Tristan headed back to the main road and beelined for the older Demonkin Jerri's house. He knocked loudly on the door, and after waiting for a minute, she opened the door. "Hmm? What is it?" she asked.

Tristan spun his crucible and poured the essence into the amulet for the Pocket Dimension II spell. Pulling out the clear box, he held it up. "Diseased creatures. It's a potent one. I burned the corpses. I think I killed them all…but that was just one group of the creatures."

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she scowled, "Never seen a disease like that before."

"I can use rejuvenation spells," Tristan stated as he put the box back into his storage dimension. "If you can get everyone up, I can cleanse them all and make sure that they are free of the sickness."

The woman's eyes brightened but her face remained in its scowl. "You're more than you appear, aren't you? You have that fancy armor, sword, and a spell type that our Heritage cannot use? That means you have a bloodline, yes? Which means…you're probably a descendant of a Demon House."

I don't want to say I'm part of a noble house when I'm not actually, Tristan thought. Hmm…I could just go with a half-truth. He smiled ever-so-slightly, "I lost my noble house," he replied, which was not a lie, since grandfather Hurvun put an end to the Anorox family's nobility.

The woman's face softened a bit and she sighed, "Ah, so one of the cadet houses. Fair enough, keeping your affiliation secret. I'll go that way," she pointed up the road, "and get everyone up. You go the other way, and we'll bring them all back here." She vanished into the building interior and came back wearing a well-worn pair of boots. "Let's get everyone healed up!"

The process of using Cleanse took the entire night, as the spell was quite taxing on Tristan's essence crucible. He had to take frequent breaks, and while he did, the farmhands who were still waiting to be cleansed were sent to do a patrol of the exterior of the entire farmland. Felicity also flew further, a mile past the fences marking the edges of the properties, and determined that there were no more of the creatures carrying the affliction.

The fingers of night descended, and Tristan was thoroughly exhausted by the time the sun rose in the distance. Felicity made sure to re-use the Alter Form spell to keep his Demonkin alias supported. When the last of the farmers had been cleansed, Tristan was offered a room to sleep in, which he took advantage of. Felicity also snoozed with him – still silent and invisible to all non-Elves.

He woke around midday and after having Felicity re-cast Alter Self, he met once more with Jerri and a few of the older farmhands. "Ah, the Demonkin who saved us is awake," Jerri said with a soft, grandmotherly smile.

Tristan sat in an empty chair at the modest table and snagged one of the aplicarn fruits from a bowl in the center of the table. After taking a few bites he pulled the furled up scroll from his hip pouch and tossed it on the table. "I'll need someone to sign off that I solved your problem."

The farmers looked at each other and one of them, an older male, stood up and his voice rumbled with a gravely sound of one who smoked a pipe frequently. "You sure all the things are dead?"

"Unless there's a divination spell user in town, no," Tristan replied. "I need to head back to Lockwood and report this. A disease that is this contagious and takes so long to show symptoms…it could spread rapidly. Someone with more pull needs to be notified."

Jerri grabbed the scroll and stood up, moving deftly with an ease that belied her advanced age, and took it to a small writing desk. She scribbled with a charcoal pencil before coming back to Tristan and handing the document to him. "Then speed along your way. If you leave now, you can probably make it back by nightfall."

Tristan stood up and spun his crucible, pushing the essence into his storage spell and removing five of the panacea elixirs. "I can give you these. They should cure any disease or poison. An emergency measure if necessary."

The farmhands each looked at one another and as they began rummaging into their pockets, Jerri held up a hand for them to stop. "Marius," she said, addressed Tristan by his alias. "We cannot pay for the-"

Tristan shook his head and waved his hand dismissively, "They are free. Just for emergencies."

The woman glared at him, her eyes seeming to try and pierce the façade Tristan had put up with his alias. She spoke softly, but that hard look remained in her gaze. "A mercenary who doesn't seek coin?"

"I'm just in this for the reputation," Tristan replied trying to play off the encounter as cooly as possible. "If you know anyone in Lockwood who has connections with the Dalphatroux, I'd be more than happy to have you write a letter recommending me to them."

