Upon my return to the hotel, I felt utterly drained, and committed to lying face down on the bed like I’d left the land of the living. The day's events had taken their toll, and, let’s be honest, trying to process the weight of my actions – that I’d condemned a man’s spirit to eternal torture – well, that was a difficult path to walk.

Was his spirit truly consigned to the depths of hell because of my recklessness? Did I believe that? The notion was haunting and gnawed at my conscience, made worse by the words whispered when I’d been stunned. I swallowed hard, the realisation that it could possibly be true settled heavily within me. But the hotel room would provide no answers – perhaps Father Clarence could give me some guidance tomorrow. If he’d let me in, of course.

A residual throb still effected my head, but as I lay there, everything gradually sorted itself out. The fog clouding my mind lifted, allowing me to see the room more clearly.

Pierre knocked on the door as he returned, and I rolled over to face him.

How was your rendezvous?’ I asked, noting the smile plastered to his face.

‘A gentleman never tells, mon ami. My, my, that is an impressive bruise forming on your face,’ he commented, vaguely gesturing.

‘Let’s not talk about my face either,’ I replied. It couldn’t look good, and surely my eyes were still slightly glazed. The world had a habit of beating me up. Exposing my weakness first, and then beating me up.

‘What I really need to find Pierre, is some sort of armour, or... I don't know. How does armour work exactly?’ It was always the intricacies that baffled me.

Pierre raised an intrigued eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by my question.

I continued: ‘Can you do something to stop damage from occurring? Or does a higher constitution mean you can't be killed?’

‘You are thinking of your bruise? For that, you would need a helm.’ He laughed at his own joke. ‘In my experience, constitution does not have much effect on what your body will stop. If I shoot you, you get a hole in your duster, and a hole in your body, yes? Then you are dead. Apart from becoming a chevalier or knight, as you would call it. You could coat yourself in layers of iron, but you would then be quite heavy, and very slow.’

I nodded. ‘We gain these strengths and abilities, but in the end, you can still be killed by a wayward bullet in the wrong spot.’

Pierre agreed with a solemn nod. ‘Yes, there are always rumours of extraordinary abilities, but I've seen none of those in Oro City. Perhaps one day, someone will devise a way to stop bullets from entering your head, but for now, the answer is simply not to get shot in the head.’

I chuckled softly, though it was a humour tinged with resignation. ‘Just one more danger to add to the list, I suppose.’

I stood up, pulled my duster cloak on, and told Pierre exactly what I wanted to do.

‘Are you crazed? Bereft of your senses? Or is this another of your jokes? I admit, as much I have started to enjoy your company, I do not yet appreciate your sense of humour.’

He couldn’t work out my sense of humour? I could barely tell if Pierre was ridiculing me or complimenting me most of the time.

‘I’ve never seen a demon before. I want to know what they’re like.’

That was an understatement, and I can acknowledge that it wasn’t the real reason. If demons existed, then perhaps souls existed. That knowledge could help me further process the day’s events.

‘Never seeing a demon is a fantastique way to stay alive.’ Pierre raised his hands. ‘No, no. I can sense you will argue. Let us get a meal and speak this over, first. Then you can decide.’

It sounded like a reasonable idea, so I gave Pierre an affirmative and we set out through the rabbit warren hallways of our hotel, and past Permilia, the wife of the hotel owner, who spent most of her day rocking in a chair behind a solid wooden desk.

Half an hour later found me sitting in The Dour Mistress eating a meal of beans, cornbread and salted beef. Betty wasn’t serving tonight, but Sally, a slender blonde-haired girl with a kind smile, had taken my order and returned with the wondrous food. I’d huddled into a corner with Pierre opposite.

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‘Tell me about the demons while we eat, Pierre?’

‘What they’re like? If that is all you want to know, I can tell you what meagre information I know without the need to stand outside tonight. That we can do much later, yes, when we are high-level heroes. You have a constitution of 1 – you could not survive one hit in the right location, of claw or fang, sword or … No, not one hit.’

‘Is there no way to see them without dying?’

‘The people of Oro City, the ones who have lived here for years, many of them have never seen the demons. They are fantôme, how you would say… ghosts in the night. Most do not see the demons until they look upon the face of death.’

