Lucrast took refuge in the waiting lounge close to the gates designated for the merchant guild. Val was impatiently pacing outside the edifice, waiting for the nobleman’s wagon. Lucrast wasn’t motivated in the least, so he leisurely studied the other people in the lounge: A kid raking the scab on his wound, the lustful gaze of an old man on the two young mercenaries, two women bickering playfully, and a Daem held in leash by a man.


    The Daem peeked at Lucrast occasionally with a gaze filled with reverence, but he hadn’t spoken a single word. Perhaps, a plea for help would have changed Lucrast’s mind. Not that he would appreciate bloodshed in this modest abode, and as if reading his thoughts, the Daem stayed silent.


    The windows beside the entrance opened into the streets, which provided enough vantage points to see any crossing carriage. He had asked Val to settle down and wait for a decked carriage. The woman had snorted in response, much to his displeasure. The human within him had held back his rage, and he didn’t know how long it would. Eventually, he had to start killing the mages who owned Daems they shouldn’t. This was the only way to release the bound Daems unless the people did willingly, which they would after the death of their kind. Fear and obedience were the same, and the latter without the other was loyalty. He would rather have loyal hounds instead of loyal mages.


    His retainers had to grow in number soon. Even a single three-horned Daem would make a great difference among the ranks of his retainers. He had gotten lucky with Val, except for her personality. Playfulness wasn’t something he appreciated, but indulging her didn’t seem bad, according to his conflicting mind. He adjusted his sword belt that ran across his chest and fastened it on his waist. A brand new cutlass hung loosely, much to his discomfort. Val had repeatedly urged him to buy one, for high priests could easily distinguish demonic magic.


    Val beckoned him to come outside the edifice with an evident smile that attracted the leer of the old man in the room. Lucrast ignored him and all other stares as he bent down considerably at the entrance and walked down the stairs.


    “The carriage,” Val pointed at the horses pulling an adorned carriage that held the insignia of the Sovereign. “One gold coin is too less of a price for a carriage of that caliber. We might earn better by killing those ignorant nobles, my Daem.”


    Lucrast watched the horses cautiously since animals were often more perceptive than humans. When he was sure that the horse wouldn’t recognize them, he followed Val to greet the coachman, who was glancing around the gates aimlessly.


    A group of men came up to the carriage before them, and the coachman talked with the leader of the four men for a while before pointing to the shabby carriage right beside the majestic one. The men receded in the direction of the carriage. Val ran to the coachman, her new leather boots crunching the uneven rocks on the road. Only the streets closer to the palace were clean and smooth, while the rest of the city couldn’t enjoy the same luxury. If he hadn’t bought her the traveler boots, the Daem’s legs would have torn open by now.


    The coachman stared at her suspiciously before ushering her move away. His expression froze as soon as Lucrast entered his line of sight, and his manner changed instantly.


    “Who the hell is a puny brat here?” Val placed her hands on her waist and snickered as she leaned against Lucrast’s abdomen. She couldn’t reach any higher.


    “I apologize for my rudeness, Sire,” he said, glancing at Lucrast. “Please don’t mind my impudence. I am just a servant of my lord.”


    “Then you should have more mannerisms, Duli,” a man came from within the carriage. “Hurry up. We have to reach Zealda by tomorrow.”


    “Yes, my lord,” the coachman bowed apologetically and pointed to the shabby carriage. Val gave him a disgusted stare before walking around the adorned carriage.


    “Can it bear your weight, Luc?” Val looked at him seriously, ignoring his glare.


    They climbed the carriage and noticed the two men seated against one wall of the carriage. The other two were at the front, serving as the handlers of the two horses. They didn’t have a coachman like the noble, so the merchant guild could only help them so much. The two men eyed them vigilantly, something Lucrast often welcomed. Their eyes paused at Val multiple times, surprised to see a woman on the trip.


    “You folks new?” The man with an eye patch asked. It didn’t do a good job of hiding the scar underneath.


    “Yes,” Val replied. “Returned from a mission from Zealda last night, and back we go today.”


    The carriage rumbled as the men at the front pulled the reins. Their horses followed closely to the adorned carriage as they rushed past the entrance into the vast expanse of the plains beyond.


    “What kind of glamor did you use in the past?” Lucrast asked. A ward had served the need again since the bystanders would only hear his deep voice and not the actual words. “Even the priest couldn’t recognize you last night.”


    “Most of us use our Daem faces. I used the four-horned bestial looks that got me kicked out of brothels multiple times. No men or women craved me after looking at my mutilated body, so I only earned hard labor. Some nutcrackers have used their Glea faces in the past, and the high priests tossed them around multiple times until they stopped using glamor. It is a hard world. Humans are the most horrible creatures to walk in the Glea realm. They would do anything–”


    “To preserve their standing?” Lucrast interrupted before she gave in to the anger. He was a human once, but he decided not to point that out.


    “Yes,” she took a deep breath and leaned against the carriage. “We are disfigured sinners, after all. They need to show people to make them believe. And if all Daem’s started using glamor, how to justify their sins?”The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Lucrast couldn’t help acknowledging the foresight of the high priests. Probably his human mind offered a rational judgment. The mage had transferred only good things about his persona to him, so it was unlikely that he could ever understand the greed, conceitedness, and selfishness of the race. He didn’t intend to either because he didn’t have the heart to forgive.


    Lucrast peered at the receding gates one last time. Cairan would be with him next time they returned to Catapulta, and doom would follow their arrival. Before that, he had to stop the raving magic of the realm; for it is only then everyone would learn to fear the Daems. It was also a way to prevent the summoning of his kind. But he didn’t know where to start. His memories of demonization were faint, though distinct enough to know that it was responsible for the spread of magic. He needed a map before making decisions about the rest of his journey.


