2. Counsel

Kicking the rubble off him, Roches gritted his teeth and got his fractured arm into a more comfortable position. Having done that, he used the next three minutes to inhale air as if there was no tomorrow as nerves tingled and his perception screamed.

The paladin would have liked to indulge himself for a while longer, but Evelinn's dust-covered head had nothing better to do than to peek out from behind a destroyed wall, her always distant eyes now the embodiment of a heavy scowl. Ugly, tiny witch.

"Got done in," she said. Fuck. More work to do. "Damsel's just over there, the debris too much for me alone. Care to butt in with a healing skill or two? [Lesser Aura of Vitality I] should not be the beginning and the end of your repertoire, paladin."

How dare she?! My efforts are the only reason the wrench's alive! Roches groaned. "None of your damn business, inspector." His bones slowly creaked into the right position, a wave of soothing mana hastening the healing process.

A full recovery would take proper time no doubt, but Roches estimated the evil daemon to not come back now that this hiding place had been discovered and the paladins alerted. Though not all followed the same behaviour pattern, so he couldn't relax just yet.

Even if he could, with an inspector on the team, there was no way his nerves would be able to in any case. Fucking twat. Ruined my day. Roches wasn't sure who he meant.

Yet his eyes couldn't help but gloss over Evelinn's back ever so venomously. Useless, just like the rest of hers. Grow a pair, pimp! Talk about nosey, he thought and let the words wash past.

"We came here to scout and apprehend the unpardonable evil. We owe this much to the observatory department. And you've heard me correctly. We came to get close and personal, not wasting time with fucking questions."

The bad blood between inspectors, civilians who rose in ranks, and paladins, fighters who rose through bloody battle merit, was well known in the order.

Paladins complained they always had to take on the role of a nanny when teaming up, inspectors did because words seldom meant anything to the brutes and were hardly ever received well.

It was an old hat, a custom by now Roches did neither question nor feel the desire to stand up to it. "Why you're even dispatched here is just as much of a riddle as the daemon not fighting properly is.

But you can be damn sure my complaints reach the grandmaster." "As do mine the grand inspector." Sure, tell your daddy of pimps. While talking, they both briskly waded through the ash-covered rubble. No shit, they'll have some pull. Damnit all.

Seeing the bloody aftermath of the atypical daemon's rampage, Roches once again swore not to rest before the shame had been washed away with blood and he could proudly show his face again in public. Purple blood, to be precise.

If only the inspector wasn't here, bloody hell. His thoughts did everything but calm him down. "Something wasn't right, paladin. The daemon had enough firepower to kill us immediately, but it didn't. Of that, the spells it used are enough evidence.

Evelinn spoke up again, the paladin looking at her as if it tortured him to stay in her company for even a second longer. Stupidity and cowardice ain't contagious. Hopefully.

Roches cracked his knuckles, feeling a headache approaching if it hadn't already come knocking. "What do you know, detestable scholar.

It's always the same with you inspectors. Just like the damn magicians, you'd talk to the Devil himself if you could. For what? To trust in lies and lose your sanity?

It's always us who are called to clean up your messes." The petite woman was like deep water, still and unimpressed by all. "Paladin! I'm not joking." Her voice was the same old flat. "To me, it seemed to act upon its wish to protect."

Might burn her at stake here and now. Bloody felony! Roches almost laughed out loud in absolute anger, his eyes rolling in their sockets as he answered, his voice crackling. "Protect? No daemon ever protects. They always plot, always wish to do harm.

A menace, that is what they are. Unreasonable to boot. Today it annihilates a village of lessers, tomorrow a grand city. The evil must be stopped! As do your pagan traits." The grandmaster might have an idea. The man's scarily...efficient. "Paladin—"

"Bloody right, Master Roches." The weak answer to his angry words from nearby made him look closer at the specific pile of rubble and torn-up earth, ignoring the inspector who seethed with impotence.

