Betrayed by his own men and delivered to the mercy of his enemies, Captain Maegar Varn faced a horrible fate.

The stone slab serving as an altar felt painfully cold against his skin, draining the warmth from his body. Two young apprentice witches bustled around him, preparing the ritual. Simple girls from a nearby village, hungry for something that would change their lives for the better. He almost felt sorry for them. Almost. It would have helped immensely if they hadn't intended to spill his blood.

"Come on, Rilla, you can do this!" whispered one witch to the other. "You want to prove yourself worthy in the eyes of Mother Noose, right?"

The one named Rilla hesitated, staring at the dagger in her hand, then at the man lying spread-eagled on the altar, then at her companion.

"Good grief, what a wet hen you are!" grumbled the other witch. "Not that you have to cut off his manhood or anything. That will be Mother Noose's job. Just scratch his skin and get some blood, so I can finish the summoning circle. Brace up and do it!"

Rilla gritted her teeth and touched the dagger to the captive's forearm, placing a small bowl underneath. She turned her head to the side and yanked the dagger. Her victim suppressed a grunt of pain, and the bowl slowly filled up with the necessary amount of blood.

"That's my girl! Nice job, Rilla. You'll see how easy it will feel, once we get initiated."

"You will pay for this," growled the captive.

The other witch contracted her bushy eyebrows, as if wondering what kind of evil eye to give him that could make his situation any worse. She finally settled for a cackle.

"Oh, I know your kind," she sneered. "You think you can talk yourself out of this when the Dreadful Lady arrives, eh? Even wheedle her into making your dick grow back? I doubt that. We will gain her goodwill by offering up your most intelligent body part to her, and then invite her to feast on tender child meat. What can you offer? Compliments?"

"Leave him be, Tiff," pleaded Rilla. "Just go and finish the circle. Let's get on with this already."

"Fine," said the other woman. "Keep an eye on this sorry heap of wounded pride until I fulfil my task. I can't wait until we'll start the dance!" She turned to the captive again. "Just imagine. Beautiful young ladies dancing naked under the moonlight, their breasts bouncing around boobily... Enjoy your last boner time, sir! Hahaha!"

She took the bowl from Rilla's hands and set to work on the runes in the middle of the cave.

Obediently, Rilla kept both her eyes on the captive. In another situation, perhaps she would have listened eagerly to the tall tales he told about the variety of scars decorating his well-muscled body. He, too, kept his deep brown eyes on her. At the moment, he felt quite calm for a person about to be emasculated and slaughtered within thirty minutes or so. He still had time before panic would kick in.

"Do you really want to do this, Rilla?" he asked softly. "You seem to be such a nice girl. What are you doing here, bleeding people out and kidnapping children?"

He soon realised it had been a mistake to mention the children. The girl's eyes suddenly hardened. A childminder who'd abducted her wards, she seemed convinced that upcycling those annoying little brats into demon fodder was a much better fate than they deserved. She flashed a wry smile and shook her head, trying to imitate Tiff's confidence.

"Not gonna work, Captain. You will die a horrible death tonight by Mother Noose's hands. Perhaps you shouldn't have kept all the good loot for yourself and make your men hate and betray you."

A bloodcurdling voice screeched into the night.

"No more chitchat! We're starting!"

Tiff returned. The two girls worked together to herd the three children out of their cage. The old woman they called Mother Noose got into position at the edge of the summoning circle, her hunched figure wrapped in a black gown and a cloak. Other witches filed into the cave, one by one, surrounding the circle. As soon as everything was ready, the Noose began the incantation in a voice like wind howling in a narrow canyon.

The time to panic was drawing near. Captain Varn found himself wondering about the cost of a Greater Restoration spell, in case he would make it out of here alive but without his manhood. As yet, he refused to consider the other outcome.

A third young woman, about the age of Rilla and Tiff, scurried into the cave, screaming at the top of her lungs. She stumbled into the summoning circle, blotting out some of the runes with the soles of her slippers.

"What's wrong, Agnes?" asked the Noose.

"They're coming! They're coming! The demons! Down the hillside!"

"Foolish girl!" lashed out the old witch. "Now I have to start it all over again! Be grateful that I don't tear your tongue out first!"

Then she fell silent and closed her eyes, listening to some voice in her head. The captain struggled against his bonds, trying to catch a better glimpse of what was going on. His efforts earned him nothing but a painful cramp in the neck.