"Ah…a play for nobility," Jerri replied with a smug grin. "So you do have a motive that will lead to profit of some type. I don't have any contacts within that family, but I wish you the best with your adoption into their number! Maybe into a cadet branch."

Tristan turned for the door and opened it, stepping outside. Glancing back, he gave a terse nod an then shut the door. Making his way down the road, Felicity bopped him on the head and spoke in the Standard Tongue, "Well? What happened?"

Tristan filled her in on the whole conversation, and Felicity made her little paw-claw biscuits. When he had finished, she was silent for a few moments. Then, when she spoke, it was with a sense of relief. "Good thing we kept the cover, and deepened the backstory a bit. It'll make for a more convincing alias."

"It should," he replied as he set to both-direction spinning his essence crucible. A means of constant, slight improvement that helped occupy the otherwise boring travel.

Reaching Lockwood by nightfall, Tristan made his way back to the inner keep and obtained an audience with Head Guard Frederick Pont, who was in the barracks within the walls, eating at a table. "Ah, the mercenary. Remind me of your name."

"Marius Lestrange," Tristan replied as he stood at the end of the table. An officer's table, judging by the similarly dressed and outfitted, three other Demonkin who sat with Frederick. Tristan pulled the paper out of his hip pouch and handed it to the man, "I dealt with the creatures – but there's more." He shifted his gaze to the other Head Guards who were still eating their meals. "But it's a bit gross, and I don't want to spoil your appetite."

"A mercenary with manners!" Frederick stood up and gestured for Tristan to follow him, "Come, we'll go into the office." Tristan followed the man and left the door open behind him as the Head Guard turned around, sitting on the desk. "What did you find?"

Tristan spun his crucible and removed the glass container holding the decapitated head of the diseased cat creature. "There's a disease on the spread." He set the glass box down as Frederick grimaced. Tristan then pulled out the slip of paper with information about the disease he had acquired, handing it to the man. "Something called The Feather Scourge."

At that, Frederick's eyes went wide. He moved past Tristan and shut the door. "How'd you figure that out?" he whispered harshly.

"Uh oh," Felicity said in Standard Tongue from atop Tristan's head. "Seems like he knew about it and it was being kept all quiet."

Tristan kept speaking in Demon's Tongue, replying to the Head Guard, "A spell I have access to," he said using a half-truth to leave the man guessing as to whether it was a spell he had cast, or one of his items of artifice. "Sounds like you knew about this."

"It started a few weeks ago," the man replied in hushed tones as he grimaced. "The Dalphatroux House has been keeping a lid on the issue. If everyone knew about the disease, it could cause panic."

I can play this to my advantage, Tristan thought. They need a means to cure diseases, and I can make elixirs. Plus, this Demon House already has ties to other Realms…this is my way in. Tristan removed one of the panacea elixirs from his still-open storage dimension. "I have the means to acquire a lot of panacea elixirs. Seems like the perfect remedy for the situation."

Frederick's facial expression shifted to curiosity, "Huh…connection with your prior cadet branch?"

Tristan spun the vial in between his fingers, even with the armored gauntlets his dexterity was on full display. "I want an audience with Debera Delphatroux."

The Demonkin frowned, "I don't think I can make that happen."

I could go with the blackmail route, Tristan thought. Threaten to spread word of the disease. But that would leave some soured impressions – and I want this Demon House to support me when it comes to dealing with Duberceix. They already have connections with other Realms…so I should play this straight. Tristan nodded, "Then tell me who can make it happen. My…vendor, so to speak, is always open to working with new customers directly."

Frederick let out a slight sigh of relief, "I can do that at least. Come on, let's go talk to the House Guard."

Tristan was led out of the barracks within the walls of the inner keep and Frederick guided him to a side entrance of the main castle. A large building that was akin to a tiered cake – rounded sections placed atop each other until it ended in a large tower that extended high above, with a flag representing the Demon House's emblem hoisted high and fluttering in the evening sky that had darkened to a deep, cherry red.

