The demon sniffed at the air hungrily. “What is this magic?! Oh, oh! Such fragrance…mine heart is thence satisfied.”

           “Don’t be,” said Gemini. “You haven’t even tasted it yet!”

           Behind the two happy people were two downcast Paragons, who were still reeling from Gemini’s seemingly innocent declaration that he’d just pass the buck to Ortega. Of course, the hero knew that if these two learnt about a Constellation’s unparalleled ability to eavesdrop on others, they wouldn’t have been that vexed. It was a side perk that being an ex-chosen of the Human God had, given that the process of being sent here had included a body improvement program.

           Before long, the four were seated in one of the many shops in the city. There were quite a lot of eateries and restaurants in Ark City, which the hero took as the desire to live by the common folk made manifest. He hadn’t sampled all the shops yet, but Gemini was indeed making progress in that quest of his.

           Ars-Maia — the demon — licked his lips hungrily as a beautiful waitress walked towards their small group. His eyes, alight with desire, were fixated on the waitress, who was carrying a bowl of stew and other food

           “Look at you,” said Gemini. “Looks like you can’t wait, eh?”

           The waitress unloaded her tray, sliding the bowls and plates over to their destinations in a single fluid motion. Ars-Maia paused for a moment as it observed how the others used utensils, and then reached out for a spoon of its own.

           “An item made for the purpose of eating.” The demon scooped up some stew, and shivered as it slid down his throat. “I’ve seen this…spoon before. Why did you flee from the capital?”

           His question would have been more dignified, if not for the fact that some stew was leaking out from his lips. The distinguished persona he had during the talk earlier had been evaporating ever since he entered Ark City, and the stew leaking out of his mouth was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

           A small smile, laced with humour, forced its way onto Gemini’s face as he replied, “We didn’t want to fight.”

           “What an odd demon tribe,” Ars-Maia replied, “but I suppose my tribe is quite odd too, when compared to the others.”

           “How so?” Gemini asked. The others leaned in, equally curious. This was, as far as history went, the first interaction between demonkind and …non-demonkind in a hundred thousand years, even if the former didn’t know about it yet. None of them knew how demons thought and behaved, although if someone were to ask Gemini about it, he would probably say that they loved fighting.

           “We fight for fun,” replied Ars-Maia, “but the others don’t.”

           It would be a dead giveaway if Gemini were to ask about the normal demons Ars-Maia had mentioned earlier. Instead, the hero said, “Well, we’re also a bunch of odd demons, like you. I think our…tribes can be friends.”

           “Friends?” The demon mulled over that word for a moment, the third eye on his forehead blinking. “We fight for you, and you cook for us. How does that sound?”

           Gemini blinked. “Did we just get an offer to form an alliance? How do we answer that?”

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           “Let me do it, Gemini.” Warmaster Chamberlain cleared his throat, drawing Ars-Maia’s attention, and then said, “We’ll discuss the issue of being, err, friends at a far better place to eat.”

           He pointed into the heart of the city, where rather tall buildings dotted the area.

           “Your tribe’s palace?” Ars-Maia nodded. “Indeed, an offer of friendship between tribes should be done at the palace. I too shall bring my family along, to show our sincerity. Excuse me for a moment.”

           He took out a small wooden board, and scribbled something on it with what looked very much like a marker to Gemini, with lots of stickers pasted on it. After scribbling for a moment, he broke it into two, and tossed the broken board onto the ground. After a few seconds, a small flame consumed the board, burning it so thoroughly that there was nothing remaining.

           “Ah.” Gemini let out a small noise. “Have you guys told Campmaster Magnus about Ars-Maia’s visit?”

           Paragon Ortega, who was chewing on noodles and meat, choked at the hero’s words, and it took some solid thumping on his back by the Warmaster to get him back to normal again. His face was pale, although Gemini had the feeling that it was more of telling the Campmaster that a member of a potentially hostile race that was turning his face white, rather than the experience of choking.

           Warmaster Chamberlain tapped his nose. “Yes. Ortega, you should inform the Campmaster that you invited Ars-Maia over, and that he’s willing to form an alliance with us. Don’t dally. We want to inform him before Ars-Maia’s companions show up at the gates.”

           “Alright…” The Paragon got up reluctantly and left the restaurant.

           “What’s up with him?” Gemini asked. “Why is he so scared of Campmaster Magnus?”

           “History, mayhap.” Ars-Maia chimed in. “This Magnus must be a demon amongst demons, if even an Exemplar is scared.”

           “Exemplar…”

           “Aye,” replied Ars-Maia. “I can tell that the three of you are all Exemplars. I came, not just because of good food, but because you were sincere in inviting me. Else, getting a Novitate to talk would have sufficed to make us fight.”

           Gemini narrowed his eyes slightly. Ars-Maia was most likely talking about their cultivations with terms that were specific to demons — an implication not lost on Warmaster Chamberlain either. The Constellation opened his mouth, only to close them when the Warmaster shot a glance at Gemini.

           “We go by different names,” said Warmaster. “What you call Exemplars are our Paragons, but it is more of a cultural difference than anything else.”

           “Paragons…” The demon repeated the word thoughtfully. “Yes. The true meaning stays the same. Had three Exemplars from my tribe asked for a talk, you would have understood our show of sincerity too.”

           The two devolved into small talk as Gemini made headway into his curry rice, and he was three-quarters done when Ortega finally returned from informing the Campmaster, a crestfallen look on his face.

           “Welcome back, Ortega.”

           Ortega didn’t reply, choosing to stir his bowl of noodles miserably instead. His chopsticks turned into a blur for three seconds, and when it finally slowed down, an exquisite statue of noodles stood in the middle of the bowl, yellow soup swirling around the structure madly.

           He glanced at his masterpiece for another few seconds, and then moved it into his mouth with qi.

           “See?” said Ars-Maia. “Magnus is truly a demon amongst demons.”

           Paragon Ortega chewed on the noodles in his mouth, a dour expression on his face in what looked like a demonstration to prove Ars-Maia’s point. It didn’t take long for the four to finish eating — even the demon, who wasn’t familiar with the utensils, had taken slightly more than ten minutes.

           “Come,” said Warmaster Chamberlain. “Let’s finalise our arrangements in the Ark Interior.”

           He glanced at the bowl laid out of Ars-Maia, which had been licked clean, and left the restaurant after twitching involuntarily. The others followed suit.