Through the soft whimpering of the smallest child, a chaotic din of cries, yells, grunts and rattling weapons was heard, muffled, coming from far away.

"Is that our demons?" wondered Rilla, her voice trembling. "Did they come early?"

"Yes, it must be them!" cried out Tiff. "But how? We've barely even started the ritual!"

"Hush, you fools!" shrieked the old witch. "This is not how it's supposed to go. But don't worry. Rilla, Tiff, Agnes, you stay with me. The others, head to the mouth of the cave, and find out about their intentions. If they prove to be enemies, deal with them. If not, invite them in. Tiff, you fix the summoning circle."

The senior witches obeyed and left the chamber. Tiff frantically scraped up some caking blood from the bottom of the bowl to correct the runes. After a while, the Noose shuffled out to check on her companions, then returned in a hurry bordering on panic.

"Fall back!"

The three apprentice witches took position behind the summoning circle, grabbing their staves, focusing, while the Noose muttered the words of some complicated-sounding spell. Darkness covered the space between the entrance of the chamber and the summoning circle. Icicles sprang up from the ground, an arctic wind dancing among them. Snowflakes whirled in the freezing cold air. Even outside the zone, the temperature dropped, and the stone of the altar began to feel warm in comparison.

If that wasn't enough to stop the intruders, nothing was.

The din of battle sounded from closer and closer.

Cursing under her breath, the Noose hurried to the altar. Her dark cloak flapped behind her at each step.

"You tried to fool me, scum, didn't you?" she howled, looming above the captain. She cupped his chin in her hand, her long, dirty fingernails digging into his flesh, forcing him to look at her hideous countenance. "Nobody fools the Noose! I will devour your heart, bit by bit!"

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A sly smile appeared on the captain's face. If he managed to gain a few more seconds, perhaps he would be able to pull this off.

"You dabbled in powers best left untouched, old hag," he said. "See what that brings you. Perhaps there is still time to repent."

A dagger flashed between the old woman's gnarled fingers. Forgetting about her hunched back, she drew herself up to her full height to gain momentum for a dramatic stab or ten, and raised the dagger high.

Now it was definitely too late to panic.

A bunch of demons burst into the cave, and crossed the difficult terrain without issue, not even slowing their pace.

For a moment, a colourful aura of light envelopped the Noose's dark figure. Shuddering, the wizened old woman turned away from her captive to face her foe. It was a fierce, red-skinned demoness in scanty clothing, goatlike horns protruding from among her deep red curls, her eyes glowing with golden light.

"Answer for your crimes, witch!" she bellowed, lunging at the old hag with a longsword in hand.

It was all so wrong. So delightfully wrong.

Agnes lay motionless on the ground inside the summoning circle. Rilla failed her first try at casting her spells, distracted by a hunched, skinny, red demon coming at her with a spear. Tiff had more success hexing a bulky fellow in a loincloth, and she could have achieved more, had a tiny grey demon not exploded something stinky next to them, covering the cave in a purplish smoke that smelled like a mixture of old socks, neglected latrines and brewery waste.

Unfazed by the stench, the red woman pulled her sword out of the Noose's chest, kicking the body back.

"What... what are you?" rattled the old witch with her last breath.

"I am your death," said the red woman tartly. A golden halo appeared around her head.

And my very own guardian angel, thought the captain, relaxing into his bonds and taking a deep, relieved breath. He regretted that very soon.

The red demoness (known to her companions as Vice-Captain Felicia Darlac) wiped her sword clean, while her companions finished off the remaining witches or dispelled any residual magic in the cave. She stepped to the altar and touched the tip of her sword at the captain's bonds.

"Look at me closely, Captain Varn," she said, "because I swear to the Inheritor that this is the first and last time you see me like this."

He obeyed with pleasure, taking her all in as she stood above him, stern and triumphant, and much more attractive than a real succubus could ever be. She flicked her hand, and her razor-sharp blade cut through the leather strap around his wrist. Then she repeated the process on the other side.

"Thanks, Felicia," he said, working himself up to a sitting position and rubbing life into his arms. "Your timing is impeccable."

"Just as we agreed. But I still maintain that this was the stupidest idea you ever took into your stubborn head. How badly did they hurt you?"

