I stumble into the market district at last. The journey was rough, and my wounds throb with each step, but the pain is tolerable. At this time of day the merchants and buyers are numerous, a few dozen people making plenty of noise as they haggle and barter. I can't see either Luna or Ren so I decide to head straight for Lucien’s store. They could already be inside, and if they're not, they will be soon, I just have to wait..

  As I approach the door, a sudden, forceful yank jerks my arm back, sending a fresh jolt of pain through my shoulder. I barely suppress a wince. Whirling around, I find myself face to face with Luna, her golden eyes burning with irritation.

  "What are you doing here, fool?" she hisses. "I told you to rest at the chapel."

  I shrug, pulling my arm free. "I’m fine. And I need answers from Lucien. I won't wait."

  Her eyes narrow. "Fine? You look like a half-chewed carcass. Go back to Alric before you bleed out on the snow."

  I cross my arms. "No."

  Her lips curl into a sneer, her hands curling into a fist. "We don't have time to care for you, or to protect you, Looter. Fuck off."

  She’s really is a cunt. Isn’t she?

  “You really are a cunt. Aren't you?" I lean down, the massive disparity in our height allowing me to loom over her.

  The energy in the air shifts dangerously, teetering on the edge of violence. I'd rather not fight, I'm hardly in the best condition right now...

  But if it comes down to it, she's a woman and not like Zaenith is, she's barely half my size. One blow is all I'd need. At least... I think so.

  "Amusing, the pair of you. It's like watching a cat and a dog." Ren steps between us, putting his hand over mine and Luna's, keeping our weapons sheathed. “I should like to see the bloodshed…. but perhaps at a later time.”

  Luna glares at him, pulling away. "I won't be responsible for protecting this inbred halfwit."

  "Cunt." I say again with a cough, pulling away from Ren's grip.

  Ren shrugs. "I shall take responsibility for keeping him safe. Do not trouble yourself little Luna."

  Luna scoffs, muttering something under her breath before turning away.

  "And you Seven... stay behind me. Try not to attract undue attention, safety… is never a guarantee." Ren says with a sinister smile, almost like he’s daring me to act out.

  I shrug before responding. "I don't mind, as long as I get the answers I came for."

  Ren nods to me and then to Luna.

  With tension still thick in the air, the three of us step inside the store together.

  "Welcome to Draegmoore Hall..."

  Lucien greets us with a condescending smile, his eyes flicking between us, taking in every detail like a merchant appraising wares.

  Ren returns the smile and offers a wave, while Luna simply glares, arms crossed.

  I barely register their exchange, my focus shifting to my hands. Since walking past the threshold they've felt hot... uncomfortably so. I turn them over, frowning as I spot jagged scars marring my palms. The shape is unusual, I almost recognize it from somewhere.

  But I don’t remember them being there. Did I cut myself in the fight with Vael? I don't think so...

  "Ah, what an unexpected gathering. The bratty noble, the wandering foreigner, and, of course, our ever-curious peasant. A charming little trio." Lucien's gaze lingers on me longer than I like, his lips curling. "Seven... you do look different. I trust my little job went well? Looks like it changed you for the better...."

  This smug, motherless prick….

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I step forward, furious, fingers tightening around my club, but before I can act, Ren’s hand clamps down on my shoulder. He shakes his head slightly, his smile hasn’t left him, though now it’s directed at Lucien.

  “A job, I see. And what did it entail?” Ren asks, his voice casual.

  Lucien exhales, dusting off his expensive looking tunic. “A mere delivery to a friend outside town. Nothing sinister, I assure you.”

  The words send a spike of rage through me. My body moves before I think, stepping forward as my hand tightens around my club. “Nothing sinister my fucking arse! That smiling whoreson tried to fucking eat me!”

  Lucien doesn’t react. Instead, his eyes close and he smiles, savoring the silence, totally unresponsive to my accusation.

  Luna cuts in. “Your friend outside of town is a demon. A foul, putrescent spawn of hell. Did you know that?”

  Lucien’s eyes flick open and turn to Luna. He places a hand over his chest, aghast, almost mockingly so. “A demon? Vael?” He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “Are you quite certain? He is a little queer to be sure, not the most comfortable person to be around. But the idea that he could be anything but an ordinary man, strikes me as... difficult to believe.”

