Newly Summoned Demoness 2 - Chapter 9 – City Works and Deep Thoughts (Patreon)

Magister Keswick’s magic was a spectacle that both Elania and Yolani could only watch in awe. With a flourish of a hand, the Arch Magus summoned forth a diffuse cloud of light. It spread out to cover everything, and the sewer tunnel began to transform before their eyes.

The raw sewage and detritus that coated the walls and floor dissolved away. Even the murky water that had flowed sluggishly through the central channel clarified until it was crystal clear, reflecting the light of the spell filling the space.

Bricks and stones that had crumbled knitted themselves back together on their own. Elania recalled back when the monks had worked to repair a way station that had been damaged, using similar magic. But this was on a whole new scale as it worked rapidly, spreading down both ends of the tunnel.

The platform Keswick stood on gracefully lowered itself while extending its length into a bridge of elegant marble, creating a new crossing over the water channel. The gouges and damage that had just occurred during the fighting filled in on its own, and new arches formed to brace the ceiling.

Above them, the gaping hole that had appeared for Keswick’s descent closed up slowly before the form of a ladder was created and the hole was turned into a new entry point for the sewer.

Throughout the transformation, Taniel struggled against his earthen bindings, his face a mixture of fury and disbelief. When Keswick turned her sharp gaze upon him, he stilled and looked away, the rage in his eyes snuffed out by the Magister’s presence.

Elania’s spine prickled when the woman turned it upon Yolani and her.

“And I ask again,” Keswick’s voice echoed in the now pristine tunnel, “what is going on here?”

Elania glanced to Yolani, who met her gaze with a nod before stepping forward, taking the lead in their response.

“Magister Keswick,” Yolani began, her voice steady despite the all to recent violence that had occurred. “We had a meeting with Magister Bannon earlier today. Upon our return, we were caught up in the riot at the central square.”

Elania listened carefully and watched as Yolani continued to weave the events in the sewer into an ordered timeline. She omitted nothing, including their interactions with Darius and the cultists, their engagement with Tessa, and finally the monks deciding to attack them. The truth was a solid thing that needed no embellishment.

Keswick listened intently, her expression unreadable. Elania tensed up, unsure of where they stood with the Magister. Her hand itched where the mana shard remained in her grasp, its power stores mostly depleted.

When Yolani finished recounting their ordeal, they both waited, the silence stretching between them and the Magister. Keswick’s eyes flickered between them, as if considering the weight of Yolani’s words. She finally looked over at Taniel.

“Is this true? You attacked them while hunting for the rogue demon?” Keswick demanded.

Taniel’s anger still burned in his eyes, a rage that easily found its voice once he was directly questioned. “They caused four of my brothers to perish,” he spat, nodding toward Elania. “She murdered before, killing her own traveling companion. They helped the demon escape by not surrender—”

His words were cut short as Magister Keswick’s face contorted with displeasure. “Silence,” she commanded, her voice resonating with the hum of power that seemed to ripple through the stonework of the transformed sewer. “You are responsible, Taniel. Your obsession with this ‘demon’ allowed a genuine threat to remain roaming hidden beneath our city. Or do you dispute the fact that they had already disabled and disarmed it when you came upon them? They essentially did your work for you, and you threw it away because of your own personal grievances. Now many more may die.”

Taniel’s jaw clenched tightly, his eyes boring into Keswick that was palpable. A mutter under his breath triggered a sudden muddy rope to wrap around his face, gagging him.

“Your blind zealotry led to the deaths of your brothers,” Keswick continued, her tone sharpening with each word. “Their blood is on your hands because of your actions, not hers.” She nodded in Elania’s direction. “They’ve done nothing but help with the restoration of the city since Relain’s fall.”

A wall snapped into place, sealing him away. Keswick turned to focus on them. “I will deal with him and send a complaint to the Conclave when we are finished here,” she stated. A frown appeared on her face, her expression forming to contain a mix of reprimand and concern.

“Entering the sewers was reckless,” Keswick chided. “You should have sought the guard, or evacuated in a manner that didn’t leave you here.” Her gaze lingered on Elania. The tension in the air was palpable.

Elania’s frustration at the day’s events pushed their way through. “We wouldn’t even be down here if it wasn’t for the riot,” she snapped, her voice echoing off the newly marbled walls. Her golden eyes fixed Keswick with an unyielding stare. “You and the other Magisters were charged with fixing things! Everything seems to be going in the opposite direction!”

