Beyond the dirty and foul-smelling alleys of the slum district, on the opposite side of Rabensberg, rose the magnificent castle.

It served not only as the residence of King Regrat but also as a monument of eternity.

Simultaneously, it symbolized the immense wealth of the Kingdom of Brunen as well as the deeply ingrained class stratification.

No one who was not invited by the king could pass the guards, and even if they did, it would be only in chains, destined to find their pitiful fate in the castle’s dungeon.

Four majestic towers of bright stone, crowned with pointed tile roofs, proudly reached towards the sky, casting their shadows over the splendid front yard. It hosted an abundance of various plant species, including larkspur and cypress.

A small pond, crossed by an elegant wooden bridge, adorned the courtyard, surrounded by a sea of lavender flowers—the personal favorite of the Queen Mother.

Yet, the true jewel of the castle revealed itself in the imposing main building with its tall, dark windows and the intricately adorned entrance gate, rising four meters high.

In the fourth and highest floor lay the king’s study, offering a direct view of the city center of Rabensberg.

Hector Heidenreich, the captain of the city guard, paused before the magnificent door to the study.

He straightened his uniform, gleaming in the same green hue as the flag of Brunen. A massive breastplate, along with arm and leg guards, completed his attire. The same attire worn by the rest of the city guards.

Although as a captain, he held a higher rank, he seemed uninterested in displaying his insignia or wearing pompous armor.

He emphasized wearing the same uniform and armor as his subordinates, fostering a sense of unity that transcended mere hierarchical rank and built a foundation of trust between him and his city guards. At least that was his hope.

Heidenreich was a broad-shouldered man with well-groomed white hair, trimmed white beard, and masculine cheekbones.

Despite his age of early forties, he was quite popular among the young ladies in the city.

His powerful aura and confident demeanor impressed almost every woman, from the courtesan to the lady of virtue.

Heidenreich took a deep breath.

Despite his outward toughness, uncertainty and a hint of nervousness reflected in his eyes.

The unfamiliar feeling of speaking personally with the king caused an inner tension, which he skillfully concealed behind a facade of confidence and strength.

His gaze betrayed the determination required for this unusual step, while his posture exuded steadfastness.

An audience with the king was a rarity even for someone of his position.

Indeed, he had only attended two banquets and three public speeches, never coming closer to the monarch than five meters, and now he was personally summoned by the king.

For two years, King Regrat had ruled over Brunen, after his father’s death, ascending to the throne as the firstborn son.

The youth and inexperience of the monarch were reflected in his fiery temper and questionable decisions.

Rumors circulated throughout the city that the king had banished a serving maid from the city because she spilled soup.

No one could provide evidence for this story, but few doubted its credibility.

Unlike his father, King Regrat was not particularly popular among his subjects.

Heidenreich’s heart pounded in his chest as two guards opened the double doors to the study and nodded meaningfully at him. He showed no signs of agitation.

It was important not to show weakness, not even in front of the king. But respect and decorum were the words he repeated in his head.

With a straight back and steady pace, Heidenreich entered the study.

His eyes fell upon countless bookshelves, elaborate sculptures, and paintings adorning the walls.

Behind a massive oak desk stretched a large window, offering a charming view of the garden and over the rooftops of the capital.

The king had his arms crossed behind his back, gazing out and admiring the vibrant colors of the flowers in the castle courtyard.

The captain expected to see the king in a richly embroidered coat or some colorful attire as he wore at official banquets or speeches, but on this day, for this confidential conversation, he presented himself in a beige shirt with ruffles at the collar and sleeves, and tight black trousers.

He seemed more like a sword-wielding adventurer to him than the ruler of one of the most powerful realms on the continent.

The king had short black hair and a well-groomed goatee, which, combined with his stern gaze, gave him an almost diabolical appearance.

“Heidenreich. Correct?” King Regrat’s voice sounded soft and scratchy.

“I thank you for this invitation,” replied the captain with his hard, gruff voice.

“Please, take a seat,” said Regrat, turning to face Heidenreich. “You must be wondering why I summoned you.”

The captain sensed that the king was deeply lost in thought. The furrowed brow and tired eyes indicated something extremely important.

