The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 156: One For The Road

Chapter 156: One For The Road

Moshui poked at Kir with the back of a tattoo needle."Hmm... I thought for sure that would work. Or explode."

"What?!" Kir balked. He’d spent the last however-long-past-midnight letting Moshui poke and prod at his demonic tattoo, under the vague agreement that she would exchange his feathers for gold at the end of her "initial tests".

So far, Kir had counted twenty or so such tests, and Moshui wasn’t slowing down except to write notes and comment on him like he was a lab rat.

"Subject appears distressed..." she scratched at her notepad. "Has not exploded..."

Kir was already cursing his luck for having brought out this side of his tattoo artist. He was about to open his mouth to set a time limit when she stood up, cracking joints all over as she stretched. "Well! I can safely say there is probably no killing spell integrated into your tattoo. Also, I think I can replicate it."

"It took that long to figure it out?" Kir asked, cracking his own neck as he pushed off the working cot with his palms and moved to sit up.

"Oh, I knew both of those hours ago after I was done checking what happened to the storage tattoos. But then I had to double-check and I wanted to see if the physical side of it would ruin the whole thing if I stabbed it-"

"You stabbed it?" Kir instinctively reached up to touch the back of his neck. There was no obvious wound, and he couldn’t recall which instance of prodding-based pain might have been when she stabbed him.

"Only a little. It’s a resilient work of magic, but I can see some ways it can be improved, so... same time next week? I’ll trade out for those feathers now."

"Hold on, I didn’t agree to ’improving’ it."

"Yeah, but, don’t you want something to protect your hearing? I think I can work in a basic circle near it to reduce your sensitivity when something overwhelming comes along." The way her eyes glinted, Kir doubted that was the only thing she’d come up with.

Kir chewed his lower lip for a moment. It was true that his hearing in particular had grown more sensitive than he was used to. And one of the ideas he’d decided to act on while lying face down for hours would involve a lot of noise.

Also, he didn’t want to give Moshui any reason to turn him over to the guards.

"Alright... I guess I can come next week," Kir started to pull his shirt on.

"Great! That’ll give me time to compose my notes. They’re going to get a kick out of this down at the Creations Guild," she giggled.

Kir frowned, "Could you, maybe, leave details about me out of it?"

"Hmm... I guess I cou~ld... I really need to confirm whether Aytherian magic patterns are compatible with your demonic one first... and then there’s replication testing... So... maybe a month for a proper paper? Assuming you don’t get caught or explode or something. I’d do your ink for free since you’re a walking catalyst tree- Those feathers grow back, right?"

Kir nodded and handed Moshui the small handful of feathers he’d plucked for her, fresh from his storage. He was surprised and disappointed when she only handed him a gold strip worth five coins in exchange.

"Isn’t this half of what they’re worth?" Kir asked.

"That’s all I can afford right now," she said. "Everything’s going up in price thanks to the siege. Plus all the banks pulled out early in case the demons win, so coin’s pretty scarce. That right there is half of my emergency fund."

"Demons don’t care about gold," Kir’s frown deepened a bit as he pocketed the gold into his dimensional storage. It didn’t seem worth negotiating over right now.

"Try telling that to the banks," Moshui shrugged. "I hear the Creations Guild is about to pull out soon too, and once they’re gone the city probably won’t be able to afford to fix all the damages."

"So much for civic pride," Kir mumbled.

Moshui let out a high-pitched "Hah!" that made Kir’s ears hurt a little. "Most of the big names here are from Montmorency. If Norneau makes it through the siege, it’ll be their King who tries to move in, I bet. I’d have to actually start paying taxes."

She yawned loudly, eyeing Kir in a way that strongly suggested he should get going. At least, that was how he interpreted her blinking one eye at a time slowly.

"I’m now, ah, gonna have to ask you to run," she yawned. "I need to close up shop."

