Chapter 10

The trip was relatively uneventful. A large storm crashed along the massive continent's eastern shores, as she was making her way down south, but it was manageable. About an hour outside of where Trace believed she remembered the entrance into the Capalitin mountains underground city to be, she stopped for a short rest, as well as to change into her new dress. Thankfully, it was relatively easy to put on by herself. Having struggled with the dress's built-in corset at first, she had to rely on a little magic to pull the strings from behind her.

She pulled a little too hard at first – Trace thought she was about to die for a moment there – but she finally managed to get it tight enough, before she tied it off. "That… that right there is why I liked my blue one…" She struggled to say to no one in particular. Of course, she was feeling a little hungry now, but food would have to wait until she made it into Mirdford… or was it Mirthfaar… no it was definitely Mirthford, she was just mixing it up, that was all.

Not at all confident in having the name correct, she started walking there. She looked around as she walked, sniffing the air from time to time. Trace was looking for apples, the only reason she had to look forward to coming to the Calling. The closer she got to the looming mountain the sadder she became, however.

"No apples? Seriously?" Not one. Trace had made it all the way to the city's mountain face entrance and not caught sight or smell of a single one. A little peeved that she could not steal a single one of those crisp and yellow skinned fruits made her want to throw a tantrum, but she toughed it out and made her way past the gate guards.

"Welcome to the underworld!" One of them greeted her, an obvious mock-evil laugh followed after.

"How are you on duty every time that I come through here?" Trace replied to him, not at all in the way that she had been speaking to the kids, weeks prior. Back to her normal self. She recognized the guard, but he had never introduced himself. The other she had never seen before.

Marsgaard was notorious for its constant in-spying. Allies or not, it was business as usual for the southern races. Marygold was also a trading hub of sorts, and no matter how deep of a grudge one had, their personal problems were expected to have been left topside.

Those who decided to test those waters were seldom seen or heard from again. The church of the Watcher had eyes and ears everywhere. It was an open secret that their clergy collected information on everyone. They really meant it when they said everyone, or so they would have one believe.

The oh-so-humorous guard was wearing a rosary of sorts, with its centerpiece being a perfect silver circle, with a horizontal oval cut out of it. It was the symbol for the Watcher, so he was likely one of the aforementioned servants of the Eye, hence her caution around the, otherwise, friendly seeming man. It did not help that he was a canid variation of beast-person, that reeked of coyotes.

Trace had a bad run-in with some wild coyotes during her first couple years. Back then it had turned into a sort of petty back and forth, but she had come to have a natural dislike for them after that. It was not anything personal, Trace hated to share her food, and they fought her for food. The fox was glad to have made it past that annoying phase of her life. Besides, being hunted was one thing, but they wanted her food? Preposterous…

"Heheh, just lucky, I guess. You can go on through Elder Trace, we have been expecting you." With an exaggerated bow now, the jester waved her in.

The third wheel on duty was confused by the whole interaction. The company commander liked to take a shift on guard duty, for some weird reason, once in a blue moon. Some higher ups thought it to be suspicious at one point but uncovered nothing. Yet, there he was, the famous hard ass of the turtle company, making an absolute fool of himself.

The guard thought his superior might be flirting with the woman, in some way, but she never gave him more than a glance. It was only a little late when the soldier finished processing what the company commander had called the kitsune, and just how many of those fluffy white tails were flowing behind her. "Elder Trace," he had called her.

Trace, the infamous bloody moon nine-tailed fox of the far-flung northern territory of Ever-frost. His body reacted in place of his brain; his training deeply ingrained as it was. Soldier-B kowtowed with perfect precision. Anyone called with the prefix of elder was seen as more than just an older person. Elder carried the connotation of 'someone of grand power,' or grand depth, depending on how it was read. Regardless, she was someone to be respected, or at the very least, feared.

That was probably the biggest misnomer about many of the so-called demon races. It was not that they relished in people's fear, but rather, that they respected someone that made them feel fear. Trace was still more than a little weirded out by the idea of an entire culture of people that got off on being put into their place. With that said, however, there was a difference in a culture's way of garnering respect, and wholesale slaughter – hence their strong dislike for humans, for the most part.

