The Golden Lion, General Royalfang—or Felida Ba Aurio, as he introduced himself—had a different demeanor from the white wolf demon we’d fought. That general had thrown himself single-mindedly into slaughter, driven solely by his rage; but the Golden Lion was his exact opposite. I got a sense that his feet were planted firmly on the ground, and he had the calm air of someone willing to quietly sit and observe before acting.
“So, you serve the Witch... How’s she been, then? I told her I’d let bygones be bygones if she’d learn her place and live humbly. I never would’ve imagined she’d be keeping girls like you two, though.”
We were in the depths of the forest, at the heart of an encampment guarded by layer upon layer of fortifications. The general’s den lay beneath a cloth tarp spread between the trees to form a canopy; that was where Cion and I had been brought.
I’d explained the plan to Cion in advance: We had someone within the Church who had connections with the demons, and if I used that person’s name, they might be willing to talk with us. But with her weapons confiscated and her hands chained together, it was no surprise that she was having trouble keeping her cool.
“You scared of us? We’re just a couple kids, aren’t we?”
She was putting up a calm front, but she was clearly on edge, and I was already having misgivings.
“Cion, we aren’t here to pick a fight, all right? I let you join me because you insisted, but please...”
“But... But, Alicia!”
Her eyes went to my chains, then drifted over to my tail.
“Why do you look so excited?” she asked slowly.
“Wha—?”
I turned to look at the wolf’s tail or whatever it was (it was growing from my body, anyway); I hadn’t been paying much attention to it, but it had started wagging on its own. I scowled down at it.
“I’m...not, particularly...”
It felt like this tail had a mind of its own sometimes. I understood the basic principles underlying my demonification, but it really was challenging to deal with, to put it nicely...
“Gah ha ha! So that’s how it is!” Royalfang laughed. “You’re upset seeing your friend all chained up like a slave, eh, missy? Well, don’t you worry—you’re both too lean for my taste. I like my girls with a bit more flavor to ’em!”
The Golden Lion looked totally relaxed as he roared with laughter, but the atmosphere around us was obviously tense.
“Ordinarily, I’d want to dispute that point...” I sighed. But under the present circumstances, snapping back that I had plenty, thank you very much, and that my chest and butt were a perfectly normal size, wouldn’t help matters at all.
In any case, Royalfang had immediately picked up that Cion was a girl; he clearly had an excellent sense of smell. I needed to get the conversation moving before he provoked her into saying something she shouldn’t.
“In any case, allow me to get right to business. Please, withdraw your forces. If this battle continues, it could easily develop into all-out war. Neither of us wish for that outcome; as a general, you surely understand that as well as I.”
There was a long history of conflict between humans and demons. The Church’s narrative was what our kingdom officially recognized, but that was ultimately nothing but an after-the-fact retelling. The truth was simply that there had been a country where demons dwelled and a country that opposed them. By framing our enemies as inhuman monsters, we’d brought together the people of the continent to fight against them despite their superior strength.
As a result, humans and demons had clashed again and again over the ages, unable to coexist—and yet, even now, neither side had driven the other to destruction. The reasons were simple: Humankind, as prideful as we were, had enough humility to recognize our own weakness; and demonkind knew that our two species were one and the same, and had long acted with that in mind.
According to the saint, beings lacking in mana were born as humans; organs that our bodies should have had were underdeveloped or missing entirely. My demonification was the result of a blood transfusion from Heavenfang reawakening some of those latent traits or whatever. The woman who called herself the Deathwatcher, Veil Croitzen, had attained superhuman powers through a similar set of circumstances. The basic logic made sense.
But if we tried to share that truth with the rest of humanity, would they understand? Would they be convinced? No, that wasn’t happening. The divine doctrine that the Church had spread was firm and unshakable, and “devil-touched”—those children who developed demon-like physical traits—faced deep-rooted prejudice and oppression.
In the dim light of torches, the Golden Lion’s beast-like eyes narrowed as he gazed back at me. “You do understand that you’re the ones who lit the spark of this conflict, don’t you?”
“I do—and with that knowledge, I’ve come here to ask that you withdraw. I am fully aware that our request is an unreasonable one.”
We’d killed the Demon Lord, we’d killed his general, and we’d even killed their comrades who’d infiltrated the Church. The demons didn’t bear the blame for any of it; everything led back to the impulsive actions of humans. We’d preached in the name of the Gods that demons were humankind’s enemies—that they had to be destroyed.
“I will not call this a simple misunderstanding,” I said slowly. “However, I am not here for the sake of the lives that have already been lost. I believe it is more important to save the lives that may be lost in battles to come.”
Most of the demons Veil Croitzen had assassinated had been spies. If anything, they’d been some of the ones more sympathetic to humanity; they’d been working to relax the Church’s anti-demon policies, easing the conflict between our two sides as much as possible. When I’d found that out, I’d wanted to punch that damn shadow-woman in the face. But from what I’d heard, she’d changed her ways as well; like me, she’d stubbornly survived our battle, and now she was running around helping with more of the saint’s business. All in all, it seemed like a better use for her than having her atone with her own death.
“If I might ask... Are you carrying out this invasion in order to free your comrades?”
They hadn’t been in touch with the saint since they’d banished her, but their undercover operatives must have had some means of contacting their homeland. The saint had speculated that the demons’ goal might be to rescue their people after those lines of communication went silent... But if that was the case, then things were going to get messy. All of those comrades of theirs had already been killed.
“Well, now,” Royalfang replied. “You’re more than just a pretty face—you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that! You could stand to learn a thing or two from her, Little Miss Guard. Loosen up a little, before your nerves give out!”
He gave some sort of gesture, and a goat-headed demon stepped out, only to return carrying a vessel filled with red liquid.
“Let’s have a drink. If you want us to open up to each other, then you’ll join me, won’t you?”
He raised his cup and had his attendant bring some over to us as well.
I stared over at it. “I’m not sure how much familiarity you have with our faith, but as a bride of the Gods, I am forbidden from indulging in liquor.”
I took a sniff... It didn’t seem to be poisoned. From the fierce smell of alcohol, this was probably the stuff they called “firewater” or whatever. Just the scent made my brain go a bit fuzzy; maybe my heightened animal senses made it more intense, though.
“How about you, then?” he asked Cion. “You can do more than just bark and growl at strangers, can’t you?”
Cion glared back at him. “I’ll take it.”
If he was looking for a fight, she was ready to give him one. She picked up the cup in her chained hands and raised it to her mouth. I saw her shoulders twitch for a brief moment as it touched her lips, but she downed it all in one gulp.
“Nn... There... Drahnkit...”
She was slurring her words. Her eyes looked a bit dazed and half asleep, even as she continued glaring at Royalfang.
“Cion...”
“’Sfine... ’Ve drahnk Mashter’h boozhe b’fore... I c’n handlit...”
“Pffha ha ha! Oh, you’re good! One lick of that stuff, and my boys’ll be out cold until morning! And you—hee hee hee! All at once! All right, you want to talk about a truce? Let’s get talking.”
Hang on, what? What the hell did you just serve us, you damn furball?!
“P-Please, just wait a moment...”
I hurriedly recited a prayer and cleansed Cion’s body a little. It wasn’t all that effective, especially this far north, but it’d at least be enough to keep her from passing out.
“Allyasha...?”
“Look, just... Sit down for a little, okay?”
I glared at the goat-headed demon who’d brought in the firewater. With an uncomfortable look, he brought over a shoddy wooden chair, and I sat Cion down in it. The Hero dying from drinking liquor too fast didn’t even bear thinking about.