The rays fell in abundance, parting through the clouds whilst leaving their glisten on the dark exterior of the carriage. With a sparse glance, the demons walking by no longer seemed as interested in the everyday sight, the man inside sharing their attitude. Staring ahead of him at the fair cushions around the seats, his crossed arms dug through each other, fingers gripping the flesh tightly.

  Though, a brisk sigh suddenly escaped his mouth, making him turn to the right before quickly eyeing the demons moving by. Yet, as he found what he had been looking for, he quickly turned his head back around to the carriage, shaking it at himself and glaring down at his pants. ‘Damnit, why am I still so horny? I’ve been meeting up with Zyponia every other day, is that still not enough for you?’

  Asking away, he couldn’t help but whisper as sigh again, slightly deeper than before. Settling his forearm next to the carriage’s window promptly, he rested his chin on the palm, staring sparingly at the city.

  Eight days, an entire week, had passed ever since the demon lord granted him the vial. It worked wonderfully nevertheless, it only lasted for a day or two. With Folvana once again increasing the intensity, his body yet again fell into a slump, barely functioning from the soreness that lasted all the way until he woke up the next morning.

  Recalling the demoness’ machinations, his face soured swiftly before moving back to normal, regaining his breaths. ‘No matter what, I will make sure even just one of my attacks lands on you,’ he thought to himself before closing his eyes.

  Still, despite wanting to stay that way for a while and ponder about, something prodded him to open his eyes. “We’re here,” said the familiar coachman.

  “Thank you,” opening the doors, he replied readily. Quickly going on his way, Rovier simply nodded his head, promptly beginning to drift off into a nap on the cushions of the carriage, despite the air that brought about frost on the metals scattered throughout the street.

  Regardless, Lutiel didn’t turn his head back, nor did he glance at the demons around him, seeing as they did the same. Although occasional, the stares he received were only fleeting, so the man briskly omitted them.

  Instead, he kept his eyes attentive on the wall of buildings right before the market square. Tossing his eyes back and forth a few times, before long, he already walked through, heading along the murky alley.

  With nippy, yet gingerly steps, he walked through the door on his right, stepping into the even duller space before arriving near the faintly lit area, where two armored guards stood on each side, protecting the heavy door behind them.

  “Why did you come here? There are only a few soldiers inside as there is no meeting arranged,” the one on the left asked immediately as he came to view, however, Lutiel only nodded his head faintly.

  “I know. I came to meet Tokiren,” he spoke promptly, making the guard’s eyes stare deep into him for a few moments. Finally parting the lips within his helmet however, he spoke away.

  “Fine. Show me the oath,” the man added, keeping succinct in his nod after seeing the red mark. Both of the guards immediately shattered their sternness, plainly looking ahead of themselves whilst Lutiel walked through before closing the door.

  Immediately, a somber silence descended upon him, staring at the sparsely illuminated brick floor. No soul reverberated within his eyes, only the faint whispers welcoming him from a distance far away. With a beating cadence, it reminded him of the slaves chipping away at the massive boulders in the coal docks.

  Regardless, Lutiel shook off the sounds, promptly glancing ahead of himself, where the table with a map sprawled out on it stood. Right before he reached it however, he turned left, walking through the empty corridors and glancing at the wooden door at the end of the space.

  Reinforced with metal similarly to the first door of the hideout, it only differed in its smaller size, fit for a casual room. Coming forward, he knocked on the wood, swiftly waiting through the scattering silence.

  Almost lengthy enough for him to hear his own breath, a voice from inside came forth, enveloping his ears. “Come inside,” the merchant spoke faintly, yet it still reverberated through the space.

  Grabbing onto the handle, Lutiel pushed the door, promptly watching the surroundings engulf his eyes. Similar to the space he had seen before, when the man burned the slave brand onto him, he watched him sit behind the wooden desk, on which countless items sprawled about.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  At the same time, he watched the demon merchant sit leisurely on his chair, sipping on the square-shaped glass containing an amber substance along with a few cubes of ice.

  “You’ve come,” he added after seeing the man. Putting the glass on his desk, Tokiren finally looked directly into his eyes. “So, what is it that you wanted to meet me alone for?” He asked with a blank face.

