Chương 112: Those Who Leave Too Late

Maelor had the room sealed the moment the young beastman gave his declared name. Nahr. A short name. Too short. Not necessarily false, but incomplete enough not to be innocent. The guards locked the doors. Silence seals lit up on the walls. A blue light slid across the floor, encircling the table, the heroes, the retained recruits, and the archmage. Soren Vale studied the circle with a lazy smile.

"Charming. A locked room with an assassin, a heretic, a mercenary, four heroes, an archmage, and a vengeful beastman. Who wrote this bad idea?" Garron Tels crossed his arms.

"Someone who wants to see who kills who before paying the rations." Ivara Solenn, however, was not smiling. Her eyes remained fixed on Nahr. The hooded young beastman stood against the wall, slightly apart. Not far enough to look frightened. Not close enough to accept the group. His hood hid the upper half of his face, but not the tension in his hands. Elias noticed that he almost never looked at Maelor. He mostly watched the doors. Like someone who had already survived too many closed rooms.

Maelor placed a file on the table.

"From this point on, what is said here does not leave this room without my authorization." Soren raised a hand.

"And if I get bored?"

"I reduce your conditional pardon in real time."

"I'll be attentive." Maelor opened the file. A map appeared above the table, projected by a thin blue light. The human continent in the center. The beastman lands to the west, covered in red zones. The elven continent to the north. The demonic kingdom to the east. Then a black line crossed the map from Aelvaris toward the eastern seas. Elias leaned forward.

"That's Zayn's route?"

"Probable," Maelor replied.

"Not certain." Mira studied the line.

"It passes through the Black Isles." Ivara looked up.

"Old smuggling islands. Used before the routes were closed during the last black cycle." The priest present in the room stiffened at the phrase, but said nothing. He had understood that this was no longer a room where he won arguments simply by using the word heresy. Maelor rotated the map. Another line appeared, beginning in the human kingdom, passing through the Eastern Marches, then plunging toward a region of mist in the south of the demonic continent.

"This will be your route." Jonah frowned.

"It avoids the major borders." Garron gave a dry chuckle.

"Because the major borders are made to turn heroes into wall decorations." Maelor nodded.

"The raid will not pass through the war gates. You will use the old smuggling routes, the ash ravines, and the abandoned outposts from the Third War of the Marches." Soren whistled softly.

"So we're entering demon territory through the part even they consider dirty."

"Exactly." Lena looked at the map.

"And Zayn?" Maelor was silent for a second.

"He will probably leave Aelvaris with a limited elven escort." Mira's head snapped up.

"An escort?"

"An elven princess, according to the latest fragments." The silence that followed was different. Soren smiled.

"Well. The demonic human is improving his diplomacy." Jonah said coldly,"Or he's taking better-dressed hostages." Lena murmured,"An elven princess is following him willingly?" Maelor did not answer at once.

"That is what the reports suggest." Elias stared at the black line. An elven princess. So Zayn had crossed the beastman lands, reached Aelvaris, faced or skirted a royal catastrophe, then left the island with the help of an heir. The boy locked in a sealed room had become someone kingdoms could no longer simply imprison. In a way, that should have reassured him. It only frightened him more.

"They'll reach the demonic kingdom before we do," Mira said. Maelor answered, The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Yes." The word landed heavily. Nahr finally moved. A small tilt of the head.

"Then we leave now." Jonah turned toward him.

"You decide nothing." Nahr replied without raising his voice,"While you decide, he walks." No one spoke. Because the sentence was true. Maelor looked at the young beastman.

"Zayn is also walking toward Demon Generals. It is not a straight road." Nahr clenched his fists.

"He'll survive." Lena stared at him.

"You say that as if you're certain." The hooded youth lowered his head slightly. His voice grew rougher.

"Monsters always survive long enough for the dead to regret not having hands anymore." Elias felt something in that sentence. Not just hatred. A repeated pain. Shaped. As if someone had taken a raw wound and carved it until it became a perfectly directed weapon. Maelor must have felt it too, because his gaze stayed on Nahr a second too long. Then he continued:"You are not leaving now. Not all of you. Not without two things." Garron sighed.

