We’ve made a grave mistake. Greater than we will ever truly know. But that will not stop me, nor will it stop history. The city beneath the earth holds treasures and knowledge beyond our understanding. Things that the nobility will surely squander on their own. Things that only people who have suffered truly will appreciate. We cannot let this knowledge be lost. We cannot let this ignorance prevail. We simply can not. And thus I have made my choice.
I am a man no longer, for I am reborn a rat.
- Jullianus Retan cell notes.
The sound of turning gears rumbled through the cave as the frontal gate slid into the ceiling.
Without further ado, the Greed demon stepped into the opened passage with our group following closely behind. There were murmurs of awe at the inside of the tunnel. Statues lined the sides, depictions covered the ceiling, and another gate blocked our progress. Again a rumble of gears could be heard as we approached the hunk of steel sliding into the floor. More steps were taken until we reached the last gate. The emblem engraved barrier made from dark metal, sporting the symbol of a two-sided hammer and anvil, soon rolled out of the way to allow us entry.
Our group ended up on a stone terrace overlooking the true hart of the Burrows. The Founder’s city had valiantly withstood the test of time when we discovered it, barely affected by the measly centuries that passed following its reclamation by our own hands. Crystals dotted the ceiling, giving the city a night sky of its own. Their lights also apparent in stone lampposts scattered throughout the entire area, illuminating the angular stone buildings that packed every inch of this natural, dome shaped, earth pocket; Its size only rivaled by the Burrows’ topside basin.
In addition, a raging river brought life to the city as it snaked its way through various districts, only to seemingly end against the wall below us. That was not the case, for it ran on beneath the surface, coming out on the other side; the place where we landed at with our lift from the Well.
“Wow, what is this place?” one of the male prisoners asked. The man’s face quickly contorted as he began gasping for air.
“Could someone repeat rule number one for me?” a disembodied voice asked. People began panic instead of answering the question. “Anyone? No? I suggest you hurry, for he doesn’t have long to live."
“No talking unless spoken to,” I answered. Eyes firmly locked on the Greed demon standing still before us.
“Good,” the demon said. It snapped a finger as the man finally began drawing in several deep breaths. “This will be your final warning. The next one that breaks the rules won’t be getting up again. That much I can assure you.” It began walking down the staircase attached to the stone terrace. “Let us proceed.”
The prisoners quickly followed as the other guards herded us downwards. Within minutes we reached ground level. Surrounded by the true warriors of the Burrows, not the ragged looking bunch that squirmed around topside. They filled the streets everywhere you looked. Each and every one of them clad in a tabard of their respective King, or wearing the associated headband. None here bothered in upholding the illusion of the topsides’ weakness as armor and weapons were freely worn, and clothing was donned that consisted of more than a simple sackcloth.
More importantly, the group tried to silence their surprise when they had their first encounter with a living, breathing bronco. Six-thousand pounds of solid muscles, packed into a four-legged mass of gray scaled laziness, surprised them as it plodded down the street. Each slow step faintly shaking the ground as the lumbering beast pulled along a cart full of coal. The bronco suddenly stopped mid-stride until its rider chucked a fist-sized rock into the beast’s gaping mouth. Large molars clamped down, audibly crunching the treat it had been given before continuing its lumbering pace through the crowd. The man riding the beast didn’t seem to be in a hurry; his satchel of deep mushrooms still untouched and unopened. He was too busy gawking at our merry band of doomed sods, and so were the rest of them.
Eyes followed us everywhere as we made our way through the mass of onlookers. Those few that had either a hammer, or an anvil stitched into their tabards seemed more interested in the one leading us. Understandable. It wasn’t like Hawk’s personal demon would just stroll around without reason. Especially not when it had a group of prisoners in tow.