Nevertheless, Heidenreich decided to remain standing before the desk. “I thank you, Your Grace. But I prefer to stand.”

“Mr. Heidenreich,” the king cleared his throat. His words seemed to be heavy burdens, struggling to find their way through his inner labyrinth of thoughts. “I summoned you because my father held you in high regard.”

There was a hint of stubbornness in Heidenreich’s response. “Your father was a great man, Your Grace. It was an honor to serve him, just as it is an honor to serve you.”

The monarch waved it off. “Let’s dispense with these pleasantries.”

To Heidenreich’s surprise, the king seemed unusually nervous—a departure from his otherwise sovereign presence in public.

Something was amiss. Never would Heidenreich have expected the ruler of the kingdom to appear this way before him.

“How may I serve you?” inquired Heidenreich, uncertain how to deal with the king’s demeanor.

Yet, the monarch’s aura quickly changed. Suddenly, he appeared composed, his authority restored.

“My father spoke highly of you,” the king continued, chin raised as if he had just realized he must maintain his image as ruler. “I have a task for you.”

“My sword is yours, my king,” replied Heidenreich.

Regrat turned back to the window, and Heidenreich could see his trembling lips in the reflection.

“Disturbing news has reached me,” spoke the king without turning around. “You are familiar with Castle Haren, I assume?”

“Of course, Your Grace. The Dancker family has held it as a fief for generations.”

“No longer,” replied the king calmly but firmly.

Confusion washed over Heidenreich’s face. The Dancker family had been loyal vassals of the king for centuries. What could have led to them losing this right?

Regrat continued. “According to reports, a demon has infested Haren Castle. Not only servants, but also Lord Johann Dancker and his wife fell victim to it.”

A hint of outrage tinged Heidenreich’s voice. “A demon? How is that possible?”

Quickly, he calmed himself, clearing his throat.

“So I have been told. There are eyewitnesses as well.”

The king turned to the captain. “A demon named Evan Dhorne is said to have placed a terrible curse on the castle.”

Regrat pointed to a letter on his desk. “The lord’s chamberlain forwarded this letter to me. Read it.”

Heidenreich leaned forward cautiously, took the letter, and read it attentively.

“Your Majesty,” he said finally, with a voice tinged with agitation. “Could this really be true?”

“It would be a grave offense to deceive the king,” Regrat replied.

“I cannot imagine how a demon could manage to enter the capital. My men have their eyes and ears everywhere.” The captain folded the letter and placed it on the table. “However, if it is your command for me to address this matter, I will of course comply with your order.”

The king bit his lip and rested his hands on his desk. “Do whatever is necessary!”

Was the king now showing his true face? His voice trembled. “I will not allow such a beast to roam freely in my city, in my kingdom!”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Heidenreich replied. “Shall I contact the Demon Hunters Guild?”

“No!” the king roared. Then he calmed down and lowered his voice. “No. This matter must be handled extremely discreetly. I don’t care what that gang of vagabonds does outside the city gates, but I will not allow them to sow unrest among the population.”

“I understand. I will prepare my men.”

“Remember, it is of the utmost importance that you proceed discreetly.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

“There is something else.” King Regrat stood up. “Reports suggest that Eldári have been sighted in the outskirts.”

“Eldári, my lord?” Heidenreich was perplexed. “I can’t imagine why Eldári would be in these lands.”

The monarch furrowed his brow. “I find it unlikely as well. But please investigate these rumors and dispel them.”

He nervously tapped his fingers on the desktop, creating a rhythmic noise. “What unfortunate times we have. A demon haunting the capital, Eldári appearing, the Lord of Dannenbrück plaguing me about the disappearance of his child, and the Cardíz Empire…”

The king frowned and shook his head. “As a ruler, one must sometimes make uncomfortable decisions, and the threat from the east does not make it any easier. My father ruled in times of peace. I must wield a much firmer hand. If we show even the slightest hint of weakness to the Cardíz Empire, they will exploit it.”

