“The Free Cities' architecture isn't so different from the Empire's. They're not that bent on building things as high as possible like in the Capital – they still do build things high sometimes, though – but other than that, a northern city has a castle, houses and walls, like any regular Imperial town. One remarkable thing is the demons' obsession for ancient-looking architecture, which they reenact with modern technologies and materials – large square stones rather than small bricks, lots of arches, lots of columns, lots of aqueducts, lots of stairs, lots of temples. Oh, they love their temples. The only thing bigger than a temple in a Free City, is the demon lord's castle. The only thing bigger than a demon lord's castle is an arrogant demon lord's castle. And so on. There's a sort of competition about the size of the castles, among these rulers, and it's embarrassing.

-anonymous architect”

* * *

Saraela

She was sitting in a chair, listening to the clashing swords and bathing in the sunlight of the afternoon, both coming through the open window of the hall. Today was a rather hot day, a rare occurrence in the north. It was summer, sure, but even during this season the demons could consider themselves lucky to have a clear sky and a bright sun.

Soon the summer days would end. And soon... the happy days would end too. The Imperial army was capturing cities one after the other, and it was only a matter of time until Atharemine ended up being sieged too.

When that happens...

Saraela gripped tightly the handle of the sword laying on her lap, in a black sheathe. Of course, she was afraid. She had never been at war, after all, and here in the north, most demons were the same. Her generation was too young, and too sheltered, she'd say. Bandits were fine. But war ? War was too much for them. It should be too much for the Empire's youths too, but apparently fanaticism came with an unhealthy dose of recklessness.

She got to her feet and went to the window. From this floor, she could see the courtyard, and the knights training for the tournament the lord was organizing for his name-day. Saraela had been somewhat eager to take part in it, and she had already passed the qualifications. Some would argue that celebrating during times of danger and chaos was improper, but Saraela knew better than to indulge in such non-sense.

It was precisely because of the war that celebrations were important. A tournament was good for moral, and the young and fresh soldiers would have a taste of combat before the madness came crashing upon them. And it was the perfect time for Saraela to scout some new talents, and check out the best warriors from the mercenary bands recently arrived.

She leaned on the window ledge, and kept watching the sparring soldiers down there. Not very impressive, but she was still expecting to face a handful of worthy opponents in the final phases. Those ones weren't training with the new guys in the courtyard. They didn't want the others to know what they were capable of. The winner would receive quite a bit of gold, after all.

The doors bursted open, and she could hear four guards hurriedly entering the hall. “Captain !”

Saraela turned her head. Seeing the looks of distress on her men's faces, she almost flinched for a moment. Karia's army ?

“What is it ?” she asked before giving into panic.

Vraxil, her right-hand man, scratched his ginger beard. “Trouble at the south gate...”

She frowned, but the guard reassured her. “It's not the Empire, it's...”

The soldiers looked at each other. “Well, we don't know how to explain it. I don't think we're under attack, but... You'd better come, captain.”

“Fine then.” She combed her dark hair behind her small horns and donned her black cloak. The city watch's cloak, symbol of peace and strength in Atharemine, with the colour of the night goddess, or so they said. It was one more layer that helped keeping the guards warm in the cold days, and a dark enough colour to patrol stealthily at night, and that was all that mattered to the guards... Finally, she fastened her sword to her belt, and led her men outside the castle. They mounted their horses and rode toward the south gate.

“What do we now about the situation ?” she asked Vraxil.

“Some fifty men standing outside the city, captain. Their leader kept insisting that they wanted to speak to someone high ranked.”

Saraela raised a brow. “Fifty ? Why so few ?”

“Probably bandits,” Vraxil growled.

Again... They prove annoying enough when they raid our patrols, and now they've learned how to negotiate and make requests ? She clicked her tongue. Damn animals are getting educated.

Banditry had been the main issue the city watch had to deal with, these last few years. Hunting bandits wasn't the watch's job per-say, but upholding peace and capturing criminals was, and basically every criminal they sentenced to exile had to become a bandit to survive outside the walls. Maybe they could manage on their own during the summers. But the winters here would kill any man without a shelter or allies.

