Chapter 16: Glory for Murder.


    Nero didn’t know when they’d gotten back to Stradale, the rest of the walk there was a blur to him, one filled with a swirl of emotions and none of them good. They constantly jostled his mind one way or the other.


    One moment he was thinking. and the next he was being cheered on by the men and women of the town. They had gathered at the entrance, and upon seeing the sacks had erupted with joy.


    How could they not? It was confirmation that they wouldn’t be tortured by some sadistic bastards over another person’s fuck-up.


    He hated this place, hated what it made people do, hated what it brought out in him. Ember had been quiet too, her face held low as she kept a good distance ahead of him.


    Nero received pats on the back as he made his way through the town, some hugs even. He would have hoped the smiles, the joy, the entire atmosphere around the town because of something he was responsible for would have made him feel better, but it only served to leave him more conflicted.


    Yes, more people had been saved by the death of Boris and his friends and yes, Boris shouldn’t have stolen from a person who would use that as an excuse to bring down fire upon his own people. But he didn’t deserve to die.


    The cheers continued, and it was becoming too much too quickly, Nero looked for the nearest gap in the mass of bodies and moved to slide through it.


    Something grabbed him by the arm, stopping him. It was Selvas. “The Chief would probably like to see you.” She told him in a way that made him certain it was no request.


    Nero nodded and together the pair continued through the crowd. They approached what Nero had correctly assumed was the home of the ruler of this community and it looked just as grand as ever, standing with a might and polish that the decaying buildings around it could not hope to compete with.


    The crowd held back and the guards at the wooden gates stepped aside, opening it for the pair to step through into a courtyard.


    The chief was a Demon. Nero hadn’t been surprised in the least, he’d extrapolated as much just from being in Stradale and hearing the little he’d heard of him. What did surprise Nero however, was how large he was.


    “He’s like a tree with legs.” Ember croaked.


    That was correct, easily twice the height of Nero, with crimson skin, a sharp pair of horns and rippling muscle.


    He knew he wasn’t Mercury, knew that he had no idea who Nero was, and yet just being in the presence of another Demon left him suppressing shudders. He was plagued with memories of dying Inquisitors and a cowardly escape.


    He pushed his mind to focus elsewhere, and regretted it immediately.


    The courtyard was filled with about a dozen people who lined up in front of the Demon. On their wrist was a runed shackle, in their eyes was pure unbridled terror.


    Thralls.


    Nero had seen some doing labour around Stradale, property of the Chieftain he’d been told, but the ones before him here were outsiders, new to Hell and filled with horrorrather than the empty resolution he’d come to expect from their eyes.


    In between the thralls and the Chief was a tall, scrawny man with arms that looked like twigs. He had shrewd eyes and a tongue that spoke with greed. “All high quality my Lord-” He began, pointing at the group. “You know I wouldn’t bring them to you if they weren’t.”


    The Chief looked down at the man as if he were considering whether or not to step on a particularly chatty worm. Evidently he had decided not to. “You are sure they are of good quality?”


    The man grinned with yellow stained teeth. “Yes, yes, all straight from Dolore.” He said, grabbing a stick and poking a man between the ribs. He flinched but did well not to complain.


    “Ah, and is he mighty?” The Chief asked. “Or does he have a knack for the magics?”


    Might and magic.


    His physical strengths would be the former and his Light Breathing the latter.


    The man shook his head. “No, but-”


    “Are any of them gifted?” The Chief asked.


    Ah, so what’s a gift then?


    It took Nero half a moment to decide that would be a trait like the one Selvas possessed, judging by their performances he was stronger than her physically but where his sight had remained mundane, hers was beyond human.


    “N-not particularly my Lord.” The man admitted, wincing as he spoke. “However-”


    “Then why are you wasting my time!” The Chief roared. His eyes were twin flames, tongue forked. The sight made Nero’s heart race. “Come back here when you have thralls with worth, I have no need for any more lukewarm tools.”


    The man bowed his head, apologised profusely and slid out of view with all the grace of a lizard.


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    Nero would have been grateful for the whole ordeal to have been over had it not meant that the Demon was now free to set its eyes on him. Those burning orbs landed upon Nero heavily enough to nearly drive the air out of his lungs.


    “Ah, Selvas!” The Demon greeted, voice like gravel against sand. His lips split to reveal deadly razor teeth below. “And Selvas’ new friend.”


    Selvas was on a knee instantly, head bowed. “My Lord, we thank you for granting us an audience.” She said.


    Nero followed suit with the gesture, getting on one knee and lowering his head in subservience without another thought.


    “Nonsense, you bring me gifts, and I must receive them.” The Chieftain laughed. “Now, let me see them.” He demanded.


    Selvas turned the sack over and Nero shifted his gaze away far too late to avoid the sight of human heads thudding against the ground. He fought the urge to puke and just barely came out on top.


    “My, oh my. “ The Demon chuckled amusedly. “I should have asked for at least one alive.”


    “I hope they are to your liking, my Lord.” Selvas asked.


    “Oh, they are, they are.” His eyes shifted once again to Nero. “And you, boy, where are you from?” He asked.


    “I-” Nero began.


    “He’s a wanderer my Lord.” Selvas interjected. “A traveller who it seems has taken a liking to your grand town.”


    The Demon stroked his chin in thought, the upward tilt at the edge of his lip told him that he appreciated flattery. “Is this true, Wanderer?”