"Hush now, cadet. This might take a bit." That the inspector couldn't help the cadet in any way was evident. Useless. Not only was the debris of a common house burying her under, but a good part of the hill had also turned into detritus, stacked up on top of it.

Undeserved luck; this damn noisy inspector. No non-warrior would've survived that. Roches expelled the ill-fitting thoughts from his mind and concentrated; got a job to do.

"In silence the angels preach, in reticence the pious listens, in benevolence the righteous beseech the Father. [Lesser Heal I]" A beggarly beam of white light left his outstretched palms, Roches' face reddening in shame at the inspector's contemptuous frown.

Don't you dare— "So much for your qualifications, paladin. Should've embraced the path of a berserker. To think someone part of the Lilies employs lesser spells of the lowest trier and needs to chant too. My compliments for your thick skin."

That's it. You just wait, know-it-all. Nobody in the Lilies will save you ass in the future, of that I'll make sure. Punching away at the debris, Roches soon removed enough material to allow Damsel to crawl out on her own.

The low-levelled healing skill that'd been cast on her only increased her self-recovery slightly, doing nothing about pain and the many wounds littering her well-toned body.

Yet she'd have gladly chosen death rather than to provide nourishment for the inspector's mocking scowl. Got spunk that one. I like it. "Cadet, we shall return to the church at once.

There, the fathers will gladly patch you up, so persist." "Indeed, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger...many a wet grave's inmate lived by this creed." I sweat to the Father if she doesn't shut it I—

"Inspector. Evelinn." A wave of resentment made her swallow the next couple of words she had on her tongue. If she died here and they made the daemon responsible for it, nobody would care two hoots.

Too occupied with pursuing the common enemy of humanity for sure, her sacrifice would then be seen as noble at best or plainly forgotten. Evelinn wisely opted to keep the remarks to herself for the remaining trip back to the nearest church.

Not that far away, they met much unusual hustle and bustle. Can't be good. Frigging bearer of calamity, nothing good ever comes from them. Paladin Roches got a bad feeling about all this, raced over to a distraught monk and soon got answers to his inquiries.

Without wasting a second, he grabbed the shoulders of both ladies and headed deeper into the dome. Past guards, hidden deadly enchantments, mandatory identity checkpoints, Roches only stopped in front of a heavily guarded door.

Stepping inside, he did not spare the magnificent room a glance. "Brad, get the transmission ready. We're moving to Narves." The old priest surrounded by a crowd of impeccably clothed acolytes nodded slowly towards Roches.

He was blind, so he only got the approximate direction right. The priest didn't ask any questions nor did he dawdle. Soon, soft mutters exited his wrinkled lips. A few minutes later, others too joined him in his slow-paced, adjuratory chant.

After a dozen minutes, and after all the voices in the room had turned into an indistinguishable chorus, Priest Brad nodded again, this time very tired before dozing off on the spot.

Paladin Roches didn't waste his efforts either and hurried towards the dissipating swirl that'd appeared in the middle of the room, the two women in tow.

All he could think of was praying to God he wasn't late. His worst fears until now had come too dangerously close to the truth. The unimaginably powerful daemon who toyed with them earlier had appeared elsewhere.

In a very important trade city of this kingdom, to be exact. Once in Naves, he swore to rally his comrades and settle the bill once and for all. You just wait. I'll come for you.

[https://i.imgur.com/81qwODv.png]

"Never held hopes to understand you, Thoth. This was and is beyond my wildest dreams, honestly. But...this? Makes fucking no sense. Care to explain?" "I care not, Spice."

"Particular reason why the thing's female? Or...is it that? Want to raise your wife to your taste?" Spice's warm smile trained to perfection distorted for a whole second.

"Fine, fine. I get it. No need to stare at me with those eyes. Don't want to die this soon, over nothing more than a shitty joke no less."