Kir gave her a nod and a half-pull of the lips that was almost a smile. "Thanks, Moshui."

"No problem, Kir," she said as she shut the door behind him.

He paused for a moment, wondering if she’d been messing with him about his name the whole time, then decided he was better off getting back to the others...

Almost as soon as he stepped into the bar, a slight sound caught his attention just in time for him to notice the bartender appearing at his elbow with a mug.

"Moshui says you’re good," the orcish-looking giant of a man said, pushing a clay cup full of some liquid into Kir’s hand. Kir was taller, but the man looked to be about twice his bulk. "One for the road. The drink; not the cup."

"Thanks..." It took Kir a moment to identify the substance as water, which he sipped, finding his throat needed it after hours of talking to Moshui. As he finished he looked past the barkeep to spy the brass speaking tube that led up through the ceiling, right next to the cabinet with all the liquor bottles.

"Shadows are long tonight. Be careful, demonkin," the bartender advised, before reaching past Kir and opening the door, gesturing for him to leave the already empty bar.

"Appreciate it," Kir said, handing him the empty cup and stepping out into the cool air.

The door was shut behind him and rather loudly latched closed.

The streets were empty.

Kir managed to get a block before he saw a set of six guards walking a patrol.

Shit. Forgot the curfew...

While he was still unnoticed, Kir ducked into an alley to wait them out. Briefly, he considered going back to the bar to wait until morning, but it wouldn’t be too long of a walk to get to back to the others.

Given his heritage, and the siege, finding a demonkin after hours was likely to get him beaten up at best - assuming he didn’t fight back - and he was keen to avoid that kind of trouble. He just had to be smart about it.

He ducked into the nearest alley and hurried across until he was back at another main road; feeling he was making his way vaguely eastward. Once there, he peeked out and, not seeing any patrols, hurried to the next alley.

The guards most likely stuck to main roads. So as long as he stuck to the shadows he would probably be fine as long as he was quiet.

His heart was pounding a bit in his ears, but so far so good- What was that?

Inside the next alley, he sensed movement, which turned out to be a blanketed figure huddled against the wall in a squat. Kir heard the man muttering under his breath.

"...my seat in the country picked out. A nice place for a bowery and grave. But I told them all, I’d have the gold soon, but did they listen? No. Not to me... Just a farmer they said but I showed them... Made that bit of dirt bloom with bone dust and wood..."

The man’s running monologue was a little distracting, and Kir stepped past him only to find himself almost tripping on the man’s long leg suddenly laying across the ground.

"Oh, heheh. I’m sorry! You’re supposed to say that when you’re penitent..."

After catching himself, Kir turned to regard the man, discovering him to be a grey-skinned elf with a missing canine. His eyes had a glassy look that Kir found disturbing for the fact that he seemed to be genuinely smiling at him.

"Don’t, uh... Don’t worry about it..." Kir mumbled. He half expected to be asked for a coin or something...

"Got a nice place in the country," the elf said. "You should see it."

"Thanks, uh, sir... but I need to get going..."

"You got friends? Do they like the country?" The elf continued. "I’ve got city friends but they love the country. Good smells out there. Not like here. Smells like blood and shit everywhere... Not many red-headed demons come in smelling like the country..."

"Sorry," Kir stepped past him, a twinge of disturbed wariness in his body as he was careful to avoid hitting the elf with his tail.

He was reaching for the corner of the building at the end of the alley, intent on peeking around, when he sensed a surge of mana behind and above him. Suddenly, before he could turn, a wall of magic-wrought stone rose up.

Instinct lent speed to Kir’s movement, which saved him from the steel dagger that narrowly missed his head, cutting him in the shoulder instead as it flew into the new wall.

Shit.

Kir turned around to find the elf walking slowly toward him.

Unlike a moment ago, he was glowing red with a strongly held aura of magic.

"Not many red-headed demons indeed..."

The blanket fell from the assassin, and he drew fresh knives.

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