Frederick spoke briefly with one of the very well-dressed and armored, full Demon guards. And as the two spoke, Tristan tried to memorize the differences between them. The full-fledged Demon was taller by a few heads, stockier, and also far more handsome than Frederick. The horns that curled gracefully from the top of the head were also far more prominent than that of the Demonkin who had shorter, stubbier horns.

Felicity seemed to note the differences as she commented to Tristan, "Demons are just prettier and more attractive versions of Demonkin. I figured there would be more differences, given one is a species, and the other is a Heritage."

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Frederick spoke up, "Marius, this is House Guard Trenton. He'll take you to see Lord Dalphatroiux. "You will need to divest yourself of your gear; I can hold onto it for you." He frowned as he looked at Tristan, "Sadly, all of the gear is going to need to go – I don't know the extent of your artificed items."

"Understood," Tristan replied. He hiked a thumb to the wall, "Back to the guard barracks?" Frederick nodded and led the way, and Tristan whispered to Felicity in Elvish. "You're going to wait in the room, and once I've left, get my gear out of wherever they put it, and then come back to me."

She nodded and replied, "Understood! I'll make sure that no one notices a thing!"

Tristan was led into the barracks and he removed everything from his person, placing them into a provided footlocker under Frederick's watchful eye. Thankfully, the barracks seemed split into a day shift and night shift quarters, so the rest of the room was unoccupied. Felicity hopped off of Tristan's head and stood next to the box, rubbing her paws together. Tristan took the provided clothes and boots, turning as he locked the box and pocketed the key.

Frederick led him back to the main castle, and just as Tristan was about to enter, Felicity landed on his head. "Got all of it," she said in Standard Tongue. "Transmutation is so useful! Made one side of the box just peel away, and then put it back on!" She made happy little paw-claw biscuits. "I'm getting to do all this neat sneak-work!"

Tristan suppressed his smile at her joviality and kept a neutral expression as Frederick departed with a simple wave, saying, "When you're done, you can come back to the barracks and get your stuff. There's an empty bunk if you need to get some shut eye."

Tristan replied, "Thanks." Then, he followed the Demon inside the main keep. The stone walls were smooth and recently cleaned. The stone floor clacked as the guard's metal boots tromped down the hall, drowning out any other sound that Tristan could have focused on to gain further insight into his environment. They went down a corridor, reaching a fork that led into a large, central chamber that looked like a primary audience hall.

At the center of the hall was a circular dais, with a large, stone throne erected upon it. Tristan jumped slightly as the castellan – a portly Demon who still towered a good two heads over his head – hit the floor with a metal-shod staff and spoke, "Marius Lestrange, Demonkin mercenary." The guard behind Tristan put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him forward into the room, and the castellan pointed to a spot in front of the dais. "Kneel," he ordered.

Tristan did so, keeping his gaze firmly affixed on the stone floor, having experience in such decorum thanks to his time in Bhant's court. The voice he heard from the dais was smooth and sultry, with a hint of disappointment. "I have been told that you discovered The Feather Scourge. Speak."

"Yes," Tristan replied. "I went to a farming community and slew diseased creatures-"

"And according to my diviner, you also cured the populace. A Demonkin with access to rejuvenation as a spell type should not be some mercenary. Tell me, have you sworn to a house?"

Tristan grimaced, contemplating how best to play out the scenario. Thankfully, Felicity came to the rescue and whispered in his ear in Standard Tongue, "The woman is very pretty but looks quite impressed. I still can't understand a single thing you're all saying. Just act bold! I think it'll play well here."

Tristan spoke with confidence, "I have not sworn to a house."

"Intriguing…tell me," The voice shifted to one tinged with curiosity, "Would you join the Dalphatroux?"

"That would be difficult," Tristan replied. "I am here because you have a problem, and I have the solution. The means to acquire a large quantity of panacea elixirs, which should help to stem the issues with this plague. I'd like to continue to prove my worth to your House and investigate this disease further. Perhaps find the source."

The woman's spoke firmly, "Look at me, and stand." Tristan did so, and he got his first glimpse of the Demon Lord. She was large – easily ten feet tall with a build to match. Her dress robes – more seemingly an evening dress for relaxing, was nonetheless tight to her form, revealing the distinct outline of musculature underneath. "Why would you feel the need to prove yourself further when I am already interested?" she asked with a slight smile as her dazzling, yellow eyes seemed to bore into Tristan's.

