The Demon Queen Wants To Live.

"I have escorted many to Koralis," the Inker said. "I have gone out of the city many times. This is perhaps the first time any of these trips has almost gotten me killed." The Inker said dryly.

The road was wide and the morning was clear. The column moved at a steady pace, and the Inker walked between Ash and me. It had not been long, and yet he looked older now than when we’d left Hamel. I glanced at him and said nothing. "An attack by those Smears, a confrontation with a Rune-bearer of all people, and a theft that ended with a man losing his arm in the back alley of an inn." He counted each item on his fingers. "I have never had a more eventful trip this close to the city. I do not think I would even if I headed East."

"The man was fortunate," I said. "I might have killed him instead."

The Inker pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, I have little doubt you might have. At the very least, you and your companion did not kill him. That would have led to questions or an investigation, both of which would have led to yet more delays. More of these delays, and I suspect something else would happen instead.”

The Inker walked ahead now. Ash walked to my side. Her stride was even. She had been quiet since we'd left the inn. She only answered when I pressed her, which was altogether the opposite of how most of our days went.

"I trust," the Inker continued, "that you both acknowledge my role in…settling the matter at the inn?"

Ash and I looked at each other. I supposed that the man had, to his credit, handled the aftermath with some efficiency at least. He had paid the innkeeper for damages, had silenced the two remaining men with threats, and had arranged for the injured man to be arrested. That was not nothing, though it wasn’t far either.

"We do," Ash said, her voice low.

"And you will remember this, when we meet the Archon?"

Ash nodded. "We will."

The Inker held her gaze for a moment, then mine. He nodded slowly. There was a quiet in the column after that. The soldiers marched and the road stretched ahead. There was less and less farmland and fewer villages the more we walked, which I took as a sign that we were nearing our destination.

I adjusted the satchel at my shoulder. Through the cloth, the egg pressed warm against my hip. I had checked it four times since we'd left. The shell was whole and its pulse was steady. My hand lingered on the strap a moment longer than it needed to, and then I let it fall. I would never allow an event like that to happen again. "Perhaps," I said loudly, "you might explain Essence Cores today."

The Inker stared at me. "There is no point," he said flatly. "As I said yesterday, you cannot even form Essence yet. An Essence Core requires Essence at the bare minimum, and more besides. It is like asking me to teach you to swim when you have not yet found the water."

"Ash," I said. "Would you like to demonstrate, or shall I?"

The Inker looked between us, confusion plain on his face. "What are you-"

Ash raised her left hand. She drew mana through her mark, and the air around her hand slowly grew heavier. There was no visible change, but I felt it -the weight of something denser than mana. It carried the taste of separation. Odd, that even something like that has a taste. This new world was a strange place.

The Inker went still. For a few steps, he wasn’t walking at all. He violently shook himself, before hurrying to catch up. "That cannot be," he whispered. "That cannot be possible. In only a day? How is that-"

"How dare you," I cut him off, letting my voice carry all of the offense a Queen should feel at such an insult. "It did not take a full day."

The Inker stared at me. "T-then…?"

"Half an hour." I folded my arms. "You were right about one thing. It was difficult." I turned to Ash. "How long did it take you?"

Ash shrugged. "A bit longer, maybe. An hour or two? I was practicing on the road."

I stared at her. "You were hiding this from me?"

Ash smiled, the first real one I had seen from her since the alley. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

I held her gaze for a moment and felt something ease inside my chest. I should have been upset at the duplicity but…it didn’t truly matter. Whatever shadow had settled over the Hero last night, it seemed she had found her way out from under it. Good. It would be rather inconvenient to have a gloomy retainer.

Behind us, the Inker was making sounds that suggested he had forgotten how to breathe. I gave him a moment to recover before I spoke again. "Now then, do explain these Essence Cores. Perhaps I will have one by the time I enter this ‘great city’ you are leading us to."

The Inker shook his head. The motion was violent enough that his robes swayed. "No. No. We are hours away from the Archon. You will ask him. I am not- I will not-" He cut himself off, pressed both hands against his face, and exhaled through his fingers. "Ask the Archon."

I sighed. I did not understand the man’s reluctance. He had told us about Essence easily enough. Perhaps it could wait for a few hours. "I suppose it can't be helped, then."

We walked in silence for a time. The road widened further as we drew closer to the city. More travellers appeared on the road, many of them glancing at our column of silver soldiers with varying degrees of interest and wariness.