Our destination soon became clear as the minutes ticked by. We were heading towards the Founders very own castle: the Great Hall. It lay on a heightened piece of ground in the middle of the settlement, elevated a good amount above ground level. The Lid may have been a tough nut to crack, but it had nothing against the absurdity that was proper Founder fortification. Thick stone stacked into thicker walls; Combined with jutting towers, metal gates, and a variety of Founder mounted siege weaponry made an assault on this position near impossible by normal means. And that is what the eye can see. The inside of the walls were scribbled with Founder letters. Their meaning unknown, but their purpose clear as it strengthened stone or dispelled magic to degrees not thought possible before. It’s a shame we don’t know how to make them. Copying the letters was simple, but that didn’t mean they would do anything. Maybe there was some hidden step involved, or maybe it was something Founder exclusive. We will probably never know. One thing still remained very clear. Whoever the Founders were, they sure knew how to build. And craft. Can’t forget their weapons and armor. Those things are equally scary.
With a last turn with entered the main square, the large open space that occupied the area in front of the Great Hall, and the only way to access the long winding road that led to its first set of walls. Merchants, warriors, and craftsmen all hurried along to their respective districts. Only a few stopped to look at the thing that lay in the square’s center, the Burrows sole Oath-stone. It was a perfectly square, black block of granite twice the height of a house and just as wide. Its surface engraved with countless lines of text that gave of a faint blue glow, and the occasional red one mixed in between them. As we approached the stone one of the lines changed from faint blue to wispy red while one of the names contained within it shone fierce crimson. It drew the attention of the guards surrounding the stone as well as the nearby scribes. All three of which faced a side of the Oath-stone while holding an open book on a pedestal in front of them.
The robed man in charge of that particular section furiously began scribbling in his book when he witnessed the change. Afterwards he called to one of the messengers stationed at the nearby bars before handing her a piece of parchment. I could see the woman speed off to the western districts, home to the Founder Archives, as we stopped in front of the Oath-stone.
Hawk’s demon turned around whilst clapping his hands. “May I have your attention, prisoners?” Everyone remained quiet, safe for Gob who was as noisily squirming in a nearby guard’s grip. At least he is gagged. “Before you lies an Oath-stone. An ancient item left behind by the Founders a long long time ago. How it works, and what it does doesn’t concern you. I merely require you to follow my instructions.” The demon pointed at me. Soon after, a pair of guards pulled me from the group as they dragged me in front of the Oath-stone. One of them freed my hands from the binders as I stretched my fingers in gratitude. “Marcus here is familiar with the procedure. He will show you how to stand.” I placed one hand on the stone, and the other as a fist on my heart. “Once you have taken this position you will proceed to state the full names of yourself, your father, and your mother in exactly that order. In addition you will state whether you are their son or daughter. As for those of you who have never known their parents, simply stating your own full name will suffice.”
The demon gave me a nod. “I Marcus Ashwood, son of Manfred Ashwood, and Aidyn Ashwood’s son-”
“That is the first part of the process,” the demon interupted. “Afterwards you will swear an Oath that you have not been Bound in any way, shape, or form by Demonic Magic. Mister Marcus here will demonstrate.” The cowl shifted towards me. “Please do it fully this time.”
I took a deep breath. “I Marcus Ashwood, son of Manfred Ashwood, and Aidyn Ashwood’s son, hereby swear an Oath that I have not been Bound in any way, shape, or form by Demonic Magic.” Wind ruffled my rags whilst a faint blue light began shining inside my chest. It soon dimmed as a single blue line of text, its words an exact copy of my Oath, began to etch itself into the stone. It briefly stayed there till the sentence finished writing itself; after which, it exploded into a small burst of blue dust that quickly vanished, leaving the stone unmarked once more. One of the guards strode forward, only to clasp my hands back into the binders. Poor hands.