In any case, the city watch was one the main armed force of Atharemine. It could be said that it was a city watch in name only – they took care of many other duties besides peace-keeping. Especially in these times of war, during which the watch merged with the mercenaries and acted like an army. But said duties were all relative to the town's peace, so in the end no one had any issue with the current name of the watch.

Of course, criminals hadn't always been jailed or exiled by the watch. Saraela remembered that things were done differently when she was little. The previous lord saw hanging as a fair and universal method of problem-solving. The citizens felt the method wasn't that fair when the lord began to 'solve problems' in a whimsical, tyrannical fashion. Eventually, the people overthrew the tyranny, and the lord himself was subjugated to some solving.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Things are much more peaceful nowadays. Except for these pillaging, raping animals lurking around the city... That's why I have to do my part, for the family's sake.

Saraela's thoughts on banditry were interrupted by a sentinel coming to salute her, as they approached the south wall.

“Captain Saraela, thank you for-”

“Explain,” she hurried the guard as she dismounted.

Saraela, Vraxil and the sentinel walked up the stairs leading to the top of the rampart. “Yes. It's, err... strange, captain. They were a bit more than fifty men at first, and now...”

“And now ?”

“Huh, forty.”

Saraela stopped and turned to face the sentinel. “What do you mean ?”

“We don't know. They just... Their heads just fell on the ground suddenly. As if some spell beheaded them.”

She frowned and glanced at Vraxil, asking with her eyes if the watch had posted battle mages on the wall. He just shrugged.

“I have no idea what's happening,” the sentinel unnecessarily confessed.

I'll see for myself anyway.

As she climbed the last steps, the faces of the guards posted on the wall came into her sight. Suddenly, there was a strange noise followed by several heavy sounds, and the sentinels made horrified faces.

A voice came from the other side of the walls. “How long do you intend to make us wait ? The more we wait, the more they try to escape, can't you see ?”

Saraela hurried to the battlements, and looked down. She had been warned that there had been some beheading done here, but it was always surprising and disturbing to find a pile of headless corpses next to a pile of heads, with a smiling human youth standing arms crossed between the two, and a female knight with a bored expression sitting not far. And in front of it all, a line of shivering, cowering bandits.

Huh. What the heck...

“Err, looks like there are only thirty now.”

Yes, I have eyes, thank you.

“What am I supposed to make of that scene ?” she said to no one in particular.

“I don't know, captain.”

Saraela glared at the sentinel who clearly was developing a taste for unnecessary replies.

“Vraxil,” she turned toward her right-hand man. “Any of the faces ring a bell to you ? Both among the living, and the detached ones.”

The man took a moment to observe the heads. “Hmm, the... perpetrators – I guess ? –, no clue about them, but they look human. From the Empire, I gather. And the bandits, well,” he frowned, “I can't say for sure at this distance, but doesn't that head on the top of the pile look like Kalithazar's ?”

The captain's eyes widened as she focused on the head Vraxil pointed at. Yes, indeed, it was Kalithazar. Why !?

“That crazy, manipulative sadist... he got himself killed ?”

“Looks like he tried to trick the wrong victims this time, don't you think ?” the guard said with an obvious glee.

The blonde smiling youth turned his head toward Saraela and Vraxil and spoke in a loud voice. “Oh, you know him ? Good, that makes it easier for me.”

Huh ? Did he hear us ? From so far away ?

“Perhaps he's a mage,” Vraxil suggested. Ah... That made sense. The beheading spell, the sound magic. And, probably, the death of Kalithazar.

“I am indeed. My name is Azcheron, and the lady here is Erin. We're... merchants. Pleased to meet you, whoever you are.”

A merchant that conveniently knows battle magic, curious fellow... Hah ! Is he taking us for idiots ?

