Carthel stifled a yawn, his arms instinctively rising to shield his eyes from the persistent glow of the evening sky, even though the sun had long dipped below the horizon. Working overtime wasn't exactly his first choice, but there was little room for protest. Being in command of a group of tireless, relentless workers, he often felt they worked him harder than he'd ever worked anyone else, despite his position.

Another yawn, and Carthel closed his eyes. He could catch the Daem some other day. He needed sleep, and the hard tiles beneath him didn’t make a difference. The journey to the capital hadn’t been particularly pleasing given that they were chased by a band of mercenaries intent on joining their regiment, followed by a bout of storm that rendered their cargo carriages useless and an annoying second in command to remind him of his duties. Constantly and tirelessly.

Carthel needed a break. But he was stuffed with more work even before he could get a wink of sleep.

“Captain!” Lorence shouted from the cobblestone streets below, his dark robe fluttering in the breeze. “We found him!”

The landscape hadn’t changed much since his last time in the capital, and tiled houses extended as far as the eye could see. Some were colorful amidst the idle monochrome background of the bustling capital, just enough to distinguish the localities with the status. Turrets spanned the apex of the buildings before him, tapering to blue tiles, parting the streets that led out of the central market. People were scurrying aimlessly, ignoring a lazy, sleepy, overworked young man just looking for a place to sleep. Such was the ebb and flow of existence, a reality he had come to accept.

Carthel glanced at Lorence and sighed. “Is tomorrow an option? The day has been long enough already.”

“Captain!”

The edge in Lorence’s voice made him get up. Swiftly, he descended, gliding down the tiles, and gracefully landed on the streets below. As he stood up, curious gazes from the passersby met him, some hidden with ridicule and others with curiosity. He knew his face had to do with half of them because the pronounced dark circles made him look like some undead creature, a haunting testament to his sleepless nights. Not his fault if he couldn’t get a wink of sleep for a week now. Being a noble didn’t come with perks; everyone overworked him to the bones. It wasn’t that there were no coppers in his stash, but the sheer exhaustion of living was weighing him down.

“I’ll kill you in my sleep one of these days,” Carthel yawned and followed his second in command, dragging his feet through the bustling locality. People chattered around, standing in circles around Tranquil Tea Emporium to witness the murdered guards outside the establishment.

Lorence pushed the crowd aside and made his way to the scene. The blood had pooled around the bodies devoid of hearts, and from the first sight, they appeared to have been murdered very recently. Carthel dropped to his knees, dipped his finger in the blood, and licked it. Gasps didn’t stop him from continuing his deed.

“As fresh as it could be,” he sighed. He didn’t want to do this today. “Em, climb the walls and scan the rooms. If the curtains are closed, let them be. It’s their fate. Yorke, stay with Caugh and don’t let these bystanders inside. They…” he glanced at the crowd, “seem bored. Fyi, clear the kitchen. And save some goodies for me.”

“Aye, Captain!” His clads saluted and dispersed to their jobs.

He yawned again, and Lorence pulled him inside. “Can I switch jobs, Lorence?”

“What are you talking about, young master?! Focus!”

Carthel clicked his tongue and unsheathed his sword. Should he have joined the Academy and chosen a better profession? He could have opened a confectionery store like this one and worked only in the morns, sleeping the rest of the day. His old man had left him in quite a predicament.

Another body greeted them, this time a woman, and Carthel climbed the stairs with much leisure. Of course, Lorence smacked his head, and he had no choice but to quicken his pace and follow the trail of blood.

They found the Daem, the glamor broken apart now, its eyes intently staring at the two little girls. Carthel saw one holding a dagger in her hands, the grip too perfect for a noble lady her age. They were discreet enough in their ascent, yet the Daem noticed them and slammed the door shut.

“Break it open,” Carthel sighed.

“Captain! It might harm the kids inside,” Lorence said, his steps faltering.

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“Break it open,” Carthel said, his voice cold. “If they die here, it’s their fate.”

Lorence rarely questioned his judgment, but he hated the nagging, although he unconditionally obeyed the command, no matter how dire. Today, though, Cathel just wanted to sleep. Saving lives wasn’t on his agenda, and all he wanted to do was swiftly catch this Daem.

–

Laura knew this was her chance. Taking advantage of this momentary distraction, she launched herself forward for a swift jab, the dagger in hand, but a slight misstep made her tread on her kirtle and fall face-first on the floor. The Daem stared at her and growled, but the door broke open, and the window shattered behind them simultaneously.

