We found the carriage several miles down the road, where the coachn awaited our return with palpable anxiety. They wouldn’t have waited another hour for us, judging by their tense expressions. The journey back was cloaked in an oppressive silence, leaving everyone on edge, save for Fyren, who appeared to be in a good mood.
The searing image of the radiant pillar of light still blazed in my mories. The bandits’ bodies consud by flas, turned to ash while their anguished screams echoed in my mind. Their cries haunted , but I knew that Soltair bore the brunt of the burden. He sat there, staring at the floor, unresponsive even as Trithe gently laced her fingers through his.
Perhaps Fyren was right. This was indeed a war, and it seed the bandits had chosen the wrong side. The Pope seed to concur, even ordering us to eliminate any towns or cities that got in our way. It was a hard choice to make, one that might not even have a right answer.
In an effort to forget the blood on our hands, I imrsed myself in the mories of the Demon, instead. His spells had been a level above the Fire Demons in the Gate, utilizing tricks that enlightened my understanding of Soul casting at higher circles. The knowledge was there, hidden in the battles, and I relished the challenge of teasing it out. By the ti we arrived in High Valley, I felt confident Soul Casting fourth-circle spells as naturally as I could any other.
The carriage jolted to a stop before Lord Byron’s manner, and the guards opened the door to let us out. The Lord himself awaited our arrival, surrounded by a harem of scantily clad, lifeless-looking slaves. He lounged on an opulent throne, toying with their slender golden chains. Occasionally, he would pull one closer to kiss or nibble on their flesh, sotis hard enough to draw blood.
"So you’ve returned. Good news, I hope?" he asked as we approached.
"The best. We closed the gate and cleaned up a sizeable party of bandits on our way back."
The Lord’s eyes widened slightly, his tone taking on a hint of awe. "Bandits you say? I’m glad you managed to settle our problems. Will you be moving on then? Pity, I had hoped to have ti to show you so of the finer points of owning slaves. I see you’ve decided to reveal her beauty to the world?"
He managed to ruin the childish pout with a lustful leer in my direction. I shivered, feeling his gaze crawl over my exposed skin. The Sunpurge hadn’t relaxed enough to allow a cloak, leaving clothed in the revealing dresses dictated by the wound. I hardly felt more covered than the slaves at his side. Fyren frowned, his hand inching toward his sword, but Soltair gave him a subtle shake of his head.
"I’m afraid the bandit problem is far bigger than a single group. It seems the demons ha-"
Lord Byron waved his hand, cutting Soltair off. "Did you get the big one? According to my spies, he was around sixth level."
"Well yes, but-"
"Problem solved!" the Lord exclaid rrily, clapping his hands. "Even the most vile snake dies without its head. I wish we could throw a celebratory feast, but I fear the unexpected appearance of the gate has already put you behind schedule. Do you require provisions for your travels?"
Try as he might, Soltair couldn’t put a word in. Eventually, Trithe laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back. "Thank you for your kindness, Lord Byron. If it is truly your desire for us to withdraw from this issue, then we will oblige."
"Very good. I can’t stand the thought of hindering the hero any longer than I have to. Not when stories of dragons and demons echo on every corner. The guard is more than capable of handling whatever rabble of bandits remains. We are a prideful folk, so I request you leave what we can manage to our our efforts," Lord Byron chuckled.
As we turned to leave, he slipped a hand in his robe, grasping sothing tightly. A pulse of darkness shot through my soul, and I stumbled into Fyren. His arms wrapped around , delicately avoiding the Sunpurge, and he gazed at with concern.
The familiar shadows teased at my mind, and I started to look over my shoulder at the Lord. But his pose was back to normal, and he simply looked at with a faint air of amusent. "I’ll be waiting!" he called, winking at .
I shivered, pulling away to catch up with Soltair and Trithe. "Never mind. He’s on his own."
I couldn’t forget that feeling, first on the barge, then with the demon, and now here. Whatever sches revolved around this town, I wanted no part in them. I thought of the oppressed people living on the opposite side of the river, their desperation tugging at my heartstrings. But that one wink from Lord Byron intensified my revulsion. Whatever future he alluded to with his parting words was one I had no intention of experiencing. The re thought of becoming his personal plaything was too much to bear.
Soltair stopped our party on the bridge, taking a mont to watch the barges pass on the waters below. Trithe slid up next to him, a faint blush overtaking her cheeks.
"We’ve been rushing around and fighting a lot. Can we take a day to rest?" she asked, her arm slipping into Soltair’s. She pressed close to him, brushing her breasts against his arm and batting her eyelashes.
Soltair tilted his head, eting her gaze. A smile spread brightened his face, driving away the gloom that had persisted since the bandits. "Why not? If he doesn’t want our assistance, it gives us a few extra days. Didn’t you need ti to study your new spells, Xiviyah? It won’t be easy on the road."
Trithe glared at , releasing so of her aura. I nodded quickly, having no intention of interfering. With my agreent, she broke out into a wide smile and nestled even closer to Soltair.
"On one condition," Fyren suddenly said, surprising everyone. We turned to him in astonishnt, and he smiled. "We shouldn’t neglect our training. I offered my skills and knowledge, and I fully intend to share them. We need to strengthen our teamwork first and foremost. Let’s plan for five hours of training each day."
"After lunch," Trithe added firmly. "So the mornings and nights are free."
Soltair pondered for a mont and then nodded. "I think that’s a good idea. Let’s plan to stay a week. We rarely get the chance to relax and explore a city, so let’s make the most of it. Our days are likely to get harder as ti goes on."
After setting so loose plans and schedules for our party, Trithe and Soltair withdrew, promising to et us again the following day. Fyren and I watched them depart, bewildered by the sudden change of events.
The adventurer scratched his head. "What’s gotten into them?"
"Advancing their relationship," I sighed. Once, I had yearned for such an opportunity, but now, I was just grateful for the chance to study new spells. "Co on, people are starting to stare."
Without Soltair’s overshadowing presence, my demonic features were beginning to attract unwanted attention. Fyren nodded and remained close, almost protectively, as we crossed the bridge. I didn’t have a specific destination in mind, but the old church popped into my head. I had been too afraid to reveal my identity when we first arrived, but the experience in Viriden had bolstered my courage.
As we stood before the dilapidated church, Fyren glanced at curiously. "What’s this?"
I opened my mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. Why was I here? "Never mind, let—"
But before I could finish, an excited voice burst out. "It’s you!"
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