The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 341: Catburglar

Chapter 341: Catburglar

Following his encounter with Star, Ferro occupied himself with infiltrating Lanoch’s tent to search for the key.

It was rather easy since Lanoch’s tent always went up first and everyone else was still setting up the camp. After sleeping until midday following his session with star, he was able to slip into Lanoch’s tent unnoticed.

Digging through his master’s things was risky, not least because of the way the man haphazardly stored his weapons. Manasight barely helped because, over the course of their journey, Lanoch had collected all sorts of artifacts and monster parts that made every bag in the room glow with magic.

But after the better part of an hour alone, his search was interrupted by a sudden question.

"Whatcha doing?"

Ferro tensed and turned, feeling the soreness in his body, to find Lawre standing near the entrance to the tent.

"I was just... figuring out how to arrange your father’s things... for when he gets back," Ferro swallowed.

"You’re Ferry, right? Are you a boy cat or a girl cat?" the child’s question carried an air of having been on his mind for a while.

Thrown off by the question, Ferro stammered a bit as Lawre bent to inspect him. "I’m a boy cat, Master Lawre."

"But you dress like a girl cat. That’s what the adults say."

"Some boys dress like this..." Ferro muttered, suddenly very aware of his hooded sarong and skirt.

"Just you and the demon," Lawre said. "Why is that?"

"Because we’re..." ’slaves,’ Ferro wanted to say, but instead he settled for "... not like other boys. We don’t get treated like... people like your father and his friends... or you."

"Why?"

Gods damn this brat... Ferro didn’t have time for questions. If he could get the key before Lanoch caught up... and before Star thought to check on him...

"That’s something you’ll learn when you’re older," Ferro said, trying to return to his search.

To his chagrin, Lawre walked over to a set of cushions and fell back onto them. "Everyone keeps telling me that about stuff," he switched to a very annoyed voice, "’You’ll find out when you’re older.’ ’Eat your green stuff.’ ’Study your letters.’" He sighed. "Do they make you study letters too?"

"No. No, they don’t... but I’m already an adult," Ferro coughed awkwardly as he shifted aside yet another duffel bag full of weapons.

"Really? But you’re smaller than me."

How could this kid not notice me despite my living with this caravan for his entire life?!

Either Lawre had a poor memory or that was just how far the rest of the camp had gone to keep Lawre sheltered from people outside the norm. People like him.

"A lot of people come in different shapes and sizes. Back on the surface-"

"You’ve been to the surface?!" Lawre rolled onto his stomach, his tail wagging.

"Yes," Ferro ran into an unfortunate bag of Lanoch’s dirty leathers and quickly re-tied it.

"What’s it like?"

Ferro sighed. "Safe. Compared to here. People don’t move around as much. There are whole cities where you can meet anyone from almost anywhere..."

"I know about cities," Lawre seemed eager to prove his knowledge. "Lots of people live in them, right? Like... hundreds of caravans."

"Hundreds of hundreds of caravans worth," Ferro replied.

"Wow... how do they keep the monsters away?"

"People like your father protect them..." and people better than your father, Ferro shuddered at the memory of Lanoch slashing the face of a concubine who had been with another man.

"I want to see the surface," Lawre sighed. "More than anything."

Maybe it was the smell of the lionkin, the thick scent of him in the tent triggering memories Ferro didn’t want to remember, but the more he searched the more he thought that, like always, Lanoch had kept the key to returning from the deeper dungeons on his person at all times.

Maybe if I...

"You have two tails. Did you always have two tails?" Lawre asked.

"No, I didn’t," Ferro suppressed the urge to sigh before sitting where he was, staring across the tent at Lanoch’s spawn. He noticed the gem on the kid’s neck, a hollowed soulstone, attuned so that any excess mana in Lawre’s body was drawn into it before it could corrupt him. It would be years yet until Lawre was allowed to start tempering his body and mana, once both had settled somewhat. Perhaps a decade’s worth of growth. "I’m a mage. Sometimes, with catkin, mages and mavens get two tails."

"Wow... will I get another tail when I become a maven?"

"I’m not terribly familiar with mavens," Ferro said, "But you’re a leokin... I think your kind just gets bigger and stronger. At least... I’ve never heard of any leokin having two tails."

Lawre had been born at full evolution, likely because Lanoch had insisted on only breeding with fully evolved leokin females. He had tawny fur and a childish tuft of fur that ran down his head instead of a proper mane.

"My aunties say that I’ll come into my power any day now... I want to be strong like my dad."

More like they’re blowing wind in your ears. Most mavens never got their powers before the age of twelve or thirteen, barring some extraordinary circumstance or trauma. Ferro’s own ears flicked in a bit of annoyance as he waited to ask his own question.

