‘You’ll have to stay tangible for now,’ Lokus told the demon. ‘Those bandages won’t do much, but they will keep your arm from falling off and keep it secure for your body to do its thing fixing it. Hopefully.’

Ibmund growled lowly, its thoughts a mystery.

Lokus looked around the barn, wondering where he could hide the demon until he could get its arm fixed. The farmers would surely notice if a new demon appeared in their stalls out of nowhere, especially considering that said stalls had little room to spare.

As he was dwelling on this conundrum, the door to the barn swung open, and in strolled the hooded woman from the alley.

She gave Ibmund a brief glance before turning to Lokus with a hint of surprise. “So, you’re an Egomancer as well. I can’t help but wonder what other secrets are tucked away in that brain of yours.”

Lokus turned to the woman, his Domain enveloping her as his mind raced to come up with an explanation.

“No need to be so tense,” the woman said with a dismissive wave of her hand. She strode past him, soon leaving the range of his Domain as her voice called out again. “You’ll soon find that the people of the Aldark have… looser morals than you’re used to. They won’t balk at your demon pet, so long as you keep it on a tight leash.”

“You seem to know a lot of things,” Lokus said cautiously, finding it hard to believe the stranger.

“I should hope so. Knowledge is the only thing separating us from them.”

“From who?” He assumed she had made a gesture, but since she wasn’t in range of his Domain, he couldn’t see it.

“Ah, right, your mask. You can take that off; there should be enough light in this barn for you to see by.”

“I can’t,” Lokus replied. If he took it off, Ibmund would lose its physical form and the bandages would fall off. “I need it for the demon.”

“Suit yourself. Anyway, I was referring to the demons. Some of them can be just as smart as you and I, if not smarter, but what truly prevents them from surpassing us is their lack of curiosity.

“They rarely seek things out, explore the unknown. When they see something new, they’re likely to tear it to shreds or run from it, but study it? It’s just not in their nature. Most of the time.”

“Most of the time?”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“There’s always a few that break the mold. This is as true for demons as it is for humans, plants, and all other forms of life. But those demons that do so often have more going for them than just raw intelligence. Are you sleeping here tonight?”

“Is that an option?” Lokus asked her. He had been worrying about where he would sleep after the two guards at the gate told him the barracks were full.

“You’ll have to ask the breeders, but so long as you fulfill your duty, they shouldn’t have an issue with it.”

There was that word again. “Duty.” Why did Lokus get the feeling that he had roped himself into something he shouldn’t have?

“And where are the breeders?” Lokus asked her, pushing the thought to the back of his mind for now.

“They’ll be here in an hour or so. They always feed their charges before they go to sleep. You should visit the baths in the meantime, do something about all of… that.”

………

‘Duty.’

Lokus mulled over the word as he sunk into the water.

He was the only one in the bathhouse at this time, and like everything else in Saddoton, there wasn’t a charge for using the facility.

Which, of course, brought Lokus back to that one heavy word: duty.

It implied an obligation, and after Lokus had partaken in their food, the safety of their walls, and their medical supplies, it was hard for him to say he didn’t owe the fortress anything.

But that didn’t change the anxiety gnawing at him as his thoughts danced with daydreams of what this duty might be.

Every minute Lokus spent in these waters seemed to rejuvenate him, resting his tired limbs like a gentle massage, but it wasn’t enough to distract from that word, “duty,” looming over him.

Would he be made a blood sacrifice? One of flesh? Would he be forced to serve in the fortress’ military until the end of his days, all because of his use of their services? Or would he be offered up to some almighty demon as payment for the demons Saddoton farmed?

It was difficult to assume anything but the worst, after all Lokus had been through. His current location, the very bowels of the Aldark, didn’t exactly do anything to temper his grim expectations.

He sighed deeply, sinking until the water was up to his masked chin and fervently scrubbing the vomit and blood off of his skin as if doing so would also wash these horrible thoughts out of his head.

He scrubbed and scrubbed until there was not even a picogram of dirt on his skin, and then scrubbed some more, a deep grimace on his face as the thoughts became more and more unruly.

Eventually, he sighed again, forcing himself to relax and pulling himself out of the bath. The only way he could think of to calm these unruly speculations of his was by asking that hooded woman what was required of him.

He picked his pants off of the floor, grimacing again at the disgusting state of them before hopping back into the bath to scrub them clean as well.

………

‘The door’s open,’ he thought as he returned to the barn. ‘…Ibmund!’

He hurried in, worried at what might happen when his demon was found without him there, but when he entered the barn, he sighed in relief.

There, standing in front of the stalls lined with buckets, were two unpleased-looking men with their arms crossed as they listened to the hooded woman explain the demon that stood nearby.

“Here’s its master now,” the woman said, gesturing to Lokus. “Like I said, nothing to worry about.”

One of the men’s glares swiveled from the woman to Lokus, his jaw setting as he noticed the strange mask the latter wore. “Is what she saying true, lad? Is this ‘ere demon yers?”