Marcus slowed when he could no longer spot Redwater, the trees growing thicker as he travelled. The forest wasn't one he'd explored often, though the first scenario had given him enough practice moving through one to be competent.
But making serious progress was for tomorrow. He'd left a few hours after midday, walked for hours until his feet stung and his legs ached, before finally setting his pack down to make camp.
It was calming to go through the motions. To let his mind rest from endlessly questioning if this was, in fact, reality. It was. He was sure of it. No barrier sealing off the other planes, progress was possible in any direction he could think to try and all facts pointed to this being his own time. To this being home.
Yet his mind continued to run in circles, and so Marcus built a fire. Collected wood, stacked the wood, snapped his fingers for dramatic effect as he lit it with magic. He even dragged out a thick log to sit on.
A sigh escaped him when he got off his feet, almost relishing the burn. For once, it would mean progress. It would mean stronger legs, improved stamina, thicker callouses. Progress of the most mundane sort.
He turned, armor creaking softly as he did, and pulled out a pot. His gloves were off but his greaves still gave him a moment of trouble, though he refused to get rid of those too. The half-plate would help him build strength, no matter the discomfort it caused. Well, except for his boots. Those needed to air out.
Besides, it felt good to be in armor again. To be properly protected by more than a simple shield spell. Or a not so simple defence package, but either way.
Marcus poured water into the pot and set it to boil, flicking his hand to carve a summoning seal into the air. A demonic rabbit appeared, the portal closing behind it. "Go find me some Human digestible and non-poisonous vegetables."
The rabbit set off, returning just seconds later with a root. Then another, and another, and Marcus ignored the growing pile as the rabbit found and brought over vegetables and fruits and nuts. He hadn't asked for the latter two, but demonic rabbits were some of the nicest demonic entities around.
Most of them simply liked hunting in forests.
He pulled a knife and started chopping the vegetables, snacking on the nuts and throwing the little thing some salted meat after it was done. The rabbit squealed in delight, its blood-red eyes focused on the offering. Marcus smiled at it as its canines started pulling the meat apart.
Adorable little things.
The Hells, he found, were often misunderstood. Because yes, there was suffering and war and Overlords building castles made of skulls, but beyond all the Hells were vast. Impossibly, mind-bendingly vast. So if one knew where to look, many places were as nice to live in as their own plane.
Nicer, depending on how close you were to the dungeon. Demonic rabbits were but one of many helpful little critters one could summon, though also amongst the weakest.
What he needed now was not weak. It was above a shapeshifter in power, even, and as intelligent as any human. Dominating it would be slow and dangerous, and even if he succeeded, that would be the lesser result.
No, bargaining was the best choice for intermediate demonic entities. Forging a pact, agreeing on terms, sometimes even becoming friends. Being unaging and functionally immortal outside the Hells made trading some small portion of their time quite the attractive bargain, after all. Especially if they wanted something they could not get inside the Hells. Many saw contracts as a form of vacation, even.
Marcus put the assorted vestiges in the pot to boil, adding the rest of the meat, then sighed. He really shouldn't put off summoning Vess, the succubus would only be more annoyed if he did, but honestly he did need to bargain with a demonic steed. Something best done with a clear, fresh mind.
Yeah. Demonic horse first, demonic succubus after. Marcus picked up a stick, spared from the fire by virtue of being somewhat pointed and possessing a good length, and cleared out a few square feet with telekinesis.
It really didn't matter where one drew a summoning seal. In the air, which had the advantage of being invisible, carving it in stone, which made them near permanent, the options were limitless, really. Each came with a different trade-off, though the general rule he'd learned long ago was that the more solid the medium, the less power was required.
Air, being perhaps the most disjointed of them all, took power. Quite a lot of power. It also made it look like you just conjured a portal with your mind, which was great for intimidation.
The stick began carving runes, Marcus spending nearly an hour doing and redoing the work where he'd made mistakes, and he wasn't in a hurry. There was much to do with the fire burning and little chance of rain, and he'd never really carved a seal like this before.
It was interesting. Somewhat annoying, but interesting. And then it was done. He'd checked the boundary seals one last time, and then sat back on his stump. Powered the seal and waited, having chosen for an open invitation rather than a forced summons.
Whichever demonic horse answered would be at least somewhat interested in actually forging a pact.
The seal flashed, a fairly normal looking horse stepping out of it. It looked at Marcus, inspecting the camp with eyes far more intelligent than any regular animal, and huffed when it walked against the barrier.