"Are you a maven?" Lawre asked.

"I’m a mage... just not a very strong one."

"But you’ve survived all this time. We’re halfway through the dungeon, right?"

"Almost," Ferro acknowledged. "That tower, the Djet, is the actual halfway point... but no one’s allowed inside, so people just go around."

"It’s locked, right?" Lawre asked. "That’s what, um... Donrowr says in his journal."

The Journal of Donrowr, at least to Ferro’s reading, was filled with half lies and self-aggrandizement. His claim that the tower was full of gold and soulstones, just within sight from the very top of one of the ruins that dotted the Forest of Blades, sounded more like bait to lure in more adventurers.

Why anyone would let Lawre read it was probably because no one needed it for anything more serious than teaching the lad his letters, and of course, Lanoch had paid a fortune for the useless copy...

No one who’d ever been in the tower had ever written any of it down, at least according to Star. And only Halie the Demon Breaker had ever gone more than one stratum beyond.

But now Ferro had an opening to ask his question.

"It’s not so much that it’s locked, but that people need a key... has your father ever spoken to you about anything like that?" The key in question was a card-shaped thing of gold, etched with lines. Or at least it looked like gold, but was far tougher, to have survived Lanoch’s ownership all these years.

"Yeah. He showed me once... A gold thing. He said we’ll use it to go home or... back to the surface, once we find a gate."

Ferro’s brow furrowed. He thought the key was for going deeper into the dungeon, not escaping it. And if it only worked one way...

Maybe I could use it to escape! He’d just need to outrun Star and Lanoch... Maybe the way out was in the tower? He’d already thought of not giving the key to Star and just making for the tower... Would he be safe if he got inside?

The spike of excitement ended as the flap of the tent opened and Lanoch strode inside, covered in scuffs but not a single wound. At the center of his chest, the precious key glinted underneath the splashes of blood that still clung to it.

"Father!" Lawre clambered up and stood for his father.

Lanoch cast a silent almost-snarl at Ferro before reaching over and placing one of his massive hands atop his son’s head. "Get to your aunties, boy. Make sure they do the cooking right. We’re eating thunderhorns."

"But-"

"Go, boy."

With a slight whine, Lawre turned. "By Ferry," he said, before departing.

As soon as the flap closed, Lanoch grunted. "Ferry, huh?"

"Someone told him that was my name," Ferro said, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to speak to him, he just came in while I was cleaning-"

Lanoch tossed down his battle hammer, making Ferro jump as the weapon thudded into a pile of weapons.

"Make yourself useful and clean me," he sat heavily on the thickest patch of cushions.

At first, Ferro was relieved. Of course Lanoch wouldn’t consider him a threat. He was just a weak little rust cat...

"You have tails... two of them. How?"

"I-it happened shortly after we arrived ahead of you... I think I’ve reached my peak as a mage..." He gave as much honesty as seemed reasonable since he couldn’t deny the physical reality of what he’d become.

Lanoch’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, eying Ferro’s twin tails, but a moment later he bellowed a laugh, ridiculing Ferro without words.

It took most of a minute before he calmed enough to speak. "Well now, I guess that means we can make you useful on the front lines then."

Ferro felt his heart catch. His irises shrank with fear.

Fighting in the dungeon was brutal. He might have the endurance to cast nigh continuously, but he simply didn’t have the capacity for the sort of spells needed to meaningfully harm the denizens of the Duat, not at this depth.

Now he had to get away. But he couldn’t let Lanoch catch on...

"I-I could try..." he squeaked. "But I don’t... know what I’d do..."

"Do what I say when I say it," Lanoch said. "Like clean me the fuck off!"

Jumping to the task, Ferro drew up magic into his hands, careful to keep the output low so as not to lure any watchful creatures or raise Lanoch’s suspicions.

After a few moments, Ferro regained enough of himself to risk advancing his theft, sliding Lanoch’s bandolier of knives off his shoulder as he let his hands rove closer. When Lanoch didn’t protest, he reached for the chord holding the key, but just as he slipped his claws under it, Lanoch reached across himself and grabbed Ferro by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" Lanoch growled.

"I-I’m just trying to clean you... Master... I can’t do it as well with your, um... clothes on..."

A low growl sounded in Lanoch’s throat, before a cruel smirk split his lion’s mouth. "It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, my little slave..."

Suddenly Lanoch tugged Ferro in front of him, his other hand grabbing Ferro’s ass and pressing a firm thumb between his tails.

"I-I thought... you didn’t want me anymore..." Ferro quivered at the sensitivity in both of his tails as the massive fingers massaged his still-sore body.

"Not when the boy’s around... but tonight I’m feeling... Mmm... impatient." He stood and removed his kilt, looming over Ferro. "Get cleaning."

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