“My king, the fate of an entire kingdom rests on your shoulders. That is the heaviest task imaginable. However, as long as we can rely on the peace treaties negotiated by your grandfather…”

“Nonsense!” The king spat out the words. “I will certainly not rely on a piece of paper that rots away. I feel that something is brewing in the east.”

“Your Majesty, rest assured that the army…”

The king interrupted him. “Mr. Heidenreich, carry out this task to my satisfaction, and I could imagine a high position in the army awaiting you.”

Heidenreich skillfully concealed his surprise.

“I thank you, Your Majesty,” he replied without changing his expression.

“Now go, prepare yourself. I don’t want that rabble in my city.” The king made a significant gesture with his hand and stared out the window again.

The captain bowed respectfully and left the room.

Meanwhile, Evan found a way out of the slums.

He skillfully made his way over the roof of a dilapidated residential building, over the wall that separated the slums from the rest of the city, into the trading district.

Luck was on his side, as no one spotted him during his daring maneuver.

After a bold leap, he landed on the roof of a warehouse, causing some roof tiles to fall onto the street with a loud noise.

Fortunately, there was no one present at that time, and no one was injured. The workers paid little attention to the incident – constant noise prevailed in this district anyway.

Finally, Evan landed on the street between two buildings.

He pulled his hood down low over his face and turned towards the winding alleyways.

Occasionally, he encountered passersby, but their attention was not on the half-demon. They were too absorbed in their work.

Some men carried heavy loads from one place to another, while others operated wooden cranes to hoist cargo through roof openings.

The guards nearby paid little attention to the bustling activity.

Bored, they leaned against the stone wall and engaged in trivial conversations.

Evan barely listened to the fragments of their conversations and strode purposefully towards the market district, always mindful to keep his hood hiding his face.

The closely spaced timber-framed houses towered like tales of bygone times.

Their intricately woven wooden beams and pierced walls gave the scene a picturesque silhouette.

In the narrow alleys, every corner seemed like a chapter from a long-forgotten fairy tale, while the sun-drenched facades seemed to tell the story of the city in every detail.

Clotheslines stretched across the lively streets from house to house.

Some passersby grumbled as they were unexpectedly showered with a few drops of damp laundry.

The market district formed a striking contrast to the slums.

Here, everything was colorful, smelling of fresh bread, pastries, though occasionally the smell of fresh fish also reached Evan’s nose.

The scent of feces and vomit was only noticeable in some narrow alleys near the bustling taverns.

Evan tried to wander through the busy streets as inconspicuously as possible. However, he only partially succeeded.

Some puzzled looks met him. He did not fit into the picture of the colorful garments worn by the citizens on this sunny autumn day.

In a small side street, between a bookstore and a small bakery, he sank down between two barrels.

Leaning against the wall, he looked up at the sky.

“Damn, what was I thinking?” he muttered, as the desire to slap himself rose within him.

A shadow of doubt enveloped him.

Secrecy on the part of the client could only be a bad omen. He knew this, yet his desire for information about Rowan outweighed his common sense after all these decades as a half-demon.

After a short pause, he set off again. Sure that no one was following him on the streets, he continued on his way.

He used the time to explore the numerous stalls on the marketplace from a distance.

A young lady joyfully presented her leather goods – belts, shoes, bags, all neatly arranged on a long table in front of her.

There was a bustling activity in front of her stand.

People had gathered, trying on the accessories she offered.

A pleasant scent of leather wafted into Evan’s nose as he watched the scene.

He simply liked this scent, even if others might find it unpleasant.

He moved on.

At the next stand, a tall, sunburned man showcased his baking skills.

The smell of leather was replaced by cinnamon, freshly baked bread, and pastries.

Some customers stood in awe in front of a table with elaborately decorated cakes that the baker had set up under a tarp to protect his painstakingly crafted works of art from the sun.

One stand over, a weaver tried to sell her wares.

Not far from her sat an elderly lady on a small stool, hands folded in her lap.

She smiled warmly at every passerby, but hardly anyone was interested in her clay figurines, which looked really high-quality.

The half-demon recognized a lion figure, an eagle, and even a deer.

That must have been really hard work, especially in old age.

He almost felt sorry for her.

He imagined her getting up in the morning, her tired bones rising from the bed, packing her meticulously crafted figurines into a box, and strolling to the market with them.