"Hi," Marcus began, waving. The horse didn't reply. "I'm Marcus."
More silence, then finally he heard a voice. Even though the horse didn't open its mouth to speak. Demons were weird like that sometimes. "I am Xathar. You have need of a mount, bush mage?"
"I think you mean hedge mage, but yes. Three week contract, no combat. The details are in there."
Marcus waved at the seal, the horse leaning down to peer at the matrix. There was a written portion, sure, but it was more about the seal itself. The intent and feel of the mage. If Xathar didn't like him, for whatever reason, the horse would smell it there first.
"A horse," it demanded, standing to full height. Its eyes narrowed. "I want a horse."
He blinked. "You want a horse?"
"I want to eat a horse," Xathar clarified, teeth snapping open then shut. "It has to be alive. I care not for its age or sickness. I want to eat a horse. I have eaten most anything else, but not a horse."
Deciding to skip past the why, Marcus raised an eyebrow. "How is that possible? You're one of the most reliable, tough and fearsome battle mounts out there. Summoning your kind to augment cavalry is almost textbook. You've never even bitten one?"
"I have bitten many horses," the demon admitted, preening somewhat at the praise. "But I wish to eat a whole horse. Its hooves, its teeth, its knees and brain. Every bite. That is my price, bush mage."
Marcus sighed. "I'm not a hedge mage. Neither did I bring a horse, since I was kind of relying on you for that.
"I did not expect you to. Swear to me you will let me eat a horse before the contract expires, and I shall be your mount. I wish to kill it myself."
Yeah, that wasn't happening. Well, he was going to let it eat an old, sickly horse just fine, but not the promise. "There's plenty of farms around here, so getting you one shouldn't be hard. I doubt a farmer is going to complain about earning some money, anyway. But I won't sign a contract with an unfulfilled oath."
"Smart," Xathar grunted. It didn't sound like a compliment. "I shall agree to the contract without an oath. But you will give me a horse to kill and devour, bush mage."
Marcus wondered how long it had been asking for that and freaking out previous summoners. "Sounds good. Any changes you'd like to make to the contract?"
"I will check," the horse looked down, staring unblinkingly at the seal for a little while, then looked back up. It neighed. "It is well written, bush mage. I agree."
"Then an agreement is reached."
The seal flashed once as Magic activated the binding, the demon not resisting as it was bound. Marcus dropped the barrier, Xathar promptly walking over to the fire and eating one of the burning logs.
"Would you like some stew?" Marcus asked. He'd never actually summoned one of his kind in the field before, though the part of bargaining for a pact he'd done quite a bit. Still, it seemed polite to offer. "It has meat in it."
"Keep your vegetables, bush mage. I shall eat coals and bark."
"Alright then."
Marcus checked his stew, finding not nearly enough time had passed to eat. A shame. It would have been another good distraction. Xathar looked at him, stepping closer and inhaling deeply. "You do not smell of the forest, bush mage."
"I will soon enough. Please be quiet for this next bit. It'll be awkward enough without commentary."
Xathar snorted, exhaling great plumes of air, and moved to start eating bark some ways away. Marcus sighed, smoothing out the ground to start on a new seal. This one took only moments when compared to the other, mostly because there was no need for a containment barrier or pact details.
One small rune detailed the exact recipient and another limited the power, since there was no sense in allowing for even the smallest possibility of something trying to force itself through, and Marcus activated it before he could second-guess himself into oblivion. Relationships. Who knew they could be so hard?
The portal shimmered into existence, Marcus letting out one last sigh before Vess stepped through.
Vess, as she was wont to do, wore a dress long enough to drag behind her. It covered her near completely, though it hugged her so well Marcus doubted anyone would call it modest. The succubus raised one perfect eyebrow, idly draping her hair over one shoulder.
"Marcus." She greeted, the sound of her voice more pleasant than should be possible. That summed Vess up quite well, in fact. Beauty and grace in all its impossible forms. Her tone was on the cold side, though. "You left me sitting in a sealed summoning chamber for days. That was cruel."
Marcus hummed. "It was. I'm sorry. It can't have been comfortable."
"I never said I was uncomfortable," Vess replied, seating herself on the log in front of him. She made it seem like a throne, somehow, and all the filth of the forest avoided both her and her clothing. She frowned, eyes flickering to the demonic steed before settling back on him. "Something has happened."