“...I'm Saraela, captain of the city watch. Tell me, merchant Azcheron, what do you sell, and what is the meaning of this ?” she motioned toward the heaps of bloodied body parts.

“I'll answer both questions at the same time. I am here to sell you Kalithazar's head, and his bandits. Or their heads only. Whichever you prefer.”

She squinted her eyes. “Selling ? Do you refer to the bounties ?”

True, Kalithazar's mob would make anyone who managed to get rid of them rich, but that was the point. Nobody was supposed to capture or kill the entire camp. The city watch couldn't pay for all these heads right now, they were at war !

“Nothing of the sort. I only require for my companion and myself to be allowed to enter and stay in Atharemine.”

The captain glanced at Vraxil, seeking his opinion. He shook his head. She sighed and addressed the merchant or whatever the youth was trying to pass himself for. “What sort of merchant would need to bring such... incentive, in order to get granted passage through our gates ?”

The female knight rose to her feet and walked toward the youth. Saraela's eye twitched as she finally recognized the woman's armour, worn by the knights of the Empire. The knight whispered something in the mage's ear, and an expression of enlightenment appeared on his face. “Oh, I see,” she heard him muttering.

“Well then, won't you answer ?” she pressed.

“Indeed. We shall be very honest with you, rather than getting falsely accused later on. We're not merchants.”

She rolled her eyes. You don't say. He carried on. “We are deserters from Great Sorceress Karia's army. We would like to be granted asylum in Atharemine.”

Deserters...

“And why did you desert ? Why should we welcome traitors and the likes of you ? Moreover, what guarantees me that you're not spies anyway ?”

The mage smiled. “We had a disagreement regarding Karia's taste for burning your fellowmen.”

“How convenient. I thought the people from the Empire had a deeply rooted dislike for the demons ?”

“Well, we don't. That's why you should welcome us, we're rare specimens. You can keep us under watch if it pleases you.”

What to do ? No spy would just put himself under such a spotlight. Or maybe they would, to get us to lower our guard ?

“In any case,” the mage grabbed Kalithazar's head by the hair, “here's a gift, as proof of our sincerity and good faith.”

Saraela kept silent and weighted her options. There weren't many, in all honesty. Welcome them, turn them away, or kill them. Well, it wasn't as if the city was strictly refusing to let Imperial citizens enter. There were mercenary bands from the Empire that sided with the city, and some of these sell-swords would even take part in the tournament. Greedy bastards, of course, but it was better to have them on the city's side rather than the Empire's. Atharemine could afford it, as it was a rich and prosperous city.

She whispered to Vraxil. “We can at least hear what they have to say. They're deserters from Karia's camp, so they could have interesting information.”

“I agree, captain. But ultimately, you know the decision is your father's to make.”

She groaned. She didn't have the same authority as the lord of Atharemine, yes, she knew. Of course she knew, she was being reminded of it often enough. But for now it was her call, so she addressed the pair.

“He was a murderer and a dangerous psychopath,” the captain pointed to the bandit's chief head. “And I'm relieved to learn that he's dead.” She turned toward the sentinels. “Open the gates.”

They complied, and accompanied by her men, Saraela walked down the stairs of the walls, and waited at the gates.

“...Azcheron and Erin, is that it ? I temporarily welcome you two to Atharemine. However, I will have to bring this matter to the lord, and he'll decide what to make of you. Meanwhile, you will be under constant surveillance by four of my men. Is it fine with you ?”

The mage nodded, but he stood still next to his bunch of bandits. “What about them ?” he asked.

“We have no need for living bandits. We'll put their heads on spikes as a warning.”

“Fair enough,” the youth grinned before speaking to his companion. “Sure you don't want your half ?”

The knight raised her palm. “I've had enough with the big one.”

“If you say so.” He then glanced at the bandits, and a second later, some thirty heads fell on the ground in a disgusting noise. Saraela's mouth was agape as she contemplated the carnage.

She leaned toward an equally shocked Vraxil, whispering to him. “About their escort... Make it at least twelve men ?”