    The silent ride continued through the vast plains, with trees interrupting much of the bay between the knee-length shrubs. The repeated grazing and the wheels of the carriages had maintained the road, much to the relief of the peddlers and travelers. It twirled through the plains, and woods awaited them in the night. Lucrast had heard the men talking about it amongst themselves, so he didn’t know the validity of the words.


    The carriage stopped for a meal in an isolated traveler’s inn that poked out suspiciously amid the ravaging shrubs. Guards at the entrance were buffed, good enough to down a well-grown Bloach. They almost matched Lucrast in build, albeit shorter, and belonged to the merchant guild; their badges made it obvious.


    “We aren’t eating?” Val asked as Lucrast volunteered to guard the carriage. “Why did you tell them we have our own food? Should I eat these copper coins?” She pulled her stash from her waist, and her cutlass slithered down the waist belt.


    “We don’t need to eat,” Lucrast said as he eyed the fallen cutlass. She snickered and picked up her weapon before placing it back in its place.


    “We eat for fun!” Val retorted and leaned against their shabby carriage. The guards eyed them suspiciously for a while before losing interest.


    “Then it’s time you stop having fun,” Lucrast said as he peered at the forest a few steps away.


    “You old Daem!” she punched him lightly before following his gaze. “That’s Salzwort woods.”


    Lucrast was surprised that Val had given up her futile attempts at convincing him. Then again, she must be getting used to his temperament by now. “Once we cross it, we’ll reach Zealda. That’s as far as I have ever traveled in this realm. We need a map to reach any farther. The nobleman’s carriage has two and some good coins. I had a chance to look through the partition.”


    “That’s our payment,” Lucrast pointed out. “You want to steal our own goods?”


    “That doesn’t sound half bad if we could race through the forest before dawn. Even Daems are scared of the bugs in the forest. Late-night Cricks, particularly.”


    The journey to the Salzwort woods resumed, and along the way, Val had fallen asleep against his arm. Disgraceful, but Lucrast didn’t stir her awake. The lesser Daems needed sleep, unlike him, though it wasn’t as frequent as Val suggested. Perhaps, her ascension to a higher level had something to do with it. Lucrast decided to think about it later when he noticed the other two men in the carriage had fallen asleep too. None of the two moons loomed in the sky to offer light tonight, so he had an obvious advantage while guarding.


    The carriage before them stirred to a stop, and so did their shabby carriage. Val woke up and glanced around briefly before staring at the adorned carriage.


    “We’ll rest for a while,” Duli came by to inform them, and the mercenaries, who had woken up after the brief stir, fell asleep again. The coachman had rotated the shift with his companion, so he was down as soon as the substitute woke up.


    “Anywhere close, child?” The man asked Val, steering clear of Lucrast’s glare.


    “Doesn’t seem like it,” Val yawned and snuggled closer to his arms. Lucrast pushed her away a couple of times with little success. The man walked out and lit a flambeau at the corners of the carriage before returning to his station behind the horses. Vague night insects scooted away from the heat, cricks occasionally scaring Val as they tried jumping into the carriage with their single legs beneath the grimy body. Lucrast had never expected to see a Daem scared of a crick no larger than her hand.


    The night deepened fast, and Lucrast felt a foreign presence amongst them. It increased with each passing second, and he stared at the adorned carriage.


    “Can you feel it?” Val asked, and Lucrast erected a ward to erase their presence.


    “It’s almost here,” Lucrast scurried out of the carriage, Val following his suit. “Is that a high priest?”


    “No,” Val said almost instantly. “High priests don’t need to be discreet about the summons. It’s probably a rich idiotic noble trying his hands at magic. I hate to agree, but he summoned a good Daem. At least a three-horned one.”


    Lucrast nodded as he saw the glistening red light within the adorned carriage. Though the fire masked most of the light, it was too obvious to ignore. Even the men on their cart woke up in alarm after repeated warnings from their coachman.


    “Should we stop him?” Val asked, grabbing Lucrast’s arm. She appeared more scared about the cricks than the Daem.


    Lucrast freed his hand from her grasp. “Why should we? You are a three-horned Daem yourself, so you should be able to handle them easily, should they turn out to be a rogue.”


    “Three-horned?” Val gave him a confused stare, but the roar of the summoned Daem cut short their casual conversation. The men in the carriage had already armed themselves with swords and cutlasses, and they moved toward the noble’s carriage cautiously. Lucrast held back Val, who was about to follow their lead.


    “They’ll get killed,” Lucrast said as he saw the nobleman stepping out of the carriage with blood dripping down his forehead. There was a twisted smile on his face, and he licked the blood that had reached his mouth.


    “I summoned it!” He shouted to no one in particular. “I fucking summoned a demon! Come out, you filthy beast! Come out!”


    A naked man stepped out of the carriage, heeding the command of the mad nobleman. Lack of glamor made him appear hideous, with a rotting blue body and an oblong face. He lacked an arm, but two arms supplement the right side of the body. A dropping eye at the center of the head scanned his unfamiliar territory until it stopped at Lucrast. Three horns stood tall on his head, which was the only redeeming feature of the grotesque body.


    “Partial materialization,” Lucrast said. “He won’t have an arm.”


    “Poor fellow,” Val said, staring daggers at the nobleman. “Let me kill that mage, My Daem.”


    “You will, but not until those men die. The nobleman had brought us here to test his newfound power, so let him get drunk in it. I have never seen a summoned Daem fight, and it’s a good chance to witness some bloodshed.”


    Val laughed as she stared in the direction of the Daem. “Spoken like a true Daem.”