“You couldn’t have kept yourself busy for a few days?”

  Alleria lay in the back of Velandus’ cart, tossing and catching an apple in her hand for entertainment. Well, entertainment was really stretching its meaning, but it was something at least. When she heard his comment, she took a pause before responding.

  “He was Talradian.”

  That was the only justification she gave, and the only one she needed in her mind. Though he grumbled at her, not least because she was now staying in the back of his cart, which he’d suggested in the first place, he didn’t outright disagree with her.

  “You didn’t need to be so obvious about it. A lady walks off with a knight, the knight is found dead in an alley, the lady is nowhere to be found.”

  “I wasn’t really thinking too much about it. It was an in-the-moment sort of thing.”

  He sniffed, “Yes well, now you won’t be able to go to any inn without someone matching your description.”

  “I could pull together a believable disguise, though my eyes can be a big tell.” One of the tell-tale signs of Demons was their eyes, after the obvious factor that was their horns. Each and every one of them had amber eyes, without fail. “Maybe when the buzz in the Eastside shifts to the North, I can find some ramshackle inn with an innkeeper who doesn’t ask too many questions.”

  She got up and wobbled over to the front of the cart. Velandus was doing some deliveries, he impressed her by always making his money above the board. Right now, they were riding near the edges of the slum-like side of Fordain, which was risky but not without purpose.

  “Do you think he’ll meet us on time?” She asked.

  “There’s a certain promptness you are guaranteed with their type, reliability is one of their main selling points. He will be there.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You said that Talradian was the only good information-broker in town.”

  “No, I said she was the best by reputation. She was hardly the only reliable one in town, you’ve always got options. Even if they may vary in quality.”

  She felt the shortsword hung at her hip. “Do you think he’ll rat us out? If that Talradian wench is well connected, she could’ve spread the word of the type of information we’re looking for.”

  “Which is why we’re paying extra for this man’s discretion. So please, don’t try and kill him the moment you have what we need.”

  She scowled at him. “Do I look that bloodthirsty to you?”

  He didn’t give her an answer, instead leading them off the main road and onto one of the side streets leading off of it. She could see the telltale signs of the Eastside starting to appear, but he pulled the cart to a stop before they went much further on. Velandus nodded to a nearby building. “He should be waiting in there. If he isn’t, hopefully you won’t have to wait long.”

  She adjusted her outfit, a dirty cloak and grey attire, once more. Her wide hat she’d replaced with a smaller, more compact one, which didn’t feel amazing on her horns but worked with the aesthetic more. She took a small box stacked at the back, which was ostensibly being delivered to this shop, before jumping out the back and entering the maroon-bricked building.

  The client was a tailor, so she assumed the crate contained whatever materials he might need. He politely thanked her for the delivery once she’d placed it in the backroom and offered any services he had to her. Seeing that the shop was empty save for her, she decided to take him up on his offer.

  “Now that you mention it, this cloak could use a few stitches if it isn’t too much trouble.”

  “Why of course, it’ll only take me a couple minutes.” He replied, smiling and taking her cloak from her. Once he’d disappeared behind the counter, she looked around and found a wall to lean against.

  The door opened after a few minutes of waiting, and a Carathiliarian man walked in, thin streaks of silver tattoos covering his cheeks. He met her gaze and wandered over, leaning against the wall beside her. He didn’t say anything.

  “Are you the one I’ve been waiting for?” She finally asked.

  He shook his head with a warm smile. “Are you new to this, lad?”

  She’d stuffed her already shoulder-length hair beneath her hat, and combining that with her overall physique and her voice, which she’d lowered by an octave, meant she could easily pass off as a young man.

  She Blinked.

  Alleria the information-broker matched his smile. “Of course not, but we can never be too careful, can we?”

  “No, of course not.”

  She let the silence settle in again, this time more comfortable with it. The information-broker looked less confident than when he’d walked in, and she caught him giving her side-glances every now and again.

  Eventually, it was he who broke the silence. “Do you have my money?”

  “Do you have what I want?”

  He narrowed his eyes but reached down into a small bag strapped to his chest and produced a thin scroll of parchment. “Right here, just as we agreed.” He glared at her outstretched hand, she wasn’t even looking at him, “Gold first.”

  She snorted and met his eyes, “Are you kidding? Not until I see that the parchment isn’t blank.”

  They held each other’s gaze until he looked away and huffed. “Fine.”

  He withdrew the scroll, reached back into his bag, and revealed a second one. She took it from him, skimmed through it to see that there was indeed information on it, before nodding. “Good. Your gold, then.” She passed him a small pouch and pocketed the parchment. “Have a lovely day.”

