is Ser Kildanus, a Talradian Bachelor-Knight. Ser Kildanus, this is Lady Amelia Erisin of Selkant, a lady of Moren.”

  The Talradian man smiled when he saw her. “A pleasure to meet our cousins from across the mountains. How fares good Moren? It has been far too long since I visited.”

  Ah, of course.

  She smiled. “It fared well when last my eyes beheld it. It warms my heart to finally speak with one of our brethren.”

  The Talradians and Moren were, biologically speaking, close races of Humans to one another, to the point where some would pull the ‘cousins’ card for a little favour. As far as she had observed, in practice they shared as many similarities as a seagull and a robin.

  “As does mine. If I may ask, what compelled you to visit fine Carathiliar? Simply to take in the sights?”

  “Oh, naturally, ser. I find myself drawn to sampling its delicacies. And a chance to travel while I’m young is an opportunity I surely shan’t pass up.”

  The Talradian Knight looked just like all his people did; a face as white as a corpse, and eyes, in stark contrast to the Carathiliarian gem-colours, that were clear and blank as glass. It made her feel sick to think that some actually found their appearance attractive.

  “An apt purpose, milady. But please, I must insist you share whatever you can of your home. The rolling fields and misted moors of Senmar are gorgeous this time of year.” He leaned down and kissed her hand. “As are you, of course.”

  Now that almost made her throw up her breakfast then and there. Velandus was right. Contrary to what she’d always assumed, Talradians were not, as an entire race, cunning and intelligent. This one seemed to be blinded by her alluring nature.

  Which was to say there was a good chance he was blind.

  “I’m flattered. I’ve never had the pleasure of speaking with a Talradian or a knight, much less a Talradian Knight.”

  “We are a rare sort.” He admitted, not withdrawing his gentle grip on her hand, “I was knighted in Moren, you know. For exemplary service to the crown.”

  She gave him a fittingly interested and awed expression as he went into great detail about his valorous and chivalric achievements. It all sounded rather contrived and overblown to her, but she didn’t let that show. When he paused for breath, which she never thought he would, she was pretty sure he had not an inkling of her true identity.

  Knowing that, she smiled and placed a hand on his arm. “I heard such troubling news this morning. A Demon, in Fordain itself? Why, it has me worried to even leave my room.” Her expression and tone shifted to worry and fear, which he lapped up instantly.

  “There’s really no need to worry, milady.” He put his arm around her. “It was only one, and a pitiful breed at that. I’ve no doubt that they’ll be flushed out of the town by sundown, or better yet, put down by the Watch.”

  “You’re not scared of them?”

  He scoffed, “It isn’t a dangerous one. There are several houses of Demons, and this one’s the weakest by far. Trust me, they’re no threat. If I faced it, I would dispatch it without suffering so much as a scratch.”

  She looked up at him. “Of course, a strong knight would have nothing to fear from them.”

  She really thought she was laying it on a little thick, but the knight didn’t seem to think so. He revelled in her attention, puffing his chest out and boasting about how easily he’d kill any Demon brought before him. She, in return, lauded him with praise, running her hands over his arms and chest to the point where she thought projectile vomiting might become a new addition to their list of offensive capabilities. The other guests took notice and gave them a respectful berth.

  After another hour of him regaling with tales of his exploits, most of which sounded false, and how he wished nothing more than to rid ‘great Carathiliar’ of the Demons, bandits, and other misfortunes that plagued it, she politely covered a yawn.

  “I apologise, Ser Kildanus, it seems my late nights have begun to catch up to me. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Why, of course not, milady.” He replied immediately, “If you permit it, I will escort you back to your lodgings posthaste.”

  “Oh no, I don’t wish to take up more of your time. Not when you have such dangerous monsters to fell.” Her voice had too sharp an edge there.

  Keep it down, just for a little longer.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “I would consider it an honour, Lady Erisin, please.” He extended his hand to her, which she took, conjuring up a grateful and yet bashful expression. Embarrassed, even, by his show of courtesy, and perhaps the hint of a poorly concealed smitten look. Yes, that would do perfectly.

  They excused themselves from the gathering and exited the garden, letting him lead her down the street, pointing out sights of interest and shops that might please her, before he remembered to ask her where she was staying.

  She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot.” Her eyes darted around. “Ah, there’s a shortcut between those two buildings we can use. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  He led her to where she’d pointed, one of the few alleys that ran between the tall and well-built buildings this side of town. It was one of the winding ones as well, cutting through two buildings and meeting the backend of another before you were able to reach the next street.

  Ser Kildanus walked in front of her, his chest pushed out and a confident smile on his lips. As his eyes left her for the first time since they’d met, she glanced down at the sword he had sheathed at his side.

  “Such a beautiful blade.”

  He paused and turned back to her, “Pardon, milady?”

  “Your sword, it really is quite exquisite.”

  He adjusted the hilt before smiling. “Thank you, I have shined as often as I can, you know. Of course, a key part of a knight is his practical abilities, but one must always look the part, is what I always-”

  She gripped the hilt and pulled it from its scabbard. “Truly remarkable.”

  He cut off as she turned away, inspecting and admiring the blade itself. It reflected her face back, as well as his. He spluttered, taking a step forward.

  “Lady Erisin, I must protest. It could be dangerous for you to-”

  She turned and swung. The blade cut through his outstretched hand, shearing off his fingers. The edge left a thin slash on his neck. Blood began to drip. He spluttered, then choked, his good hand feeling at his neck before he collapsed to the floor. He tried to get some words out but couldn’t. His eyes were wide with shock.

  Lady Amelia Erisin, Alleria the highborn, vanished, and Alleria bent down to meet his eyes. Her smile was thin and humourless. She raised her hat from her head, the hat they had all taken as some sort of fashion trend and revealed her horns to him.

  The shock in his eyes grew wider, even as the life drained out of them.

  “Hats off to you, Ser Kildanus.”

  That was all she said. She dropped the blade beside his slumped-over body and kept walking until she exited the alleyway. Time to go back to the inn, settle her tab, and leave this part of town with haste. Before they found the body and asked questions about who that Lady from Moren really was. She walked briskly, her face covered under the brim of her hat.

  Without a single drop of remorse running through her.