Trace could feel the temperature drop, the further down that she went. Long since used to hunting in the frigid northern wastes, she only noted the temperature drop as a potential sign for her going further down. The pathway was a gradual, and smooth, slope. It was not originally that way, but they re-worked it for ease of transportation for cargo. The slope was only slight, to lower the risk of accidents on the way down.

When she finally reached the end of the long corkscrew-like tunnel, she was happy to see a large open area. Trace did not get claustrophobic, but she did hate tight quarters, as it limited her options for counterattacks. The rest of the night, and all of the following day were Trace's to do whatever she wanted with.

Happy at another chance for a break, she hunted her favorite restaurant down. She never needed to remember its name, as the same smell was always there to greet her. Maisef, the cook whose food she had been following all over the city, Miscdark, had worked at a number of different restaurants, since before opening his own. Trace had eaten at almost all of them, having always followed the smell of his cooking and not any particular name.

Trace had no idea that it was the massive restaurant's owner that had memorized her order and pre-ordered it the moment he caught wind of her sniffing around. Maisef did not make a large scene of it, as he had always seen the kitsune eat in solitude. Blissful solitude, but alone, nonetheless. Like a trained dog, the fox did not bother with placing an order, as everything she was going to request was brought out, in the order that she would have requested them.

The fox had never figured out, or looked into for that matter, how that was always orchestrated, who did it, or why. Honestly, the chef was simply thanking her, as she had always overpaid for her food. After a tasty soup, came what Trace was looking forward to the moment she caught its smell. As Maisef was aware of the kitsune's absurd appetite, the large oval plate had six, thick cut krowt steaks, cooked bloody rare, with a seasoned searing.

The hour-long multi-course meal ended much too quickly for Trace's liking, but she had consumed what must have been half of the massive bull-like creature. Appeased now, the steaks made up for the lack of apples. Trace was honestly at a loss for what to do. Not wanting to show up early, she thought about what Maryford had to offer. Although, for now, her goal was sleep.

The underground city was always awake. As there was no natural sunlight, the inhabitants had built a series of towers that stretched from the ground to the ceiling, each of which housed a large clear crystal that gave off light. The crystals were never covered, or otherwise blocked from emitting their light, so it was always well lit down there. So, it was also called the city of lights.

Trace wandered about for a moment, in search of a decent place to stay. Tourism was a draw for the city, on top of it being a center for trade, so there were inns spread all over the city. In preparation for the Calling, the fox was close to the center of the city, in her search for a bed to sleep in.

Seeing a place that she thought looked familiar, she walked in. It did not have a name posted outside but was simply advertised with a board depicting a lamppost eclipsing the moon. Making her way inside, she found it to be quite busy. Groups of people were gathered in little patches, with a long line leading up to the front check-in counter. Not wanting to wait, if she could help it, Trace turned to leave. However, someone called her name as she was opening the door.

Turning out of reaction, to look for the source, she immediately wished that she had not. On the left side, when looking in from the front door, sat two men. Blocking off that side of the inn, and the reason she had not originally noticed them, was a wall of people standing at attention. How she had noticed either their tails, or their scent, she had no idea. But all ten of them, the two included, were kitsune.

'Fuck me…'

Not allowing her face to change, as she did not want to give Asmeus the pleasure of her reacting to him, she looked from him to his father, giving each of them a polite nod before she again turned to leave. This time, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Trace had fully intended to smash every bone in the hand on her shoulder, as she gently reached up to grasp it. As she turned into it though, she found herself to be, instead, holding the hand of someone that she had never met before. So…

Crunch… the unknown kitsune dropped to his knees, as he gently cupped his now disfigured hand, while blood all but poured out of the points where bone ripped through skin. While he had only been acting on orders, in their terms, he should have known better than to suddenly grab someone ranked above him. Trace did not feel sorry for him. If anything, she was still angry that he had grabbed her in the first place.

"You need to train your dogs better…" Her voice dripped with venom as her golden eyes locked with Malice's. He only chuckled a little in response, before standing up to walk toward them.

