Newly Summoned Demoness - Chapter 26 – Lost (Patreon)

Yolani moved through her tasks to clean, re-etch, and re-power a set of auto-gears. Hector’s words echoed in her head, fueling a slow burning anger that settled deep inside her. His thinly veiled admission of having orchestrated her father’s disastrous choices so he could profit from them left a vile, bitter taste in her mouth the Geru beans couldn’t compete with.

She glanced over at Henri, who was helping an elderly customer with their purchase. He’d taken the day off from work to come help her. Taking a day off in the Guard wasn’t an easy thing. It made her feel even worse, but she was thankful for the support.

Customers continued to shuffle in and out, but it wasn’t anything like a regular day. Her fears about the mana shard stifling business seemed accurate. The noose felt like it was closing around her neck.

She’d lost hope that her dad would come home even before she had got out of bed for the day…

Lost any idea of what to do.

When Yolani finished the set of gears she was working on, she excused herself and retreated to the back workshop. Storing the tray of auto-gears on a shelf, she gazed across the room. Clutter and thousands of different objects greeted her, all of them carrying their own type of potential or needing cared for. It was chaotically organized in a way that only she and her father understood.

Her eyes eventually landed on one of the lower drawers of a storage shelf. One in particular held her interest. It was in the back, all the others around it were covered in a thin layer of dust. She hadn’t fooled with that area in…well, ever.

As she slid open the drawer, her eyes landed on something unexpected. She sucked in a sudden breath, hand shooting in to pull out a half-rolled piece of parchment. Spreading it out on the flat surface in the center of the workshop, Yolani’s eyes widened as she took in what was depicted.

It was a map—detailed and meticulously drawn—outlining the labyrinthine dwerven dungeon beneath Neftasu. Someone had spent countless hours detailing all the upper passages and chambers.

It was annotated in her father’s own hand. The entire thing had faded slightly, but a more recent line of fresh ink marked a path to the dungeon’s third level.

Yolani swallowed. She had a blueprint for following in her father’s footsteps.

“Yolani?” Henri’s voice pierced through her thoughts, causing her to look up from the map.

His gaze was locked on the parchment spread out before them, and an immediate frown formed on his lips. “You can’t be thinking of going after him? He could be back today!”

His words were logical—rational even—and under normal circumstances, she would have agreed with him without hesitation. But these weren’t normal circumstances.

“I need to find out more first,” Yolani admitted slowly, determination seeping into her words even as she felt uncertainty prod at her insides.

Henri’s hand closed around her arm so quickly that it startled her. His usual jovial expression had shifted into one of grave seriousness that was totally out of character.

His hand tightened slightly around her arm. “Promise me if you go, you’ll tell me first,” he demanded.

She blinked at him, taken aback by his intensity, before nodding hesitantly. “I will,” she assured him shakily. Gently extricating herself from his hold, she turned back to the map, studying each note and committing it to memory.

“I need to know more about his companion,” she murmured.

“The mercenaries?” Henri asked.

Yolani nodded. “He hired a team. I…I don’t know if they were involved or not, but…” Her heart clenched as she swallowed. “It seems like Hector had his finger on everything…if he paid them…”

Silence hung between them for a few seconds before he spoke again, his voice soft with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Yolani raised her chin, then grabbed his arm. “We’re going to the Merc Dist’ this evening to get answers.”

Panic filled his eyes, but she wasn’t going to let him talk her out of it. “You took the day off to help, didn’t you?”

They closed the shop early to prepare. Henri had to go get his gear and equipment while she prepared an assortment of wards and protections for both of them. Arrow stopping glyphs, spell deflection, sigils, and blade turning stones.

Each one was a cheap way to stop one attack, one time. Half of them she stole from the store shelves, while the more expensive magical blocking ones came from a hidden shelf in the back. Her wands needed checking as well, and she topped them up to make sure they were all at maximum power.

On top of her normal artificer jacket went a thick metal studded leather vest. A half dozen of the studs contained reinforcement runes that would improve the protection to the equivalent of high-quality chain mail with no extra weight.

She linked each wand to the belt with a small chain. There was the risk of entanglement, but it was better than someone yanking one off in the middle of a fight. She did not know what they’d be facing, so she brought the entire assortment of combat wands she had built up over the years.

Not only had she built every single one of them herself, but she knew how they all worked intimately, and her father had taken her to practice plenty of times.

Either way, they weren’t just going to be strafing the Merc District’s outer edges this time, so the preparation wasn’t overkill. The tavern ‘Fredric’s Noose’ was smack dab in the center. That was a high-volume traffic area, but also one of the most violent. Tavern brawls were a daily occurrence, from what she had heard.

Henri was a guard and level 157, which would give some pause, but she needed to do her best to look the part of a scary, dangerous artificer. Her level hinted that she was inexperienced, but then a lot of mage classes were like that, especially arcane ones that relied on a lot of study.

It was just that most mercenaries cut their teeth killing tons of things outside the city, so their levels were usually much, much higher.

The city light stones overhead had dimmed to the evening luminosity when they finally crossed over into Neftasu’s most notorious district. Henri took the lead while she hovered just one step behind and to the side while monitoring their flanks and rear. An automated brooch on her capelet hummed as it searched for threats.

Her hands stayed away from her wands; she didn’t want to give off the perception of being nervous despite how it all felt. Henri dressing as a guard was both a blessing and a curse. It made them highly visible, but also raised the bar for anyone wanting to harass them.

She was wondering how well it was working when a rock suddenly flew at them. An arcane hexagonal shield appeared in the air and deflected it. Henri drew his sword immediately.

A chorus of laughs from spectators along the sides of the street erupted as a young orphan turned into an alley and ran away.

“You won’t last long here if you’re afraid of little boys, guardling!”

