The Demon Lord And His Hero

The case of the sea hag was handed over to Rowan since he was responsible for bringing it to the attention of the Sanguine.

The anti mage was in a room that was used for interrogating criminals. The walls were reinforced with runes that could withstand most magical attacks. With so many anti mages going about their day in the Sanguine Headquarters, there wasn't much worry about, especially not escaping criminals.

A white table held a few sheets of paper, an ink well and a quill. Roga was glowering at one end of the table. Rowan sat at the other end, going through the lines of writing on a sheet of paper.

What the anti mage had in his hand was an official document that would sign away Roga's diplomatic immunity. He had it drafted post-haste the night before. Another sheet of paper on the table contained the confessions of the old man. Roga was to be charged with a long list of crimes that would put him away till the end of his life.

While Rowan checked through the paperwork, the door to their room opened up and Artemus walked in.

"Roga, fancy seeing you here," Artemus said to the old sorcerer. He pulled a chair out next to Rowan and sat down. Reaching for the page of confessions, Artemus quickly glanced at the list of wrongdoings. He placed it back down on the table and faced their criminal.

Artemus steepled his fingers in front of his face, chin resting on the pads of his thumbs. "Who holds the right of inheritance to Silent?" He asked Roga.

Rowan glanced up at the old man. He placed the paper down on the table, deciding it was more interesting to watch Artemus work.

"Nobody," Roga replied. Tired of his shouting, the mage hunters had fixed his hearing problems for free. A pair of amplification stones, modified for the ear, was purchased from the Elysium Mill and inserted into his ears.

The onyx eyes of the anti mage facing him were like shards of glass, cutting into Roga with the power of his stare alone. "Elysium reserves the rights to the occupation and management of Silent since you neither have an heir nor an appointed guardian."

The old sorceror's grin mocked the anti mage. "Such greedy people. You won't even let an old man keep the only possession he has in this world."

Unbothered by the taunt, the dark-eyed anti mage continued to speak. "Elysium holds trusteeship of any such property deemed to be of significant economic importance to the kingdom. The money generated by such a property will be used in the management and repairs-" Artemus glanced at Rowan with mild censure in his eyes, "of such property. The remaining funds will be channelled towards charitable homes and other purposes deemed good for the citizens of the kingdom."

"I refuse!" Roga slammed a palm down on the table. His nostrils were flared in anger.

"Your permission is not required for the passage of the law," Artemus took the documents from Rowan's hand and bundled them up together. "Now that you know what fate lies for Silent, I suggest you calm down and not make this any harder for yourself than it already is."

"I demand the right to choose an heir!"

"Your appeal will be heard by a council," Artemus replied. "A request will be forwarded this evening." The stack of papers in his hands was aligned neatly by decking them against the table. He stood up and nodded once to the smiling blond.

"It's you and me again, Roga," Rowan said when Artemus exited the room.

"What do you want now?" The old man sneered.

Rowan had a difficult task ahead of him. He had to ascertain a rough estimate of the number of victims that the sea hag had taken. It was unlikely that Roga would know about it but Rowan had to start somewhere.

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Syryn had been blissfully free of the whistling and nightmares. He was floating on clouds and generally feeling very satisfied; that is when he ignored the problem with Riha and his hungry demon. For a half breed like him, this was a comfortable life. He was also an idle minded demon because the kind of alchemy he engaged in daily did not require much thinking or any thinking in fact. Syryn almost functioned like an automaton magicked to add the correct amount of ingredients every single time.

An idle mind truly was the devil's workshop. And Syryn was about to prove just how right that adage would play out.

'Goldie,' his solid gold monkey idol was no longer with Riha. It was neither on the kitchen table like Syryn had initially intended for it. The mage's eyes curved into crescents as he pushed the idol into the wide space under his and Rowan's bed.

Syryn was man, and so was Rowan. What then would the idol bless when neither had a womb? The spirit of enquiry and curiosity burned bright in his damned soul as Syryn whispered to the idol.

"What are you going to do then? I'm inclined to believe that you're just a gold monkey that's only good for being a paperweight."

He glanced at his ring and frowned. "Look, I spent so much money on this and it did nothing. You're just the same, aren't you? Rowan spent all that money for a useless lump of gold."

When Red walked into the room and beheld the older brother on his knees, he had expected to find that Syryn was looking for something under the bed. But he soon came to notice that his brother was in fact talking to the garish fertility idol that gleamed from under the bed. Red felt a shiver down his spine and he turned right around to leave. Whatever happened would be on Syryn, he said to himself. And in the event that nothing happened, he would still avoid the weird brother's eyes for a few days, just to make sure that a curse wouldn't get transferred to him.