  She went to receive her clock back, which the tailor had returned with, paid him a few coppers for the job, and went for the door, keeping her steps measured, not rushing, and her face impartial.

  “That’s some curious stuff you asked for there.”

  She paused as the informant called after her. He added, “Wouldn’t be any reason for that, would there?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” was all she said before leaving the shop, finally letting out a long breath.

  Nerve-racking, huh?

  Velandus started moving the cart the moment she got in, and they were tumbling down the streets of Fordain in no time. After switching her hat back and letting her hair loose, she tuned out all the outside noises and focused on the scroll of parchment she’d been given.

  “He started asking questions.”

  “Of course he did, it’s his job to.” Velandus responded, “You could stand to sometimes be a little less skittish, Alleria.”

  She chose not to dignify him with an answer. Taking a deep breath, she unrolled the scroll and again, this time focusing on what was actually written in an untidy scrawl.

  “The Talradian group known only as the Degormanus is led by the elderly Brakenus, Demon Hunter General, presumably a Talradian of some military renown before the Destruction of the kingdom some forty years ago.” She scoffed, “How useful. And he’s hardly elderly.”

  “Just keep reading.”

  “The Degormanus rest at a single place rarely, unless their quarry is of vital importance. Though the Crynmon Forest lies under their heavy influence, they have been known to venture to the borderlands of the Moren Kingdom beyond the mountains and, remarkably, into the ruins of Talradius itself.” She pulled it closer, “As for their current whereabouts, though any records of their location will likely be outdated by the time it reaches another’s hands, they were last reported to be heading east past the Dead Pool region.”

  Her heart caught in her throat. “They know where I am.” She handed the scroll to his outreached hand as he combed over it.

  “We do not know that for sure. They aren’t always known for their consistency.”

  “What else is east of there? Unless they’re following some hitherto unknown routes, Fordain is the only logical point they would stop at.”

  He rubbed his eyes. “We don’t know how dated this report is. How long do you think it gives you?”

  “You’re the traveller with decades of experience, you tell me.”

  He winced and rubbed his head. “There are a lot of them, and the villages in that area have been largely abandoned… maybe a week or two, so five to ten days, if they followed the forest paths. If they cut straight towards us through the forest, then they might make it in half that.”

  “If we left right now, we might make it to the Keloweyne and find a crossing somewhere.”

  He shook his head. “It’ll be hard now that they know you’re here. Guards will be searching anyone entering or exiting town with a lot more scrutiny. As hard as it sounds, it might be best to stay put until the heat dies down a little.” He paused. “And besides…”

  “And besides what?”

  “It might be for the best, then. There’s a… foreigner here who’s caught my interest.”

  She turned and pushed aside the fabric dividing them. “A Human?”

  He nodded. “A traveller, or so he claims. A group of hunters I was ferrying found him during a tuffhorn hunt. He helped them kill it. Claims his travelling party had been beset upon by the beast and he’d been separated.”

  She just snorted, “What sort of numbskull sets up camp in tuffhorn territory?”

  “Yes well, I’m pretty sure that part is a lie. He’s a follower of Mayare.”

  That made her blink. “And he came here? A strangler from that missionary group that passed through a while back?”

  “Perhaps, but there’s something different about this man.” He smiled slyly. “At the very least, he’s less up his own backside than the pilgrims and missionaries.”

  “For a Lightbringer that’s hardly a compliment.” She laughed, “I don’t see what interests you.”

  “Well, he went and got tossed out of the Ritual Palace, supposedly for insulting their beliefs.”

  A smile played across her lips. “Really? He’s either very bold or very stupid then, and lucky to be alive, those UnOrder quacks can take things way too seriously sometimes.” She snapped her fingers. “So that’s why they were all looking at me strangely when I was there.”

  “He’s a strange one for sure, but I’m interested in talking with him more.”

  “I hope you get the opportunity. I need time to think about what to do.” She rubbed her eyes.

  Velandus brought the cart to a stop on a short and empty street. With that guarantee of a little privacy, Alleria got ready for a long session of concocting plans and thinking on alternate measures she could take. Unfortunately, that proved harder than she’d thought, and after an hour was no closer to a conclusion than she had been when she’d begun.

  She was about to ask Velandus for any ideas he had, no matter how vague or underdeveloped they may be, when a foreign sound reached her ears.

  The sliding of metal.

  A drawn weapon.