The Inker spoke again some time later. His voice had settled into something more composed, though his gaze kept drifting to our covered arms. "There is something I must insist upon before we enter the city."

I raised an eyebrow. "Most people in Koralis, and in most cities and towns, bear their marks openly. It is a point of pride. You will see this the moment we pass through the first gate." He paused. "Under no circumstances should either of you have your arms bare."

Ash and I exchanged a look. We had not planned to. The instruction was unnecessary, but the reasoning behind it was plain enough. Perhaps he simply wished to avoid another attack, though how anyone could tell the difference between the orders of marks, was still a mystery to me.

"Fine," I said. Ash nodded too.

The Inker seemed almost surprised by the ease of our agreement. He nodded once, quickly. "Good. Good. That will make things…simpler."

The city had three rings of walls, each one higher up on the hill than the last. The lowest of these walls was made of dark stone, scarred by age. The second layer of wall was lighter stone, and even from this distance I could make out strange carvings along its face. The third ring, near the summit, was a near-white. That one was almost uncomfortable to look upon and it glowed in the light.

My hand found the cord at my collar. The clay bead sat against my skin, warm from the heat of my body. I held it for a moment and then let go. I wondered if Sara would ever see this. No, I would ensure that she did.

I had seen fortresses and had built one myself. My fortress had been far taller and far grander, carved out of stone so dark it drank the light. One that could withstand almost any attack and not crumble. This was not my castle, but I supposed that it was adequate all the same.

My eyes traced the walls the way they always had. The first gate was the most obvious choke point, and doubtless the distance between each ring was its own kind of defense. The gradient of the hill itself would slow any force, while giving archers and mages a considerable advantage.

Perhaps this was a good design after all. I had certainly seen worse. One that wouldn't have mattered in front of my former power, but good enough. I caught myself. I was not here to conquer this city.

I found myself thinking of Morrigan. My General. My confidant, though the word sat strangely in my mind. She was out there, somewhere, and possessing the same corruption as the phoenix and the System itself. It was unlikely, but perhaps a city like this might have some answers.

The Inker had straightened beside me. His chin lifted as he gazed upon Koralis. The man had been shrinking for some time now, becoming less arrogant the closer we drew to this place. It was hard not to notice, given where he had started. Ash caught my eye. Neither of us said a word.

There were far more travellers here, merging onto a main path from smaller roads. There were merchants with laden carts, families walking on foot. A patrol of soldiers in silver armour and brown steeds rode past without acknowledging the Inker or our party at all. I tucked the satchel closer to my side. The egg pulsed once, warm against my hip.

The first gate led into a sea of noise, as loud as any battlefield I had ever been on.

Market stalls pressed against both sides of the road, so close that two carts could barely pass abreast. Merchants shouted at anyone who slowed, hawking their wares. There were more sights and smells in this one place than anywhere I had ever been. I had been to a few Elven and Dwarven cities before, and they hadn’t been like this. My first impression of Hamel had been that it was nothing. This Koralis might have been far too much.

The Inker had been right, it was impossible not to notice the arms. Every man and woman had theirs bare. Most of those arms bore Sparks. A butcher hefted a carcass with both hands, and as he did, a single green Spark on his wrist pulsed. A woman lit a pipe with a snap of her fingers, her dark Spark flaring blue for an instant.

Then, there were the people who had more than just Sparks. Two women in leather armor strode through the market with their forearms angled outward in a way that could not be comfortable. They both had Lines, one green and one yellow. There was a man in silver robes walking in front of us who held his arms behind his back in a way that just happened to present his red Line to anyone walking behind him.

There were a handful more examples just like this. I knew this posture. I had seen it in every demon who had ever walked the halls of my Fortress with their mana flared a touch too bright. It was the confidence of the strong amongst the weak. Unless one had absolute power like I had once commanded, it was also one of the most absurd things one could do.

Then I saw the others. The few who did not have their arms bare, and who pressed them close to their sides. They moved at the edges of the crowds and nobody jostled them. The crowd simply flowed around them instead. "Heretic bastards…." One of the guards in front of me muttered when he looked in that direction.

I suspected that meant these were people who didn't have marks at all. I had been given the impression that everyone had one, but it seemed that wasn't quite the case. Perhaps these were people the Ink had rejected, or they might have rejected the ritual themselves.

A few amongst this group made me pause. One of them had an ashen, greyish look to his skin. Another had two small nubs, poking from his head. Another still had almost glowing purple eyes. A woman had a single tiny half-formed wing behind her, folded tight against her back.

