The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 199: Interlude: Michelle

Chapter 199: Interlude: Michelle

Michelle approached the tall beastkin man sent to investigate the destruction of her former way out of the city. Unlike most wolfkin, he had richly red fur and a rather gangly appearance. The only parts of him that seemed fluffy were his head and tail, but no, Michelle would not be tempted.

"Hello, I’m Ca- Lieutenant Michelle Tomcot," she greeted stiffly, offering an equally stiff arm for a handshake. She met his eyes and for some reason found a sense of familiarity in that purple gaze, which seemed slightly hostile... Or perhaps she was misreading the wolfkin. She’d never had to deal with those specific beastkin much.

"Kiryu Nasumi," the wolfkin showed his clawed hand apologetically, without shaking her hand.

After a moment, Michelle let her hand drop. If he didn’t seem keen on making friends, then she would be as professional as she needed to be.

"Did you learn anything?" she asked, looking at the precise shear that had passed through the ship at an angle, carving it and her hopes of waiting out the Heavenswar in comfort to shreds.

"Well, I have an answer for why the wards didn’t work," Mr. Nasumi said, with an awkward pause.

Michelle placed both of her hands behind her back. "Don’t keep me waiting."

"Well, whoever cut through the ship didn’t do it with magic," he said.

"That can’t be true," Michelle scowled. "I saw the beam of light myself."

"The wards would have activated if the beam had any magic in it," Mr. Nasumi continued. "So it’s not that magic wasn’t used, but more like what the magic created wasn’t magic itself. Like the difference between magic fire and true fire."

A scoff escaped Michelle’s lips. "What do you know of fire?"

She was a fire maven, and this mage had stepped right into her territory. She was one with fire in a way no mage could ever be, and her body bore the scars of how that understanding had been burned into her. Fire was power.

"More than enough to tell you that heat alone could shear this ship if it was concentrated enough," the mage scowled back. "If you take one plank and its other half, I think you’ll find that barely any material was removed to cut the vessel."

"Trying to compress fire that small would surely blow up in a mage’s face. Or at least wind up putting it out," Michelle asserted. She’d done similar experiments, which is how she’d developed her ability to fly using fire projected out from her feet, which she kept bare. "Fire can be held steady, but when compressed it needs an outlet."

The wolfkin’s eye twitched. "You and I have very different understandings of fire. Fire isn’t just a thing on its own. It is a process, a transferral of one substance from one bond to another. From one state to another. In the same way that a blade rusts or water evaporates, but much, much faster."

Michelle’s scowl deepened. She knew this type of mage. The kind of mage who thought they knew everything about everything. The ones who simply wanted an excuse to expound their well of knowledge to whoever they felt was challenging them. They always lacked experience where it really mattered, like combat, and she’d beaten her share of mages into the ground just by learning from experience and honing the one thing her mavenry had given her.

What does rust have to do with fire? This mage isinsane.

She kept her thoughts to herself as she got to what she really wanted to know. "Can you tell me anything that might help me find the bastard that did this?"

"In a word, no," the mage replied. "What is your interest in them?"

"He is a demon, or maybe half-demon, the commoners are calling Ghostheart. And he is the reason I lost my career and am stuck in this nowhere city on the brink of collapse. So if you must know, I intend to make his life quite miserable," she poured as much venom into the promise as she could.

"I see... You used to work for the Syndicate?" Mr. Nasumi asked, his voice growing more pointed.

"What? No, I was with the Hangraal’s Raptors until the bastards dropped me. If this city doesn’t go to shit, I might start my own mercs up one day."

"Well then, Lieutenant, I hope you get what’s coming to you. Is there anything else I’m needed for?" the wolfkin asked.

"You can go. I’ll see if anyone else found something worth my time." She waved a hand dismissively and the wolfkin departed. As he walked past, she almost reached out to touch his almost two-measure long tail but stopped herself.

It was hours later in her spartan living quarters that Michelle found the time to think for a long moment. No other insights had been gleaned from the guards, nor the Syndicate agent who had shown up toward the afternoon. The latter had identified the ship’s ledger was missing, but it was easy enough to assume that the Captain had it out during the attack and it was now at the bottom of the dock, ruined.

Her thoughts wandered back to the wolfkin mage. Even if he hadn’t exactly been helpful, Mr. Nasumi had mentioned several things that gave her pause. That made her re-evaluate her assumptions about her own powers... What if he was right?

Turning over his words in her mind, she came to an irritating conclusion: That she might not know.

And so in the late afternoon, Michelle donned her uniform once more and headed out. First to the alchemists, but they did not understand what she wanted. Then to the Creations Guild, but they were just as flummoxed.

But when she was about to leave a goldsmith’s shop, an apprentice stopped her.

"Sorry, officer. Ma’am... I just wanted to say that if anyone can tell you about rust and fire, it’s probably Enumasam." The mousy lad said.

Michelle regarded him before asking, "Why is it I haven’t heard his name until now?"

"Well, he’s an independent smith. But he’s the best fire worker in town. Blacksmith, I mean."

After securing directions, Michelle turned her steps towards the middle ring, arriving to a busy forge, and a man bitterly pounding at what seemed to be a metal frame of some kind.

"Can I help you, Officer?" a pretty-looking orc asked her as soon as she neared.

"I was hoping to speak to the forge master Enumasam. Is he in?"

A moment later, the man at the back of the forge set aside the glowing, L-shaped brace to cool on the anvil. "I am Enumasam. Is there some trouble?"

Michelle tried to put on a friendly smile but it dropped as soon as she asked her question. "I was hoping to learn about what rust has to do with fire."

"Oh. That is an easy one," Enumasam said, accepting a cup of water and wiping his brow. "Too much rust in too small a place can explode. That’s why it’s important to clean out forges if they go cold." He sipped his water.

"Why is that?" she asked.

Enumasam scratched his chin a bit before answering. "I’m not entirely sure. I had one customer talk to me about metalworking. Had all sorts of ideas about getting the forge hotter and new alloys." He chuckled. "He was convinced that each metal is an element. Same about air- Ah! I remember now. He called rusting "oxidation" or something like that. Said it’s why blood is red, because iron rusts red."

"I... see..." Michelle quirked her lips, wondering what use any of this information was. She felt close to some sort of epiphany, but the exact answer eluded her in the face of the new questions she was asking herself about the very fundamentals of her magic...

What is fire?

Enumasam broke her reverie after a long pause, asking, "Is there anything else, officer?"

"Hm? Oh. What was this young man’s name?"

"He’s not in trouble, is he?" Enumasam asked.

"Not at all, unless he’s done something criminal."

"Well, uh, I’d normally be more forthcoming, but he’s a demonkin, you see. He hasn’t been around lately but with how things are in the city..."

Michelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Of course it was a demk she’d have to talk to. But if there was one thing she’d learned as a mercenary officer, it was how to give a canned response.

"I assure you, good sir, my responsibility is to protect the people of Norneau regardless of who or what they might be..." She unpacked a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Enumasam didn’t seem convinced, so she added, "... and if you intend to obstruct my investigation, I’m going to have to bring you in."

The orc put his hand on Enumasam’s shoulder in a way Michelle recognized as evincing care and concern. Were these two men an item?

Where her words failed to convince, the gesture succeeded.

"Fine. You can find him at the Academy. The last I saw him was months ago before the siege ended."

"His name?" Michelle asked.

"Kir Gale."

Recognizing she was no longer welcome, Michelle unpacked another smile as she thanked the man, before turning her steps back to her quarters.

She would need to make arrangements, but soon she’d have her chance to see what this Kir Gale knew about fire.