Keswick grunted, slightly taken aback by Elania’s words. It was obvious that she wasn’t used to being talked back to. “Restoration efforts are underway,” she explained, her voice steady. “Crews have been assigned across the city for repairs, but the scale of the task is immense. It will take decades for them to do all the work needed.”

Elania bit back a retort that it was her fault, but throwing blame wasn’t the answer. Her gaze slid to the newly refurbished tunnel. “You have all this power, yet the city’s underbelly is a breeding ground for filth and cultists. You repaired this entire section in seconds, without a thought, simply because it was convenient to you. Why aren’t you going around to fix things personally? Isn’t it your duty?”

A flash of something crossed Keswick’s face, her composure momentarily slipping. The runic tattoo on her forehead glowed ominously, and the Magister winced, though she tried to mask it. She offered no explanation, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Take the ladder up and go home,” Keswick instructed, her voice carrying a finality that brooked no argument. “I will deal with this monk and his order, as well as see that no ill effects from your encounter fall on you.”

Yolani and Elania shared a glance, then nodded. That was all they had wanted to do in the first place… not run around the sewers like a bad first adventure mission in a stupid video game.

“Where are we?” Yolani asked.

“It leads up to the Artisan District, so you are not far,” Keswick replied curtly.

Elania nodded to Yolani, and then the two of them made their way to and up the ladder. It wasn’t until they were halfway up that Elania realized her mistake in letting the other girl go first. The rest of the way up was spent blushing and doing her best to not look.

They emerged onto a non-busy street, the familiar hammering of forges nearby. No shouts filled the air, and the frantic steps of stressed pedestrians were absent. It was like the riot and the unrest in the square never existed and they’d arrived back to their usual haunt from an insane expedition.

Yolani took her hand and helped her stand up before they slid the round metal plate back into the ground. The white ring of stone around it stood out against the dirty cobble street.

“Do you… do you think she’s going to be stuck down there refurbishing the sewers for a while?” Yolani asked.

Elania blinked, eyeing the new manhole. The geas tattoo on the Magister’s forehead had begun to glow when it was mentioned… “You had that thought as well?”

They stared at each other for a second before a little wave of giggles escaped and they cracked up.

It was stupid, because they’d just been in a life-or-death battle, where four of the people they’d been fighting ended up dead, and it could have easily been them instead. But something in the other girl’s eyes said that she needed the levity, to reduce the stress or just balance things out… and Elania realized she did as well.

The idea that the Magister, one of the most powerful people in the city, would be hand cleaning the entire sewer was ridiculous. Just as long as she didn’t hold them personally responsible…

The sobering thought replayed itself several times through her head as they made their way to Artificer’s Row. A group of familiar and worried faces were waiting for them. Henri and Harlock were arguing, and Lucas and Kael were standing watch at the main gate. Elania and Yolani both got a wave from them when they were spotted.

Henri and Harlock both noticed the gesture and their argument cut off, questions written plainly on the younger man’s face.

Yolani lifted a hand, preemptively silencing any inquiries. “We’re fine, Henri. Just a long day,” she stated, her voice carrying a firmness that left no room for prying.

He looked ready to argue, but Harlock’s hand on his shoulder, and a shake of the head stalled it. “Seems they’ve been through a mess, lad. Give them some time to unpack.”

Elania looked down at her clothes. They were a bit torn and ragged from the fight. Yolani’s outfit was less damaged, but the missing items in her wand belt hinted that she’d used up some of her supplies. It was almost surprising that the old mercenary had noticed, but she supposed he had a keen eye.

“Thank you. We’ll talk to you tomorrow. We made it and just want to rest a bit,” Elania added.

Yolani nodded, and they passed by up the street and to the shop. The refurbished Aetherhart Artifice sign greeted them, and the wards emitted a blue glow and hum as Yolani unsealed the premises and opened the door. Inside, it was just as they had left it in the morning.

That felt like it was much longer ago than it really had been.

Yolani pressed the door shut behind them and then sealed it with her security ward, the artifice suddenly sealing them away from the outside noise of the city. The quiet was jarring after the day’s tumult.

They stood there in silence, the enormity of everything that had happened hanging between them like a tangible thing. Elania bit her lip. Where did they even start?

