“Now that the preliminaries are out of the way, what is it that you’re after?” said Melrose, easing back in his chair with a newfound sense of relaxation that made him seem finally a bit more like the elder he was.
“Well, Melrose, you're aware I hail from another world, right?” Murphy said, mimicking Melrose’s relaxed posture and subtly shifting how he addressed him.
“Yes,” Melrose replied, his guard down, “If it were a native Demon Lord awakening, I would've felt a surge of demonic energy ripple across the realm.”
He added in a show of broad-mindedness, “Demons aren't usually as bright as you.”
“Well, you’re not wrong there…” Murphy couldn't help but feel a smidge of guilt. His demon minions were many things – obedient, loyal, but geniuses? Hardly.
“Since you’re clued in, you'll grasp that what I really lack is knowledge about this world.”
“I understand that feeling. Helrista was once just as adroit at feigning wisdom,” Melrose noted.
Was I just outclassed there? Murphy pondered briefly before laying out his terms, “So, my offer is this: Whenever I’m stumped and have questions, as long as it doesn't conflict with our deal's premise, you’re obliged to answer truthfully.”
Reflecting for a moment, Murphy added, “I’m a fair chap. If you reckon a question's value is too steep, feel free to slap on an extra fee.”
Melrose pondered this before replying, “Agreeable, but only until the peace accords dissolve.”
“No bother, let’s hear your terms,” Murphy consented quickly, nine years was plenty to pick the old wizard's brain dry.
“My research requires certain artifacts from the Demon Realm, mostly from Silver Moon Highlands, Sleepy Hollow, and Crimson Mountains. A smattering hail from elsewhere.”
Murphy already had a hunch about what Melrose wanted.
“I've always collected without harming demons, so I've stayed under the radar. However, I can't obtain the remaining items guarded by high-tier demon settlements under the peace treaty's terms, and quite frankly, in the Demon Realm I’m the outsider. If demons attack, it's rather challenging to retaliate…”
“So what I need from you is a token that will earn their trust, allowing my research to forge ahead.”
With his piece said, Melrose reclined and awaited Murphy's response.
“Deal,” proclaimed the youthful Demon Lord, standing up. “I'll fetch your token, just don't strip-mine the place, will you?”
“No worries, I’m a man of fairness,” Old Mel reassured, stroking his lengthy beard, “Never was one for fishing a pond dry.”
And with that, the two were in cahoots—scratch that—two peas in a pod—no, strike that too—they struck a deal!
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
In essence, Murphy, who appeared human but wasn't, and Melrose, who was human but hardly looked the part anymore, reached an accord under each other's watch. Why mutually, you ask? Well, if this cloak-and-dagger operation required the Victory Goddess to bear witness, she might just bless Melrose, her once-favored, with an untimely demise.
Deal sealed, Murphy exited the room only to return moments later with a crimson crystal.
"There you go, this sparkly gem’s for you," Murphy commented, eyeing the traffic-light trio crowning Melrose’s staff with meaning.
Melrose inspected the crystal lined with scarlet streaks, unable to discern any peculiarity.
"It's quite ordinary," Murphy explained with a grin, "Just a crystal containing a droplet of my blood. Prick it against the back of your hand."
Bemused, Melrose complied. As the sharp end pierced his skin, the red veins faded, converging where the crystal touched and forming a complete circle. As Melrose removed the now bloodless crystal, it vanished into luminous dust.
The blood morphed intricately, forming an elaborate, surreal web on Melrose's hand.
"A custom sigil spell?" Melrose asked with interest, looking at the mark.
"Pretty nifty, eh?" Murphy boasted, seeking approval. "Invisible until magic’s applied, my blood's peculiarities are imperceptible to humans but recognizable by demons. This will mark you as someone entrusted with my special care."
After a magic-infused trial, Melrose’s pleased expression confirmed its function.
With the old wizard's attention, Murphy inquired, “May I ask a question now?”
Melrose, turning serious, sat upright, “Go ahead.”
Murphy licked his lips and leaned back, “Let’s start with something intriguing.”
“What exactly do you know about the Church?”
"Not much,” Melrose admitted, making a gesture for a tiny amount, “The Church of the Victory Goddess morphed from the Church of the Light a hundred years back. Apart from a name swap, same old, same old.”
Melrose continued, “Aside from the exalted deity, the Pope wields supreme authority. Our current Pope Ramista is a spring chicken in his sixties,” he chuckled slyly.
"Beneath him are two cardinals, followed by archbishops overseeing the five dioceses. As for the bishops and priests, plenty of those.”
“Hold on, what about the Holy Maiden?” Murphy interjected.
"You’re aware of the Holy Maiden?" Melrose seemed amused. "Little more than the Church’s mascot."
Murphy sensed a vein of scorn whenever 'the deity's favored' discussed the Church.
“Thud, thud, thud,” Lambert, donned in a chef's outfit, waltzed in with a tray, “Gents, freshly baked afternoon tea pastries for you.”
He set delectable treats before them and made sure the teapot was piping hot with fresh water.
Watching Lambert scuttle about, a playful scheme bloomed in Murphy's mind.
“So, Old Mel, what’s your take on the heretics?”
Cup in hand, Lambert jolted, nearly dropping it, and stared in disbelief at Murphy.
Murphy blinked back innocently but didn’t anticipate Melrose's response, “No worries, he's no heretic.”
Both Murphy and Lambert were gaping at Melrose, one with intrigue, the other with gratitude.
A teary-eyed Lambert sighed with relief, “Thank heavens, someone understands I'm not a heretic…”
“No way!” Murphy contested. “His heretic status was declared by the Grand Archbishop of the West!”
Melrose gently tapped the cup down, arresting Lambert’s sobs, “If I say he’s not, he’s not.”
Lambert looked to the resolute Melrose, hope glistening in his eyes. Just as he poised himself to express thanks, Melrose delivered a chilling blow.
“I don’t remember having such a parishioner.”
---
Character Profile (Partial):
Name: Pepe
Level: 22
Age: 8 (almost 9)
Race: Human (Imperfect form)
Occupation: Dark Witch (No Class Change)
Overview: Black hair and eyes, slightly underweight, a quirky and cute girl with a vague sense of right and wrong, only cares about those who care for her.
Skills: Master of low-level dark elemental magic, proficient in low-level dark summoning magic, studying low-level dark enhancement magic.
Special Ability: [Specialized Life Form]
Little Secret: Unbeknownst to her, she's wealthier than 99% of the world.