“Simple is it not?” the demon asked. “Now take your turn one by one, and don’t worry about the order. None of you will be moving till everyone here is done. Except Marcus, he has some important information to pass on.” Two guards grabbed my shoulders before dragging me closer to the demon that was heading towards the eastern district. Shit. Shit. Shit. I could only glance back as the distance between me and Gob was getting bigger and bigger by the second. Bits and pieces will start to fall off, Boss. I let out an audible sigh of relief as the demon stopped near the main square’s exit. With a snap of its finger the guards released their hold of me.
It turned around to address them, “I’ll be enough to escort our prisoner here. You two make sure that all the verified ones get put into their respective cells. As for the ones that turn up red. Well… you know what to do.” Both guards clicked their heels before walking back to the stone. This time the gold-threaded cowl turned towards me. “Follow me, and stay quiet. I loathe listening to the whining of a traitor. It tends to irritate me.” It began moving again.
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“I can’t go,” I blurted out. The demon froze, but only briefly. One of its hands was already reaching for something inside its robes. “I can’t go without my demon.”
This time it turned around. “What do you mean, you can’t go without your demon? That’s nonsense. You should be easily able to dismiss it unless you-” It flicked off its cowl, eye fully open, as it alternated its gaze between me and Gob. A disembodied chuckle began to resound around me. “I see. I see. So that’s how it is. It seems Sly was a better judge of character than we thought.” All six of its hands began to rub together. “How absolutely lucrative.” The guard holding Gob must have heard something since he quickly made his way towards us before dropping the mass of chains on the ground and making his way back.
Hawk’s demon waved a hand at Gob after which his gag promptly split into two. Gob immediately began spitting it out as the other demon’s voice filled the air around us, “Tell me imp. And tell me now. Why, and more importantly how, did you manage to form that with such pathetic amounts of power?”
Gob began to laugh loudly. “That’s rich coming from you, little Guesack . Does your mom even know you’re here?”
Guesack flinched. “How do you know my name!? No, never mind. That doesn’t matter. You’re just trying to bluff you’re way out if this.” Guesack folded all six of its arms. “I’m too smart to fall for such empty threats. Now tell me imp, or suffer.”
Gob snorted. “And here I was thinking that Fioma ran a tight ship. A shame really. All that hard earned reputation ruined by one snot-nosed brat.” Gob let out a deep sigh. “I can only imagine her reaction once she finds out where her son has been hiding.” Guesack’s eyeball immediately retreated back into its head. “Boss, I need to make a phone call. Mind letting me Loose a bit?”
Thick beads of sweat began to roll down Guesack’s featureless face. Whatever this fone kall was, it seemed very fearsome. “What is this fone kall thing you’re talking about?”
“Nothing special, Boss. Just something that allows me to talk to someone else over very very large distances.”
That doesn’t seem so bad. “In that case sure, but only for making that fone kall. Nothing else, got it?”
“Sure thing, Boss,” Gob said as some unknown sounds began to resound around us. In the meantime, Guesack was starting to shiver uncontrollably. It only got worse when a weird tone repeated itself over and over again. Thought that only lasted till a clicking sound was heard. Guesack suddenly became as stiff as a board when a female voice filled the air, “This is Fioma, Archdemon of Greed, with whom am I speaking?” Gob sported one of the biggest grins I had ever seen. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
“A thousand apologies, master supreme!” Guesack shouted as he smashed his face into the ground with a kowtow. Followed by all twelve of his hands loudly clasping above his head in forgiveness.
“Guesack, my boy? It’s you isn’t it? Where have you been hiding, dear? It’s time to come home now.” The way Guesack’s arms trembled seemed to indicate otherwise. “Guesack, don’t ignore me now. You’re in enough trouble as it is. No need to make things worse for yourself.” Guesack was busy kowtowing his face through stone. “Guesack… Guesack… GUESACK!? I know you’re there, Guesack! You will NOT ignore your mother on the phone! Guesack!?” The demon in question was softly whimpering on the ground. “GUESACK GILVANIS GALLIUS if you don’t pick up this phone right this inst-” Another clicking sound was heard as the angry female voice suddenly got cut off.