Tristan smiled, "I have my reasons, Lord Debera Dalphatroux," he replied. The castellan behind him let out a breath of exasperation, as Tristan had broken protocol of noble address by saying her first name – something that only a foreign ruler would do. He was playing into the bold and brash demeanor, as Felicity had advised. A gamble, but one that could pay off. "I seek your backing, as it were."

The woman leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees as she tented her hands and her expression soured. "A mercenary of no house seeks my support? That is a riot. The only reason you are not dead for breaking decorum is because of your essence-weaving and a spell type that I have very few essence-weavers capable of using."

The guards on the exterior of the room were silent like sentinels, but Tristan could tell they were on-edge, waiting for the order from their ruler to cut him down. But, he had an invisibility spell waiting for use if he had to escape; having practiced the rapid casting of it in case he needed a quick getaway. He spoke with brash confidence, filling his voice with as much arrogance as possible. "The Dalphatroux House is one of the newest to join the ranks of the other great Demon Houses. Your power comes from your willingness to have other Realms back you – something which other Houses are against. I have means to put you in touch with another Realm."

Debera looked at Tristan and held up her hand in a 'stop' gesture, and he noted that the guards on the exterior of the room relaxed. "How do you have such ties?" she asked.

Tristan smiled, "I am more than I seem. I was a student at the Citadel of Essence, and they had me surrender my badge when I came here because of my intent…I seek the downfall of Duberceix."

This resulted in a loud, enchanting laugh from the Demon Lord. "You…you want to take down the Demon King?"

Tristan nodded, "Yes. Do you know of his plot to take over The Mortal Realm?" The woman's eyes narrowed, and so Tristan continued, "He has been utilizing an assassin organization, The Venomous Rose, to kill off those of prominent bloodlines in The Mortal Realm. The bloodlines of rulers. And, in Saumur, he has half-breeds of those bloodlines that he is raising to take over." The last part was a supposition, but Tristan felt confident in Felicity's instinct and all of the clues they had put together thus far to make the conjecture.

Debera scowled, "If Duberceix is truly up to such misdeeds, then he could lead us into war with The Mortal Realm." She tapped her throne's armrest with long, claw-like fingernails that jutted from her otherwise elegant hands. "How do I know you are telling the truth? What is your offer of proof?"

"Have your diviners ask Logos. The information should be fairly well-known now."

The Demon Lord snapped her fingers, and a Demonkin servant with deep, blue skin rushed over. She whispered to him and Tristan picked up fragments of the conversation's hushed tones – her clacking of nails on armrest drowning out some of his hearing. "Tell…they should know…determine…bloodlines." The servant dashed away, and Debera looked back to Tristan as her fingernail stopped tapping. "While we wait for my diviners to confirm your information…why should I back you?"

"Your outrage at the possibility of a war breaking out with The Mortal Realm is all the reason I would have provided," Tristan replied. He frowned, "No one wants a cross-Realm conflict. Wouldn't it be easier to, say, have a very skilled, unknown Demonkin mercenary go into the capital and do what needs to be done?" he sighed, "Ah, but such a plan would require the removal of Duberceix's resources from the capital." He then looked with a sly gaze and filled his voice with as much cockiness as possible, "But if a few of the Demon Houses were to rebel, forcing the Demon King to send his forces out of the capital to deal with the uprising…why, that type of chaos would be the perfect cover for a small force to strike."

"You are crafty, aren't you?" the Demon Lord said with a smile.

Tristan shrugged, "I can't take full credit for the idea. Others share in my sorrow of bloodlines being eviscerated and ended. Let us say that I have a specialized group of combatants who are aligned with my purposes. And, once I secure your support, I plan to visit the Alphinaud, and then the Tousles. Three of the Demon Houses rising in a coalition – or at least posturing at such a coalition – should do the trick to force Duberceix's hand. At least getting him to commit to a show of force, which serves my purpose as well."

The woman considered Tristan's words with pursed lips. "And all of this for revenge?"

