“Well… This is certainly unexpected…”

Those weak-willed words were everything that Ivran could offer upon coming home for the day. His front door had been forced open and the interior had been, for lack of a better word, raided. Furniture had been flipped over, drawers had been emptied and his enchanting materials had been either stolen or destroyed. Even his failed experiments were missing. The shock of it all had been so overwhelming that Ivran was unable to even think straight. A disturbing sense of being violated slowly welled up within him, though it didn’t get a chance to surface.

“Mrrroow…”

A muffled mewling snapped him out of his stupor, reminding him of the pet he’d picked up a month ago. His eyes quickly found Boxxy’s wicker box, which had been thrown off of the heavy table it usually rested on and was upside-down on the floor. Ivran rushed over to lift it up and immediately sighed in relief when he saw that his pet kitten seemed uninjured despite being flung across the room. The orange tabby had somehow landed on top of the enchanted red pillow that served as its self-cleaning bed, no doubt cushioning the impact. The critter itself was curled up in fear, an understandable response considering how violently it must have been thrown through the air.

“MMROW! MHREEER!”

That was when Ivran remembered Boxxy hadn’t quite come out of its ‘shell’ just yet. Though it had been making progress in that regard, it still freaked out whenever it was separated from its favorite box. He immediately put the cat and its pillow back in its safe space while the creature screeched, hissed and clawed at everything within reach. Thankfully the elf had enough END that the panicking furball’s scratching was unable to break the skin, though it was still unpleasant. The cat’s tantrum calmed down as rapidly as it had started, though it was still visibly shaken from the ordeal.

Tol-Saroth let out a sigh of relief once his pet had settled down. Material things could always be replaced, but a life could not. That said, Ivran was not about to take this abuse sitting down. Now that he was certain Boxxy was safe, his thoughts immediately turned to rage towards the one responsible for this mess. The fact that this place had been so thoroughly trashed hinted that this was a personal attack, not a random break-in. Even if his house was in an extremely remote spot that wasn’t covered by guard patrols, no thief in their right mind would waste time breaking his enchanting table in two.

Ten seconds and more than half his MP later, Ivran finished calling out the first of his bound familiars.

“Torz, I have a priority assignment for you,” he said grimly.

“Fooor the laaast tiiime, the naaame is Torzessirth,” the beholder replied in his usual droning voice.

“Do a full spectrum scan of the premises for any signs of intruders,” Ivran ignored his complaint. “Notify me the instant you find something that wasn’t here this morning and make a list of everything that’s gone missing. Analyze the front door while you’re at it, find out how they got it open. And I don’t want to hear any of your tired complaints, I’m not in the mood.”

The beholder grumbled inaudibly under his breath as he floated around the room and started tending to his duties. Ivran, on the other hand, waited a few minutes for his MP to recover before summoning his second bound familiar. Xera the succubus appeared in her usual fetishistic corset, her face twisting into a vitriolic smile upon seeing the ravaged remains of her master’s room.

“Well, looks like I missed one damn good party,” she sneered.

“Go find the nearest guardsman and bring him here on my behalf,” the elf commanded. “And for fuck sake, make yourself decent before you go out in public.”

He then proceeded to specify in great detail what constituted as ‘decent,’ as well as a number of other directions and stipulations. The succubus rolled her eyes so much that one would think she was possessed, but nevertheless obeyed her master’s instructions. When she left the house a few minutes later, she was wearing a modest robe that showed off none of her womanly features aside from her beautiful face. Even then her natural blue skin color and golden horns were on full display, making it abundantly clear she was a demon and reducing the odds that she might seduce a random pedestrian to almost zero.

Truthfully speaking, Ivran did not like sending a succubus to be his messenger, but time was of the essence and she was the best he could do under the circumstances. Though he had to give her all manner of strict and specific instructions that she could not abuse, she was ultimately far more presentable than his other two options. Which was important, because it was heavily frowned upon to have one’s familiars walk around town in the middle of the day, especially unsupervised. This was an emergency, however, so he was sure the city guard would understand.

Speaking of familiars, Ivran decided to go for the trifecta and called forth his third bound demon once he had the MP to do so.

Once the Summon Familiar Skill had run its course yet again, its concentric circles of light dissipated to reveal a rather extraordinary-looking female fiend. She was taller than average at nearly three meters if one counted the bone-white drill-like horns jutting up from her temples. They scraped against the room’s ceiling, forcing her to stand slightly hunched over. Her skin was a stone-like grey, as was her long and straight hair. Her ears were very elf-like in their length and shape, though they pointed upwards at a significantly steeper angle. Her left hand was gripping the handle of a massive axe with several sharp ‘teeth’ along its blade, her right palm resting on her hip in an arrogant manner.

