Their heavy boots clomping the tile confidently, Tim and Bert made their way towards the roof. Neither of them said a word, only striding forward with purpose as to give any observers the feeling that the duo was meant to be here. That was the important thing. Confidence. In the musty old book he had found in the archives, written by the scholar hero Anna, she had impressed upon the reader to walk with your head high and with confidence if one ever found themselves accessing an area they would not normally be allowed to. Of course, Tim did ignore the part of the chapter where Anna heavily suggested wearing a high visibility vest, as he and Bert had no time to find any, and they weren’t really even sure what they were, but Tim hoped that his scholar’s robes and sheer arrogance would be enough to make up for it.
And, so far, it was. Even after entering the second and third floors, which Tim knew for a fact were employee only after his brief stint as an employee there himself, no one had questioned them. When the pair had walked past his old irritating boss, Sir Nicholas Collinsby the Fourth of his Line, they had been ignored. Even the eyes of his old coworkers had slid past them after passing.
Well, Tim shrugged, I did only officially work here for a week or two anyways, and these scholars robes I keep wearing just in case do the trick in keeping suspicion off us. Even if I do have a shifty-looking dwarf in tow, it can just be written off as me interviewing a primary source for research or something. Hell, Tim realized, if the demon doesn’t kill us, maybe I can actually do that. Tim softly chuckled as the ridiculous idea popped up in his head. Nothing like a bit of humor to distract a guy from the realization that he was going to meet a demon, of all people.
A dry cough from Bert snapped Tim out of his musings, and he looked up to see that they had reached the entrance to the small spiral staircase leading out towards the roof. Tim glanced at Bert, noting with slight approval that the dwarf had discretely threaded his brass knuckles around his meaty fists in preparation. Nothing like a scoundrel that’s built like a brick house at your side to install a bit of confidence.
“Well Bert, I suppose it wouldn’t do to keep our guest waiting.” Tim said just loud enough for his companion to hear, ignoring the sour taste that had reached his tongue at the thought of that thing waiting for them. A short grunt of understanding followed, and Tim began to climb the stairs one by one. At the halfway point, a small tail swiped out of his pocket, breaking through the exhausting tedium of the absurdly long staircase. “It’s all ready on your side, then?” Tim whispered with a half-smile.
“Yes, yes Tim. The great one has sent his servants to chew, chew their way through the stone and towards the roof. If this turns, turns violent, you shall not be left wanting for numbers.”
Tim silently let out the breath he had been holding, feeling his shoulders straighten a little more as invisible weight on his back seemed to disappear. “Fantastic. We might have a chance then.”
Satisfied, Tim looked up to see an open doorway steadily approaching, the view from the opening alone enough for Tim to see much of the city even before he stepped out onto the roof. Bert soon followed him and let out a soft gasp, chased by a mutter of “Well that’s not something ya’ see too often.”
Truly, if it were not for the circumstances of this visit to the rooftop, Tim would have been tempted to stay for the rest of the day to just observe the city from the height the rooftop provided. All around him the soft rays from the midday sun poured onto the surroundings, filling the stone with a gentle warmth. The height provided the closest thing to a birds-eye view he knew he could get in his life and seemed to wash away the rotten desperation from the city, blending even the slums into one golden landscape.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The beautiful moment was cut short by the abrupt rasping of metal on stone as a well-built gray skinned demon came into view, his attention split between the newcomers to his perch and the long, slender knife he was sharpening on a whetstone.
Tim’s muscles slightly tensed, and then relaxed as he remembered both his manners and his fallback plan of the rats. “The name’s Tim, at your service,” he said while offering a short bow, “the dwarf is called Bert, and I understand that we owe you a debt for getting that hero off our back a few days ago.”
The demon cocked his eyebrow with faint amusement, but gave a bow in return, though perhaps shallower. “Dimitre, at your service. There is no debt to be owed. I was looking for a good opportunity to test the heroes’ strength and happened to be in the neighborhood.”
A slight chuckle escaped Tim’s lips. “A coincidence indeed. That was what we were doing as well.”
Dimitre nodded. He had expected as much. “Ah, the reason for those strange barrels. It truly was an impressive force, yet I felt no magic from either you or the barrels.”
“Well, thank you kindly. It always is nice to have an outside opinion on these things.” Tim said with a grin. “You are right though, no magic involved. And before you ask, I do apologize but they’re trade secrets. You know how it is.”
Dimitre shrugged his shoulders. Not unexpected at all. “I see. Well, if that question must go unanswered, then I have a different one for you.” Dimitre continued after seeing Tim’s nod of assent. “Well, why? Why did you do it? If you were a demon, I could understand. We have reason to fight them, for our lives and our honor. But why do you persist in this destruction?”
“Fair point,” Tim replied. “I see them consuming our resources and doing nothing. They exercise no care in protecting our lives or our livelihoods. In their pride they believe they can do no wrong, playing with our world like a child in a sandpit. But let’s just say… it’s not what the heroes have done, but what they haven’t done, and let’s leave it at that. More importantly though, why did you call me up here? I assume it’s not to exchange pleasantries or motivational philosophies.”
Dimitre laughed. “Not one to mince words, are you? Well, your motives are part of it. I believe you humans have a saying. Something like ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’?”
“An alliance then?” Tim stroked his chin in thought. “I agree in principle, but some measure of trust is required in alliances, even ones based on mutual interest. And I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. What guarantee do I have that you won’t betray me? What guarantee do you have that I won’t let the heroes have you?”
Dimitre shook his head bitterly. “None. Only that our honor would be stained if we betrayed you if that makes any difference. And though I hope you still have your honor, know that if you betrayed us, it wouldn’t matter. As soldiers, our lives were forfeit when this war began. Whether our deaths come from one betrayal or another matters little.”
Ignoring the dwarf clutching his weapons, the demon approached Tim, holding out his hand “What say you? You do not need these parasites, and we do not need this oppression. When those bastards assassinated our king, they made history. What stops us from making history again if we combine our strength?”
Deep in Tim’s shirt pocket, a small paw tapped out a rhythm to signal that the rats were ready. All he had to do was to give the word. But, Tim hesitated, a single thought roaring through his mind. One that cut through all the hateful urges to tear that grey-skinned animal to pieces, just like they did to innocent, gentle Maria. The realization, much like the one he had earlier in the archives. Without more force, Tim’s plan was too iffy. Tim let out a soft sigh and straightened his back. Too iffy indeed.
Seconds later, the hands of a half-elf and a demon met in a firm handshake.