"Yes," Tristan replied as he felt that slight heat of hatred in his guts. "Duberceix killed my mother. The Demon Realm, all the Realms, would be better off with a more level-headed ruler." He grinned, "Especially one who is as intellectually stunning as you are."

"Flattery will get you a lot of places," Debera replied with a slight smile. "But not with everyone…these allies…tell me about them."

"I have friends in other Realms," Tristan replied. "Powerful friends who have also lost family to these assassins sponsored by the Demon King. They desire his downfall. One of them, a prominent ruler known as Tristan Winterbloom, commands the whole of the Fey Realm."

"I've heard of the Fey Realm," The woman replied. "From a contact in the Heaven Realm. The ruler is a kingly figure from everything I've heard, yet a bit of an elusive ruler. He also eats dragons, if you believe such nonsense."

Tristan kept the lies going, almost feeling a bit of disgust at how easily they came to him, given his upbringing from his mother and grandfather urging honesty in all situations. But I have no choice, he thought as he continued to speak. "Tristan is my friend. A close friend. We met at the Citadel. He is sponsoring my plan to defeat Duberceix and end the threat to his bloodline. Given my heritage, he knew I would be able to navigate the Demon Realm more effectively. My role is to acquire support from Demon Houses to enact this plan of baiting out Duberceix's power. Buying Tristan an opening to lead a strike force to topple Duberceix. With me in the vanguard, of course." He smiled, knowing that he was presenting a masterful deception that was just the perfect blend of truth. He still felt that slight unease at lying gnawing at him, but it was a necessary evil.

The servant scurried back from a side passage and handed the Demon Lord a slip of parchment. She unfurled it and scanned it briefly, nodding. "It seems that this Venomous Rose is well-known enough that your information has been corroborated by my diviners."

Thanks to The Matriarch, Tristan thought, as he knew she had given Logos – the Realm Protector of the Thought Realm, the individual who all divination spells requested information from – a comprehensive, detailed breakdown of all the information gathered regarding the matter. Tristan smiled and bowed once more, "Now that you know the truth of my words, I would ask for your support. I'll contact Tristan and work on acquiring a large supply of panacea elixirs. In the meantime, I can work on finding the source of this plague. That should give you plenty of time to consider. And it will further demonstrate to you that I have purely altruistic intentions…or at least self-serving intentions."

Debera pursed her lips and tapped her fingers on her thigh before nodding curtly. "I agree to this. I will need time to consult not just my counsellors, but my contacts in other Realms. You are to be given quarters in the barracks for the time being and copies all the information that my diviners and investigators have been able to scrounge up about the source of this plague. Once you have the panacea elixirs, notify one of my House Guards, and they will take custody of them." She stood up and very, very slightly dipped her chin in a nod of the slightest amount of respect. "Marius Lestrange…you are an interesting individual. Friend to the ruler of the Fey Realm, essence-weaver and warrior, eloquent yet brash and arrogant…if you do desire a place in a House, I would have a place for someone of your skills and demeanor." She gestured to Tristan, "Now, depart. I will call for you when I have made my decision. My castellan will give you a writ of passage for the city and the inner courtyard. Do not leave Lockwood."

Tristan bowed once more and turned around, following the castellan who gestured for him to go out the tunnel he had come in through, slipping him a paper as he walked by. Tristan was followed by one of the Demon House Guards, and when he was outside and the doors were shut, he took a deep breath.

Felicity made her paw claw biscuits on his head, "I couldn't understand a lot of it. What happened?"

Tristan was silent until he got into the barracks which were thankfully still empty, and he sat down. Felicity jumped off his head and onto the bed, and he finally replied feeling safer thanks to the lack of people around and the walls enclosing him on all sides. He filled her in on the whole conversation in Standard Tongue, finishing with, "…lying that much felt weird, but it seems like it was all taken as truth."

Felicity smiled and poked his thigh with her tail, "Elves are naturally deceptive. It'll be fine. It seems like you got everything you wanted out of the conversation."

Tristan nodded, "You'll have to help me keep all the lies straight."

"Oh, I'm very good at keeping a story straight!" Felicity replied with a big grin

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