Not waiting for an answer, she gently laid her hand on the captain's arm, and he felt holy energy course through his veins. The wound healed up immediately.

"Here," she said, handing him a dagger from her belt. "Finish freeing yourself. I'll check on the kids."

The captain watched her go with a fond smile. He was looking forward to seeing her around children. Gods willing, perhaps one day she would give birth to his heir. Or heirs. Not more than three, though. The captain knew firsthand that being the fifth son of a noble family, not counting the daughters, was much less fun than one would think.

The children were perching at the edge of the summoning circle, huddled together. A pair of twin boys around the age of seven and a five-year-old girl. The captain observed with enjoyment how the Vice-Captain knelt down beside them and cut through their bonds, patiently explaining the difference between the demon she pretended to be and the aasimar she really was, conveying them a quick lesson about good and evil and the importance of choice, and giving away her fake horns and tail. She would be such a good mother. Even if her relief was palpable when she could finally leave them in the care of the tiefling Tehara, a kindhearted former pirate who was a natural with children.

Vice-Captain Darlac returned to Captain Varn, and took a seat by his side on the stone slab, so close that their arms touched. She glanced at him with a smirk, noticing that a few blotches of her red body paint had been smeared onto his skin.

"I can see you did your best to be realistic," he remarked. "Well done."

Darlac flashed a proud smile. She liked to see her efforts being appreciated. Especially because she had been hard to convince that the captain hadn't come up with this plan just to make her dress up for him as a succubus (which was, indeed, a significant factor). But Darlac was good at carrying out orders, to perfection and beyond. She'd gone to town putting her knowledge from The Nerosyan Companion to Demonology into practice. Featuring four different types of demons had been a little over the mark, but the protective spells simulating demons' energy resistances had really come in handy when they'd crossed that miniature zone of arctic storms. And Maegar Varn was not someone to spoil his beloved Vice-Captain's fun.

"It must be your Mendevian ancestors," he mused. "Apparently, the crusade is in your blood."

"Maybe I should finally sign up," she said sharply.

"What?"

She didn't answer immediately, but it wasn't hard to tell that something troubled her. They sat in quiet for a while, watching the others tidy up after the fight and loot the cave. The captain knew better than push her for a response before she was ready to speak.

"What's next for us, Maegar?" she finally asked. "You'll be a baron. You'll have your very own little country to rule. But what will become of us? The Varnling Host and its leaders?"

"I'm wondering myself. Once we have pacified our own land and made friends with our neighbours, whoever of the Host wants to settle down will get a piece of land. Those who remain in service will be reorganised into a regular army. And those who prefer their current way of life can be grouped into a separate contingent that I can hire out as mercenaries, just like before."

"Sounds reasonable to me. And where is my place in all this?"

The captain slipped his hand around Darlac's bare waist, putting the sticky paint out of his mind. She trembled under his touch, even after all these years.

"By my side," he said softly, looking into her bright eyes. "Where else?"

"Will I be good enough for a baron?" she asked. She meant it as a playful question, but she was a terrible actor when it came to emotions.

The captain sighed and pulled her closer to himself, if that was even possible. What would it take for this excellent soldier and lovely person to finally understand how precious she was for him?

"Felicia, your father was a nobleman. And you've just won me a barony. And I love you. There is no reason why you shouldn't be good enough. I have plans for you. Regarding your career as well as the two of us. But only if you want it, too. I hope you do."

Darlac put an arm around his shoulder, sharing a little more colour with him.

"Wherever you are, I want to be there, too. You'll need someone to keep you safe."

They sealed the deal with a fond kiss. The captain found himself wishing there were fewer people around. Like, zero. He wanted to have his way with her right here, right now, on top of this altar thingy... But he had to exercise restraint.

"Good," he finally said. "Now that this is sorted, how about I order a painting of this battle and hang it out in my throne room?"

Darlac claimed her arm back and glared at him.

"You want to display your girlfriend's seminude picture in your throne room."

"Fine, fine!" he laughed. "My bedroom, then."

"I don't recommend that, either. Provided that you want me to ever set foot in said bedroom, that is."

"All right. Then I'll have a secret room built, just for myself and the painting. Is that good enough?"

Darlac snorted with laughter and shook her head in mock desperation.

"A secret room with erotic paintings, for the baron's private use. Holy fringe. If you go on like this, I will end up in the crusade."