“It seems we have reached an understanding,” Gob said with a smirk.
“Indeed, master supreme! My life in exchange for silence!” I could only watch the display with mouth agape, and so did the rest of main square. Feet stopped moving, mouth stopped talking, and brains stopped comprehending. The stunned surprise of nearby rats only outdone by those few demons still present in the square. Guesack didn’t pay attention to it, and neither did Gob. “Forgive my rudeness, master supreme, but I need to escort your master to a certain location. Should I remove your chains so that you may follow him?”
“Nah, keep them on,” Gob said with a loud yawn. “They’re surprisingly comfy once they’ve warmed up.” Gob’s eyes began to sag ever so slowly. “Carry me, servant. I’m going to take a short nap in the meantime.”
Guesack only nodded as he raised one of his hands. After which Gob began to levitate above the ground. With that done he turned towards me. “Supreme master’s master, please be so kind to follow me.” And with that he took off into a nearby street; a floating ball of chained demon following in his wake. I quickly stumbled after him as all the dumbstruck gazes shifted towards a new target. Namely me.
Soon the looks of confusion gave way to looks of curiosity. Our passing through the street noted by those around us. Where our exact destination was I didn’t know; I wasn’t really familiar with this part of town. All these buildings near the Great Hall looked equally impressive to me. Their boring square shapes easily compensated by their sheer artistic craftsmanship. Whether it were it in the form of murals, sculptures, or other means that portrayed stout, bearded men. Occasionally a depiction of a woman Founder could be seen, equally as impressive, albeit it without a beard. Thank the Gods for that. The mere thought of entire race of bearded women sent shivers down my spine. Do not want.
Guesack stopped in front of one such building. Ten-score demons and their tabard wearing masters, all with a hammer shaped symbol stitched into their differently colored cloths, left little to the imagination. Only one certain event would warrant this many captains in one place. Especially when they belong to different factions.
Guesack stepped through the gate that surrounded the property before leaving Gob in the guard-filled courtyard. “Follow me,” he said as my legs hesitated separating from Gob. The stink eye I got from the nearby guardsmen soon remedied that problem. A few steps up the stairs, and I was now in front of the front door. The sculpted edges made it look like a Founder’s mouth waiting to swallow me. Whoever the Founders were, they had an unhealthy obsession with depicting themselves wherever they could.
“Stop shaking,” Guesack said. “You are a warrior first, and a traitor second. You would do well to remember that.” That helped calm my nerves. I didn’t even realize my shivers till he pointed them out. “Speak the truth. Speak only when spoken to. And make sure you answer any and all questions they have. Nod if you understand.” I did. “Good, then let us proceed.”
With another wave of his hands, the door began to slide inwards. It soon closed with a loud thump as we made our way through lavishly decorated, stone hallways. Each stacked with those soft carpets that my feet couldn’t help but enjoy. Not that I could enjoy it for long. Within a minute I found myself in a large room several heads higher than me. Its ceiling depicted battles with pointy-eared humans as its floor was engraved with slain, unknown monstrosities. Upon it stood a thick, rectangular table made of black marble, contrasted by the two feet stack of normal, gray stone beneath it. That particular modification was necessary in order to raise it high enough for the four people sitting behind it.
Each of the Four Kings occupied a single stone throne; their large sizes easily filled by the Warlock-class people before me, and all of them easily surpassing six feet. The smallest one, Python, was located in the left-most throne. Just shy of seven feet, her height caused her ample bust to tower above the table. Silky, black hair obscured half her face as the locks rested on her chest. What skin peeked past it had an unearthly sheen to it, almost as if someone had polished it over and over again. The same could be said of her face, and the single violet eye caught sight of me, as her lips formed into a thin smile.