  She threw herself back seconds before a dagger cut through the cloth and embedded itself in the wood beside her. A second later there was another. It struck its mark, sinking into her flesh and narrowly missing her heart.

  She ripped out the dagger without a second thought and drew her sword. Velandus had already ducked down, his hand reaching for a wooden staff propped inside the cart. His face was grim.

  A sword sliced through the fabric beside her, missing her by quite a bit, but another pocked through on the other side, slicing a deep cut into her arm.

  Gods damn them, we can’t see any of them.

  She needed visuals if she was going to copy them. As it was now, she was just Alleria. And Alleria had no skills or strengths that could help her in this scenario.

  That Talradian wench, she must’ve briefed them.

  “Alleria!”

  Velandus looked at her with wide eyes, but he just nodded. “Try not to die, okay?”

  The skin around the wound on her arm sealed up, just in time for a crossbow bolt to fly through the tarp and embed itself in the back of her shoulder. She grimaced as the pain shot throughout her body. She was a sitting duck; there was only so much she could heal before it became deadly to her.

  “You too, old man.”

  She threw herself out of the cart.

  And Blinked.

  There were four men, all bearing swords and surrounding the cart. Their eyes turned to her as she flew out the cart in a single leap, sword in hand.

  She landed beside the first, blade swinging in an arc that caught his own incoming attack, parrying it to the side and leaving him wide open. Her first attack cut open his throat. The second his stomach. After which he fell to the ground, choking on his own blood.

  The other two surrounded her, one drawing a knife and flinging it. Her muscles moved on their own, swiping the knife out of the air and into the thigh of his companion. He cried out in pain, clutching his leg, right until she slit his throat. The last one looked at her in horror, eyes jumping from his fallen comrades to the weapon in her hand, to the horns of fire atop her head.

  He dropped his sword and ran.

  When she spun around, a single thought filtered in. It broke through the adrenaline rush of battle and made her heart skip a beat. She saw the men she’d slaughtered like training dummies. These weren’t her skills.

  The swordsman she’d copied was capable of this.

  His face was covered in a patched hood, which he removed to reveal a face as white as paper. A Talradian, longsword in hand, pointed at her. “I will admit, I was doubtful when you were labelled as a threat. You are certainly using my skills to their fullest extent.”

  “Talradian.” She levelled her blade. “You give yourself too much credit.”

  He thrust forward for her heart. She parried it, throwing the blow to the side and flinging herself forward at him. He sidestepped her, forcing her to block as he swung for the back of her head. She could see it coming. She ducked beneath the attack, blade grazing him briefly on the arm before he jumped back.

  “Do you doubt me now?”

  He snarled, “I stopped the moment you killed an innocent man in cold blood yesterday. A good man.”

  She just stared. “There are no good men amongst your kind.”

  He wasn’t moving, and the reason why fired back at her in an instant. She threw herself to the side as a shard of ice broke against the dirt, then another beside her feet. She closed the distance between her and the Talradian, sword flashing for his throat.

  The ground erupted into a spiked wall between them. Tiny shards of earth stabbed her chest and arms. She fell back, stumbling and gritting her teeth as blood dripped down her body. While she focused on healing her arms, she felt the fatigue growing greater. The Talradian hardly looked fazed by his wounds.

  “Did he tell you his stories? About how he became a knight?”

  “If he did, I didn’t remember them.”

  He glared. “You wouldn’t. He was knighted by the king himself for rooting out a corrupt mayor. He always was good at politics.”

  “Why should I care? At his core, he was like each and every one of you.” She spat at him. “Murderers.”

  Then she ducked to the side as a thin shard of ice nearly pierced her chest.

  “I can feel it in you, Demon. Your hate, the hypocrisy of it all.” He raised his blade. “This cycle will end, one way or another.”

  His eyes flared with anger as he stepped forward with his thrust. She sidestepped the first attack, but then he flung himself into another, and another. Each attack led into a counter with vicious precision. He became less a man and more a flurry of blades. She took a cut to her left arm. The dirt path froze over, she slipped and fell onto her back.

  It didn’t matter if she knew exactly what the knight would do. She was unable to stop it.

  He advanced on her, glass eyes wreathed with rage. She felt the injustice and righteous fury he held. She saw each of his movements, knew what he was capable of.

  “Alleria!”

  Behind him, Velandus flung a thin object into the air. It landed with a clatter on the ground beside her.

  It was a curved blade, still in its sheath.

  “No. No…”

  It called to her. She resisted. She could almost hear the voice whispering, encouraging her.

  We need this.

  She unsheathed it by a fraction, staring at the silver metal that pulsated blue underneath.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “No.” A silent cry left her mouth, “Not again.”

