Arago was in a state of high spirits, despite the danger it was in. Demons traversed the paved roads, entering and exiting structures. Several people lingered outside a tavern, merrily clinking their wooden cups as they drank its alcoholic beverages. Their trousers were wrinkled, and their tunics unfastened, displaying a chest of curly black hair. At their hips was a small scabbard. A great many of the demons were equipped with scabbards, located on their hips, legs, or back. Even the youngsters had their own, some even brandishing them with a wide grin. I frowned at the demons frolicking about in Arago.
"For a cluster of non-believers, you sure are cozy. Let's change that, shall we?"
Poker-faced, I leaped off from a wooden shack and landed on top of the public square. A sculpture of Warlord Rex, identical to the one in the palace garden, and also a fountain, was shooting water out of its open mouth. Everyone who was taking a stroll halted their activities and looked my way when I made an unexpected entrance. My arrival aroused the demons' curiosity, and they surrounded me, talking amongst themselves and commenting on the unusual attire of my denim jacket with a white t-shirt and black jeans.
"Who is that young lass? I've never seen a demon with skin that pale!"
"Is she an Albaniqe? That poor thing…"
"Her style of clothing is very weird. What design did this originate from?"
"What I'm curious about is what is an Albaniqe doing here? Shouldn't they all be at sector F?"
Upon this one demon's inquiry, the assembly fell silent. They went from looking in amazement to expressions of revulsion. The citizens' foreheads creased, and a low rumble was heard from some of them. As this transpired, I maintained an unwavering gaze forward, disregarding the multitude. I remained stationary at the public square in anticipation of a minor event commencing. And as expected, that event came swiftly.
"What's goi-going on 'ere?"
Three fiends pushed their way through the mass of people, dropping droplets of their beverages onto the pavement as they proceeded. One woman held her nose and made a clicking sound with her tongue, allowing space for the new arrivals. These three were the same demons that were loitering in front of the pub, getting drunk in broad daylight. Smirking to themselves, the drunk bastards ambled toward me.
"H-Hey, Albaniqe… Why ya 'ere?" one slurred.
"Yer defects ain't welcome 'ere…" another mumbled with a hiccup.
"Let's show 'em why ya defects are pinned at 'ol sector F…"
A demon with a long scar on its chest extended its flayed hand towards my shoulder as if to grab it. I audibly sighed and spoke in a hushed tone to the three mortals.
"Your breath reeks of garlic and gastric juices."
Before the scarred man could shout a retort, the air shimmered for a moment. The cobbled street was soon accompanied by a pitter-patter sound of droplets. In an instant, the formerly subdued audience erupted with gasps, and a piercing screech echoed in the public square.
"Argh! My hand!"
The scarred man dropped to his knees and clutched his missing hand as blood spurted forth, dousing the ground with a fresh coating. His mug rolled away, stopping right next to a severed hand that was leaking. His drinking buddies all shared an expression of shock as they stared at their buddy rolling into a ball. Not wanting them to run away in terror, I shifted my gaze over to them and smiled. Just like before, the air blinked, and more mugs and hands plopped right down. More squeals followed suit.
"G-G-Get the guards! An Albaniqe has gone out of control!"
Simultaneously, five demons reached for their weapons and pointed them at me. Though I was unarmed, and they were, they made no effort to commit. Their sword arms all shivered as I glared at the fools one by one, silently wishing for them to dare attack me. The crowd diminished as adults and kids scampered away from the bloodshed, taking refuge in shops and homes.
I glanced at the armed mortals in front of me. "What are you waiting for? Are those blades just for show?"
"S-Silence, you defect!" a man quivered. "I don't know what tricks you pulled, but it won't work on us! Those three buffoons were merely caught off-guard!"
"Whatever helps soothe your delusions," I snickered.
As I awaited the approach of the guards impatiently, the sound of horses' hooves cut through the air. To the left, exiting a gate, was a team of demon horse riders galloping to our position. Reflections of the silver steel armor shone in the sunlight as they carried a light spear each. Once they arrived, they circled around the stalemate, shouting.
"Everyone, release your weapons!"
At the guard's command, the armed demons dropped their weapons onto the ground, holding their arms up in surrender. Confirming that no one was holding a blade, the guards reared their horses, and they neighed in protest as they stopped in their tracks. One guard hopped off their demon horse and stood between me and my assailants. He took one good look at the bleeding drunkards and settled his sights on me.
"What's an Albaniqe doing so far from the sector F? Did you sneak off with your brethren and stole from the citizens?"
Instead of flat-out answering him, I simply shrugged my shoulders and smirked. He tightened his hold on his spear and addressed the others.
