The day passed onward as Tristan followed Felicity's clear instructions. The main road went far into the hills surrounding the capital, and pausing at the top of one such hill, he looked back to the massive, fortified city on the horizon, taking particular note of the raised, inner city and the huge, black and silver spire that thrust into the sky. The central castle. Again, he was struck by how it was a splitting image of Bhant's Holdfast, and for a moment he felt a sense of longing for the homeland he was raised in.

But that feeling quickly faded as he turned away from the horizon and kept going west. The Demon Realm was very orderly and organized. Every twenty-five miles he came upon a walled campsite. Only ten-foot-high walls, but with black spikes pointing down and out to prevent easy assault, and with a massive pair of red, wooden doors. As the fingers of night rose into the sky, he arrived at one such location, approached the doors, and pushed – hard – as he applied pressure on a vertical handle.

The doors swung inward, and he spotted a placard on the wall inside the walled courtyard:

If making use of this caravanserai, close the gates upon leaving. Clean up after yourself.

Closing the doors behind him, the wooden latch clacked back into place. Taking a quick walk around as Felicity flew the perimeter, he observed the walls were covered with thousands of messages; proclamations of freedom, of regret, sorrow, and triumph. A small well, covered with a wooden lid with an attached wooden bucket and rope, was in the center of the temporary sanctuary. "Seems safe enough. Tent, please," Tristan said to his companion.

Felicity shifted to her Elfanoid form, before shifting once more to her Demonkin form. She reached into the storage dimension and pulled out the tent. Tristan helped her set it up in a corner – so that at least one side and the back would be sealed off from possible intruders and prevent less angles of attack. "I'm keeping night watch?" she asked to confirm their earlier plan.

"Yeah," Tristan replied as he finished hammering a stake into the packed dirt. Looping a rope around the metal stake, he pulled it tight to make the tent interior a bit more spacious. "Then you can sleep on my head during the day."

Felicity sighed, "No snuggling? No sleeping together?" She deflated slightly but nodded her head. "Yeah, no, it's a smart plan. Just not a fun one."

Tristan stood up, brushed his hands off, gave her a kiss, and then hauled his bedroll into the tent. He grabbed a clearcool elixir from Felicity's storage dimension and chugged it down. The cooling, refreshing flavor filled his stomach with ease, and both his food and water needs were sated for an entire day. "Well, I'm off to sleep."

"Nighty night."

Tristan was woken up by Felicity nudging him, "Hey!" she whispered right in his ear. "We have company!"

Tristan roused immediately and had Felicity help him put on his armor as his keen sense of hearing picked up the sound of the wooden doors opening. "Felicity, spell."

She quickly incanted the complex spell and moved her hands in the gesture for Alter Form. Tristan felt the now-familiar tingling over his body as his physical form was ever-so-slightly shifted to that of a Demonkin. Opening the tent flap, he peered out through the darkness.

A group of haggard looking Demonkin dressed in patchwork leathers and carrying supply packs entered the confines of the caravanserai. Six in total. One of them turned to shut the gates, and the others clustered together as they made their way to the well in the center of the space. Two held lanterns that projected light in all directions – leaving Tristan's small tent in the shadows. Can Demonkin not see in the dark? I thought they could, Tristan thought.

Felicity poked her head out – her form completely invisible and her movements unable to be heard thanks to the fairy dragon's innate ability to conceal themselves from those without Elf heritage. "Oh, they look like they had some rough travel."

"Get the tents set up," one of the Demonkin said as he began to draw water from the well and drank straight from the bucket, passing it to another of his fellows nearby.

"Why don't you do it yourself?" Another one snapped back. "I'm sick of setting up the damned tent."

There was a bit more squabbling, and Tristan just kept quiet, spinning his essence crucible and flooding his body with the powerful, magic energy as he stayed fully alert and observed their movement. Eventually, they began to set up tents near the well, and Tristan glanced at Felicity, whispering to her. "What do you think? Should I talk to them, or do we just hide out here?"

Felicity shook her head, and her antlers lightly pinged off of Tristan's armor – not loud enough to get the attention of the Demonkin, but enough noise that Tristan winced from the idea the small gesture would have them be discovered. "Can't hurt to just tell them you're here. Better they find out now than find out later, right?"

Tristan nodded, "Seems like a decently smart move." He got out of the tent and raised his voice, swapping to Demon's Tongue, "Hey!"

The group of Demonkin all turned to face the source of noise in the darkness, hands going for weapons secreted around their person. "Who is there?" the one who had been ordering the others around shouted out.

"Just a traveler," Tristan replied. "Heading toward Khrel. Figured you should know you're not the only ones here."

One of the Demonkin holding a lantern got closer, and sneered as the light reached the now-standing Tristan in front of his tent. "Where'd you get the fancy armor?" he asked.

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"Old employer," Tristan replied.

"Seems…fancy." The Demonkin cracked a slight smile, "You're rich, aren't you?"

Tristan shook his head, "No," he lied. "I'm traveling for work because I screwed up a job and need a new employer."

"You're not under a House's colors then," the leader of the Demonkin replied, blading their stance and raising a hand in the familiar to Tristan spell gesture for Fireball.

Tristan let out an arrogant laugh – not actually putting on an act, as he knew that thanks to all the fire dragon blood he had drunk, and his armor's properties thanks to the various metals comprising the shell protecting him, that a fire elementalism spell would hardly harm him. "Essence-weaving?"

"Damned right," The leader Demonkin replied as his allies drew weapons and circled around Tristan. "You should be afraid. Now, strip off that fancy armor, along with all your equipment, and we'll let you live."