  She dropped the still-hidden blade and ran at her adversary. His memories and skill rushed through her head, through her arms, into her hands. With her sword, she could mimic each and every one perfectly. She saw the perfect movements before her eyes. Ducking under his counterattack to attempt a blow at his throat, a slash to spin into a parry…

  Each and every one of them something he would expect.

  He’ll attack first.

  He spun his blade towards her, blow aiming straight and true for her neck.

  She let the knight and warrior leave her.

  The sword felt weighty and uneven in her hands. She clambered across the ground with grace or skill. His eyes went wide as his slash overshot her by leagues. With an animalistic growl, she leapt forward, thrusting her blade forward in a move taught to every novice. Barely usable in a real fight.

  She caught him in the throat. Her blade pierced with a guttural squelch. His sword dropped from his hand, she pushed him backwards with all the strength remaining in her. Blood dripped down the hilt and over her hands.

  She let go, leaving sword and man pinned to the wall.

  There was a sickening silence.

  She picked the curved blade back up. She sheathed it fully and brought it back to Velandus. She couldn’t recognise the emotion behind his eyes.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shook her head. “Get out of here, before someone spots you.”

  She pushed the sword into his open arms before marching down the street. She brushed the dirt off her and felt her flesh reknitting. Then she gripped her wet hands.

  He doesn’t understand.

  .   .   .

  “Thank you,” She said to the waitress with a warm smile as she placed the platter of bowls on her table. Said waitress, a Carathiliarian woman with bright blue tattoos across her forehead, smiled in turn but said nothing as she walked away. It probably had something to do with her appearance. She had covered her face with dirt and soot, darkening it. She’d done the same for the rest of her outfit, including tearing holes in her half-crimson, half-green cloak, and lathering her body with unspeakable things, so she smelled pretty awful. Most people avoided getting too close, which was a pleasant change.

  Alleria the cook appreciated the food in front of her. The Carathiliar favoured small bowls that contained every manner of food in a meal, made to be combined with each other for whatever flavour you preferred. It was a matter of quality over quantity that she appreciated. Rather this than the large bowls of slop-like porridge that were common in other areas of the South and West.

  She mixed the herbs and spices from one bowl with her noodles. The taste that filled her mouth was blissful, gentle yet potent, caressing her mouth like a mother to a newborn. The more she consumed, the more the fatigue she’d incurred from healing that many wounds began to dissipate. It felt good to relieve the wear on her body.

  The mind, however, was a different case.

  The cook left her as her thoughts trailed back to that afternoon. Being with Velandus had endangered him. She’d known it would, and yet…ugh. It had been a stupid miscalculation on her part, and he’d almost suffered for it. Her mind almost trailed back to the sword, but she shook her head.

  No, not that.

  If she had other allies that could keep him safe, other safeguards or countermeasures. She resisted the urge to slam her plate. If anyone else from her House could see her know. Well, they’d probably be obligated to kill or detain her, but they’d be disappointed all the same.

  House Elevar prided itself on preparations, planning in advance, and thinking on the fly. She could admit she relied a bit too much on the last one and forgot the other two. Those specialised in warfare or duels had a full arsenal at their back, each and every weapon they could think of for every possible foe they may face. Those who went into politics were actors none could match, able to change their faces and characters with ease.

  She… wasn’t any of those. She was an exile, a runaway who by their law would be tried and executed for her crimes. Or just executed.

  Her crimes…

  She snapped out of it and reeled her mind in.

  No, don’t go there.

  “I’ve got to think. I don’t know how much time I have until the entire Degormanus Company descends on this town, and if I’m still here by then…” There would be no way to get out of Fordain without the Talradians finding her.

  Outside the window of the restaurant, a group of guards passed by, sauntering in their armour and holding aloft the Tiana’s colours. Carathiliar. They scorned and feared her kind, even if few went as far as the Talradians would. If she were caught in a crowd, many would run, but just as many would stand beside their erstwhile allies.

  Two more guards ran past, waving their hands to the previous group. They were young, and judging from their body language, unsettled. They emoted frequently with their arms and pointed vaguely in some direction.

  She sipped the broth from her bowl as the door opened, causing the half a dozen occupants' heads to turn, including her own. It was one of the watchmen. He panted and asked the waitress for some water.

  “It was horrible.” He spluttered between gulps, “Pools of drying blood, almost half a dozen bodies covering the street.”

  Her hand remained steady as she reached for her coin pouch.

