When Isaac came back to his senses, he found himself staring at the floor, face down. Not some empty void, not some weird afterlife dimension or his hospital bed, but a cold, hard floor made of stone. If nothing else, he could now say with total confidence that his conversation with Tyrannia had not been a hallucination.
The no-longer-old man took a deep breath, the contents of his mission repeating over and over in his head like a mantra. Gain followers for Tyrannia. Kill the heroes. Once you get discovered, win the world war. Until then, no loose ends.
Good. He could do this. Isaac allowed himself one last heartbeat before finally beginning the madness that he had gotten himself into.
He pushed himself to his knees, feeling a bit dizzy, but otherwise completely fine. The man felt a sudden urge to run around, jump, kick the air — do all kinds of movements. He had spent the last two years of his life bedridden in a hospital, after all. But he resisted the impulse. Focus, he told himself.
Looking around, he noticed he had appeared in some kind of alleyway. He looked at his clothes; some sort of long black robes. Sketchy, but not that attention-grabbing. After confirming the fact that no one had seemed to witness him appear out of nowhere, he set his sights on the city around him.
“Welcome to the capital of the kingdom of Astaria, Ozrario.” Tyrannia’s voice echoed in his head.
Houses made of stone and bricks, with some timber to frame the building, more akin to something found in the 15th century than in earlier ages, surrounded the man. Most of them were two floors tall, few of them three; the upper stories jutting out and blocking the sunlight from reaching the narrow streets. The roads were paved by cobblestone — not fully, leaving patches of dirt and mud by the sides — but it was an attempt. The entire place was full of corners and slim alleys, the entire settlement giving an odd feeling of claustrophobia as Isaac walked around, looking at everything.
Some kind of fog covered the metropolis today, making it hard for the man to see more than a few meters in front of himself. Torches and hanging oil lamps were still lit despite it being day, no doubt because of it. After a few minutes of strolling around, Isaac found some kind of plaza. People scurried all around him, making their way towards the multiple stalls that dotted the square, some of them talking between themselves, some of them quiet; but all of them looking underfed and thin. Merchants and sellers called out, offering their wares, hoping to drown out the voices of their competitors with their own. Dull robes and tunics seemed to be the normal attire, the ones of the commoners of a slightly less quality — and slightly more worn off — than the ones of the traders. A couple of guards in gambesons and chain mails patrolled the market, spear in hand.
It was a fantastic sight, not too different from the ones you could sometimes see on historical shows. Well, so as long as you added a few pounds of dirt and mud to everything. The worse part of it was no doubt the smell, a mixture of sewage, coal and sweat; clearly a detail that had been left out of most history books.
The dull thuds of a blacksmith hitting metal echoed through the place as Isaac listened to the surrounding conversations. It seemed like he would have no trouble with the language, at least. One thing caught his eyes.
Are those elves?
“Indeed. There are a lot of types of them, incidentally. When in doubt, address them as high elves. Sharper earlobes, brighter hair, and more magical power. They dislike being confused by their lesser counterparts. The rest of them do not care so much.”
Isaac nodded, filing the information. He would probably have to learn those kinds of social norms soon enough, or else he would be in trouble. The man found a suitable tree and leaned back against it, hoping to eavesdrop some more. Maybe he would hear something useful, maybe not. If he was being honest, he just wanted to enjoy the fact that he was out of his hospital bed once and for all.
He spent a minute there, eyes closed. The man noticed some people steering away from his general direction, but nothing else seemed significant. Was it the way he looked? He did notice he seemed to be significantly taller than the people of this world, but he wasn’t sure if that was it. He would have to find a mirror soon.
“I can tell you how you look like, if you wish.”, Tyrannia’s deep voice echoed in his head, once again.
Yes, please, just a quick rundown.
“Dark hair, silver eyes, sharp features. I am particularly proud of how I made your gaze. It is a rather intense look. Should be useful if you want to scare someone off, and those who like you will find it attractive. Reasonably muscular, but lean. Being too bulky would draw people’s attention. Quite frankly, so will your height. You tower over most people in this world, but it was necessary.”
So that’s why everyone seemed so small. He wasn’t sure he liked the ‘intense gaze’ part, either. Seems like he would attract attention everywhere he went but at least he had an answer now.
Necessary? How so?
“You might die otherwise. At advanced levels of fighting, size or gender do not matter at all; magic and technique balance things out. But until you get to that point, being bigger than the average citizen of this world, and able to intimidate your enemies, will be your lifeline.”
Isaac shrugged. He would just have to get used to it and factor it into his plans. Just making sure. Let’s walk around for a bit. There is a lot I’d like to see.
By now, the duo had been wandering around for a while as the man took in the sights of this new world. He finally stopped in the shade of a tree, noticing that, although he must have spent the last two hours walking, he did not feel tired at all. He also realized he had wandered into a rather dangerous part of the city, judging by the look people gave him and the fact that most of the houses in this area seemed rundown and in dire need of repairs. The streets were also much dirtier, and every other pedestrian had a very obvious knife or blade tucked at their hip, just in case. Apparently, whoever was in control of roads had just given up on even trying to pave these, as they were little more than a trail of dirt.
It also reeked. Reeked of poverty and illness.
But this was the type of place the man needed. This was one of the many things he had thought about. He would need to integrate somehow. A man pops out of nowhere, demon girl in tow? People will ask questions. A lot of them. The easiest way to avoid that was to make himself someone with a shady, unclear background. Of course, that would close him some doors, and he would be subject to more scrutiny than a normal person would, but it was the only way he could think about to justify not only his sudden appearance in this city but also Tyrannia’s. Even if her form did not stand out too much, her true nature could not easily be hidden.
