Eons Later - Part 1

What I now consider the beginning started in Caldette, a quaint town built on an endless plain bordering a sea of trees. The untamed thicket, known as the Spleeping Woods, was an ancient no-man's-land so forbidding it even divided two of the largest nations of this world. Over the course of time, many a merchant had lost their life in the shades below its canopy, but their stubbornness had not been in vain. Without their sacrifice, the northern trade route which cut through the plains to the south and into the woods wouldn't exist, and Caldette, the last station before its green, would not be standing here either.

It was in front of the northern gate of that very town where two seedy city guards faced the Spleeping Woods in the distance. Although they were supposed to keep watch, this was the end of an extremely uneventful day, prompting the older of the guards to send his gaze over the countless cabbage fields growing around Caldette. They were proof of the work of countless farmers, and a calming sight he connected many memories with.

"Someone's coming." The voice of his young colleague suddenly reached the ears of the older guard and shook him from his lethargy. He squinted, scrutinizing the edge of the forest in return, but the sky was now dark, and his eyes not the best anymore. Or maybe, it was just the evening mist that had risen up by now.

"Are you sure?" he asked his colleague when he couldn't spot anything. No merchant would move through the woods at night, and they rarely came this time of the year anyway. But then again, humans weren't the only visitors they had to contend with out here...

The other guard nodded in response. "I'm sure." Two, short little words, but they invoked more than enough anxiety in the older guard. His sweaty hands reached to his left and for the spear leaning on the city wall, and now he could see the patch of black that separated from the forest's edge beginning to move down the road and towards them. The fog hung everywhere, hiding all details, but a relieved breath flooded the guards as the vague shadow got closer. It clearly had a humanoid shape, not a bit like those wooden monsters they were so afraid of.

Suddenly, a gust of wind picked up over the fields that were now blue with night, scattering the mist and playing strangely with the clothes it uncovered. A dark coat over worn out boots, a face hidden by a broad hat, all in all an ominous sight, if not for the very ordinary bindle jutting out behind its back. Step by step, the shape drew closer to the gate until its head turned up and a face appeared under the brim. Pale and sharp it was, that of a thin, human man, carrying a dirt blond mustache and goatee that turned his face even sharper. He looked like the crazy kind you didn't want to count among your enemies, easy to tell from the playful glint in his eyes and the fact that he came from the Spleeping Woods all alone. Really, the older guard wasn't even sure it would be wise to let him enter the city.

"Hey there," the unknown man said and waved at them before he cast a look at the darkening sky. "City's still open, right?" But before the guard could ask what he was planning to do inside, the traveler continued. "I just wanted to take a break, that forest was just horrible... You do have an inn, don't you?"

"Y‑yes, two of them even," the old guard found his tongue. "But I would stick to the Favored Cup if I were you, not that I think they still have space for someone like you. After all, it's soo late already."

Although the guard's voice had sounded honest, the traveler snorted at that unlikely statement. He had lost count of how often this had happened. Was it because of his looks? Should he start to wear a bag over his head? "And how much is the entrance fee if they do have space?"

When the guard heard that, he let go of the last tension in his body, and a yellowed smile appeared to highlight the silent understanding between them. "Usually, the price's three Stern per head."

"Of course it is," the traveler replied, six gray coins leaving his pockets for the palm of the guard. Even three would have been too much. Those cheeky cutthroats...

"Open up for one, please!" the guard shouted up to the gate behind him, and the heavy beam shutting it lifted with a bang. "The inn's straight ahead. You can't miss it." With that, the guard turned to his younger colleague. "Let's close up for today."

Seeing his coins split up between them, the traveler decided to leave the guards to their 'work' and passed through the small gate and onto the stage of the town beyond. A paved main street greeted him on the other side, lined with small but well off buildings. At this hour, the citizens inside were already sleeping soundly, the windows passing by as the traveler walked dark and deserted. Like silent witnesses, they watched his heels click by until the last home fell back and revealed a market square. Straight across its deserted pavement stood a clock tower that rose over the rest of the city, and left and right of it two buildings not much smaller. Like siblings in an age‑old standoff, they glared at each other over the square, and they really looked quite similar. Both of them were large, double story buildings. Both of them were inns, and both were still illuminated. But not both were equally successful. If anything, it was frighteningly easy to recognize that the left inn had seen better days, its wooden walls gray with age and the blinds barely holding on to their window frames. Dreary and deserted were the only words to describe it.

In contrast, the inn on the right side was the more lively one of the siblings, as if to make up for its broken counterpart. It was warm and bright, and even from far away, the boisterous noise inside was clearly audible. Looking at its entrance and the sign of a cup that dangled there, it was likely the inn the guard had recommended – not that the traveler was keen on following his words. Walking on, he approached the odder one of the inns. Arriving at its door, the only new and sturdy thing about it, he tried to enter when he noticed something strange: The door was locked.

