“Good Morning, Master Jeremy! Once again, my family thanks you for your generosity.”

“A fine day, Master Jeremy.”

“Out for a walk, Master Jeremy?”

Jeremy nodded or waved. Sometimes, he took the time to remind the new villagers that they were supposed to call him Scourge or The Scourge when there were other people around.

He had a reputation to protect. He didn’t want other people to think he was going soft with all the Master Jeremy bits.

It had been two days since Sebas brought the freed prisoners to his demesne — but Jeremy was already seeing the benefits of having human workers. There was an assortment of them. Most of them were farmers, carpenters, loggers, and woodsmen — but there were a couple of tanners and butchers.

He was elated when three of them said they were blacksmiths. Sadly, only one of them knew how to make weapons and armor. The other two mostly made horseshoes and nails — though they could also make simple pots and pans.

The carpenters were currently building proper houses. The newly-freed prisoners slept on earthen huts during their first night care of the farmhands and their earth magic. Sebas chose the location of the makeshift camp with care. He said if they were going to dig the ground with magic — the villagers might as well use the place for new fields.

His lands were now partitioned into quarters. One for the villager’s homes and another one for their fields and other enterprises. Warden and his boys already had their fields and huts and they weren’t letting the grown-ups help them in tending to them. Well, there was Boot — but he was practically a newborn. Mineva and her school of apprentice wizards got the last half.

Of course, the area around and beside the Corner Shop™ belonged to him. Well, everything belonged to him, but that side of his demesne was a prime location. It was visible from the road and every villager had to pass through there if ever they left for the city or the forest.

He planned on opening taverns and or dining establishments to whittle away at the earnings of his people. He found the term amusing — his people. Nobility was not a thing he craved for — it was too much responsibility. All he wanted was to become a wealthy merchant — living with all the luxuries but none of the attachments that came with having a title.

Being a proper lord was difficult. Sebas told him he had to provide his people with decent lodging and proper meals until they started to earn money. Some of the men offered to work as laborers, so he sent them to the carpenters to help.

Jeremy couldn’t believe he was paying the five carpenters 2 gold a week to build their own homes. Now, he had to pay another 20 gold for the twenty laborers that opted to help.

The houses would all look the same. Sebas drew plans for the carpenters to follow. It was a strange design — three bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a wide area in the center of it all that served as the dining room.

They wanted to keep things simple. Two-story houses would take weeks — even months — to build. If any of the villagers wanted to add another level to their homes — they would have to shoulder the cost themselves.

His butler thought about building a proper sewer — but Jeremy suggested they just make the same toilets they had at home. Sebas didn’t think the villagers would agree to have a portal to hell and actual hellfire somewhere in their toilets — but they couldn’t protest to what they didn’t know.

Of course, a town with multiple portals to hell — albeit tiny ones — could attract the attention of inquisitors and cultists. They had to make sure the portals were undetectable and that the villagers remained unaware where the fires that took care of refuse came from.

It was a lot of work since he had to personally craft and affix every portal — but that was the least of his worries. He was bleeding gold — and it would take a while before he could start exploiting the villagers and the money they earned.

***

Sebas walked the familiar streets of Adessa. He spent most of his life in the capital serving under the Elswind house — now his ties to the family was serving him well.

Lord Elswind maintained a network of spies within the capital, as well as nearby cities. Sebas’ ties to his son allowed him to access that network, allowing him to narrow his search for Deckard.

The merchant took it too far. Selling his Longswords™ at the capital was risky enough — but organizing a naked race took it to a whole new level.

It seemed like he caught the attention of one of the princes. Sebas couldn’t reveal that fact to his master or his former master, the Blackstaff. The two were volatile, to say the least. He was doing the King and the kingdom a favor by preventing the two from butting heads with a prince.

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He never liked August. The prince strengthened his bid to the throne by filling his coffers with riches. Many a merchant had their businesses taken over by the prince or one of his henchmen — some of them forcefully. He owned or was a part of at least a dozen enterprises in Adessa. Now, he was eyeing his master’s business — even sending Liliane to negotiate and threaten them.

Sebas stopped at a tavern. It was well-kept — certainly not the kind he had in mind. He entered and found a seat in a corner. The prince’s hired thugs had been spied frequenting the place, so it was his best chance to find a link to Deckard.

The demon attack was the only thing preventing him from finding the merchant. He had a role to play, and he managed to help in saving more than five hundred people.

His spirit was soaring — which made it easier to tap into the muck.

Sebas opened his senses. It was more akin ta tasting than seeing or feeling. He could taste the sin of every person in the room — revealing their darkest sides.