  “-Just down Cerii Street, it’s a wonder nobody saw or heard anything. They must’ve been quick about it…”

  She pushed her hat a little lower as she dropped the copper coins she owed them on the counter and moved toward the exit, careful not to meet the soldier’s eyes.

  “It must have been that Demon, the one they say was in the Eastside and the North. She’s killed Talradian knights already, in cold blood. It’s awful.”

  That was only half true.

  “-The butcherers of the North-”

  She left the store as quickly as she could without drawing any attention. There wasn’t anyone useful to copy around her, so she quickly got off the main road and onto one of the side streets. It was late afternoon, so many townsfolk were either finished with their work or in the process of finishing up. She was considering whether there would be a bar or another restaurant she could spend time in when a sign caught her eye and made her stop in her tracks.

  Alleria didn’t know Athniuthian; she’d never gotten round to learning it, and if she wanted to, she could mimic someone’s ability to read it, if only for a brief period. She wouldn’t be able to take any of their other skills, however, as she’d be in essence copying the fact that a man was Carathiliarian, rather than whatever profession he held. Velandus had often chastised her for being ‘lazy’, but with that sort of crutch, who could blame her?

  This sign, however, was accompanied by such a universal image that only a child would have trouble understanding it. She walked up the building it hung from, a two-story, red-bricked building in the classic Carathiliarian style, silver and bronze ornaments dangling from its roof, and was instantly greeted by a smiling, bespectacled young woman.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. Welcome to the Leabahar Library. Would you like to peruse our shelves?”

  She was… awfully welcoming for a Carathiliar, and to be honest, it threw her off for a second. She didn’t even seem disturbed or put off by her smelly and dirty attire. Was it worse than she thought?

  “I didn’t know Fordain had a library?”

  The smile didn’t break. “Just the one, what sort of town would we be without a library?”

  Just about like every other town I’ve seen.

  Access to literature was a luxury, not a necessity. At least that was how most people tended to see it. Cities would, of course, have the resources and coin to spend on such ventures, but towns usually had more important places to put their money. Hence her confusion when faced with one in Fordain, already a town in a backwater province.

  “I… sure, why not. I’ll take a look.”

  The smiling woman led her into the library, and Alleria had to admit she was a little impressed. She’d expected perhaps a shelf or two of books, not kept in the best condition and in dire need of expansion, but instead found, to her surprise, a well-stocked library spanning both floors with an overhang to access the second. There weren’t any leaks in the ceiling, and when she went to inspect the closest shelf, she found copies of books that even some cities were lacking in.

  The Adventures of Maxilliam Nilanfore Volume 3, Will of Thrones – a History of Negaroth, The Piscinian Accolades – Second Edition.

  It was an honest-to-gods Florainian-style library, complete with compartmentalisation and sorted by alphabetical order and geographical basis.

  In layman’s terms, it was beautiful.

  “The look on your face says you too are an appreciator of literature.”

  She turned back to the librarian. “I must admit my misjudgment, this place is quite impressive.”

  Her smile widened. “I appreciate it.”

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this is all very Florainian in design, is it not?”

  “I’m impressed you spotted it. It took me several years of study in Florantsire, their capital, before I was confident enough to put it into practice.”

  Alleria pulled a book off the shelf, A Classical Guide to Florainian History, and looked it over.

  Good quality too.

  “This must have been expensive?”

  “It would’ve been if Tiana Muthlab didn’t take a personal interest in it. He provided me with as much gold and resources as I needed to get this all going.”

  She looked around the empty library. “Do you get many customers?”

  For the first time, her smile waned somewhat. “A few come when they’re not working, and I’ve had a couple children show interest now and again too, but, um…”

  Alleria turned to her with a frown. “But what?”

  “I get complaints now and again, usually from older folk. They don’t like some of the books I provide, call them ‘distasteful to our people’ and ‘too foreign for Carathiliar.’” There was a brief flash of anger. “All they want to read is histories from our perspective and our legends and tales, never what goes on beyond our borders, unless it had something to do with our glorious past.”

  She looked genuinely peeved about it, and Alleria could see why. In a stoic, isolationist culture, anyone bringing in new ideas or concepts from abroad would be met with severe backlash, no matter what it was. History said that her own kind had been like that for hundreds of years before they decided to open up a little to Humanity.

  For all the good that came of that.

  “They’ll complain no matter what; old people always find a way. You should just… keep your chin up.” She was trying to be genuinely supportive. It was more difficult than she expected.

  The young woman seemed to appreciate it, though. Her smile returned like sunshine. “Thank you. You can read whichever books you like, we’re open quite late.”

