“Do you remember when I talked about normal demons?” Ars-Maia asked.

           “You drew a distinction between them and your tribe,” Warmaster Chamberlain replied. “Your tribe fights for fun, but the others…”

           “It is by our choice that we do not harm others.” Ars-Maia nodded. “But eons ago, demonkind behaved like our tribe. We fought to train and to find meaning in life. Nothing else. But after the Demon God entered seclusion, some of us began to turn…mad.”

           “Mad?” Chamberlain echoed.

           “Yes. Mad.” Ars-Maia looked at the other demons, and smiled sadly. “They formed little groups within the tribes and championed the act of hissatsu, turning battlefields into places where fallen demons never got up again. Their insanity spread across many tribes as millennia went by, but my ancestor fled the tribal grounds before the insanity could take root in Ars.”

           “But the corruption still happens,” said Campmaster Chamberlain.

           Ars-Maia closed his eyes. “Corruption…a good word. Yes. It still happens, but it’s obvious when it does. They turn mad and try to kill everyone in sight. The Ars tribe occupies an important location within the Grand Land, and we do let fleeing tribes who don’t support hissatsu through our city and into the periphery.”

           “The corruption must have started from there.” The demon opened his eyes, and Gemini, who was still nursing his wounds, could see the beginnings of a tear there.

           Warmaster Chamberlain sighed. “We all have our own problems, don’t we?”

           “Do you not have problems with this corruption within your tribe too?” Ars-Maia asked.

           “No, fortunately. We’ve been fighting for long enough that we’re quite tired of it,” Chamberlain replied. “Everyone’s reluctant to even pick up a weapon.”

           Ars-Maia looked at the Warmaster suspiciously, and Gemini had the feeling that the demon was thinking about the times when the Commonwealth clashed against their tribesmen. “Is that so?”

           “Putting that aside for a moment,” said Warmaster Chamberlain, “but if you occupy such a strategic location in the Grand Land, does that mean that the other tribes attack your…home often?”

           “Our city is fortified to make our job easier,” said Ars-Maia. “But yes, it happens on a daily basis. In fact, this is one of the reasons why we approached your Commonwealth tribe for an alliance. In our previous skirmishes, we observed the use of ranged weapons that are stronger than crossbows. If we have some…”

           “It’ll make defending easier.” He turned to Campmaster Magnus. “What do you think?”

           “Why not?” The Campmaster brushed his hair back, the silver on it drawing everyone’s attention for a moment. “The Ars tribe protects us. And honestly, we’re tired of fighting. We’ll gladly support you with enough weapons to rain hell from the walls.”

   You lot don’t die…easily, but we do! Gemini smiled as he translated what Magnus said to the real meaning behind these words. And to make sure you don’t use them against us, we’ll give you just enough to defend your walls and nothing else. 

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

           “Excellent. I think we can be friends.” He looked at the dishes on the table, and did a doubletake when Ars-Maia noticed that the plates were empty. “You guys — forget it.”

           Gemini sighed. He could see that the demon was somewhat forcing himself to maintain an expression suitable for talking to other people.

           “Ars-Maia,” said Gemini, “do you need to leave? To settle his…”

           The demon glanced at the hero, a grateful expression mired with grief, and said, “If it’s no trouble.”

           “It won’t be,” said Campmaster Magnus. “I’m sorry for not realising it earlier. We’ll send the artefacts and someone over two days later…for now, you should take care of your tribe.”

            “Thank you.”

           The masks slipped slightly from the demons present, and Gemini shook slightly as faces tinged with grief entered his vision. The sight reminded him of the ones he’d seen when the Southern forces trampled into the beastfolk cities. Of course, Gemini never saw the process in which the beastfolk were herded up and killed en-masse…though the hero didn’t know whether it would have made a difference to the him back then.

           The glass doors slid open as the demons departed the building, and at the same time, waiters filed in to clean up the tables. With methodical precision, another group entered the room and laid out more dishes. They had been prepared for the Ars tribe as a second serving, but under the circumstances…

           Gemini sighed again.

           “Penny for your thoughts?” Warmaster Chamberlain asked.

           “Just wondering what it’s like inside their tribe,” said the Constellation. “This corruption thing…I feel that it has something to do with the gods.”

           “I really doubt that,” replied the Warmaster. “If the great gods had influence over the Wildlands, they would never have let it stay as it is now. Like Heritage, it’s possible that the great gods are excluded from this domain, which means that other than knowing its location, the gods cannot peer down upon the world itself.”

           “Heritage?” Gemini echoed. He’d heard the word bandied around when he was in the Intersection, under the guise of En, but he never really knew what it was.

           “You don’t know what it is?”

           “I wouldn’t be asking if I did, would I? I’ve heard of its name, sure, but as to what it is…” His voice trailed off.

           “It’s a place full of natural treasures, if nothing else. Full of dangers too, but only people younger than twenty can enter.”

           Ortega let out a groan, and slowly got into a sitting position. “Did someone say Heritage? Is the passageway open?”

           “Yes. And no, the passageway still isn’t.” The Warmaster rolled his eyes. “You missed the fun stuff. Anyway, we still need to decide on who to send to Ars tribe. I was thinking of you, Ortega, but…you don’t look up to it.”

           “Let me,” said Gemini. “If they’re the only thing stopping the demons from wiping us out, it should be my turn to pitch in. And besides, who doesn’t know how to use an artefact?”

           “Do demons use qi?” Chamberlain asked back. “We’re not sure about that either. If they don’t, or if they use theirs differently, we might be in for a ride.”

            “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” replied Magnus. “I do think that Gemini’s a good candidate, however. By sending you to the Ars tribe, we can effectively suppress any dissent that’s appeared ever since you entered the city.”

           “I still can’t be trusted, it seems.”

           “It’s natural. The people at the top know, but…saying the truth will not endear them to the masses. So far, your status as a Constellation, as a hero, has protected you from the worst of it, but I believe you know how politics works.” The Campmaster smiled sadly.

           “Don’t worry about it. I’m happy enough that the people of this lovely place don’t hate me.” Gemini smiled. He looked at the food, laid out on the table in a charming manner, and started eating.