Graf Granat's territory, the dungeon.
Thick blocks of tawny stone made up the walls on every side, and rows of torches hung before the black iron bars, lighting the whole dungeon bright as day.
An armored shadow moved down the corridor, and not long after, a burst of irritated noise broke the silence of what had been a quiet cell block.
"Hey, you there, human. Is this thing actually meant to be eaten by people?"
Aura sat on the single wooden chair in her cell, staring at the plate of dull, lifeless-looking bread with open disgust.
"Be grateful you're fed at all. A Demon like you should've been beheaded on the spot — I honestly don't understand why Lord Graf Granat let you live."
The guard bringing Aura her food looked just as impatient as she did.
"Even my own baking beats this."
Aura got up, picked up the bread from the plate, and broke off a piece. It was as hard as a brick. Beside the plate sat a wooden cup filled with plain water.
"Demons can cook? Don't make me laugh."
The knight standing guard seemed to be another one who talked too much and showed her little courtesy — his attitude toward the imprisoned Aura was downright poor.
After some hesitation, Aura set the bread back down.
From the next cell over came the sound of someone chewing.
She'd almost forgotten — there were two other idiots down here besides her.
Draht and Schlacht had both chosen to surrender to the humans after being captured.
"Right... so why didn't that guy want to kill me?"
That day, Aura never could have imagined that her desperate flight would end with her crashing straight into a city protected by a barrier, with the knights chasing her already closing in at a gallop.
In the end she'd simply turned and charged straight at them, taunting Graf Granat — the one leading the pursuit — to come cut her throat, gambling that it would trigger the safety-valve built into the Magic of Obedience.
But instead, that human lord had simply tied her up and thrown her in a dungeon cell.
Aura couldn't make sense of it — why would a human refuse a head handed to him on a platter?
…
Graf Granat, for his part, couldn't make sense of why that Great Demon had behaved the way she had.
"She was up to something back there, mark my words. We can't just kill her off carelessly."
Inside the lord's manor, Graf Granat spoke gravely to a handful of his trusted knights.
"But my lord, what do we do with the other three Demons going forward? Keeping them in the territory's dungeon is still a risk."
one fully armored knight asked.
Graf Granat's domain held a barrier laid down a thousand years ago by a great Mage, its management and control passed down from Earl to Earl across generations. Because of that barrier, Demons outside could not set foot within Graf Granat's lands.
Ever since the war against the Demon Race began, it was this very barrier that had let Graf Granat's territory stand firm within a region the Demons had otherwise ravaged in the North.
"I suspect they let themselves be caught on purpose, meaning to break our barrier from the inside," another knight offered, worried.
"When it comes down to it, is she really the rumored Aura of the Seven Sages of Destruction? Where's that dreadful Magic of Obedience everyone talks about?" a knight said skeptically.
"There's no mistake. I saw that Demon myself on the battlefield, back when I served under the previous Earl in my youth. She's the notorious Aura the Guillotine."
What Graf Granat didn't know was that, the moment he said those words, one of the knights — his face hidden behind his helmet — clenched his teeth hard.
"I'll get word to the Empire about the current situation as soon as I can. Don't get careless — keep the dungeon secure."
"Understood."
Once he'd finished laying out what needed watching, Graf Granat strode out with purposeful steps. On his way through the courtyard, he spotted a young man tirelessly swinging a sword.
That was his son — still green, for now, but given time that boy's swordsmanship would surpass his own. He was bound to make something of himself.
After a brief, stolen glance, Graf Granat headed for the stables. He meant to ride into the city himself, to the outpost where Empire personnel were stationed.
"Hey, you there, human. Don't you hate Demons? Don't you want to just kill me right now, while you can?"
Aura's words slid out like a devil's whisper, meant to goad the knight into rashness.
"Of course I hate you. I'd love nothing more than to cut your head off this instant. You probably don't even know it, but my hometown was destroyed by your kind. Still, those are the Earl's orders — I won't act rashly before you've faced proper judgment."
"Humans these days can really hold themselves back, huh?"
Seeing the knight standing unmoved as stone, Aura grew bored and settled for swinging her feet back and forth on the chair.
"Ahh, I miss my recliner back home~"
Aura's constant griping made the guarding knight's temple twitch. Why did this Demon talk so much? Weren't Demons supposed to be cold and merciless? This one just seemed... scatterbrained.
What the knight didn't know was that between Nanoda's 'education' (read: oppression) and a string of miserable experiences, Aura had been thoroughly worn down.
In the cell to the left, Schlacht sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, saying nothing, black bread crumbs still clinging to the corner of his mouth.
In the cell to the right, Draht stood stiff as a plank, staring at the torches outside his cell, lost in some thought of his own.
"Young master, what brings you here?"
"I heard Father caught the rumored Great Demon. I wanted to come see for myself."
"These three Demons are all dangerous, vicious types. You should head back, quickly."
"No need to worry, I brought my sword. Besides, I'm only looking through the bars."
"Ah... fine, then."
After a round of footsteps, Aura heard someone speaking to her from beyond the iron bars.
"You're the one from the Seven Sages of Destruction — Aura the Guillotine?"
It was a tall, chestnut-haired young man, his features bearing a striking resemblance to that damned Graf Granat's — just much younger.
"If you've got the guts, come in here and cut me down."
Aura didn't much care for that appraising stare — it made her feel like some animal on display in a cage. With that thought, she glared right back at him.
For some reason, the young man suddenly felt an itch at the back of his neck.
"So Demons really are as vicious as they say."
"Yeah, yeah, sure. If you don't have the nerve to cut me down, get lost already. Why are you being so fussy about it?"
This Demon had quite the sharp tongue.
"Is this really that Great Demon, Aura? Why does she seem so... dim?"
"Ugh, don't get me started. She's been pestering me to kill her all afternoon. My ears are about to callus over."
The guarding knight gave the young man's shoulder a somewhat relieved pat, as if glad to finally have a fellow sufferer.
"Two spineless weaklings."
During her time imprisoned in Kinton territory, Aura hadn't picked up much of anything useful — except every last curse word the mercenaries there used, all of which she'd absorbed. Now, brimming with resentment, her tongue had only gotten sharper.
With a sharp clack, the dungeon door opened again, and another knight stepped inside.
"About time for the shift change. I'll take it from here."
The original guard's mood brightened at once. He quickly pulled the Earl's son along beside him. "There's nothing worth seeing in this dungeon — just these three Demons. Come on, young master, let's go. It's almost dinnertime, or the rest of the knights will eat everything before we get there."
"Alright, fine."
The two of them passed by the newly arrived guard without noticing — hidden beneath his helmet, that knight's face had curled into a smile.
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