Presumably, nobody noticed her or offered her help, so she had to walk all the way alone.

She didn’t even set up a stand, probably lacking the strength for it. She had lined up all her figurines on boxes.

But the half-demon was impressed by her willpower.

Despite all the adversities, she seemed not to have lost her smile.

Evan continued, passing a hunter who offered both fresh meat and skins, and who was arguing with his neighbor, whose smoked fish apparently emitted an unpleasant smell in his direction.

Even though everyone around him was chatting and some were laughing and chatting happily, suddenly the swearing of a young man caught his ears.

“That’s nonsense. I’ve never needed a sales license!”

Evan listened intently as he heard the all-too-familiar voice.

His gaze finally fell on Leuven’s wagon, which was surrounded by two city guards.

The tarp was open, as if the merchant had just been about to set up a stall.

But once again, it seemed that he had gotten himself into trouble, and that was the last thing Evan needed.

With an annoyed sigh, he approached the wagon.

His cold gaze briefly rested on Leuven, who was hemmed in between the guards.

As he approached, he caught snippets of the conversation.

“Without permission, you cannot sell anything,” one of the guards said firmly, while the other approached the wagon and inspected its contents.

“I’ve never heard that I needed a license to sell something,” Leuven protested vehemently.

One of the city guards looked at him amusedly. “Where would we end up if everyone could just sell their junk in Rabensberg? – You need a license and, of course, you must pay the stand fees to the city.”

The second guard opened a crate on Leuven’s wagon. “Oh dear, what do we have here?”

“Did you find something?” his colleague asked, interested, glancing over.

“That looks like stolen goods to me,” the other retorted, barely able to contain his grin. “Things aren’t looking good for you.”

“This is outrageous!” Leuven puffed up. “These are not stolen goods. These are genuine heirlooms!”

“Do you expect us to believe that? – I think it would be best if we confiscated the goods,” the other guard remarked, also struggling to hide his grin.

Beside him appeared a tall figure.

Evan, head lowered and face hidden beneath the hood, held four shiny coins between his middle and index fingers.

“Will this be enough for the stall fees?” he said gruffly.

At first, the guards looked at him perplexed, then they began to laugh. “Pah! – Four crowns might cover the stall fee, but without a license, we have to confiscate the goods.”

Evan made no move. That seemed to unsettle the guards.

“We all know such a license doesn’t exist. Take it or leave it,” Evan said calmly.

Briefly, the city guards exchanged suspicious glances, then one of them grunted, swiftly snatching the coins with a quick hand gesture, nodding to his colleague, and both departed without a word.

Once their footsteps had faded, Evan lifted his head.

“Phew, that turned out well,” Leuven chuckled with relief. “Thanks, but tell me, are you following me?”

An answer came promptly, but not in words. Evan grabbed the young man’s arm and pulled him into a narrow alley, accompanied by the bewildered snorting of the mare.

“Ouch, that hurts!” Leuven complained as the half-demon roughly pushed him into the alley, nearly causing him to lose his balance. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“What’s the meaning?,” Evan asked angrily. “Once again, I’ve saved your hide!”

“Nonsense,” Leuven countered. “I could have handled them on my own. I would have politely asked them to issue me the license, and that would have been fine.”

“Leuven, there is no license, didn’t you listen? – There are no stall fees either,” the half-demon replied.

“Oh? – Then why did you just give them coins?”

The half-demon had to compose himself to avoid losing his composure. “You really have no clue. We’re here in Rabensberg, not in some quaint little village. Here, you have to abide by entirely different laws, unwritten laws.”

“But if they’re unwritten, how am I supposed to know them?”

Evan snorted loudly. “Alright, you really have no idea about this world. If you don’t want to be mugged, killed, or arrested in the capital, then do exactly what the city watch wants from you.”

“Mugged, killed, arrested? – By the gods, this is the capital of Brunen, not some bandit’s den,” the young merchant interjected.

“But it is. You want to do business, they want to do business, that’s how it goes.”

“They’re city guards, what kind of business are they doing?” Leuven asked, then realization dawned on him and he took a deep breath. “By the gods, those weren’t stall fees at all, you bribed the guards!”

