A tenth of their numbers taken out quietly and swiftly — Malice could feel the hand of the Blackstaff or one of his lieutenants.

None of the spies he sent after the Scourge returned — it was as if they just vanished. There was one report regarding a tentacled beast that rose from the earth to swallow one of their numbers, but the account came from the ramblings of a drunkard found blabbering near a tavern.

Joric’s plan to burn down the city was a good one. It would sow dissent and fear among the populace — and the blame would fall on the Scourge. The wizard even came in person, according to the after-action report.

What was that god-cursed piece of paper? His underlings took to sending missives instead of reporting to him directly. One of them said it was changing cult policies sent by the higher-ups — something about increasing efficiency and limiting turnover.

Malice hated it.

He wanted someone to shout at when things didn’t go his way — maybe drain a soul or two. Written reports were too impersonal and not at all secret-y. They were a cult, damn it! They needed to foster closer kinship to each other — even if it meant a bit of murder here and there.

Their spies were probably captured or dead. He wasn’t afraid of any leaks. He gave Joric mind maggots so he could control his men or kill them if he had to. The men would die before they gave up their location — that he was sure of.

He went back to the report and noted the presence of a flaming bat. At first, he thought it was the Blackstaff and his wings of flames — it turned out to be the wizard they were meant to frame.

The bastard could even summon hellfire! Maybe he was part of a rival cult? Perhaps the Hounds of Terror or the Children of the Earthmother? The latter was too extreme — even for him. They wanted an end to all sentient life, to give way to the earth and all its creatures. Maybe they should start with themselves.

All the more reason to end the Scourge.

He was giving cultists a bad name — being at the center of things, and openly! Where was the secrecy or subtle manipulations? Cults were supposed to operate in the dark, stoking fear slowly. This Scourge was out there with his flaming bat, burning down buildings as if to take credit for something they did!

Which was part of their plan.

Malice just couldn’t accept the Scourge jumping at the opportunity to increase his standing as one of the city’s greatest threats.

Oh, it should have been him, but for their need for secrecy. They were a proper cult and appearances needed to be maintained.

Their sources told them the Scourge would be brought in front of the council tomorrow — not that they needed to tell them. Practically the whole city knew of the news as nobles desperately tried to allay the fears of the populace and heed their calls for justice and vengeance.

It seemed like their plan succeeded. Then why — why was there a creeping feeling on the back of his neck?

It was a cockroach.

Malice shrieked.

***

Two travelers walked in a sea of ice. There was no ground to walk on — everything was ice. There was no snow, or wind — only the biting cold.

“I’m not dressed for this, wizard,” the dwarf complained.

Jeremy rolled his eyes. His kind always complained — and by his kind, he meant the living.

Oh, the silence of the undead — except for those nasty vampires who brooded all night and talked endlessly about their feelings. Who cares? Do your job. Fly away now.

A grunt from the dwarf brought him back to the world of the living.

“I assume we’re hunting some sort of ice demon or something?” Siege asked, weariness and frustration clear in his voice.

“Or something,” the wizard smiled. “That would be our target over there, near the wagon.

Siege turned to where the wizard pointed.

“Why is there a wagon here?” he asked. “Is the demon inside it?”

“Of course not,” Jeremy scoffed. “It’s behind it. You’ll see.”

The two walked silently for a couple of minutes — the dwarf brooding, while the wizard all but giggled in anticipation.

“Here he is,” Jeremy presented the bound demon. “the best enchantment — er, demon.”

It was a featureless thing — human-shaped, though a bit taller and ganglier.

“That thing has no face,” Siege blurted out.

“Yes — and you’re a dwarf and I’m human,” Jeremy smirked. “Any more splendid observations?”

“Let’s just get it over with,” the dwarf spat. “Should I just stab it?”

“Of course not!” Jeremy was outraged. “Enchantments are earned.”

If he let the dwarf stab a defeated and subdued demon, the enchantment would also be subdued. No — he wanted a raging enchantment to satisfy the dwarf.

“Ready?”

The dwarf merely sighed and nodded.

***

Siege expected an easy fight. The demon had no claws, no teeth, no tentacles, and no mouth. It looked like a gray unfinished stone carving — and it was certainly as hard as one.

He closed in the moment the Scourge signaled. He knew the markings of a spellcaster when he saw one — and there was no such thing as a demon without weapons.

The wizard’s shield gave him confidence. It blocked fire and lightning — even making a thrown stone stop upon contact.

The shield was probably more valuable than any weapon his clan could ever make. Too bad the Scourge said he couldn’t replicate the enchantments.

The faceless demon was slow. After facing four-armed demons and porters — this one seemed easy.

Siege moved defensively, his shield always in front as he delivered short thrusts and cuts.

The demon’s attacks fell harmlessly on his shield. He didn’t even feel the weight of their blows.