  “I have a few questions I wanted you to answer,” Lutiel said, making the merchant toss his eyes to the side before releasing a faint sigh.

  “And you require me to waste my time and resources on you for free? Kid, get a grip-” leaning his head back, he started speaking, only to stop after hearing a splashing and ringing sound that sprung out a couple times.

  Staring down at his desk, he saw the drink sway around in the glass, its content spilled out onto the papers underneath. Inside the amber liquid, five coins of a silver shine glistened into his eyes, not focusing on the fact that Lutiel wetted his items.

  “Is five silver dracars enough for some questions?” The man asked, his stretched out hand empty. Breaking out a smile all of a sudden, the merchant promptly hovered his hand over the glass, the coins briskly flying up to his palm before he clenched it into a fist. Burying them into his pocket, Tokiren swiftly rolled his tongue.

  “Oh, but of course! Ask away,” he spoke with a budding smile, beaming full of amicability.

  Although grinding somewhat internally, Lutiel didn’t ponder long on the man before him, swiftly caressing the collar around his neck before asking with a straight face. “Tell me all the functions of the slave brand I’m wearing.”

  “Hoo, I thought you were going to ask about removing the brand even though I already told you about it,” he spoke faintly, watching promptly as Lutiel made a light shake of his head.

  “I will get to that later, so tell me about it,” he prodded.

  “Alright, alright. A slave brand is a slave brand, no matter what. Ranks like platinum and silver are only different in the matter of keeping the magic intact, so don’t think about it too much. Their effects are the same.”

  “Which are?”

  “I’m going there, alright? You don’t have to be so hasty,” he said through a somewhat raised eyebrow. “Basically, the brand allows the master to conduct complete commands over the slave. She can force you to do anything she wants, even kill yourself.”

  “She told me that already,” the man spoke back quickly, adding before the breath ended. “What else is there?”

  “She told you, huh? Your mission must be going smoothly,” Tokiren muttered lightly, quickly looking back at the man. “As for the other effects, a master can willingly inflict pain through the brand, as well as stop any of their movements. That’s all.”

  “What about knowing where I am?” Lutiel asked, nudging the man to smile slightly.

  “Is that what was troubling you? Don’t worry, she most likely used magic to know your position. The brand isn’t able to do that.”

  “I see. So what you’re saying is that I could simply run away from the mansion and she wouldn’t know where I am?” He asked immediately, to which the smile around Tokiren broadened.

  “Sure, if she hasn’t given you an internal rule. Like I told you, if she orders the brand something like ‘don’t move away for more than a hundred steps, as soon as you exceed that limit, the area of your brand will give you a hellish pain, at the same time making you want to move back immediately,” he explained quickly, making Lutiel stare him down silently. Countless thoughts started to run through him, however, the man glanced back to see the demon.

  “Alright, I get it now,” he spoke, hesitating near the end before Tokiren caught his tongue back.

  “If you’re thinking of asking if I will remove the brand, I told you already. When your mission works out, your brand will be nullified,” he said, the smile around him dissipating into blankness.

  “Then, what’s the point in me even doing the mission? I’m risking my life when I don’t know if the attack will be successful.”

  “That’s just how it works. I can’t give you what you want for free, you know?” Leaning back in his chair somewhat, the merchant painted a leisurely face, irreverent almost. However, he still glanced back under the furrowed eyebrows of Lutiel.

  “I’m meant to convince her the attack will be on the docks. How will you resolve the brand if she loses all of her trust in me? She will tie me down to the mansion and we won’t be able to meet,” the man argued, trying to search for any clues through his round face. Alas, the folding chins simply remained there, composed and resting. Watching the man with his hands on his belly, Tokiren briskly parted the lips.

  “No,” a terse voice brushed the slave, only for his jaw to clench before reverting his eyes to the ground, calmly. “It’s not profitable to have you run around freely when we don’t really know your true character. At most, I could meet you in the docks a few hours before the day, nothing else.”

  However, staring ahead with a smile glued to his face, the demon’s right arm swiftly fell down on the desk, tapping a finger away before tilting his head to the side. “Well, no, I guess there is one other way.”

  “How much?” Lutiel glanced up decisively, easing the jaw at the same time. As the words crawled out of his mouth, Tokiren shined gleefully, taking the glass with liquor before sipping lightly.