Frowning, the traveler pushed up the brim of his hat and glanced at the windows, but the faint light inside told him that he had not been mistaken. This inn was indeed open, so he started knocking to make himself known. The first few times, no one answered his call, but he simply tried again and again. Now that he had put his mind to staying here, he would not leave until he got a reply – and his stubbornness paid off.

Another knock later, a loud noise tumbled across the floor on the other side, and someone stepped up to the door. A wave of clicking sounds followed as its locks disengaged, the amount of security highly unusual for such a simple town. It seemed like the traveler had been right. This inn was definitely the more interesting one – and interesting was all that he had left. Holding his breath, the traveler waited until the door opened a tiny gap, revealing the face of a tall, gaunt man. His features soured as soon as he noticed the stranger on his doorstep. "What do you want?" the innkeeper asked dismissively, his tone annoyed and uncaring of the traveler's shady appearance.

"This is an inn, right?" the traveler asked, doubtful due to the innkeeper's harsh tone. "I'm stopping here for the night, so I was planning to get a room and some food?"

For a second, the innkeeper stared at the vagabond like he had suddenly sprouted another head. "Are you out of your mind? Did you miss the utterly perfect inn on the other side?" His tone carried a clear note of bitterness as he pointed past the traveler and at the inn he had just mentioned.

"No, I didn't. But I like it better here."

The innkeeper scoffed. No one had said that and meant it seriously for a long time. About to send the jester away, he suddenly realized that, maybe, this kind of customer was exactly what he needed right now. "Alright. Rooms are four Leni, meals are a half." The traveler nodded, not doubting the cheap price, and the innkeeper opened the door to point inside. While not even a single customer sat in the empty taproom, nor at the counter at its far end, the wear on the floor betrayed that this place must have been well frequented at some point. The traveler nodded in approval as he saw those traces of the past. In addition to odd things, he also liked places with some history.

The entrance was locked, and the innkeeper disappeared past the counter to fetch a key and a lantern, which he handed over for his payment. "Your room is at the end of the second floor," he explained, suddenly all smiles. "I'll bring your food upstairs, but it might take a while."

The traveler, tired from the journey, nodded wordlessly and moved up the stairs at the side of the room. This way, he couldn't see how the innkeeper smiled as he hurried into the backroom once more.

***

The innkeeper bent down, unlocking the hatch to the basement. Not in his wildest dreams would he have expected a customer today, but he knew that the time was right. He could feel it with every fiber of his being: This was an opportunity that couldn't be wasted. With a resolute pull, the hatch screeched open, revealing the dark basement waiting below. Although he'd given his lantern to that customer, his steps remained steady as he moved down the damp stairs and into the darkness. There, a cluttered desk came into view, barely visible beneath the books and tools scattered over its surface. Blindly and with hands nervous from excitement, the innkeeper felt around for a matchstick, holding it to a mess of candles towering right over the desk. He could still remember a time when there had been just a single one of them, how the mountain of wax had grown with each night he spent down here. Lost in thought, a small flame flared up around one of the many wicks, and the innkeeper turned around as the work of his past months appeared from within the shadows. On the floor, on the walls, a mandala of charred symbols had been smeared over every inch of the basement, its tiny, jagged symbols invoking anxiety in anyone who saw them. The innkeeper, however, remained unbothered by the uncanny sight, stepping up to the center of the circle and a spot so empty it was clear something important was still missing. A knife appeared in his hand, slightly shaking due to his nervousness. Today was the day he would finally show them who was right.

<Knock, knock, we rap at the sleeping Gate.

Deliver us from desire.>

As the metal edge bit into his hand, crimson unfolded in the center of the circle, weightlessly blooming out of the innkeeper's hand. Although he only stared for a second, by the time he looked down again, the black symbols surrounding him on all sides were already on the move. Like they were a storm and he the eye, they were converging on the blood, and he was barely fast enough to jump over the rising surge before it formed a barrier around the center. Each of its layers seemed to revolve in a different direction, and while he treated his hand, the innkeeper tried to get a glimpse past the dancing symbols. A second later, crimson light stabbed through the gaps, its rays piercing his eyes with their brightness. The innkeeper shielded them with a pained shout, but the sound of the ocean and the smell of the sea made him peek through his fingers despite the lesson he had just learned. This way, he saw that the swirling barrier around the circle was slowly receding – and now, something was standing inside of it.