Thoth considered the softly grumbling bartender's sincerity, found the display up to par albeit barely and retracted his phenomenal claws elongating his fingers threefold.

His scaly hands looked unassuming thereafter, their lethality discernable by Spice alone. "I seek advice and a drink." Spice stopped polishing the spotless drinking glass in his hands to cast a deep and meaningful look at his friend occupying a stool near the counter.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

One of many more that were free even at this late hour. He was happy it didn't come to blows. Spice felt generous enough to offer Thoth free counsel for whatever plagued that walking and talking enigma's mind.

"What other reason could you've had?" Spice wasn't yet finished with the spotless drinking glass in his hand. He grabbed another velvety cloth and continued his work.

"Advice coupled with a drink is the damn reason we see each other a couple of times in a fucking century more than usual." "Commonwealth." Thoth didn't speak much, his emotions perfectly hidden behind an expressionless face.

What does it take to loosen up his tongue? A waler? Focus, Spice, focus. The drink doesn't mix on its own. What the reticent piece of tumbling disaster speaks has never been much anyway, the bartender thought to the uncaring void watching him always.

One of Thoth's reasons was that whatever Spice knew would effectively circulate in the world of immortals no hour past. The other was linked to the baby. She slept, for now.

Teleportation knocks its lights off. That's good to know. Thoth was still happy about the small breakthrough in parenting he'd stumbled upon by welcome accident.

"Shitty day, huh? Otherwise, you'd have been happy with a Veneziano. What's that one for, sacrifice? Staple food?" "Karmic ties." "...you jest." Thoth laughed dangerously, his eyes ablaze, birthing chaotic letters.

"Fine, fine. My bad." Spice didn't comment further on Thoth's peculiar life choices. In all the realms, he knew best to better not piss that one off, immortal or not.

"Commonwealth. Long. Shot." Spice let go of the drinking glass in his hands, putting it on display behind the counter where others of its kind stood proud.

With impossible speed, the bartender grabbed all bottles necessary for his customer's requested drink, glass included and began mixing in no time.

"So how's life," Spice murmured under breath to not wake up the baby and possibly worse too. "Beyond shitty, I mean." "Beyond that? Even shittier if that's enough for an answer." "It is not and you know it. Spill the beans, old champ."

Thoth went silent until he eventually relented. "Got called a daemon. Never had the chance to speak up, let alone set the record straight." Spice whistled meaningfully. "What a bunch of brainless fools. Dead, I wager?"

"No." The bartender stopped grabbing a bunch of flagons at random, then shook his head and returned to the task at hand, leaving Thoth in the dark about the many offensive thoughts flashing past his mind. The world truly isn't fair.

"No? Are you really the Thoth I know? The murderous bundle of realm-ending sarcasm ever so ready to evaporate a world or two?" The minutes ticked by. "...I'm tired, Spice.

Tired of the farce that living has become to me. Tired to end up always in the same goddamn corner. For millennia, I haven't seen anything new. Thoughts of the end come to me ever so frequently. And easier each time."

The shaking continued for a while longer than necessary. Much longer. Probably Spice's way of handling the bombshell. "And your love for magic and theorisation?" "Fuck that." Thoth sighed, unhappy with the results of his effort on that front.

"There comes a time you've discovered everything there is to discover. Then you go mad. Destroy things. Entice the weak-minded to do the same. Massacre people. You know the gig."

Gesturing at Spice to better add more murderous alcohol to the damn drink if his continued existence was what he sought, Thoth only picked up the thread after another couple of eventless minutes had passed.

"Ah...you know perfectly how things go, Spice. Prowl your rounds, hit up some strange folk, check what's going on, get rid of some unlikable cults, evaluate the progress, think about the bigger picture and done. Add some more, don't be shy."

Thoth sighed. Shooing away the prostitute who had seen a potential customer in him, he gestured to the busy bartender to provide a drink for the woman and put it on his tab.