  She decided, ‘Why not?’ If she needed to keep a low profile and keep off the streets, where no doubt the searches were continuing, what better place than a quiet library? Plus, it allowed her to indulge in a passion she had such little time for.

  Reading.

  She strolled around the edges of the room, dismissing Talradian and Carathiliarian history without so much as a blink. After a while, she paused and decided on a thin book by historical standards, which meant it was still quite thick. The Watchful Humans – Moren of the First and Second Age. She’d been meaning to find and read a copy of it, but the time was never right. After asking the librarian for permission, she sat herself down in a chair on the second floor, made sure she was comfortable, and opened it up.

  Moren history was always written in the vein of fanciful tales, at least when recounted by the Moren themselves. Knights in shining armour, battles against Red Drakes, duels in the name of love, those were often the focus, even well into the Third Age. Thankfully, this book was co-authored by a Florainian scholar, and they always erred on the side of accuracy.

  Ah, the Moren. The far-seeing and watchful Humans, able to see leagues away with just the naked eye. Do to this, any foreign armies that made war with them had to come to terms with the fact that stealth and ambushes simply weren’t an option, a Moren scout would see your army and report your movements while you were still mustering. Reconnaissance was their speciality. And when you did meet them in battle, you would be faced with armoured knights on horseback, each one a champion in their own right, ready to make you regret ever setting foot into their kingdom.

  The book only went into First and Second Age histories, but even then it had to delegate whole chapters to the concept of the Knight Orders, a unique feature common in Southern Moren. They all stemmed from one order, whose formation had been lost to the annals of history, but had fractured, splintering into multiple orders, each with their own focuses and specialities.

  That part she always found long and boring. Oh, here’s the entire assorted details and descriptions of every single order and everything they did and- oh wait, that one just splintered itself into three more, let’s go talk about each of them as well. Frankly, she was seconds from falling asleep.

  The only reason the rest of the South-West had been spared Knight Orders riding across their borders every decade was simple. The Moren had been too busy fighting each other to consider warring with another kingdom.

  They’d arrived on the shores of the continent in two groups, each establishing their own kingdoms that quickly became at odds with each other. In the South, there were Knight Orders and shipbuilders. In the North, barbarians and glorious warbands. It had taken them more than two Ages, over two thousand years, before they were able to unite into one kingdom. And that was when people started to sweat.

  She put the book down, leaning back in her chair. It was quite heavy, and a lot to take in, but parts of it were just so interesting. Human history was by far a better read than her own. In Demagain, there were no kingdoms of feuding realms. No war or conflict, just politics and under-the-table deals. It was nicer than Andwelm, most assuredly, but was it all that interesting to read about? For that matter, the coolest books she’d read there had been stories of what happened when Demons left Demagain. That spoke volumes.

  “It’s a good read, isn’t it?”

  She snapped out of her reading-induced fervour and looked up. The young librarian was smiling down at her from behind her glasses.

  “I- yes, I do find it quite interesting. The notes written in the columns by the co-author…” She paused to look at the cover again, “…Calavius Rostanaria, are very insightful.”

  “Ah, the dreaded Florainian column notes. Feared by authors and historians across Andwelm, or so they say.”

  She snorted, “As they should. That it adds clarity and accuracy to the piece should be celebrated rather than feared.”

  “Agreed, though they could do to be less obtrusive about it.”

  “I could probably agree with that. Have you read The Talfandil Question?”

  She nodded. “A travelling bard recommended it to me last year. I must say, seeing two co-authors completely devolve into a literary debate on the text itself was a first for me.”

  “I’d like to read it again, it was more entertaining than every bard I’ve listened to combined.”

  They both laughed at that, and she found herself exchanging anecdotes about history with her, ranging across various topics that clearly no one else they knew could answer. It was definitely not what she’d expected out of her day, meeting a Carathiliar with a mind, and a good one at that. Part of her began to suspect she vetted each book that came into this library by reading them in their entirety.

  After a while, though, the young librarian cleared her throat. “As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, and trust me, I would, I do need to close up now.”

  Alleria blinked, then looked out a nearby window. True to her word, darkness had already settled in, and the nightlife of Fordain, if you could call it that, was about to head into full swing. She just stared.

  How long were we sitting here reading?

  That’s probably something we need to fix.

  She cleared her throat and closed to the book. “Of course, my apologies, I completely lost track of the time.”

  “No worries, happens to the best of us.”