"Ah. The things. In every bad mission, there are always two things we don't have." Mira asked,"Which ones?" Maelor raised one finger.

"An entry." Then a second.

"And a reason not to be killed by the first demonic faction you encounter." Soren tilted his head.

"I thought our collective charm would be enough."

"Your collective charm would make even a mass grave hesitate."

"Flattering." Maelor made a point appear on the map, in the southeast of the Marches.

"A demon is currently being held in the black cells. Not a soldier. Not a lord. A debt smuggler once tied to the Counters of Ghelkar." Ivara murmured,"Cassiel." Maelor nodded.

"Indirectly." Mira narrowed her eyes.

"You want to use him as a guide?"

"I want to use what he knows before he realizes he is worth more dead than alive." Jonah asked,"Is he cooperating?" Maelor gave a humorless smile.

"Not yet." Soren raised his hand.

"Now I am officially interested." The black cells lay deeper than the forbidden archives. Because the human kingdom had always preferred to store its truths above its tools. The demonic prisoner sat in the center of a square room, arms bound by silver chains, horns half-sawn, skin covered in burned debt marks. He looked almost elegant despite his captivity. That made him more unpleasant. He smiled when Maelor entered.

"Grand Archivist. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me." Maelor replied,"You were never worth enough to be forgotten." The demon placed a theatrical hand over his heart.

"Cruel. I understand why your priests fear you." Elias entered after Maelor. Then the others. The demon's gaze passed over the heroes with interest, over Soren with caution, over Ivara with amusement, over Garron with contempt, then stopped on Nahr. His smile changed. A fraction. The young beastman saw it. He took a step. Elias put an arm out in front of him.

"No." Nahr did not look at him.

"He knows something." The demon smiled again.

"Survivors always know when someone has walked too close to their grave." Nahr lunged. Too fast for a mere injured adolescent. His claws slid out beneath his gloves. Elias stopped him at the last second, shoving him back against the wall with his forearm.

"I said no." Nahr was trembling. Not with fear. With rage. The demon laughed softly.

"Oh. That one is full of lovely ruins." Maelor made a gesture. The demon's chains tightened. His laugh turned into a grunt.

"You will answer three questions," Maelor said.

"I would like a demonic lawyer."

"First question. Which routes allow a small human group to enter the demonic kingdom without passing through the main borders?" The demon blinked slowly.

"None." Soren sighed.

"Lazy lie. I'm disappointed." Maelor raised a hand. A seal on the chain flared. The demon arched. No scream. He had too much professional pride for that. But his teeth clicked together. Maelor continued,"Second question. Which demonic domains would purchase an elven researcher specializing in dead spirit contracts?" The demon froze. This time, the reaction was visible. Mira wrote immediately. Ivara murmured,"There." Maelor stepped closer.

"Third question. Who benefits from letting Zayn Veylor reach the demonic kingdom alive?" The demon slowly lifted his eyes to him. His smile was gone.

"You ask very dangerous questions for a human who still wants to have a kingdom tomorrow." Maelor replied,"You may be overestimating tomorrow." The demon stared at him. Then his gaze slid toward Elias.

"So the heroes are going east. Too late, of course." Elias remained still.

"Why too late?" The demon smiled again.

"Because while you choose your companions, he will choose his enemies. And with us, choosing an enemy is sometimes the first step toward being invited to the table." Jonah asked,"Where is Elvarin?" The demon turned his head toward him.

"Ah. The researcher." Nahr made another violent movement. Elias held him back again. The demon continued,"Not dead. Not free. Not rewarded. Demons do not like rewarding tools that think they were partners." Maelor said,"Where?"

"It depends on who officially received him and who actually owns him." Mira leaned in.

"Explain." The demon smiled.

"You still think in straight lines. Very human. A researcher can be delivered to a laboratory, funded by one domain, protected by a debt, watched by a network, and used by someone who has signed no paper at all." Ivara murmured,"Cassiel, Voragna, Seryth." The demon looked at her.

"The heretic can read. Charming." Maelor lit the seal again. The demon stiffened.