Suppressing the embarrassment, she took Tessia hand and moved to the corner of the room, watching their saviors pour in from both sides of the room.

“What were you even trying?!” Tessia asked, gaping at her. “Daems are immortal till you chop off their horns!”

“Just…” Laura rubbed her nose and said softly, “Trying to buy some time…”

“Five-horned, huh,” the man who had entered waved his hand lazily. His brown locks were tied in a bun, the puffy eyes too prominent on his feminine face. Laura reasoned he hadn’t slept for at least a few nights. “Lorence, you handle it.”

“Aye, Captain!”

The Daem growled and charged at the new targets who had entered the room. Laura didn’t even see the draw, but Lorence had cut the arm of the Daem clean. In Awe, she took a step forward, but Tessia held her back with a glare.

The limb wiggled on the floor, and filaments of grotesque flesh grew, the arm reattaching itself to the body.

“I just want to be… free,” the Daem snarled. “Why do you want to kill me?!”

“I just want to sleep,” the feminine man said. “Look Daem, we’ll just send you back to the demon realm. Perhaps if you don’t give away your demon name to anyone, no one might summon you for an eternity. Let us help each other and sleep peacefully now, shall we?”

The Daem glanced at the three men and nodded. It walked toward the man, hands in front, face bowed.

“Lord Carthel! You know better than to trust a fugitive who killed two of my manor guards,” Tessia said a tad too late.

The Daem thrust his claws into Carthel’s stomach. Laura expected blood and gasps, but all she saw was Carthel sigh.

“I’m a bit of an immortal myself, you see,” Carthel mused with a sigh. His fingers closed around the Daem's horn, and he severed it with a swift, practiced motion. A gruesome eruption followed as black blood sprayed outward in all directions, casting irregular shadows across the once-empty room. The Daem's anguished shrieks filled the chamber, a haunting chorus to its writhing agony as it collapsed to the cold wooden floor.

Carthel stood tall and imposing over the fallen creature, a glint of excitement in his dead eyes. Without hesitation, he moved on to the second horn, the third, and finally, the last. Each cut was as swift and merciless as the previous. The Daem's roars, once thunderous, gradually dwindled into pitiful whimpers until all that remained was a grotesque pile of ash.

“Whew, that hurt as much as a sword,” Cathel touched his mail under the tunic. “It didn’t rip…” he glanced at Laura and Tessia, “Ravenine alloy. Get yourself an armor, too. Could save your life one day.”

“So, how do you know my name?” Carthel sat on the couch as his men flooded the room and cleared the ash.

“Commander of Haline Army? Everyone knows you,” Tessia scoffed, pointing to the horse crest on his scabbard. “They say you chopped an enemy general’s head at the age of eight even after he had surrendered, led your troops during the Ebrinese War, and caused a blood bath at Montuqueda, mercilessly killing everyone who had defected to the Ebrinese Empire and at the age of nineteen-”

“Some exaggerated tales,” Carthel yawned. “But good to see my legends still span wide and far.”

“They teach it in the Academy,” Tessia said. “As an example of what not to become.”

Carthel coughed and, after being stunned for a few seconds, laughed. Laura found it melodious, somehow, and she took a second glance at the man. The features sharply contrasted the tales, but she knew better than to judge a man by his appearance. Her brother being her prime example.

“Is my maid all right?” Laura asked, her voice more modulated than before. Somehow, she had grown much better at talking to strangers now.

“Maid?” Carthel waved his hand. “I saw one dead woman near the stairs, but she might have been the waitress. As for your maid, I don’t know. Haven’t seen you around before either.”

“Apologies for rudeness,” Laura curtsied. “I am secondborn of Valecrest Nobility, firstborn lady, Laura Valecrest.”

“Eh… You are that demon’s daughter,” Carthel got up. “Put some good words in his ears about me. Carthel Nakereich, Lord of Nakereich Nobility. Who knows? Might save my sorry ass one day.” He paused near the door and turned around, “Sincere apologies if my words have been crude. Men from the army are different, nobles or not.”

Tessia collapsed on the couch once the room was empty. Her eyes were damp, and she bit her lips to stop crying. Laura patted her back softly, recalling their encounter with the Daem and Carthel. She didn’t know who was more dangerous.

“We can eat the Almond Tea cake, after all,” Tessia grinned. “And you are much more courageous than you look, Laura.”

“Stay with my brother long enough, and you’ll get there,” Laura shook her head.

When they returned to the carriage, not even a stone was out of place as it was parked further away from the tea house. And much to Laura’s relief, Ana was safe and sound beside the carriage, Tessia’s maid her company.