"Swear you won't ever come back here, you naked monster!"
"Out of the way, Miss Butternut. I've had enough of your fairy nonsense today," said Tommy, shooing her with his hands.
Miss Butternut growled. "My name is Barley Butterworth, and I'm a pixie—not a fairy!"
Impy, fatigued though he was, still managed a laugh. "Barley? Like the stuff they make bread with?"
The little pixie pulled a wand from her wrinkled skirt and waved it around. "I will not tolerate any more disrespect," she yelled. "Now, as I said before—I want you to swear that you won't ever return here. If you don't, then I'll have to—"
"Fireball," Tommy whispered, summoning a sphere of flames in his hand. "You'll have to what?"
Miss Butterworth squeaked and flew back a foot. "Just get out of here already! Scram! Beat it!"
Scram? Beat it? The monsters in this world knew some hip lingo.
"We were planning on it, you crazy bird, but then you hopped in our way!" hollered Impy.
"Did you"—Tommy squinted to get a better look at her—"wet yourself?"
Impy broke out into raucous laughter.
"Stop laughing at me," she whimpered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
Tommy couldn't help but feel a little bad. The poor thing was just trying to protect the portal. She was doing an incredibly poor job at it, but she was still trying her best.
"Let's go, Impy."
"You sure? This is pretty entertaining."
"I said let's go," Tommy demanded.
"Alright, alright! I'm coming."
Tommy quelled his desire to apologize to the girl. It would do no good now, and dragging an apology out of Impy would be nigh impossible. Best to leave her alone.
"Blink!"
In mere minutes, he made it back to the campsite, plagued by a mind-wracking headache. The effects of using blink seemed to have grown stronger since he gained a human body.
Impy nearly fell over from exhaustion as he flew through a portal. The short yet long trip had certainly taken a toll on the little imp. He would need to rest to replenish his mana.
"I have returned, my disciples!" Tommy announced, walking to the tents.
His eleven disciples looked at him as though he were a tap-dancing polar bear.
"Oh, right—I look like a random naked guy," he muttered. He removed the ring from his finger and watched as the world shrunk. His skin peeled off like the rind of an orange, falling to the ground and disappearing into nothingness. In seconds, he was back to being a jumbo skeleton. Oddly enough, it felt more natural than wearing the body of a human.
The disciples oohed and aahed at his transformation.
Tommy raised a hand to stop them. "Yes, yes, thank you all." He stuck the ring back on his finger and became a debonair devil once again, naked as a barkless tree. "This is the body I'll be wearing from now on. Does everyone understand?"
"Yes, Lord Bones!" they chorused.
The women were practically drooling over him, not even attempting to avert their gaze from his nether regions.
"Might I borrow some clothes?" Tommy asked with the rosiest of blushes.
"Yes, my lord," said Davy—a freckled man of similar size to him. He retrieved a black robe and ratty undergarments from his tent and handed them over.
Tommy was quick to get dressed, unable to suffer the girls' lustful gazes a moment longer. It was a pleasant change, getting attention from women, but just a tad much to handle right now. "Alice, I'd like to speak with you alone, please."
The girl's face was stricken with redness. "Of course, Lord Bones," she murmured, setting her book by her tent.
"Impy, feel free to mingle with the others. I'm afraid this discussion will be rather boring."
Impy shrugged. "Whatever you say, boss."
Tommy and Alice moved some fifty yards from the camp and plopped their behinds onto the flowers.
"I'd like to know how ownership of land works in this kingdom. Could you explain it to me?"
"Of course, my lord," she said with a smile. "Unlike the other nations, Alyria has three kings. Those kings have vassals, or lords, to whom they grant fiefs—typically shires—in return for their allegiance. The lords protect the peasantry of their fiefs in exchange for taxes and grant them land to build upon. It's really quite simple."
"So, if I wanted to build a town, I would need to be granted land from a lord?" Tommy asked.
She nodded. "Legally, yes."
"Who is the lord of this shire, then?"
"Last I remember, it was Lord Miles of the house of Flint. He serves under King Landel Teaway."
"What about religion? Is there a divide between church and kingdom, or do their affairs mingle?"
"The Church of Light is entirely separate from the kingdom. Only in matters of land and tax do the two discuss policies," she explained.
"Is the Church exempt from taxation?"
"Of course. It would be seen as sacrilege should the kingdom ever tax the Church."
"And what about land?"
"Prohibiting the growth of the Church would also be sacrilege. Should a high priest sanctify an effort to expand their domain, the kingdom can do nothing about it."
Tommy's mind began to brew a devilish scheme.
"Would you happen to know any devout followers of their faith? I would be interested in speaking with them."
"Nigel and Elliott were novices of the order before they defected to join the Black Tongue."
"Thank you, Alice. I think I'll speak with them."
And speak with them he did. The two educated him on the Church's doctrine and its extensive scripture for hours. They discussed the Sun Scrolls, the God of Light, the prophets of Nilbat and Tunck—all of the boring key points he needed to memorize for his plan.
It seemed that, while the kingdom and the Church were not directly interwoven, the holy doctrine had a great bearing over the written laws of each of the five kingdoms. Illegalities were plentiful. Gambling, drinking, fighting, extortion, potions, racketeering—there were laws affecting each of them.
Why did he need all of this information, exactly?
Because he was going to be the priest of a very unholy church.