Nyx: The Worst Hero is the Best Demon

The Lord's Request

I wish I could describe Kardem, but to be honest, it was as plain-Jane as a medieval town could get. Wooden/stone homes with either thatch, or sloppily put together shingled roofs. Scattered vegetable gardens and wash tubs sat outside homes, and old men sat on front porches. Even the market was less exciting than Verst's mess of a main street. In Kardem, it was basically an open dirt lot filled with temporary stalls.

Clearly the massive wall was the most impressive thing about this town.

Lord Barker appeared to live in a rather nice home, in any event. I don't think I would call it a mansion, perse, but it was the biggest home I had seen in Kardem yet, complete with its very own stable.

We were greeted at the door by a maid, whose face fell quite comically when Arlund hurried Pride and I over the threshold before Marie and Ryan. Tilly and her aunt seemed to have disappeared at some point. I assumed that they must have gone to check on the girl's sick mother.

The furnishings did not look rich, but they were well cared for and nicely cleaned, so that was pleasant, given the last building I spent any time in was a nasty Inn.

"Young Master Fredrick?" I heard Arlund say ahead of me, drawing my eye from a quaint painting of a middle aged dark-skinned male riding on an even darker horse, a back drop of the forest lit up in dawns first rays making both stand out splendidly in the frame. It was a really striking image, I had to admit. Not that I was any judge of fine art by any means.

Looking around Arlund's frame, I saw that we had encountered a man that looked very like the one in the painting. If that man had been twenty years younger  that is.

Fredric- as I assumed his name to be- was a tall, chocolate skinned man, with thick dark hair and a very nicely trimmed beard and mustache. Between that and the suit, I thought he looked like a banker from the old west. Or maybe a lawyer. Definitely someone far better off in life than I had ever been.

Then again, if Pride were to be believed, I was a god now, so... I guess torn jean shorts were the new power suit. Go me!

Fredric scanned us all with dark and unfathomable eyes before directing his gaze back to the advisor. "Arlund." He said with a slight bowing of his head and no change in stoic facial expression. "I take it these are our guests that Father mentioned then?"

"Yes Sir. I was just escorting them and the Heroes, to him now." Stated Arlund. He seemed to harbor a good amount of respect for a man- even a lord's son- that could be a good ten years younger than him.

For his part, Fredric eyed the Heroes with a look that screamed to me that it wasn't the word he would have used. I nearly laughed, because I couldn't agree more. How, exactly, did being summoned from another world, automatically make you a hero? I am sure at least a couple heroic deeds had to be preformed first. And these two had done nothing but find a lost little girl. Though, really, It had been Pride, Edric, and I that had found her in the first place. 

And we hadn't even been looking!

"He is in his office. He asked me to take you to him." Was all he said, not bothering to verbally acknowledge anyone else for the time being.

"Please, lead the way Sir."

And so we now followed Young Lord Fredric. He lead us farther into the home till we reached a sturdy door. Fredric rapt dark knuckles on the reddish colored wood, but did not wait for his father to answer, simply turning the brass doorknob and stepping into the room. Arlund entered next, holding the door for the Heroes, and than my own merry little band.

I almost laughed when both Arlund and Fredric started in surprise as Pride shrunk himself just a little so that he could fit better though the thinner door frame. He entered and sat between Edric and myself, all of us lined up and facing a heavy wooden desk piled with an assortment of papers, quills, and ink wells.