My hand slowly clenched. These were clearly demonbloods. They cowered from the people around them, and the only gazes I saw directed towards them were sneers. Was this what Isabelle had spoken of?

It was little wonder I had been receiving those looks though I had been pointedly ignoring them. The looks had only grown as we’d gotten closer to the city, and now they were sharp indeed. Some of those looks might have been mere curiosity but most were not. A merchant pulled his wares closer to his chest as I passed. A woman steered her child to the far side of the road, one hand on the boy's shoulder, her eyes never leaving my horns. A man spat on the ground two paces behind me. Did he think I did not hear?

I kept walking. My jaw was tight enough that my teeth ached. Demons had had their own hierarchy, one based on class and birth. This one wasn’t so different that I failed to recognize its shape. To these people, I was the lowest thing in their hierarchy.

A Queen did not cower. I walked as I had always walked. That only seemed to make the looks sharpen more. Ash shifted beside me. I felt the tension in her stride. She half-turned towards a sneering man we passed. My hand found Ash's wrist. "Leave it," I said. Ash exhaled through her nose but she did not turn.

The Inker moved us through the crowd and said nothing. Perhaps he had noticed none of it, or perhaps he had noticed all of it. The man was difficult to read, under his many, many layers of cowardice and greed.

The second gate was different. The guards here inspected the Inker's credentials with actual thoroughness rather than just waving him through. One of them made him repeat his name. The Inkers face had soured at that, which was quite amusing.

Another man passed through the same gate as we waited. He had ornate robes, with silver threading finer than the Inker's. He did not so much as glance in our direction and the guards did not ask to see his credentials. Our Inker's jaw tightened and his stride, when we were finally waved through, had quickened rather substantially. This I found more amusing still.

I had watched this happen to every general who had ever walked through the doors of my throne room. The distance between the largest fish in a small pond and that same fish in a larger one could be measured in posture alone.

The middle ring passed in a blur. The Inker moved us quickly now, as if lingering might diminish him further. The stonework here was finer. I saw carved archways over every doorway. Most of the buildings had actual colors to them, and many of them were strange. The biggest difference, however, was simply the noise. There was less of it, and I was glad for it.

There were more people with Lines here, and those people did not flaunt them the way the ones below had. The looks I received were fewer, but the ones I did get felt sharper. There were fewer demonbloods here, and all the ones I saw displayed bare arms, covered with marks -usually Lines. It seemed some of my kind did take to the Ink after all.

Things changed again at the third gate. The guards here first checked the Inker's credentials, then his marks. The guards leaned close, inspected both, and nodded. Then they turned to us. They looked at Ash's covered arms. They looked at mine. They looked at my horns. One of them stepped forward.

"Show your arms," he said. “If you wish to pass through here.”

"They are Consecrated," the Inker said. "By my hand, under the authority of the Archom himself. You do not need to inspect them."

The guard stared at the Inker. He stared at us. He looked like he wanted to argue. He waved us through instead, though the look he gave me as I passed would have earned him a swift execution in my court.

In this final tier, the stone was pale and the streets were wide. The buildings rose taller here, carved with detail that I had seen reserved for temples alone. Most people still bore Lines, but this was the first time I saw something different. Lines that had begun to branch and twist, forming the beginnings of patterns. Sigils, I now knew.

There were no demonbloods here, and I looked. I saw no nubs. No odd eyes, no strangely colored skin. I looked for all of these, and found nothing. I did, however, see a handful of Elves. They were easy to make out, thanks to their pointed ears.

Then we entered what must have been the central square, and I stopped walking. There was a…device that dominated the square -impossible to miss. It rose in three tiers of carved stone, almost twice the height of the surrounding buildings. Water flowed through it in channels that curved upward and spilled into basins that seemed to hover in the air.

The spray caught the sunlight and broke it into colors I had seen before, but never like this. That alone would have been enough to hold me. It was the rest that stopped my breath.

Living vines threaded through the stonework. They climbed through carved channels that had clearly been designed for them, winding between the water's paths without choking them. White flowers bloomed along the vines, opening and closing like they were breathing.

It was beautiful. I reached for the word adequate, and found it wanting. Yes, this thing was simply beautiful. And yet I saw no purpose for it at all, save for wasting water. Perhaps that was fine. "Who built this…and what is it?" The question left me before I could stop it.