“It—” Elania started, but was cut off as Yolani spoke at the same time. “I—”

They looked at each other again for a second before Elania nodded. Yolani’s face crumpled and she let out a sigh, the sound heavy. “It was a pretty shitty day,” she declared, the attempt at levity falling flat.

Elania couldn’t help but agree. “That’s one way to put it,” she agreed, shaking her head.

Yolani’s lips turned into a weak smile. “How about some food? That might make us feel a bit better.”

The mention of food caused Elania’s stomach to growl. A blush lit up on her cheeks. “Yeah,” she said with a bit more enthusiasm, “food sounds good.”

Together they shed their gear, allowing the familiarity and safety of the shop to embrace them. The day’s events receded ever so slightly as Elania tugged the mana crystal lamp on and Yolani disappeared into the kitchen section at the back of the workshop.

Elania, left alone with the gear, began to lay it out and sort the things that were fine and hadn’t been used from the things that needed tending. There were a lot of things that they’d used up in the fights. Especially from Yolani’s bag.

She didn’t really understand most of it. Her Rank D [Artifice] and the knowledge and insights Yolani had been teaching her were just enough to know what was broken and what probably wasn’t.

The regular stuff was much easier to determine, and before Yolani came back, she was already at work with a sewing kit fixing a half dozen tears and holes in their cloaks that she hadn’t even noticed had formed during the battle. The leather was a bit more complicated to repair, but there were replacement straps already available, so she just worked at re-doing those.

The damaged ones went into a giant pile of ‘repairables’ that would get sent out at some point. One nice thing about the artifice profession was that it paid well enough for them to hire out a lot of things for other skilled craftsmen to work on.

The work helped release the tenseness within her, one that she hadn’t been able to shake. A dozen different thoughts wanted to wage war for her attention, but the focus pushed them away.

The difference in her life as a regular college student back in the USA was so foreign to everything that had happened to her since she’d arrived in Eladu. She had done so many things she could never have imagined thinking about, much less doing.

She’d someone. Multiple people.

The weird skills and effects from the [System] had dulled the effects dramatically. That explained her resilience and not falling apart. She’d kept [Crisis Management] slotted since Yolani had explained exactly how slotting skills affected their effectiveness.

[Crisis Management] was a common skill, and it explained a lot of the actions and personalities of people that she had met… but in her opinion, having half of people on a permanent dosage of [System] approved mood drugs wasn’t great. The other half were busy murdering each other, freaking out about demons, or… trying to overthrow the government?

Her shoulders slumped. Maybe she was way off base. Socio-economics, politics, and psychology were way beyond a clueless sophomore who still hadn’t figured out what she had wanted to do.

She felt like she was stuck in a pirate den, or a character plucked from history and dropped into the brutal of medieval times. Well, she was not from Connecticut, and this was nothing like King Arthur’s court.

And she had been changed.

It wasn’t just the magic or demonic abilities—it was everything. The way she thought was frequently bombarded by [Darkwalker] instincts from the permanent affinity. From what she had learned, that wasn’t reversible. At least not without replacing it with another permanent affinity for something else. The way she moved, the way she interacted with things, it was all tinted through what she absorbed.

As long as she didn’t overindulge in any one [Power] source, it would remain diluted against her normal human and [Darkwalker] nature. Her contract with Yolani helped with that, feeding her a constant stream of human-ness, at the expense of the other girl’s mana regeneration.

Elania let out a long sigh as she tidied up her workspace and their gear.

The transformation had come with a drifting sensation once things and life had settled down in Yolani’s shop. A direction-less-ness that left her feeling adrift. Survival had been her primary goal for so long, and then doubled again with Yolani. They had both adamantly agreed that they just wanted to be left in peace, but…

But beyond that… what was there? It left her feeling lost in a way that was deeply personal. A loneliness that gnawed at her even in the company of others.

The smell of cooked meat wafted out of the kitchen, and Yolani returned bearing fried ham sandwiches, each with a seasoned potato, butter, and a jar of milk. “Dinner is ready!”

As Elania took the offered plate, their hands brushed in the exchange—a simple touch, but one that grounded her.

Lost, yes. She was lost in a foreign land that had become her new reality. But as she took a bite from the simple meal prepared by the one person who had been her friend since they had met, she mentally corrected herself.

Lost, but not alone.