The topless man behind her looked less amused. A full head taller than its master; Python’s demon was everything one would ever need from an incubus. Muscles that you would see only on statues, serving more form than function. Eyes that pierced the darkness, giving off a faint red light. And a face that had most women in the Burrows swooning for his attention. He could easily pass for a human were he to lose his more demonic features. Namely the pair of leathery wings that protruded from his back as well as the thick horns that jutted from his temples, only to curve backwards over his ears and into a crown. The sweet scent that filled the room undoubtedly emanated from that side of the table, but whether Python or the incubus gave it off would be anyone’s guess.
Right next to Python sat the polar opposite of skin exposure. Chameleon had taken a page from Adeline’s book as every inch of his being was covered up by some sort of dark, thick cloth. Where Adeline’s face was covered by wispy darkness, Chameleon’s hood was shadow itself. Like a void that sucked in all light that dared come near it. If Chameleon had hoped to avoid standing out, then he failed miserably. Being the tallest man in the room, a full two heads above Python, naturally caused my eye to shift towards him. His poor excuse for an outfit made that only worse. It almost seemed like the man was trying to appear fishy on purpose.
This feeling was once more amplified by the mundane looking demon behind him. Or is it a normal guard? I couldn’t tell, for the man looked like a perfectly normal human, outfitted and donning a green tabard with a anvil stitched into it. Then again, nobody had ever seen Chameleon’s demon in the flesh. For all I knew it was not the guard, but the golden goblet of wine clenched within Chameleon’s grasp that would strike me down if I did anything stupid.
The man in the third seat harbored no such deceptions. Fang was unusually large for a Sloth, coming just half a head short off Chameleon’s height. Scars and teeth-marks riddled what flesh could be seen through his suit of dark metal armor. One particularly nasty wound consisted of a missing part of upper lip, leaving his trademark canine exposed to the world. His gray eyes bore the sharpness that only came with decades upon decades of rigorous command. Their weight threatened to crush me as he studied me intensely whilst leaning forward on his clasped gauntlets, partial beard hidden behind the metal hands.
Where Fang gave the impression of a sleeping bear, his demon looked more like a mass of… well… mass. It basically consisted of nothing more than a big pile of gray goo that sported a variety of ears, eyes, and mouths. All closed safe for the soft snoring that escaped its multiple lips. It didn’t look dangerous, but I knew what havoc it could wreak when fighting in the closed spaces of the Underground.
And last but not least there was Hawk sitting on the right-most throne. What Chameleon tried to avoid through clothing, Hawk achieved by merely being himself. Dressed in a ruffled jacket, and sporting a thin mustache, the man just screamed upper-class. He was taller than Python, but that came in the form of lanky arms and legs. Nowhere near to the concentrated bulk of Fang’s frame. His face was rather gaunt, and were it not for his clothing, one would have never guessed him to be anyone of great importance. Until you met his eyes, the golden eyes that made the man who he is. Where Python drew your attention through feminine charms, Chameleon shifted your attention through suspicious demeanor, and Fang commanded your attention through pure presence; Hawk simply seized it through eye contact alone. With eyes that could inspire inspire fear in men and demon alike.
It was behind this man that Guesack took his place. His voice loud and clear as he reported his findings to the Four Kings, “None of the prisoners were found to be in possession of a Brand upon entry to the Burrows. They are currently being tested at the Oath-stone for any signs of a Binding.” He pointed a hand towards me. “Marcus here has already been proven to harbor no Binding nor Branding. It is safe to proceed with the interrogation.”
“Nicely done, Guesack,” Hawk said as he broke eye contact. I immediately released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Were there any particulars I should know about?”
The demon briefly flinched behind Hawk’s throne, but the man didn’t notice it. “None whatsoever, master.”
“Right, let’s get this thing out of the way,” Fang said. “My naptime is coming up, and I don’t want to be sleeping on these cold floors.” He looked at me as he leaned forward on the table.
“But first an Oath of truthfulness from you, boy. We have some serious talking to do.”