"Yeah. Quite a bit of something, actually. What do you know about the School of Life?"
Vess' eyes widened, putting things together as quickly as usual. "Your father. I told you things couldn't continue like they had, Marcus. Though I never would have guessed you had one of Balthazar's artifacts lying around. How long?"
"More than a year," he replied, watching her scowl in outrage. An act, not an act, he was tired of second guessing. She'd never betrayed him, the contract should stop it from happening even if she had the desire, and the paranoia was poisoning any friendship they might have. "And yes, you did, but I assumed you were just trying to get me to overthrow my father or something."
She smiled fondly, though she still seemed angry on his behalf. "Those are fun to arrange. But you, Marcus, might just be crazy enough to come down to the Hells to track me down for that. Not worth the risk. Besides, up until a few days ago I'd say you were incapable of it even with my help."
"And now I managed it without you," he replied, offering her a small grin. "I'll be married soon, possibly in as little as two months, and then I'll be King."
Vess blinked. "Without me? You staged a political coup without me? That is worse than locking me in your dungeon for a few days, my dear. Far worse. I shall have to come up with a suitable revenge plot."
"Don't say it like that," Marcus replied, rolling his eyes. "People will talk."
Giggling, actually giggling, and shifting on her log, Vess smiled indulgently. "Yes, because once people learn you have a long-standing contract with a succubus, surely they won't be making the slightest assumptions. I know you care little for it, Marcus, but most people are rather interested in sex. Even those who pretend otherwise. Especially those who pretend otherwise, in my experience. You have to keep in mind people will assume things no matter what you do."
"I know, I know," he sighed. "It's just annoying, you know? You're over three hundred years old, speak four dozen languages and have a working grasp on most magical disciplines even if you can't use magic yourself. You're quite possibly tailor made to serve as a political advisor, are practically immortal and if that wasn't unfair enough, have a gift for reading people. Yet all people will hear is 'Oh yeah, succubus. Fun to party with, those.'."
Vess seemed actually flattered. "Well, you seem to have grown up some. Not surprising, considering what Balthazar made the School of Life for. Last I heard it was old and degraded, though?"
"I have. And I had to override the control matrix to let me out. Or activate a deeper failsafe which kicked me out, my memory is a bit fuzzy. Beautiful, though, those matrices. Like a language without words, transcribing nothing but intent and feeling. Utterly sublime."
"You know this is why I called you a mutant freak the first time we met, right?" Vess asked, shaking her head. "And no, I'm not apologizing for that again. You see me, someone who is quite literally born for temptation and sin, and at best you appreciate my beauty. Then you talk about an old, decrepit artifact like you want to adore it forever. You'll never find a good woman like that."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "The latter problem seems to have been solved for me, and we both know you never really apologize for insulting me. You just apologized for not apologizing. Let's talk about this later. The stew is done, and I need to find Xathar a horse come morning."
"He wants to eat a horse?"
"Apparently."
"Demonic steeds are strange," Vess shrugged. "Good choice, though. So what do you need him for? And me, for that matter?"
He leaned forward, smiling. "I'm going to start a magical academy, and I need your help picking out the first students, teachers and more. I've already got a list, but you're better at reading people than I'll ever be."
"Sounds fun," Vess drawled, a flicker of interest appearing in her eye. "Would you need any help managing the organisation, by any chance? I've been wanting to start my own magic cult for ages."
"It's not a cult, but yes. I also think I'm going to need to alter some details about our contract, starting with 'don't start a cult in either my name or your own'."
"Spoilsport."
Marcus ignored her pout, leaning down to ladle her a bowl of stew. She took it, taking one bite and started to list off all its ingredients, and he sat down feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
"I will take my future payment in horses, bush mage," Xathar rumbled for the fourth time. Marcus just did his best to hang on, legs already itching. The demon was running fast enough to exhaust any regular horse within miles, something it had been doing for over an hour now. "It was old, sickly and so very stale, but I found it to be a pleasant experience."
Marcus grunted. "I'm happy you're happy. And no, you won't get to eat a horse every time I need your services. We'll save it for special occasions."
Xathar grumbled something about greedy bushes, moving left to dodge a fallen tree. Marcus barely registered it, desperately recalling old riding lessons. He'd learned how to ride a horse, of course he had, but none of those had prepared him for this. For a demon devouring distance like no other life form could. Hells he was going to be sore.