  She climbed down to the ground floor and returned the book to its spot on the shelf, rather ruefully in fact, she’d just about started getting into it. Visiting this library might have to become a bit of a daily excursion until she finished it. That wasn’t a safe idea, and she would do well to keep moving, but… this was lying low, wasn’t it?

  She was astonished when the librarian told her there was no payment that needed to be made.

  “I know that all the libraries in Floraine have you pay for access, and probably some in our own cities, but it would crush my Soul to deny someone knowledge just because they lacked gold.”

  “How about… a donation then?”

  She smiled. “Only if you can, miss, but I would be grateful nonetheless.”

  Alleria fished into her pockets and produced, to the librarian’s wide eyes, several gold decimara, which she dropped on the counter. A lot of coin for sure, but she could earn it back somehow.

  “I- I don’t- what-”

  “An anonymous donation from a fellow lover of books.” She said with perhaps her first genuine smile of the day. “Till next time, have a lovely evening-”

  BANG!

  Alleria flinched as the door of the library flew open. She instinctively reached for her waist, then froze. Her sword… she swore. “Wrath and Ruin take them.”

  Left pinning a Talradian’s body to a wall.

  A large Carathiliarian man waltzed in, wearing baggy pants and an open shirt revealing a tattooed chest. Even from here, she could feel the confidence he exuded, walking around like he owned the place. He had a sword at his side.

  His eyes barely paused on her as he looked at the librarian. “And here I was looking forward to a fun time, seems you’ve come into a tidy sum there.” Avarice was written all over his face. “Now imagine what we could buy with that.”

  He took another step forward, and Alleria saw the young woman flinch. She turned to look at her and saw fear fill her emerald eyes. Her face was contorting between shock, malice, and dread. The hand that’d been picking up the coins was shaking violently, making the gold roll towards the edge of the counter.

  Alleria caught it and placed it back in front of her. “And who are you exactly?”

  The man looked at her, acknowledging her presence for the first time. “Huh? Why should I answer you, hithnadrr? I’m busy here, and I’d sooner be damned than mingle with your kind.”

  He tried to walk towards the counter, but she stepped forward, blocking him. “You got a problem with me? Why don’t we take it outside?”

  He sneered. “Out of my way, wench.”

  “Make me. What do you want with her?”

  She looked at his leering face, then the expression on the librarian. Her mind ran through everything that had been said. Several thoughts clicked into one. And then she went still.

  Dead still.

  He stared at her with contempt, then suspicion, and finally annoyance. He looked away and made to move around her, one hand touching her shoulder to push her aside.

  And she clocked him in the face.

  He stumbled back and clutched his face. Blood was dripping from his nose. He swore, his ruby eyes flaring. “You little-” He didn’t get the rest out.

  She rushed him, sending a punch straight into his unprotected stomach. He heaved and pulled an arm up just in time to block her. She tried again, and this time he struck her shoulder. She punched his arm, then his chest. He grabbed her and threw her to the ground.

  She was up within seconds and grappled his waist. Putting all the strength she had into it, they both toppled to the ground. On top of him, she punched his face again, and again, and again. He grabbed her and, with a roar, flipped her over onto her back. Someone gasped. She was seeing red.

  His grip tightened on her throat, and she felt her body responding, healing all the incoming damage. Veins pulsed across his arm as he squeezed. Barely acknowledging it, she took her free leg and kneed him in the crotch.

  He screamed, and his grip relaxed as she rolled off him. She threw herself up, reached for his waist, and drew the shortsword he carried.

  “Wait-”

  She pierced him straight through the heart. He convulsed, blood dripped out his mouth, then he stopped moving.

  Silence.

  She pulled the blade out. The sound was sickening.

  We could have mimicked him, made the fight easier.

  The day she copied anything from a monster like that is the day she turned her own blade against herself and ended it for good.

  The bruises on her body were healing, and she already couldn’t feel the stress he’d put on her neck. He deserved worse, much worse.

  The librarian had collapsed to the ground, her eyes wide with fear. Her mouth was spluttering, trying to get some words out, but couldn’t. There was horror written across her face as her eyes darted between Alleria and the dead man.

  She took a step forward, one hand raised, but the woman flinched and looked away.

  The confusion only lasted for a moment as she felt the breeze coming through the door blow across her hair. She sighed and reached down to pick up her hat, dusting it off. After putting it back over her horns, she walked towards the exit. The young woman said nothing to her and refused to meet her eyes.

  At the door, she paused and said. “You should have stayed in Floraine.”

  She shut the door behind her.

  .   .   .

  Alleria was running through the streets of Fordain. Just Alleria, the exiled Demon.