Yolani grabbed Henri’s arm and shook her head to prevent him from responding or chasing after their assailant. His sword slid into his scabbard with a click. They moved on; the price of a projectile defense stone was worth not getting a bloody smack from a slingshot.

Henri looked at her with a frown. “Keep close.”

They continued and reached the center of the district with no further incident. Not that there wasn’t plenty going on around them. Along the way, she spotted two people in a fist fight, a chained woman being sold to some merchant, and two different groups of muggers accosting the local denizens.

None of them paid Henri or her any heed. There was an unspoken agreement with the guard here: you don’t fuck with their members, and the law wouldn’t intervene in things unless directly forced to do so. Keep your head down and mind your own business was the watch phrase.

She didn’t like it, but they had more important things to do. The tavern came into view. It was still early and there weren’t too many customers nursing tankards of ale yet. Inside was a different environment. Two armored bouncers eyed them warily from behind a well-lit bar with dozens of different bottles shelved behind the counter.

Unlike the outside, the inside was packed.

The burly figures covered in scars and grime huddled around the tables, all of them directing their attention to her and Henri’s arrival. She loosened the neck of her jacket without thinking about it. The thick scent of sweat, ale, and smoke lingered, adding to the intimidating atmosphere.

Henri started to approach the bar, but she touched his arm and then moved in front. The bartender glanced at them, probably using [Identify], before turning back to the glass he was polishing. He didn’t look up at her when they sat down.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“I’m looking for information on my father.”

He looked up at her and stared her in the eyes. “Rude to ask questions without ordering something. If you aren’t ordering, you can make space for someone who is.”

Yolani bit her lip. “Something non-alcoholic.”

The patron next to her turned to her and tilted his head. “Eh? You came to Fredric’s and aren’t going to drink something good, girlie?”

Yolani winced at the smell of his breath, but didn’t back down. “Don’t give me that shit. I counted six races that would literally die if you gave them alcohol in any amount, and twelve more that would take one gulp and be out faster than someone sniffing Fibro-oil.”

He gaped at her, the shocked expression only interrupted when the barkeep slapped down two glasses in front of her and Henri.

“Frujuice?” the barkeeper asked.

“Filtered, please.” Yolani answered.

The man shook his head. “We only have pulp-in.”

Yolani pursed her lips, then shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

The bald man at the bar stuttered with growing animosity, “Girlie, you better—”

“Oi. Thomas, are you accosting patrons who are actually going to pay their tab? I will throw your ass out. Permanently.”

“Ah..ah..” The man looked at Yolani and completely changed his attitude. “Sorry about that, missy.”

She turned back to Henri to see the shock on his face as well.

“What? I can take care of myself.” Yolani prodded.

Henri stuttered. “Uh—Uhh, yeah. Never saw you like that before.”

The barkeep chuckled and poured a sweet-smelling liquid from a pitcher into their glasses. When Yolani pulled out her wand, he flinched.

She tapped both glasses and the thick cloud of pulp inside them suddenly clarified into non-existence. “It’s better this way.”

The man stared at her for a moment before nodding. “Fancy magic.”

She slid across two large silvers, which was much more than what the juice cost, then took a big drink from it. The sweet taste was nearly overwhelming, but she managed it. Setting the drink back down, she raised her chin to the barkeep.

“I’ve patronized your establishment now. Do you mind telling me about who I’m looking for? I’m told their leader is a dwarf named Thurgan,” Yolani asked.

Silence fell on everyone nearby enough to hear her. The barkeeper grunted.

His explanation was brief, but to the point. “Rough crew. Thurgan’s Fists, the group calls itself. Mercenaries. Regulars here, but not seen them for several days.”

“Surprised you’re telling us about your patrons here in the open,” Henri said.

The bartender fixed him with a glare, then raised his voice. “Those bastards didn’t pay off their tab. Anyone grab them and drag them here. There’s a small gold at stake.”

That started a murmur, and a few people even rushed their drinks to head out, no doubt looking for the impromptu bounty that was offered.

“So, no sign of them for a few days…” Yolani’s words trailed off.

The barkeeper shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, girlie. Best I can do. People often just disappear in the ‘Dist.”

Yolani and Henri finished their drinks in silence. He kept a watch on their backs for any trouble, while she was lost in thought.

This was just another obstacle. She knew it hadn’t been a sure thing looking for information, but at least she’d tried. Maybe she was being stupid after all and should have given her father more time. It was just that the encounter with her uncle had been so sour she couldn’t sit still.

As soon as they were finished, she pulled on his cloak. “Let’s get out of here.”

Henri nodded, and they headed out. She wasn’t sure what they’d do—this was the best lead she had. Waiting another day and then asking the Syndicate guards at the dungeon probably wouldn’t amount to anything. They were very tight-lipped unless you had an inside connection with one of their ‘managers’ or high-ranking officials.

There was a reason the insular merchant organization was able to operate inside Neftasu without being picked apart by the major factions.

“Pssshht.” The sound came from the side, bringing Yolani to a halt. Henri stiffened in surprise at the sudden stop.

A scrawny ten-year-old boy beckoned at her.

[Orphan – Human – Level 5]

“Yes?” Yolani asked.

“I heard y’all talk ‘in. I know ‘bout Thurgan.” he said.

She glanced to Henri. He shook his head almost imperceptibly.

Henri was right to be cautious, but something told her they’d learn something. Turning back to the boy, she knelt in front of him. “What can you tell me?”

He looked away. “I saw ye ‘av silver.”

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out ten small silvers. The boy’s eyes widened at the sum.

“Tell me what you know… if it’s good, you can have them,” Yolani urged.

“Thurgan…he and his crew went in the dungeon with someone. When they came out, it was jus’ them. They came back yesterday.”

The orphan boy reached out and took the offered coins, then ran.