‘I need to know, Pierre.’ This wasn’t a death wish, even if it appeared that way. This was me needing to understand the world in which I now lived. I’d walked a canyon, apparently filled with evil, oblivious to my death. ‘But moments away’, Father Clarence had said, implying that if I’d attracted their attention, if I’d ventured slightly closer to the darkness… that would be the end. Clearly, in this world ignorance would be my death if I did not come to understand this town and its challenges.

Pierre sighed dramatically. ‘I should expect no less.’ He muttered a few words to himself in French. ‘The blue, it always brings danger.’

‘What blue?’

Ignoring my question, Pierre ran his hands through his hair.

‘Pierre, what blue?’

Pierre gave his hair a quick jerk before he sighed. ‘I spoke the truth when I told you I was a Guide.’

‘Pierre, you were quite light on the details. All the details.’

‘I have held my secrets, yes. But you hold your own secrets clasped firmly to the breast.’

‘I…’ Was it time?

‘No… no. I have no wish to force your hand mon ami. You will talk when ready, and not before. Much of my life I spent without privacy, so I will not take yours away, even if my curiosity is piqued.’

‘Thank you, Pierre. I need time to… sort through a few things.’

‘I understand. Trust is always hard to build, like a dam, yes? At any time, all your work can be swept away. I will tell you of myself, though, because there is one piece of that dam wall you must know of.’ Frowning, he sat back on the bed to look me in the eye. ‘Many have the habit, to conceal their class and skills. Why they do this, is they know that there are… ways for your skills to be exploited. And, that is not to speak of the skills that would see you dead before the morning if they were known. The skill that you have – you do not yet know its name, yes? It is very powerful.’

‘If you say so.’

‘A bonus to another person’s stats while you are level one! Amazing – and dangerous. Tell me, my friend, what would someone do if they knew you could give them titles?’

I scratched the stubble growing on my face. ‘They’d want me to give them one, like Emily today.’

‘Yes, she spoke of the title you granted, and the future title promised. That is my point, yes? Emily has a lion’s heart and will keep your trust.’

‘I’m sure it helps you are close to her.’

‘Undoubtedly.’ Pierre's smile faded and his frown returned. ‘Not Emily now, but what would happen if a horrible person, one with no morals, discovered you could grant titles? He would still want one, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Imagine then, what he’d do to take it.’

A solid point, Pierre. A solid point. And not something I’d really thought about. ‘He’d force me, somehow… torture?’

Pierre nodded slowly. ‘Rumours say such things. Whispers spread between towns… Even here, do not imagine Oro City to be a haven. You are valuable – alive – which means they need only keep you alive. Pain, torture, suffering… all these things will not kill you, particularly if your constitution is forced up and you heal faster. Do you now see?’

I did, and it was a tad fucking scary. ‘You’re saying people could torture me endlessly to grant titles.’

‘Yes. Who would stop them? There would be bribes, likely with titles. Corruption begets more corruption, and there a but a few who would stand to face it. Our world is bereft of kindness. It is death, and pain, torment and suffering. L'épreuve du feu, we call it back home. Trial by fire.’

‘That’s bleak.’

Pierre shrugged in response.

‘Okay, but what does this have to do with your skills?’

‘Fear is why we hide our skills. I am no different. I told no lies to you before, when I said that my class was Guide. When you level more, you will see this. My class is like an explorer, with some skills that work well outside of town. I have a skill called Pursue. It helps me to locate things if they are close to me. However, the skill is more than this. It is physical too, as if fate is giving me a path to take. Sometimes, colours swirl when the skill is active, and it tells me of things I must pursue. Yellow means whatever path before me is easy. Green tough. Blue… blue is the hardest, bringing the greatest danger.’

‘And the greatest rewards?’ I guessed. Just like the quest system. Danger equalled reward.

‘It is just so. I am a guide but am also guided by another. Is that not ironic?’

‘Guided by what?’

‘If I knew that, Jacob, I would know who to pray to.’

‘Does your glow bug not show us venturing out now?’

Pierre gave me a glare, appearing a touch sensitive to skill-based mocking. ‘It is no glow bug, but a ‘soft glow.’ Then his anger dissipated. ‘Skills are never so simple. But I guess you must greet the night in Oro City at some time. Tonight will do then. Un roi doit tout conquérir.’ A King must conquer all.

‘Weird phrase there.’

‘Very much what I have always said.’ Pierre pulled his cloak tight about his shoulders and stood with an exaggerated sigh. ‘Come.’

I nodded and followed Pierre out of the building.