  Normally, she could’ve outpaced any pursuers in a test of stamina, but these men, if anything, were persistent. They kept on her like rabid dogs. It was also night, and that meant no crowds to fall into, no back alleys she could use for cover. They followed her through every street and turn.

  How had they found her? It was inevitable, whether she killed those Talradian Knights, that Carathiliarian in the library, or not. This was what it meant to be a Demon in Andwelm. You stood and killed, or you ran and died. No in-between.

  She had run onto and off the main street, no doubt catching more attention. She didn’t know where Velandus was, and didn’t want to. She couldn’t keep endangering him because of her actions. Because of her nature.

  She ran through the darkness, barely illuminated by the twin moons that hovered in the sky and the glow of fire from nearby windows. Then she appeared on another street that was made up mostly of the side doors and windowless exteriors of buildings.

  One of the men leapt forward and cut her escape into a nearby alley between houses. She stumbled, and they took that opportunity to encircle her. They were all thugs, hooligans, the Talradian had probably hired for mere silver. To anybody else, any other Demon, they wouldn’t have even got to this point. They’d have left the lot of them spiked to the ground, torn them to pieces, even.

  But Alleria Elevar’s eyes darted to each one of them, and in them saw but one thing.

  Incompetence.

  None of them were good fighters; one barely even knew how to hold his knife. All they had was the persistence to keep up with her, and nothing else. There was nothing in them that would help her mimicking. No skilled knight or warrior in sight. Just as planned.

  The Talradian wench really had done her research.

  She backed up slowly, crouching low with a hand at her waist, the stolen shortsword ready to be drawn. But as she was now… would it even make a difference? Her mind was running through every single scenario, every exit plan she could think of, when she heard a voice.

  “Eight figures, male, six knives, long, three swords, one longsword, one lone figure, female, shortsword.”

  A lightskinned, gods be damned, foreigner appeared, panting slightly as he eyed them all. His face was fair, slightly tanned even. His hair fell down in a light-brown sprawl, tied in a bun. He had a slender longsword in his hand, rusted and ruined beyond recognition.

  What in the name of-

  “Hithnadrr, mind your own bloody business.” One of them spat at the ground in front of him.

  “What did she do to you? And whatever it is, does it warrant violence?”

  “None of your bloody business, now why don’t you scurry off before we gut you as well.” They were looking dismissively at the sword he still held in his hand.

  “If you are assaulting civilians, I am sure there is a law against it-”

  “Like you have a damn clue about our laws.”

  “-so, I must ask you to cease any unnecessary violence.”

  Was he… negotiating with them? Buying himself time, perhaps? Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be working, and if anything, he was making the thugs angrier by the minute.

  One of them spoke, “I know him. He was in the Palace a few days ago, spewing on about his Goddess and beliefs. He’s one of them Light folk.”

  The Palace? Light folk? Was he… he couldn’t be…

  Velandus’ Lightbringer?

  The leader growled at him, “Light bastard, are you really going to stand up for one of her kind?” He pointed his sword at her. As a response, she leapt quickly, piercing the chest of the man closest to her with as much force as she could muster, before ripping it out with a guttural squelch.

  In barely a second, the Lightbringer was in front of her, swinging his blade like a stave, tripping one man and smashing the head of another. He stared down at her briefly, and she met his pale-yellow eyes. They felt… empty. Then he spun around and met their blades.

  It was over in a heartbeat.

  She could barely keep up, as he knocked their blades aside and broke them with his blunted, club-like sword. One by one, the assailants fell to the ground, landing only flesh wounds on him. He met the leader in a brutal clash, the only one that lasted more than a single exchange.

  She wasn’t a swordsman, but what he did next baffled her and made her flinch.

  He let the man strike him. The cut went deep into his shoulder. Before anyone had even processed what was happening, he struck back, grappling the sword embedded in his own shoulder from his opponent and turning it on him. He cleaved the head from his body with a sickening slash.

  There was silence, save for the low groans of the unconscious thugs on the ground. Barely a minute had passed. He turned to her, his face contorting in a strange expression.

  “You’re not hurt, are you?” He asked.

  She stared at him and shook her head.

  He nodded. “Good.”

  He swayed a little. His eyes grew unfocused. Then the sword dropped from his hands with a clatter, and he fell to his knees.

  “Hey, hey, what’re you doing?!”

  He collapsed on the ground, blood pooling out of his many wounds. Alleria looked down at him in shock and horror. She wasn’t even sure what to do. Where was Velandus, he-

  He continued to stare at him, one thought in her mind.

  Who is this man?