It did speed things along, though. Two hours later Marcus dismounted, stiff, and Xathar trodding off to sniff at one of the trees. Pain shot through Marcus' legs when he walked, and he admitted he might have overdone it. Then a stab of mental pain interrupted his physical pain, at which point he had to sit down.
He waved a hand, Vess stepping out of the portal he'd just created and raising an eyebrow. Her dress was gone, replaced by light armor complete with a pair of long daggers on her hip, and her practical state of dress was somewhat undercut by the lack of a helmet.
Marcus supposed 'death' didn't mean much to demons, so style went above all. Vess hummed. "You are injured."
"I'm sore. Which, despite having been stabbed, burned to death, frozen and otherwise mutilated, is still uncomfortable."
"You can't meet your first potential recruit like that," Vess murmured, eyes taking in her surroundings. "Heal yourself, then we'll talk about your state of dress. I'll be back in a few minutes."
He grunted but complied, slowly weaving together a low-grade life force matrix. One that turned magic into a type of energy which accelerated healing, though it wasn't his area of expertise. His hand glowed, the technique localized, and he slowly ran it over his legs.
Skin was easy to heal as long as there wasn't too much missing, he recalled. Minor muscle damage strained the technique somewhat, but repeated applications worked just fine. Anything more severe, such as broken bones or missing appendages, and he'd need something quite a bit stronger.
Considering the advanced technique very much could create tumors, cancers and any other type of unwanted growth when improperly controlled, he'd stick with the novice technique. Before entering the artifact he had qualified healers on call, and inside a reset fixed issues such as this faster than any mage could.
Only now did he really feel the absence of proper practice. Of the study he'd put into almost all other disciplines to which he'd had access. It was a shortcoming he was going to have to address, though one on a growing list.
Vess returned, carrying a basket of herbs and putting it down next to him. Her hand reached into nothing and pulled back holding a mortar and pestle, picking through the herbs she'd collected.
Marcus glanced at her, slowly running his hand over his lower back. "What are those?"
"Ingredients for a potion. They should help with your memory fatigue. I'll have to adapt the recipe to work with local ingredients, but I have the core herbs in my own garden."
Her hand reached into nothing again, pulling back to hold some blue herb Marcus had never seen before. He grunted. "Never told you I had memory fatigue problems, but if I did then they would be both relatively harmless and not require aid to heal."
"You absorbed more than a year's worth of memories, of course you have memory fatigue. And it is relatively harmless, yes, but the pain can last for years before the mind is fully mended. Intermittent pain, sure, but pain. Would you prefer being in intermittent pain for years to come?"
"That's only for extreme cases," Marcus mumbled. Vess arched an eyebrow, making him sigh. "But no, I don't. Thanks for looking out for me."
She smiled at him, exactly like she usually did, though he could swear she was surprised. It passed too quickly for him to be sure. "Don't worry about it. You're by far the most interesting contract I've had in the past two centuries. The herbs are a small price to pay to ensure you keep in a good mood."
"Funny. How is your home, anyway? It's been a while since we talked from my perspective."
"Oh, quite well. I've never needed much, so I mostly tend to the garden and read. Why are you asking?"
Marcus shrugged, letting the healing spell go. "No real reason. Curiosity, perhaps. For one who thrives in social settings you live an isolated life."
"I thrive in mortal society," Vess corrected, adding water to the paste she was creating. Her motions were smooth, sure, and showcased another discipline Marcus hadn't truly studied. "Most demons are rather isolated unless they live under one Lord or another. So much space, not that many demons."
"There's at least ten trillion of you."
"I said compared to the space we have. Drink this."
Marcus took the offered mortar, feeling it out with his magic. There wasn't much, and what he did feel he couldn't make much sense of, but Vess' contract explicitly forbade her from hurting him. And if that wasn't enough, he didn't think she wanted to in the first place.
He drank it, feeling the pain dim by a few stages. Marcus sighed, shaking his head. Good enough for now. It would still be a recurring annoyance, though, even with the medicine. "Thanks."
"So you've said. Now, about your clothing. Armor is a good image, yes, but it needs some magical touches. Something to proclaim your royal status, too. First impressions are important, and these people you are meeting could be with you for a long time. Stand for me?"
Standing, and turning as she flicked her hand through the air, Marcus resigned himself to a boring hour of fashion and dressup. At least she was good at it.
Afterword
Discord [Check author profile or pinned comment on the chapter.] (two chapters ahead)