To approach a stunner like him with such thoughts in mind, a lot of things must have gone wrong in life. Of course, the crucial point was that she was a far cry from what he fancied but that also wasn't her fault.

Ignoring the madly twitching eyebrows of his good friend, Thoth also looked the other way as the man swapped the small schnapps glass with one intended for insane amounts of beer and looked his way with eyes blazing with provocation.

"Full house as always," Thoth remarked sarcastically. "What else do I expect? Got a prime location here in the frigging melting pot of the Races and you're swamped with work as always."

Looking around the dimly lit room featuring a couple of badly preserved war trophies, cheap tableware and even worse entertainment, Thoth scoffed at the handful of strange people who all hadn't it in them to look him straight in the eye.

Nobody glanced past his scales and some simply didn't care as they should. Unimportant bottom feeders, all of them. The usual clientele his good friend enjoyed. All mortals, by the way. Spice hated to show off after all. Just as Thoth remembered.

"Customer, here's your order." Thoth was presented with a mug of Commonwealth he soon gulped down at once with relish. "Ahhh...that hits the spot. Got any courtesans worth their price?

Haven't had action on that front for too long and hormones ain't exactly understanding." Spice shook his head in exasperation as he gestured to his clientele. "Do you think they need that kind of service? We ain't this high-end, dear noble."

Spice's mocking choice of words and infuriating intonation weren't lost on Thoth yet he didn't play along. "Then do something about it, the bar's yours." "Saloon... ah, forget it. Can't distinguish a stall from a restaurant, truly.

Would've liked to do so, really. But...the people here are fucking racist. Look the part of a common man, alright. Got the appendices right, proportions and musculature too. And yet what? Just because I'm a bit darker in tone, the eyes roll and tongues swagger.

Funny how they look down on me while death stares back at them, pissed." Thoth softly shook the baby who was on the verge of waking up according to its increasing heartbeat.

To his knowledge, he'd gain some more precious minutes that way before all hell broke loose and even the dead would wake due to all the piercing yelling. She still had not yet eaten anything which made him worry something fierce.

As for the bartender...Thoth knew it was not all empty talking. Not at all. The realm Spice had grown up in was riddled with slavery and class thinking, thriving off it even. It might be important to add a piece of information; that realm was no more.

Thoth made the second mug float to his lips and took a hearty sip. "Ahh, shit. That time's long behind me. Now the realms don't interest me anymore, not after a decade a century a millennium, not ever."

"So...what's up with you, really? I doubt you came here for a drink and a shrew. Else you'd have gone straight to the slave market. You said something about advice." "...you know I cannot handle dead fish eyes. But you're right, enough of that.

Got anyone here with experience?" "Experience?" Spice grabbed the next drinking glass and started cleaning it. Not that it was necessary as each beloved item was bereft of any speck of dust to begin with.

"As in fucking or what?" "Hell no. Parenting. That's all the rage nowadays." Your rage mate... Spice only dared think of these words while he kept a straight face.

Thoth could be unreasonable when provoked and he wasn't interested in closing shop and moving to another realm because of a tantrum. Not when his instincts screamed at him to take this seriously.

"The one by the corner. Grandmother of thirty-seven rascals. Delivered seventeen kids of which eight died. If anyone knows the answers to what you are looking for, it is her."

Thoth nodded in understanding. While her family was not particularly numerous, he at least understood it wasn't that common in human society. And having thirty-seven grandkids should account for experience. Somewhat.

Finishing his second mug of Commonwealth, Thoth moved towards her, noting the stench of stress and powerlessness. He also smelled love and care from her...and anger. Emotions strong enough to influence her immediate vicinity with their weight.

That was an old woman with a desire. That was somebody he could work with, engage in fair trade. As he approached steadily, he felt her tense up for a moment before she relaxed.

"Strange," Thoth commented, now close enough to drop down on the footstool next to her. "You were obviously scared earlier. What soothed your nerves?" Most others in the bar hastily looked the other way, feigning his inexistence.