As he tried to come back with a plausible backstory, he thought about the types of magic there were, and his limited knowledge of ancient times and fantasy novels. He would have to justify his use of magic, once he actually got it, without actually revealing most of the abilities of his sigil. Suddenly, an idea struck.
Say, Tyrannia. Didn’t you mention something about summoning magic?
“Indeed. That would be yellow magic, my sister Thayja’s branch. Why?”
Can a summoner call forth demons?
The goddess caught onto his idea. “Not exactly. You can indeed bind sentient binds to you as a summoner, but it is something more similar to your abilities as a prophet than what a normal yellow mage would do. It is not unheard of, however.”
Is there something like a coliseum in this city? He continued his train of thought. Or anywhere nearby?
“Ozrario has a rather popular amphitheater. Third biggest on the continent, if nothing new has been built since I last took a peek. You would be able to see it from here, were the mist not present. What are you thinking about?”
I’m thinking, ‘wandering criminal from bumfuck nowhere, with yellow magic, gets lucky — and through implied illegal methods obtains a pact with a demon. Overconfident with his new summon, he travels through the land in search of glory, until he finds out about the arena.’ Does that seem too crazy?
“No, not at all. Back in my time, that was one of the few ways one could go from being a slave to a legitimate citizen of a nation. I do not know if it still works that way, however. Do keep in mind, we will be just that — slaves. The collars used to bind people to their master’s will not work on us, but if we do not comply with orders, everyone will understand we are special. Is it worth the risk?”
I don’t know. It’s an idea. We will need to come out of somewhere, and the lesser our status, the lesser chances someone can trace our origins, no? Plus, it will give me combat experience, maybe some connections as well. It basically advances us in all our goals. At any rate, if we do it, it will be in a couple of days. I wanna learn everything I can before doing something like that.
“You will probably want to summon me and enter through the city gates proper before anything else, then. The guards will not overlook someone with a slave demon; if you do not appear on record entering the city, we will have problems.”
Makes sense. How do I summon you?
“Find somewhere with fewer people around.”
Isaac nodded and scanned his surroundings. People did not look as twitchy as the ones in the market had been, probably a byproduct of their rougher upbringing. It would take more than a watchful eye to scare them off. The man noticed an alleyway that seemed to be currently empty, so he made his way towards there.
He triple-checked no one was around. Okay, now what?
“Close your eyes and extend your arm forward.”
The man did as was told, and instantly his fingers were assaulted by a pleasant burning sensation. “Now?”
“It is already done.” A pair of hands clasped his shoulders. “Summoning is easy, is it not? How do I look?”
Isaac spun around. Instantly, his jaw hit the floor.
“Like...a demon?”
There was no other way to describe her. It would not be an exaggeration to say that many would have rejected her deal based on looks alone.
That wasn’t to imply she was not good looking. Not at all. She had refined features, pink lips, and a perfectly symmetrical face. Her hair was relatively short, something of a messy bob cut that reached just below the middle of her neck. She easily was the best-looking woman Isaac had ever seen, probably something she shared with the rest of the deities. Her eyes, however, might have scared people off. The combination of a black sclera and red pupils gave them an eerie feeling. Equally red markings that looked akin to veins surrounded her eyes and slowly faded into the sides of her face. She had two long straight horns of an ebony color, each one about as long and thick as Isaac’s forearm. They sprouted from somewhere slightly above her ears and went backwards, ending in sharp crimson points.
However, the elephant in the room, so to speak, were the three pairs of massive wings she had on her back. Reminiscent of a crow in both colors and looks, they were symmetrical with each other and about the same size between the pairs. Right now, she had them furled and tucked, but at full display, Tyrannia might easily have had a 14- or 15-foot wingspan.
Isaac sighed. “Yeah, we aren’t gonna be able to hide you.”
Clearly, stealth would not be an easy feat. Not when she could easily touch both sides of the street with her wings. At six feet, her height was also a problem. Her clothing was eye-catching as well, comprising tight black leathers and lots of silver adornments, finger gloves, pants, and combat boots. She sported a long, tattered white coat that had clearly seen its few shares of battles; it was so long, in fact, that it dragged behind her like the train of a wedding dress. The tail alone was as long as the woman was tall. Had she not been a deity, Isaac would have thought it cumbersome, but she made it look easy to wear around.
“I might have an idea for that.” Tyrannia said. “Turn around.”
The man narrowed his eyes, but did as he was told. A couple of seconds later, Tyrannia spoke again. “Done.”
Her wings were gone. That’s the first thing he noticed. Her garments had been replaced with a dark, shabby robe, not too distinct from his. Apparently, she had some form of attachment to long outfits, as her cloak still dragged behind her a couple of feet. Her eyes and horns were not gone, however. Isaac also noticed there were several red runic markings running through her arms, shoulders and neck, not too dissimilar from tattoos. Said neck was also now adorned by a thick metal collar with engravings on it.
“That’s slightly better, but you are still eye-drawing.” The man sighed again. “Now what?”
“Now we wait until night comes. You will need more summons than me if you want to pretend to be a yellow mage. We will jump over the walls when the sun is set, get you some low-level monsters, and go back through the city gates. Come, we can get more information on the arena in the meantime. And after that, we shall get out first servants.”