Murderers, rapists, thieves, and a cat-killer. He had no time for them — or their rehabilitation. Sometimes, he wonders why he even bothers. Revealing their sins and showing them they were on a path towards hell did little to change their ways. They might control their urges for a while — but none of them transformed their lives completely.

It would take a complete erasure of one’s personality to make the change. Something akin to what Shelby did with Boot. He was surprised it involved little to no violence. The huge snail just managed to stoke the man’s most primal fears without even realizing it.

There — kidnapper.

The sin barely registered as the man believed he was doing a service to a prince. Still, part of his mind believed what he did was wrong — and that was enough for Sebas to latch on to him.

It was going to be a long night.

The butler approached the man — regaling him with tales of a far-off land and an unfaithful wife at home. His stories earned him some sympathy from the man — but four rounds of drinks made them buddies.

It was easy for Sebas to slip something extra on the man’s drink. A concoction that would loosen the tongue and addle the mind. It was a concoction he was extremely familiar with — having taken the drug several times during his brief training with the Blackstaff.

He managed to pry the location of the merchant within a couple of hours. Going faster could raise the man’s suspicion — and the butler didn’t want to complicate an already convoluted mess. He had the time — and the ale was oddly satisfying.

A mild dose of soporific ensured the thug wouldn’t wake until way past dawn. Sebas had a general idea of where Deckard was being held — but getting access to the merchant was a little difficult.

His master would just barge in, scare everyone to death with his ward, and lead the merchant out through the front door. He was also likely to go after the prince who detained one of their most valued customers.

For Sebas, it was more difficult. His spells were limited to mundane applications and convenience — no offensive spells whatsoever. Sure, his spells can cause harm — but a fire spell to light a furnace or a campfire couldn’t compare to a proper fireball.

He could always knock. Deckard was being held in a hidden basement underneath an apothecary. The place would undoubtedly be guarded — but all he needed was a peek inside to make one of his doorways.

Or he could just flush them out.

Sebas approached the door of the apothecary. It was an ordinary door, bereft of enchantments or wards. He touched the doorway and the door — linking it to a particular place that he had already visited. The door was now his.

Three sharp knocks alerted someone in the room. He could hear footsteps coming nearer, pausing close to the door.

“Who is it?” the man from behind the door shouted, his voice a bit irritated.

Sebas continued knocking on the door — banging on the wood harder than before.

The butler could hear muffled cursing as well as bolts and latches being opened. He expected to face a sword or a cudgel — but the man behind the door shouldn’t be expecting what was to come.

There was a time when Sebas fell over a ship when he was young. While the sea was ever-changing — there was also a port that gave him a point of reference.

The door opened to a flood of brine. The butler allowed the torrent of water to continue for a few seconds before canceling the doorway to the depths of the sea.

Gaining entrance was one thing, but it would have been for naught if his barrage of seawater managed to drown the imprisoned merchant.

He entered the now-ruined apothecary — its stores drenched in brine unless they were held in glass and stoppered. Even then, the force of the initial torrent of water did a good amount of damage to the store.

The trail of destruction was easy to follow — the water revealing hidden nooks and passageways. Sebas walked the drenched corridors and easily found the way down.

Stairs led down from the apothecary’s storage area. The way would have been hidden by a wooden panel, and perhaps a rug or two, but the weight of the rushing seawater had smashed through the wood exposing the floor beneath.

Sebas jumped down the opening — almost slipping on a fish that was still flopping around. He quickly realized that he wasn’t alone. Four guards, rough-looking thugs by the look of them, guarded the merchant who appeared quite stricken inside his makeshift prison.

“I mean no harm,” he started. “I’m only here for Deckard, I have no business with the rest of you.”

The butler’s words were met by the drawing of swords, daggers, and cudgels.

“Sebas!” Deckard finally regained his wits. “Get out of here and get some help.”

He would have loved to have done that — but the merchant’s life would have been forfeit. There was only negotiation and confrontation.

“Sebas, huh?” snickered the thug with a dagger. “The bastard ratted you out long ago. You’re the coward that leaves all the fighting to his friends.

Sebas shook his head. There was no turning back now.

“Please, think about what you’re doing,” Sebas implored. “I served the Elswind estate for many years — under the Blackstaff himself.”

“You think your connections will save you — after what you did to this place?” the largest of the four brandished his sword.

The four attacked.

The battle would be short-lived. Mentioning the Elswinds wasn’t a plea — it was a warning. Even though Sebas didn’t like fighting and tried to avoid it as much as he could — it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to.