The woman looked past his claws and peculiar skin colour, past the scales and horns poking out from the baggy cape he wore, straight into his mighty ash-coloured, inverted pupils.

"What has an old ma left to lose, daemon?" The years certainly weren't kind to either her eyesight or any other part of her physical vessel. But she still possessed that precious spark present in every member of the Races.

"Your thirty-seven plus eight members big family for instance?" Thoth chuckled nastily just loud enough to make himself understood. His mind wasn't as calm as he made her believe to be.

The baby was about to wake up at any moment now. And with her a world of awkwardness if he hadn't found an answer by then. "How do you... Wait, don't answer, Sir. What can this old woman do for Your Excellency."

"A lot," Thoth slowly rocked the baby left and right as he stared into her turbid ice-blue eyes, happy she no longer called him daemon. Not that she understood the subtle difference, but she didn't have to.

"Teach me." "...what?" Thoth kept a straight face as he repeated his request. "Teach me how to take care of the young." And with that, he pushed the baby her way.

The old woman looked at him, then at the baby and then again back to him. Suddenly, she broke out into mighty laughter soon followed by a serious coughing fit.

"You're ill," Thoth frowned. It isn't contagious, is it now? "[Heal I]" Thoth muttered without batting an eyelid while pointing at the old woman with a finger.

Mellow light enveloped her, soothing both pain and illnesses that came with old age. She even seemed to turn younger for a decade. Yet beyond the evident surprise, she didn't seem any happier.

"What is your game, daemon?" There it was again, the hateful word. "Don't call me arbitrary things. I'm here to learn." "No deal involving souls? No eternal slavery? No blood curse for fun?"

Thoth mildly shook his head. "Downpayment, if anything. Only the young and reckless care about that. It's proof for lacking class." The woman stared even harder into his eyes, her distrust perceptible.

Having looked enough, she slowly averted her gaze, probably feeling the dirty ground to be much more interesting. "I beg for forgiveness," the old woman started again, "we hear things about Your Excellency's kind. Terrible things."

"So you believed them all without having made a picture yourself." "I'm ashamed." Thoth grinned. "Don't be. That's just part of being mortal. Now teach me."

And to Spice, he demanded he start preparing for his and the baby's safe travel. The bartender grumbled something about being taken advantage of like so often already, but Thoth didn't lend him an ear.

Even if he did, he wouldn't have reacted any different for the shipload of information the old woman dumped on him made him question his intelligence for the first time in millennia.

It took as long as midday of the following day to have heard everything once and until evening to clear his doubts. Mastering parenting seemed to exceed the difficulty of mastering any world-class magic by heaps. And she took care of the baby too.

In the end, Thoth walked away satisfied. The old, exhausted woman soon fell into peaceful slumber. But not before he'd given her a flute, telling her this would equalise their exchange while sleep was already encroaching on her.

For fear of misunderstanding, Thoth had even added that the flute would act on its own in times of dire need. "Is everything ready?" "Duh, since hours ago."   

"Perfect. Then I'm on my way. This jewel should be payment enough for your service, Spice. Was fun seeing you again?" "Was that a question?" "...might not have been. You're as boring as always mate." "Right back at you!"

"Heh, don't make me laugh old champ. See you. Oh, and let the old woman sleep safely. I owe her that much." Yeah, it's you who does, for fuck's sake. Better the volatile element's gone soon, got riches to earn.

"Cya Thoth, was a delight seeing you. Let's meet sometime, somewhere again, alright?" The whole establishment suddenly shone in brutal light, each nook and cranny packed with small, ominous letters yet nobody seemed to care.

Then calm returned. Just not for Thoth. He and the baby had disappeared in the magical process, leaving nothing behind but the mere memory and a flute, now nestled in the wrinkled hands of a kind, troubled grandmother.