In terms of defensive equipment, she had a pair of high-heeled metal greaves that went up to her thighs and a pair of knightly gauntlets that covered her arms up to her muscular biceps. Her body armor, if it could be called that, was the most eye-catching part of her attire. Mostly because the phrase that summed it up best was ‘battle-bikini.’ The metallic bra and panties barely even protected her dignity, let alone her torso. The objectionable and highly impractical outfit barely even kept her enormous breasts from bouncing all over the place. The only real purpose it seemed to serve was to accentuate her abs and cleavage.

In short, things one would expect from a succubus, not a fiend.

“Behold!” she exclaimed, slamming the bottom of her weapon into the floorboards. “The mighty Freallausiz Aurphoirriz Zalathraxas de Thot-”

“Cut that posturing out and go guard the front door, Frea. Let me know if someone shows up, and don’t attack anyone unless I say otherwise.”

The demoness sighed in exasperation at having her grandiose name shortened so inelegantly by Ivran. Not to mention he interrupted her before she could finish declaring her last name of ‘Thotealphiol.’ Both of these were offenses that were deserving of a good axing in her book, but the contract prevented her from even attempting such a thing. What she could do was ask him to stop disrespecting her name like this, but she already knew that was a pointless endeavor. As such, her only course of action was to grumble in dissatisfaction as she walked past her co-contractor.

“One of these days…” she mumbled under her breath.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“Tell me about it,” Torz echoed her sentiment.

“Nobody asked you, you talking ball-sack,” she sneered at him. “Go lick the ground or something, it’s all you’re good for.”

Frea’s high-and-mighty attitude, as well as her show-offish attire, could both be attributed to her being a spire fiend. Hers was a rare subspecies notable for having almost as much pride as they did wrath. They were also, on average, taller, faster, smarter, and considerably more well endowed in every way. This natural superiority led spire fiends to see themselves as elites or royalty, but the resulting arrogance was also one of their biggest weaknesses, alongside an unhealthy dose of narcissism. These problems were most readily apparent in the gear conjured by their Demonic Armaments Skill, which put a much greater emphasis on form over function.

“There are nooo scorch maaarks or other eeeevidence to suggest the intruuuuder uuuused magic,” Torz reported after a short while. “Whoeeever did this used bruuute streeeength.”

“Hmmm… Even the front door?” Ivran asked while cupping his chin.

“Yeeees,” the beholder confirmed.

“Interesting…”

The elf had not been foolish enough to trust this old house and its rusty locks to keep intruders out. That was why he had personally made sure to fortify its doors and windows with his enchantments. Granted, he wasn’t the best at weaving purely defensive magic into objects, but it would’ve taken someone with considerable personal might to break in like that. The fact that magic wasn’t used was slightly encouraging, as it suggested he hadn’t pissed off any of his colleagues from the guild.

But the more he thought about it, the more this seemed like a personal attack. Torz’s continued analysis more or less confirmed that theory when he revealed that very little of actual value was taken, and that most of it had just been smashed up. The elf found it superbly vexing and even slightly depressing to see all his hard work turned into shards and splinters, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t bounce back. Though his research had suffered a significant setback and repairs were going to be rather expensive, they were not the sort of problems that couldn’t be resolved by a mix of time and money.

Admittedly he didn’t have a lot of the latter, but plenty of the former to make up for it.

“The blue whore is back with some pathetic man in a tin can,” Frea suddenly reported. “I would like to stomp them flat.”

Ivran obviously told her to stand down and instructed Xera to show the man inside. The guard was a stern looking elf with a cleft chin and wore a rather exuberant-looking set of armor. The sort of equipment one would think belonged to an officer rather than a common grunt. Which, judging from the markings on his shoulders and chest, was most certainly not the case. Not that Ivran needed to see those to know he was a mere foot soldier. There were not a lot of fresh faces in the city guard, and this one had been assigned to the surrounding neighborhood since long before the inquisitive Warlock moved in.

“Good evening, Legionnaire Errel,” he greeted him respectfully.

“That’s Kur-Errel, boy,” he snapped back. “And what’s the meaning of sending your filthy bitch-demon to fetch me like I’m some sort of stick?”

“I meant no offense, sir. However, as you can see, my home has been savaged in my absence, so I had to send for you as soon as possible.”

“Ah, so this chaos isn’t the usual state of affairs here?” he gestured at the demolished furniture.

“Certainly not, I assure you.”

“Hmpf. I suppose I should at least look around.”