With a wave of his hand a warm yellow light formed around the unknown kitsune's badly disfigured hand. The gross sounds of bones rearranging could be heard, as the wounded appendage pulled itself back together. "As quick to anger as usual, I see. It is good to see you Trace, how long has it been?" The entire inn had quieted down. None of them had actually cared about the gory display, as that was considered normal for most demons. It was when everyone noticed Malice, who had been around a good deal longer than Trace had, that they all quieted down. That being said, everyone now realized who he was talking to and the inn all but emptied.

Trace did not have a good reputation among most. While all demons were known to be a little violent, she was not any different in that regard. It was primarily because of the trail of bodies that she had left behind her, as she grew in power, that other demons had come to dislike her. She had never gone looking for any of the people that she was known for killing; however, they had come looking for her. The demon-fox, however, had no knowledge of her peoples' practices, so she had no idea that she had not followed their 'guidelines.' Now-a-days, those that would go looking for strong people to fight knew to stay clear of her.

With a light shrug, Trace realized that she was not escaping now. The man who grabbed her shoulder was instructed more than likely, Malice knowing full well that something similar would happen. He had always been the conspiracy type and was quick to put plans together on the fly. "I don't hide my mana like you do Malice. If he was strong enough to become your guard, he should have been able to realize how stupid he was being." Her following smile looked kind, but the remaining guards reflexively took a step backward when she did.

After parting his guards, he gestured for her to join him in their sectioned off side of the inn. The main floor was spacious and had quite a few tables spread about. The inn did not serve food though, by the smell of it. From the looks of the back wall, near what looked like a bar however, they had a wide selection of drinks to choose from. As Trace did not want to deal with either of them sober, she made her way over to the bar first.

Malice, without his son, joined her. "Asmeus was quite looking forward to seeing you in his gift, we heard that you wear it quite often." Trace had to keep herself from coughing, as she inhaled some of her cider in reaction.

"Don't lie to me… I know you still keep your eyes around." Dabbing at her lips with a cloth offered by the bartender, she cleaned up as much of the cider as she could. In truth, she had not noticed them ever since her becoming an eight-tail, she just assumed they were still there. How else did he always have information on her?

"Nonsense, I stopped watching you years ago. No reason to, after I asked you to join us. The rest is on you." He looked like a smiling fox, even in his humanoid form. Malice was pleased with himself; he always was. He had a permanent smile that always looked like he was scheming something.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Trace rather doubted that he went through all that trouble just for the laughs. For once though, his face got serious. While it was usually difficult to tell if his eyes were closed or not, they were clearly open now as he looked straight ahead, in thought.

"You know what this year's Calling is for, correct?" Trace gave him a simple nod in reply. "Trace… be careful with this one. He's a clever one." She assumed that Malice was referring to the newly accepted demon lord, which he was.

"For someone like you to be saying that. What is he?" Neither of them looked at the other while they spoke, choosing to nurse their respective drinks instead. Trace was not expecting such a serious conversation with Malice, it felt odd.

"I don't know actually…"

"Bull shit." Trace was quick to reply that time. He was no different than all the other fogies that headed the demon clans. Schemes upon schemes with spies spread everywhere. It was like a pass time for the other elders.

"No, really…" She turned, slowly, to look at him. Trace was the picture of disbelief, which made Malice chuckle a little bit, before he returned to his usual fox mask of a face. "I am glad to know you hold me in such high regard however." Now he obviously smiled in jest.

Trace returned to her drink, after a slight sneer, not wanting to dig that hole any deeper. The man twisted words for a living, so of course he could twist her's to sound like a compliment. The same gut feeling she had after the summoning was back, and it felt as uncomfortable now as it did then.

Downing the rest of her drink, she excused herself from the bar. "I'll keep that in mind. For now, however, sleep is my priority. Good night." After leaving a few silvery coins on the bar, Trace made her way over to the, now empty, reception desk. She then purchased a room for a few nights before heading upstairs. Thankfully, Asmeus had left her alone the whole time.