"A location." This time, the demon answered. Not out of courage. Out of calculation.

"The black hothouses of Velkar-Morne. An old organic complex on the margins between the Counters and the Belly. Officially abandoned after a contamination. Unofficially very useful for those who prefer that no one asks who owns a body." Mira noted every word. Elias asked,"That's where they took him?" The demon shrugged.

"If he is intelligent, he is praying that yes. Some places are worse." Lena murmured,"He prays?" The demon laughed.

"Cowards always pray when the price of their choices is finally delivered." Maelor looked at Elias. The decision was silent. But it was there. Velkar-Morne. A name. A place. A first target. Nahr spoke then.

"And the demonic human?" The demon slowly turned a far too curious gaze toward him.

"Him?"

"Where will he go?" The demon smiled.

"Where it hurts." Nahr stepped forward half a pace.

"Answer." The demon tilted his head.

"If Zayn Veylor truly arrives with an elven princess and four Downfalls open, he will not be sent to the hothouses like a dog toward a bone. He will be watched. Tested. They will want to know if he breaks, if he can be bought, if he bites, if he rules." He paused.

"The Generals will start circling him." Maelor asked,"Which ones?" The demon smiled.

"All of them, if the rumor reaches the Throne." The silence became very heavy. Then he added,"And if the Throne answers, then you are not preparing a raid." His eyes gleamed in the dimness.

"You are preparing a delay." At the same hour, far to the northeast, the sea was changing color. The elven ship cut through dark waters, far from Aelvaris, far from human shores, far from the maps ordinary captains were allowed to own. Elyra stood at the prow. The sea wind lifted her pale cloak. Her spirit of light, curled near her neck in the form of a small pale fox, slept badly. Zayn sat on the railing, one leg hanging over the void, the scythe absent but never truly far. He was looking east.

For three days, he had spoken little. Not out of peace. Out of accumulation. Elyra had finally understood that his silence was not empty. It was stacking targets. Elvarin. The demons who extracted him. Those who funded the elven bodies. Those who destroyed the Mist-Fangs. Those waiting in the demonic kingdom with titles, armies, palaces, and probably smiles. She approached him.

"We'll reach the Black Isles before nightfall." Zayn did not turn his head.

"And after that?"

"After that, we'll need to avoid the official ports. Find a smuggler. Buy a route." He gave a small laugh.

"Buy."

"Yes."

"You have elven gold?"

"Royal seals." He finally looked at her.

"You plan to pay demons with your name?" Elyra held his gaze.

"If necessary." The skull of the scythe appeared halfway in the shadow of Zayn's hand.

"She's learning badly. I like it." Elyra ignored the weapon. Zayn, however, smiled.

"Bad idea, princess. Demons don't just take what you place on the table. They invoice the hand too."

"Then we won't give them time."

"We?" She did not retreat.

"Yes." He watched her.

"You're getting used to bad methods quickly."

"Not yet. I understand them. That isn't the same."

"That's what people say at the beginning." A silence passed. Then she asked,"What will you do if Elvarin is already dead?" The sea struck the hull. Zayn remained still.

"He isn't."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because it would be too simple." Elyra did not know how to answer. Zayn continued,"Men like him do not die when their death would make everything easier for everyone. They survive. They sign again. They explain that they had no choice. They find a new clean phrase to cover the next filthy thing." His voice dropped.

"He is alive." The little spirit of light opened one eye.

"You almost sound relieved." Zayn looked at the horizon.

"No." A thin smile appeared on his mouth.

"Patient." Elyra felt a shiver. Ahead of them, in the distance, the Black Isles emerged under the mist. Chunks of dark rock planted in the sea, surrounded by tiny fires, mastheads with no banners, ruined lighthouses, and silhouettes that never waited for free. The first step toward the demonic kingdom. At the same time, on the human continent, Elias was staring at the name Velkar-Morne on a map. Two groups were moving east. One to stop a Demon King from being born.

The other to find a researcher who had already sold enough dead to change the shape of the world. Neither yet knew that they were running through the same story. But one of them had already taken the lead.