First came its horns, two black moons over a square face, supported by a body much stronger than the strongest brute the innkeeper had ever seen. The ash purple scales covering most of its skin were stretched tight over its bulging muscles, covered sparsely by obsidian armor and little else. The sight of the black shards sticking to it here and there were just as savage as the tail unwinding in the background or the sharp claws growing from its fingers. But the most jarring part about this monster were its legs. Compared to that of a human, they had one segment too many and ended in huge feet, with nails that scratched deep furrows into the floor. Seeing the monster's posture, that of a feral animal prowling on its toes, even the most stupid person would realize they were standing before a predator. But this wasn't just a simple monster. It was a demon: Cunning and evil.

While the innkeeper stared in fright, the demon unfroze, finally touching his feet onto the ground. Once more, the fresh air of a new world streamed through his nostrils before his eyes opened, revealing the two coals glowing inside his skull. When he saw where he had been called to, the demon's mouth opened, and an amused chuckle spilled past his rows of sharp teeth and into the room. It was a distorted tune, produced by an otherworldly voice deeper than the darkest of nights:

[Oh ye who plea and stir the Gates of the Den, its Hand has arrived in answer. State your business.]

Dazed by the thundering words that resounded in his bones, the innkeeper remained frozen in shock until the demon's burning glare made him hurry to answer. He knew how this went! He had read about it before!

"R‑right. There is an inn on the o‑o‑other side of the c‑city. A‑and–"

[Stop your stuttering! Who is supposed to understand you this way!?]

Annoyance rolled off the demon, and the innkeeper stumbled back. His eyes glanced over the last black runes wrapped around the monster. As long as he didn't step past them, he would be safe. Everything was fine. Taking a deep breath, the innkeeper continued. "The inn on the other side of this city. I want it gone."

[...That's everything?]

The demon almost sounded doubtful, his expectations of a difficult mission betrayed. Still, if this task really was as easy as it appeared, he would simply take it as a bonus before he went on Break Day. The innkeeper, however, seemed angry at his question.

"What do you mean, 'Everything?!' They ruined me and didn't even try to let me save face, rubbing it under my nose every single day! They have to pay." At that, the demon slowly nodded, happy about the grudge the human was displaying, and gestured with his arms. The barrier around him turned milky where his claws approached.

[Then let me deal with that inn for you. But what, I wonder, do you plan to offer in return?]

Relieved, the innkeeper stepped closer, and a grin spread across his gaunt face. The books had said there was only one thing demons wanted: Souls. And luckily, he had happened across a little gift today. "I have a customer upstairs – a traveler. No one will miss him, so do with him what you want."

Hearing that, the demon broke out in a grin just like the innkeeper, although his was much more toothy. For a moment, he closed his eyes and sniffed the air before glancing back down through half closed lids.

[Yes. A good offering indeed...]

That was exactly what the innkeeper had wanted to hear. But then, as if to top it off, the demon thoughtfully put a hand to his square chin and continued.

[...But it's too good for so little work. How about I give you a discount the next time you request the services of the Den? What do you say?]

Of course, the innkeeper's mood only improved by leaps and bounds at that courteous offer. Not only could he avoid offering up his own soul because of that traveler, he even got a discount! He was so grateful to that wretch, he even considered digging a proper grave for him once everything was over. "Yes! Yes, thank you, that sounds great!"

Everything according to protocol. Still smiling, the demon clapped, and a large scroll dropped to the floor, unrolling in a long line of parchment all the way to the innkeeper's feet. Its entire length was covered in tiny writing so small that it was difficult to read, and the innkeeper gulped when he was faced with the wall of text.

[Don't worry. This is a completely standard contract. You don't need to read it.]

For a moment, the innkeeper wanted to follow the temptation and agree, but then, he remembered that the books had warned him about trusting demons. They were deceitful by nature, always trying to take as much as you let them, and only the words in their contract, like the scroll at his feet, kept them from betraying their summoners. This was the reason it was so important to be careful with demon contracts, and while the innkeeper may have been a bitter, angry man, he wasn't stupid. "Let me take a look at it anyway," he told the demon in a firm voice, although his legs were shaking. A distorted sigh later, the rest of the scroll was shoved over the barrier. The demon didn't resent the innkeeper for his cautiousness, but watching him read the endless contract was incredibly boring, mostly because his summoner was obviously inexperienced. Although the runes of the text could instantly be understood by anyone and anything, his gaze was crawling over the text as slow as a snail, struggling with the complicated implications. To the innkeeper, it was an exhausting task that took plenty of time, so when the sea of words had finally run dry, his head still felt like it was swimming.

"A-Alright," he said, his voice hoarse. "Add that you are not allowed to wreck my inn, and I agree." The demon's eyes flared up when he heard that, and he clapped his hands together in relief. A glowing quill appeared in response, pointed to a blank line in the contract. There was only one thing left keeping him from his meal, from the end of this mission, and from his long‑awaited Break Day:

[Sign the contract, and all you wish for will come true.]

So the innkeeper gripped the quill tightly and wrote down his name.