  The poor performance has Luna trembling, the always irritated girl, barely holding back her fury as she listens to his deliberate insincerity. It doesn't sound like he's even trying to convince us. No, this isn’t a man scrambling to hide the truth.

  Which means... there's no point in being crafty with our questions.

  "The chest you gave me, it was your head inside. Lucien's head," I accuse, my voice hard.

  Lucien chuckles, a low, mirthless sound. "Oh, that? A simple stage prop. The mummers had it crafted for last year's festival, marvelous work, don’t you think? Vael took a liking to it, so I thought, why not? A gift for a friend."

  I glare at him. "That was no prop. No craftsman in the world could make something that real."

  His grin widens, sharp and knowing. "Ah, then they must have used magic. Wouldn't you agree?"

  I don't have time to respond before he smoothly changes course. "Speaking of magic, how did you enjoy the scroll?" Without looking down, he picks up a quill and begins scratching something onto a piece of parchment. "Tell me, peasant, did you feel it? The power? True magic? Was it not just as I told you? I can see the mark it left on those hands of yours. You've taken to it well…."

  The scratching of his quill doesn't stop. He doesn't look down at what he's writing, his eyes never leave mine.

  The shop feels colder. The once blazing fireplace now only smoldering. Despide this, the shadows only seem to lengthen and then... shift, stretching in ways they shouldn't, not without a raging fire to guide them.

  Luna's eyeybrow twitches, she notices it too. Though more than anything she just seems irritated. Finally, her patience snaps. "Enough of this mummer’s farce, Lucien. You’re either playing a fool or you take us for fools, and I’ve had my fill of both."

  Her hand flashes to her short sword, the steel ringing as she draws it, the tip leveled at Lucien’s throat. "Vael is a demon. You either summoned him here, or you are one yourself. Which is it?"

  Ren moves immediately, the golden edge of his sword gleams as it leaves its scabbard. I follow suit, gripping my club tightly, the weight of it reassuring in my hands.

  And yet, Lucien doesn’t flinch. He glances at each of us one by one, his quill still moving, writing across parchment, the rhythmic scribbling the only sound in the room.

  Only when he finally dots the last stroke does he pause, setting the quill aside. He blows on the parchment, drying the ink before he rolls it with care.

  "Oh, miss Luna..." He finally meets her gaze, his lips curling into something in between a smirk and a sneer. "A noble should not indulge in such theatrics. I stand here, a man, flesh and blood, same as you. How could I be a demon?"

  His voice drops lower, velvety smooth. "But tell me, miss Luna... if I were a demon, what do you think you could do about it? With that little shard of steel?"

  The light dims as the fireplace goes cold, not a single ember remaining. A deep chill settles over the room as Lucien gazes as Luna, leaning over the counter.

  Luna snatches the silver rod from her belt and levels it at Lucien. His eyes widen, just for a fraction of a second, enough to betray a flicker of recognition, but he doesn’t move.

  "Careful," he drawls. "A noble woman brandishing a blasphemous tool like that against an honest merchant? The town guard would be forced to act, of course. And who do you think they would side with? Me, a respected pillar of this community? Or you, an ill-tempered female, a foreign sellsword, and a vagrant barely worth the dirt beneath his feet?"

  He strokes his chin with a smirk. "Shall we find out? I do wonder how it would look, three outsiders chasing a man of standing through the streets like common cutthroats."

  Luna doesn’t flinch. Her grip tightens on the rod. "You won’t get that far."

  Lucien leans forward slightly, his fingers still idly drumming against the rolled parchment on the desk. "Oh, I think I will," he says, his voice certain.

  None of us move. What can we do? He's right, all three of us are strangers here, with no standing in this town. And I'm not looking to be hauled off to the gaolhouse again, which would no doubt happen if we murdered a town merchant without cause.

  "Tch..." Finally, Luna lowers the rod, her knuckles white with restrained fury. Without a word, she turns and shoves past me, the door nearly breaking off its hinges as she slams it open.

  Ren exhales, long and slow, before sheathing his blade. "A pity." he mutters, shaking his head as he follows Luna out.

  I linger for a heartbeat longer, then, as I move to follow, Lucien speaks.

  "Not so fast, peasant."

  His voice is edged with amusement. I halt mid-step, glancing over my shoulder to see him smirking. There's not an ounce of fear or nervousness in him, despite the fact that the confrontation very nearly came to violence.

  "I have something to say to you."