“Please, be my guest,” Ivran bowed his head.

The guard started looking over the wreckage with a stern expression, his eyes skimming over all the damage when he was throwing mean looks at the familiars. His attitude struck Tol-Saroth as a bit odd, as he couldn’t help but get the distinct impression that the guardsman was only pretending to give a damn that a crime had been committed. Admittedly that was more than most authority figures of the Dominion did when dealing with the lower classes, but Ivran always thought that Kur-Errel wasn’t like that.

“Whoever did this must have really hated you,” the soldier spoke up upon seeing the absolutely trashed enchanting laboratory. “Can you think of anyone who might have it out for you?”

“I’m afraid not,” Ivran sighed. “There are people I don’t get along with, but I am quite certain they’re not the type of people to resort to petty vandalism.”

“Mhm. Frankly speaking, I don’t know if there’s much I can do. I don’t know what’s evidence and what’s trash that has always been here. And I’m guessing there were no witnesses either.”

“Probably not.”

“See, this is why I told you you should find another place. We can’t help you if you live so far from the main districts, and I have no idea-”

“MRREAAAOOOW!”

A harsh noise from the kitten in the corner interrupted the guard’s speech. Little Boxxy was poking its head out from its box and was making some rather aggressive sounds at him, which the man naturally did not appreciate.

“What in blazes is wrong with that stupid beast of yours?”

“Apologies,” Ivran bowed his head once again. “My pet was present when the break-in occurred and is a bit on edge.”

“Hmpf. Why do you even keep that useless furball around?”

“Owning a cat does have its advantages,” the Warlock smiled coldly. “For one thing, they are quite territorial. And as I just found out, they can almost make for unexpectedly useful witnesses.”

The guard didn’t get a chance to respond before he heard a whisper of ‘Sleep’ from the succubus behind him, causing him to collapse to the ground like a sack of cabbages.

“Oh, thiiis should be gooooood,” Torz declared menacingly.

“Can I crush his face under my heel now?” Frea demanded to know.

“Stand down and shut up, both of you,” Ivran ordered. “Xera, probe his memories of the day and tell me if he was the one who did all this.”

The succubus knelt over the prone man and used her Dreamweaver Skill to confirm that yes, he was indeed the culprit. This came as little surprise to her master. Boxxy clearly had some weird form of agoraphobia, but he was surprisingly friendly towards strangers. It hissing at this guy like that had been the first sign of aggression it had ever shown while still being in its comfort zone, and Ivran interpreted that as it having a personal issue with the guard. The sort of thing that could only arise from, say, getting flung across the room by the elf in question.

“Yup, he did it all by himself,” the succubus confirmed his suspicions. “He knew you’d be out today based on your routine, wrecked the place during his lunch break, then waited around so he could be the first responder.”

Though it could be said that abuse of authority was somewhat common, the Dominion did not look favorably on those who did so publicly. Kur-Errel was likely trying to keep this under wraps so it wouldn’t hurt his chances at promotion, but the real issue here was the Warlock had no idea why he would do that. He’d made sure to pay all his taxes and dues, always observed his civic responsibilities and was polite and respectful to everyone with any sort of authority given to them by the state.

Thankfully, he had the option of having his familiar ask the man’s brain directly.

The guard walked out of Tol-Saroth’s house several minutes later and went off to write up a report about the break-in. Not only was he unaware that he had been mentally probed by a demon, but he would also have no idea that he was reporting on his own misconduct. His recollection of both events had been purged from his mind, as was the knowledge that spurred him to act this way. He was also quite unlikely to realize what had happened.

Kur-Errel, as it turned out, was appallingly ignorant regarding what demons were capable of. Even if most people shared his lack of knowledge on the subject, one would think he would study up on them considering the occupation of the man he was harassing. It was quite fortunate he hadn’t, as it allowed his victim to quietly placate him in a way that was highly unlikely to cause further trouble.

However, that wasn’t to say this matter was settled. As Ivran himself had stated earlier, there were people that despised him. And thanks to his familiar’s Skill, he was able to find out exactly who it was that manipulated the guard into acting out against him. He really should’ve expected this sort of personal attack to happen sooner, he had simply misjudged its source. The one responsible for all this was none other than the entirely unrepentant and smugly smiling succubus called Xerababadubuth L’okrelaila.

And all it took to make it happen was an exploitable gap in her master’s orders that she used to subtly inform Kur-Errel that Ivran Tol-Saroth was, indeed, homosexual.

Well, that and centuries’ worth of bigotry and discrimination, but Ivran couldn’t exactly vent his frustration on those.