“Not so loud,” Evan warned. “But yes, of course, I bribed them. You give them what they want, and they leave you alone. You really have no clue.”

“Evan, there’s a heavy penalty for bribing royal guards. The dungeon, public flogging.”

“Only if the guards refuse to accept the coins. They’ve made themselves guilty,” Evan explained.

“Oh?,” Leuven widened his eyes. “Where I come from, it looks quite different.”

“Maybe in your dreams. It looks like this everywhere. Don’t delude yourself.”

Leuven hung his head. It really got to him that this was how reality looked. A reality he hadn’t been aware of before.

“Alright. You know what to do. I advise you, don’t stay too long in the capital,” Evan said. “Do you have accommodation for the night?”

“Well,” Leuven stammered. “The innkeeper settled for two silver chalices as a deposit. In my opinion, far too much. But I had no other choice. I had hoped to sell enough to raise the rest, but the only ones interested in me were the guards.”

Evan rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, and reached into his belt pouch. He pulled out a small pouch. That pouch with the coins he had received from Vaclav Riszko.

He tossed it casually to Leuven. The young man stumbled in his clumsiness, and the pouch landed clinking on the ground.

The half-demon sighed loudly. “Are you even capable of surviving?”

Leuven strained and picked up the pouch from the ground. “Of course I am. I managed just fine for a month without you.”

“You were almost eaten by Karraks. You call that managing fine?”

“An unfortunate encounter. Without the Karraks, I would have moved on without problems.”

“You had nothing to eat, nothing to drink, barely any money in your pocket.”

“Better days would have come,” the young man replied annoyed. “Tell me, where did you even get all those crowns from? – During our journey, we had to live off what we caught, and now you’re lugging all these coins around.”

“We lived off what I caught, not we. Besides, it’s none of your business. Be grateful that I’m giving it to you.”

“I am grateful, extremely grateful. I will definitely pay you back.”

“Alright. And that was the last time we see each other. Keep it and let it be,” Evan replied grumpily.

“If you didn’t constantly follow me, it would certainly be our last meeting,” Leuven said amused.

The half-demon’s response came promptly and emphatically: “I’m not following you!”

“Calm down, calm down. Not so loud, as you said yourself,” Leuven could see the thick vein on Evan’s forehead, which began to throb wildly. “What are you up to?”

“I’m meeting someone later, but that’s none of your concern.”

“Someone you know, a friend perhaps?” Leuven asked, almost sounding jealous.

“Yes, no, well, it’s none of your concern. Farewell, be careful or not, it’s all the same to me, as long as our paths don’t cross again,” Evan replied irritably.

“If you want, you can rest in my room for a while. I’ve lost the desire to try my luck on the marketplace, and you seem like you could really use some rest,” Leuven offered.

Evan considered. He was reluctant to accept the offer, but he desperately needed a place where he could lay low.

He would attract less attention at night.

Among all the drunken revelers and rovers wandering the streets late at night, he could easily disappear; besides, the city watch would be busy keeping an eye on them. Hardly anyone would be interested in him.

Reluctantly, the half-demon accepted. “Fine. A few hours of rest would do me good.”

Leuven clapped his hands joyfully. “Very well! – I’ll fetch the horse and the wagon, and then we can set off right away.”

Evan regretted his decision immediately. With a grumpy growl, he accompanied the young merchant to the wagon.

Leuven grinned broadly as he stroked the mare’s black mane when they reached the wagon. “Look who’s joining us on our travels again.”

The mare, however, responded to this news with only a tired snort.

“Just a few hours,” Evan insisted. “After that, our paths part for good.”

“Yes, yes,” Leuven replied, adjusted the tarpaulin of the wagon, and climbed onto the driver’s seat. “Just like last time.”

“Not like last time,” the half-demon replied, making a sour face. “For good and irrevocably.”

He swung himself onto the driver’s seat beside Leuven and stowed his travel sack behind the tarpaulin. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Smiling, almost laughing, the young merchant took hold of the reins and urged the mare on.

Surprised, she raised her head, shook herself, and set off abruptly.