"I have a general understanding of what has occurred here. You five are free to go. Asmo and Lucith, take those three to the infirmary. Hugo and I will take the prisoner."
And just like that, I am deemed a prisoner. Rather than hearing me out or attempting to gain a better comprehension of the circumstance, this individual has concluded I am guilty simply because they think I am an Albaniqe. While I do not have a problem with this progression, I am distinctly put off by his outspoken hostility towards me. With how he is clenching that spear, you'd think he would stab me where I stand. No matter though. This works out better for me.
"No words to defend yourself? The guilt on your face is visible, wretch," he spat, inching closer to me.
I ignored his rudeness and stuck out my arms. Now in front of me, the guard brought forth a set of chains from a satchel and wrapped them around my wrists. He emanated a feeling of loathing and scorn as he firmly restrained my arms. As this was taking place, the other guards and demons had already departed, leaving only the three of us. The one named Hugo had been pointing his spear at my chest, glaring at me.
"We will take you to the dungeons of sector D where you will await trial for your crimes. If I were you, Albaniqe, I wouldn't expect to be set free anytime soon. You should know it's illegal for you folks to leave your sector without permission."
"…"
"What? You mute or something?"
"..."
"Tsk. Whatever. Nelph, you done yet?"
Nelph backed away slowly and said, "Just finished. Let's take her away. Our shifts almost over."
"Already? Time sure moves fast. I'll handle the demon horses."
Hugo lowered his spear and rushed to the black creatures. Nelph leveled his own weapon and poked the tip at my back.
"Get moving, wretch. It's about time you learned your place."
****
A period of time elapsed after the disturbance I caused at the public square of sector D. I was placed in a cramped, dark space in the dungeons. Rust and urine clogged my nostrils, and the clinking of chains filled my ears. Beside me was a tattered fabric that emitted an odor of perspiration and was marked with yellow and brown spots. Being aware of the implications, I had no desire to handle that repulsive fabric. My arms and legs were tightly bound, and what lied in front of me was a metallic plate with stale bread and a glass of water. These living conditions I was placed into had me a bit agitated. If these mortals knew who they had imprisoned, they would sully their clothes and faint from pure terror. Then again, the demons of Arago aren't fond of gods. If they knew of my true identity, they would probably cackle at the sight of a divine being reduced to such a state. If that were to happen, I wouldn't hesitate to cut them all down.
For why I allowed myself to be in this predicament, it's all about gathering information. The guards stationed to watch over prisoners have been quite chatty. One of them so happened to be the mortal Hugo. While he was conversing with his peer, a piece of information caught my ears.
"I heard Warlord Rex has been keeping a close eye on the infantry stationed northwest of here."
"Northwest? You mean near sector A and B? That's where all the high-ranking demons live at, right?"
"Duh! Who else lives in those sectors? Warlord Rex had been allocating a lot of resources and men over there. He's worried that the Liberators will begin their siege on that side of the wall."
Hugo's peer was quiet for a moment. "… Isn't that a poor decision to make? What about the monsters over at the Wandering Woodlands? Or what if we're attacked at the other-"
"Hey, idiot, keep your voice down! What if someone heard you bad-mouthing Warlord Rex? You know that guy hates it when we question his orders."
"Right-right, my bad. I'll take your words into consideration."
Both men chuckled and changed to a different topic, mainly about their families' other sorts of gossip. The two had carelessly revealed Warlord Rex's intentions in the presence of others, unaware that their behavior would soon result in a series of events that would turn disastrous. The guards, being armed, were to monitor the vulnerable and hungry prisoners, leading to a more tranquil atmosphere. They had let their guard down even while their city was under attack by the Liberators. I could only laugh at such stupidity.
Tilting my head upward, I stared at the cell opposite of mine. It was the same layout as mine, except there was a wooden stool at the far edge. Sitting on that stool was a man wearing only trousers. His head was bowed, and his face was obscured by a mass of unruly black hair. Both of his legs were chained to a wall, and they would rustle at random intervals.
"You, the man in front of me. Care to hear my proposition?"
The shackled demon's shoulders moved briefly, though he stayed silent. I took that chance to continue.
"I know you heard those fools. What do you plan to do now that you gained such insightful intel?"
At my last sentence, the demon finally acknowledged me. His gaze was stern as he directed it towards me, as if he was looking through a thick tropical rainforest. My eyes beheld sunken cheeks and an ungroomed beard. Eyes brimming with unease and skepticism, he asked me a question.
"…Did Warlord Rex send you to spy on me?"