    “No my Lord.” He answered. Selvas for her credit did not pale at his reply, though there was a clear tension in the Demon’s eyes. “I am a traveller no more, Stradale is my home… If you’ll have me.”


    The Demon’s grin grew ever wider, revealing more of those white-yellow cages of death once hidden behind his lips. “I like this one.”


    It was a way to avoid more questions than were necessary while propping up the Demon’s ego. Of course he liked it.


    “Well, of course you’re welcome, traveller.” The Demon replied. “You have more than proven yourself worthy of a place within my walls, I decree you a citizen of Stradale and tie you to the land. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a leather parchment. Nero took it and saw that it was a document, one that granted serfs of Stradale the right to travel.


    Nero didn’t feel relief at that, such an emotion was relegated for situations far less grim than the one he found himself perpetually in. I’m property now. He felt a dull acceptance, and that was all. “Thank you my Lord.” He said.


    “You are welcome boy, keep being useful to me and I might see no reason to send you off to war.” Before Nero could fully process his words, the Demon spoke over his thoughts. “Speaking of useful humans.” The Demon hummed. “Executioner, come!” He suddenly barked with enough force to make the hairs at the back of Nero’s palm stand.


    The great wooden doors of the manor swung open and from them emerged an imposing figure. This one a man rather than a Demon. He had hair like coal, skin like snow and eyes as cold as an eternal winter. The man was big, smaller than Boris but with the muscular definition to more than make up for the difference. In his hand was runed axe. An executioner’s axe.


    He was a thrall, Nero knew it from the runed shackle around his arm. It should have made Nero pity the man. It only made him more terrified of the figure before him.


    “Traveller, meet my Executioner,” The Demon greeted. “I’m sure you’ve heard much of him already from his daughter.”


    Nero felt his lips dry at those words, he could do nothing but nod and breathe out a reply. “Of course my Lord.”


    The man’s eyes fell upon Selvas expectantly and she spoke. “Hello father,” Selvas said, looking up at the thrall. Nero scanned her features for a betrayal of emotion, as ever he found none.


    “Daughter.” The man nodded in acknowledgement. His voice was as grim as a cemetery.


    “She’s done well hasn’t she?” The Demon asked, eyes wide with delight, like a child making dolls play.


    The man looked down at the trio of heads then back to Selvas. “She has.”


    Seemingly satisfied, the Demon turned and made his way towards his home. “Very well then, I’ll have the heads placed on spikes in the town centre, a reminder of what happens to those who dare trample upon my rule. You are dismissed.”


    Nero thanked him and got to his feet. He almost missed the briefly held gaze between Selvas and her father before both turned around and headed in opposite directions. Him to the Chief and her to the exit.


    Nero followed behind. With all that had happened between them, he didn’t even consider saying something, and he would have remained silent had Selvas not been the one to strike up conversation.


    “You need to learn how to use a weapon.” She’d said. They were in her house now, Selvas was sitting on a chair, sharpening her arrows. With a gaze so intense he thought the shafts might ignite under it.


    “I… I do.” Nero replied, recovering from the shock of hearing her speak slowly and awkwardly. “I’ve been considering using a sword.”


    Selvas glanced at him and had he just met her he would have thought she was doing it simply as a conversational quirk. He’d like to think he knew the woman well enough to infer that she was deciding whether or not his physique would be good for swordsmanship.


    “Sword sounds good. Takes a while to learn, compared to spears, but you do a lot of varied fighting. A versatile weapon is a sound pick. Ask around for the Blademaster Cain, they’ll train you.” She nodded and then her eyes went back to the arrow and the sharpening resumed.


    For several minutes Nero had only the sound of arrows being sharpened to keep him company. Save from that, there was silence, and Selvas seemed perfectly at peace within that silence.


    On any other day, he would have been too, but today Nero felt like too much had happened between him and the woman for him to simply let the silence hold.


    She’d killed Boris, and he wanted to be angry, and fuck it if he wasn’t. But he also hated the fact that he understood and hated how much more he understood upon seeing her father. Yes, she’d told him he was a Thrall. But he hadn’t known he was alive, hadn’t known he lived as a slave to the man who she served.


    He had to say something about that. He had to. “Selvas, I’m sorry-”


    “Don’t be,” She cut in, not even bothering to look up at him. Her sharpening continued, the sound of stone sliding against steel piercing his ears at every interval. “It’s simply how things are.”


    “They don’t have to be-” He began, but Selvas’ tongue moved quicker than his.


    “Stop it.” She said icily. “You keep acting like any moment now, you’re expecting the God of Hell is going to behead the Three Faced Monarch, descend from Tradimento and deliver each of every one of us to Paradise himself, that it’s some affront to reality that he hasn’t already. Well he isn’t and it isn’t.” She snarled, “Better yet that the fucker doesn’t show up either way, given that the last Light Breather was on the side of the Demons.”


    What?


    Nero tried to hide his shock at the revelation, but he was sure he’d done so poorly. Selvas only gave a quick frown in response, normally it would have been enough to have him internally panicking and scrutinising every inch of her face to get a tell for what might be going on in her mind.


    Today he could only struggle to drink in what she’d just told him. “I… I see” He grasped at words but found them slipping between his clumsy fingers. “I’ll go find Cain now.” He wheezed and practically stumbled out of her home.