Tristan drew his sword and felt supreme confidence and justification at the battle about to unfold. "You think you stand a chance?" He pushed the essence that had been circulating through his body into his armor and weapon. The armor grew to cover his form in a more protective encasement from Scales of Our Foe, shards of ice covered him thanks to Armor of Ice, and he could feel the slight fluttering of butterflies in his stomach from Near Miss and Lucky Instinct's activation. His sword elongated slightly as the blade ignited with flame and lightning – the crimson and yellow contrasting each other and lighting up the inside of the fortification with a flickering illumination. Taking up a ready stance, Tristan held his position. "I give you one opportunity to back off."

The lead Demonkin began speaking the spell phrase for Fireball, and Tristan rushed forward – past the other Demonkin that had spread out to attack him. He lunged faster than they could react. He slashed horizontally, cutting through the lead assailant's hand horizontally – splitting the arm in half. The Demonkin let out a scream as the spell phrase was interrupted, and Tristan slammed his fist holding the grip of his sword into the man's face – crunching the nose and knocking him unconscious.

Wheeling around, he leaned to his left as a few small bolts whizzed by him from hand crossbows. The other Demonkin advanced as a group, and to Tristan's eyes, they moved slow – as if they were moving through molasses. He easily sidestepped and parried blows, delivering brutal strikes with the flat of his blade to each of them – sending them crashing to the ground with screams and yowls of pain with single strikes. In less than fifteen seconds, he had completely subdued all the assailants.

Turning to the leader as he sheathed his sword, Tristan spun his crucible and pushed the power into his Amulet Belt, activating Cure Wound as he touched the split-in-half arm. A green glow covered the arm for the briefest of moments before the flesh and bone knit together, and the bandit leader's eyes opened to stare up at him. Tristan cleared his throat and spoke with authority, "I did not kill you, though I could have. All your allies are unconscious – maybe some broken bones."

The thief's eyes were filled with fear, and he tried to speak, but Tristan shushed him as he squatted next to the man. "When you get to where you're going, share the word of who did this to you. Marius Lestrange. And I'm looking for work." Tristan gave him one more swift kick to the gut, causing the man to whimper, as he turned to see Felicity already packing up the tent. He waved her off, swapping to Elvish. "I'll get the tent – you loot them for anything that has information."

Felicity grinned, "Can I also prank them for when they wake up?"

Tristan raised an inquisitive eyebrow as he let his essence crucible's spin stop, and ceased fueling the spells within his artificed items. "What did you have in mind?"

The duo left the caravanserai just as the sun began to rise. Felicity was cackling to herself, and Tristan couldn't help but smile as she had done some mean pranks to the people who accosted him the night before. Each of the Demonkin had their clothes fully stripped and hidden down at the bottom of the well. Plus, she had made sure to hide their supplies in small holes all around the caravanserai's interior – with tons of areas of disturbed dirt that would lead one to believe a hole was there. But, in reality, they were red herrings.

Ultimately, a prank that Tristan was fully on board with. Just the right amount of mean, given that attacked me and tried to rob me, he thought. Plus, she had found a few missives that they had seemingly stolen from other travelers. He had read them while she had performed her little scavenger hunt setup and was able to conclude that the Demonkin were just down-on-their-luck people who were trying to survive. The letters gave Tristan further insight into how the Demon Realm operated outside of the capital – information that he did not have before.

He spoke as he walked, Felicity making sleepy paw-claw biscuits on his head. "Seems like outside of the capital there's two categories of Demonkin. You have those who are on their own – homesteaders, effectively – and then those who are sworn to a Demon House."

She yawned, "Seems pretty straightforward."

"And," Tristan added, "When a Demonkin is removed from the service of a Demon House, they're effectively exiled from that House's region. I would bet they were just robbing their way to the capital to try and find a new House to swear themselves to." He waited a moment for Felicity's reply, but hearing none, knew she had fallen asleep after her late night. Tristan suppressed a yawn of his own and kept walking along the main trade road. Dangerous animals avoided the main roads, as they were frequently patrolled, and so their travel continued without incident.

Hours passed as he took in the scenery. The grassy hills continued on and he could see a few other scant travelers along the road – but none bothered him and kept to themselves. He had to spin his crucible and re-use Alter Form stored in one of his amulets – and the Third Order spell winded him as his breath came more raggedly. Felicity could re-cast the spell, but Tristan wanted to feel how much essence it would cost to use the spell.

The next night fell, and Felicity roused as the moons began to rise. They had passed a caravanserai, but Tristan did not want to risk another encounter like the night before. Instead, he cut off the road and found a small grove of trees in a dell, with a small stream running through it. An idyllic place to set up camp, evidenced by the circle of dark, grey stones that were in a small circle for a firepit. "Morning, sleepy," he said as he gently poked Felicity's side.

She yawned, "Camp time?"

"Yeah," Tristan replied. "Tent, please."

She reached into her extradimensional storage space and threw the tent on the ground unceremoniously. Standing up on his head and stretching like a cat would, she jumped up into the tree above the fire pit. A deep, brown and red bark that led to broad, pink leaves. "Oooh, this tree has fruit!" she poked her head down out of the foliage and grinned, "Want to try one?"

Tristan shook his head, "Probably not a good idea. We don't know what they do."

Felicity frowned, "F-i-n-e," she replied, drawing out the word. "Go and set up your tent and get some rest."

"Working on it now," Tristan replied as he set to putting up the small shelter and crawled inside. "Hopefully tonight we don't get surprised," he muttered as he laid out his bedroll and sank into it, keeping his armor on which was surprisingly comfortable.

"Blech!" Felicity spat out some seeds that thunked off of the tent's exterior. "This fruit is horrible!"

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