He moved in, barreling into the creature and stabbing its leg with his sword. Instead of crashing to the ground, the creature was hurled five feet away by his shield bash but it managed to keep its footing.

“Careful now,” the Scourge warned.

He saw the demon raise its hand, summoning a swirling ball of darkness and cold.

“Ice, wizard?” Siege sneered. “You think ice is the best enchantment?”

Cold was a rare enchantment. It lacked the raw power of fire and lightning, merely slowing an enemy instead of dealing massive damage. It was useful if the enchantment provided protection from fire — making it ideal for knights who go dragon-slaying.

The demon hurled the ball of darkness, but Siege managed to raise his shield to block it.

His arm all but froze.

Siege panicked.

Did the shield block too many spells, or did the demon’s spell overcome its enchantments?

Instead of backing off, he charged — knowing that giving the demon room would allow it to bombard him with spells.

He saw the Scourge cheering and clapping at the corner of his vision. He doubted the wizard would save him from the demon if things went south — not that they haven’t already. Hell — the wizard could be cheering for the demon for all he knew.

With renewed rage, he launched a barrage of blows at the demon — each one leaving deep cuts in its body.

Siege frowned. His strikes seemed less effective — less powerful. A strike from his sword could dismember the other demons. Why not this one?

To his horror, he saw rime forming on his sword and the arm wielding it.

Out of desperation, he kicked the demon on its chest, hoping to make it lose its balance.

The demon fell, but so did he.

Siege lost feeling in his right leg, making him fall forward as his paralyzed leg hit the ground. Instincts made him continue to a roll — closing the gap to the fallen demon. He raised his sword and summoned the powers of the earth to add weight to his blow.

The demon was dead — unless it had no need for its head.

“Oh, nicely done.”

He heard the Scourge approach him, prying his sword from his frozen hands.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a while.”

The wizard seemed to study the fallen demon before stabbing it. He had this look of satisfaction that the dwarf found off-putting.

“Your shield didn’t work,” Siege tossed the frozen shield to the ground.

“I did tell you the shield absorbed power.”

“But the ice, the cold —“

“Is not power,” the wizard interrupted.

“I learned that the hard way too,” he continued. “I spent months studying the demons on this plane — only for Sebas to explain it to me in five minutes.”

Siege could only stare. He knew the start of a rambling lecture when he heard it.

“True cold isn’t power — it is the absence of it,” the wizard began his lecture. “No magic, no armor, no ward can protect against something that isn’t there.

“But in the end, it’s still just cold,” Siege pointed out.

“Well, yes — if you put it that way,” the Scourge frowned. “But it’s an unstoppable kind of cold.”

Siege nodded. The wizard had a point. A weapon that could negate magical protections was formidable.

“Here is your sword,” the Scourge handed him back the weapon. “It deserves a name this sword, you went to hell — no, several hells — to complete it.

Siege frowned. They could have started and ended with this one. Still, the wizard had a point — and he wouldn’t have recognized the value of the enchantment without the prior experiences.

He held the sword in his hand. It seemed… powerless — like a normal weapon.

“Are you sure it worked?”

“Do you want me to stab you with it?” the wizard offered with an eager smile. “I brought your Lifesaver™ — so you’re probably safe. I say a fifty-fifty chance — good odds… good odds...”

Siege once again wrestled with the mage for control of his sword.

“No stabbing,” he roared. His exhaustion made it sound like half a demand and half a plea.

“Fine,” the wizard shrugged. “You’d get a better understanding of your weapon if you get killed by it though — I meant stabbed. Yes — stabbed.”

Siege turned away from the over-enthusiastic and probably insane wizard. He thought about what he went through to get the sword — all the battles and hardships.

Indignation. The sword’s name was Righteous Indignation.

***

Back at the corner shop, a snail was pondering about days ahead.

Was his master taking another pet?

She liked the new one — the faker. It had the scent of earth, like that of a heavy mountain.

The metal on its body was something it attached piece by piece — something she found inefficient. Why wear a shell if you can’t even live in it?

It was short and stout. Was it some sort of pet specifically bred to appear cute or perhaps go into small places? She wasn’t sure — but the turtle memories led her to believe the practice was popular in some cultures.

Would it be staying in the house? That would make five of them. Her master, herself, the three snails, the Sebas, and then the faker — five of them. She was fairly certain it was five.

She heard his master call the faker Siege. She worried about her master. He could choose more pets if he didn’t limit himself with their names.

Now he had Shelby — herself, of course — a Sebas, and a Siege. Maybe soon they’ll have a Sunshine, a Sugar, or a Sting?

She wondered where his master took the new pet. They probably went to interesting places to eat shiny things or hunt some greenies.

She wouldn’t deny the faker his master’s time — it was new, after all. She was pretty sure she was the favorite — and it was all that mattered.