One of the soldiers glanced back. "It’s a fountain.” He said, as if the answer was truly obvious. “This one was built by a local artisan. Took her thirty years, or close to it. It’s a nice little sight, makes most of the tourists stop and stare I guess."

Her. A single woman had built this then? The Dwarves had entire guilds. Armies of [Craftsmen] that had built weapons, artifacts and structures that had delighted the world over. They had called them masterworks. None of them had made this.

Ash stood beside me. She was looking at the fountain too, though with a different expression than mine. "It’s beautiful, isn’t it?" she said. It was not a question.

"It should not exist," I said.

"And yet it does."

I opened my mouth to argue. I did not. What came out was silence. The egg pulsed against my hip. The Cradle mark hummed faintly on my left arm, as if in answer to something I had not said.

What I felt was a strange thing. A deep, deep sense of relief. A weight lifting off my shoulders that I did not know had been there at all. I had thought that by ending the Dwarves, I might have rid the world of much of its beauty. I saw now that I hadn't even started.

The clay bead pressed warm against my collar. It was such a small thing. This fountain was immense. Both had been made by a single pair of hands.

The Inker's voice cut through from ahead. "We are expected, you cannot just stop in the middle of the street. Come."

I did not move immediately. Ash waited with me, and she did not rush me. That was one of her better qualities, one I would not tell her about.

The Academy Grounds had their own place in the upper tier, a smaller walled section of purely white stone, separate from the city around it. The Inker's posture shifted the moment we passed through its gleaming gates. I adjusted the satchel at my shoulder and followed behind the Inker. Most of the guards in our procession left at that point, save for a few. Where they went to, I neither knew nor cared.

A yard of green opened before us, and the Essence in the air was impossible not to notice. It hung in the air, flavored with a dozen different scents that all mingled with each other until it was impossible to pick out any one in particular. I drew a breath and felt it settle in my lungs.

It was easy to pick out the students. They did, after all, wear the same thing. They were clad in high-collared tunics of grey, paired with dark trousers. Each was cut to leave their arms completely bare from the shoulder down.

The Inker moved us through quickly, letting Ash and I only get the occasional glance. Students sparring with each other. Other students sitting cross legged in yards, doing…something. Some of the students I saw were using strange powers. One had a purple mark, and when it pulsed, his arms stretched out in front of him -a dozen feet out in front of him. Another had a violet Line, and where she walked, a literal storm cloud followed over her head.

Then I saw the Inkers, older men and women in the same robes as our own. Most of them had surly expressions, though some did not.

There were more oddities all around. Most of the students I saw bore Lines, though I saw a handful of Sigils. Even the occasional Crests in shapes I could not recognize. I also saw them -demonbloods. There was perhaps one in fifteen, but I saw them. The Inker pulled us onward each time I lingered.

One more thing caught my eye before the yard was behind us. A girl sat on a bench at the far edge. She was perhaps sixteen. On her shoulder perched a small bird. It was blue and crystalline. When she ruffled its feathers, tiny flakes of blue drifted downward and vanished before they touched the bench.

I knew that this was no construct of mana. My hand tightened on the satchel. Through the cloth, the egg pulsed faster now, twice in quick succession. It had not done that before.

Ash caught my eye as we were herded through a doorway. There was something in her expression. Understanding, perhaps. "It'll be alright," Ash said quietly.

"I did not say otherwise."

"You were holding it tighter."

I did not dignify this with a response. I did, however, loosen my grip. Slightly.

The yard led to a building that dwarfed every structure I had seen in Koralis. The walls were black, and yet oddly reflective in the light. We stepped inside. Elaborate portraits lined the halls, each one depicting a figure or event I did not recognize. Statues stood at every few paces. The walls here were much brighter. Why these walls were different from the ones outside, I did not know.

More students milled about here, but they largely gave our small procession a wide berth even as they shot us -and my horns- curious looks. I caught whispers I did not hear, growing louder by the second. The Inker was moving even faster now. The crowd of people grew thinner as we walked, and then the Inker finally stopped at a pair of heavy doors. He turned to face us.

His expression was tight. He looked at Ash first, then down at her covered arms. He looked at me. He looked about to say something. He didn't. "Wait here," he said, and entered alone. The doors closed behind him. Ash and I stood in the corridor, surrounded by the silver guards. None of them had said a word in quite some time.

I checked the egg. It was warm and the pulse was steady. Ash adjusted the sword at her hip. The doors finally opened. And as they did, the heavy air almost brought me to my knees.