The Municipal Guild hall of Eastwatch occupied the converted mansion of a former mining baron—a palatial stone structure with high, arched windows and elaborate carvings depicting scenes of industry and prosperity. Inside, the opulent reception hall had been partitioned into functional spaces with wooden dividers, though the ornate ceiling frescoes of mythological figures still loomed incongruously overhead.
Tom presented his credentials to the harried clerk at the main desk, who barely glanced at his adventurer's crystal before handing him a detailed dossier.
"You're the Harrowgate Guild's representative? Good. We've been waiting three days for someone qualified," the man said, already turning his attention to the next person in line. "Site coordinates are in the file. Helmgard Mine, northern ridge. Transport leaves from the upper gates at dawn tomorrow."
Efficient, if not particularly informative, Skaravosk commented as Tom moved to a quiet corner to review the materials.
The dossier contained maps, incident reports, and witness statements—all documenting a familiar pattern. Miners reporting strange lights in deep shafts. Unexplained equipment failures. Workers experiencing lost time or returning disoriented. And most recently, the discovery of crystalline growths in a newly opened chamber some four hundred feet below the surface.
What caught Tom's attention, however, was a notation that the mine had been fully evacuated and sealed two days ago—significantly more decisive action than had been taken at Westridge.
"Someone here has experience with corruption," Tom murmured quietly. "Or at least proper caution."
Or they're concealing something, Skaravosk suggested. Either way, it indicates this situation may differ from our previous encounter.
Tom continued reading, looking for information about the stone circle he knew lay along the ley line. The dossier mentioned it only in passing—an archaeological site called the Crown of Ages, located in the hills beyond Helmgard Mine, currently under study by "royal antiquarians."
Royal antiquarians, Skaravosk repeated with evident skepticism. An interesting euphemism for whatever agents are preparing the site.
"We'll need to investigate both locations," Tom decided. "The mine first, as our official contract requires, then the stone circle."
With several hours remaining before nightfall, Tom secured lodging at The Miner's Rest, a modest but clean inn that catered to visiting Guild officials and merchants. After depositing his pack in the small room, he set out to familiarize himself with the city's layout—particularly the routes to the northern gates that would lead to Helmgard Mine.
As he navigated Eastwatch's steep, winding streets, Tom remained alert for signs of crystal puppets or other corrupted entities. To his surprise, he encountered fewer than expected. The occasional purple gleam in a passerby's eyes, yes, but nothing like the concentration he had anticipated based on their discoveries in Harrowgate.
Curious, Skaravosk noted as they climbed toward the upper district. The corruption seems less prevalent than initial reports suggested.
"Agreed," Tom replied silently. "Either it's better concealed, or there's been a change in strategy."
By the time dusk fell, Tom had walked most of Eastwatch's major thoroughfares, developing both a mental map of the city and a growing sense that something had shifted. The corruption was present but subdued—as if it had been scaled back or redirected.
He was passing a small plaza near the northern quarter when Skaravosk's alertness suddenly spiked.
There, the dragon directed Tom's attention to a cloaked figure moving with unusual purpose through the evening crowds. That's not a crystal puppet, but something... different. The energy signature is distinct from human or corruption.
Tom adjusted his course casually, maintaining distance while following the figure as it turned down a narrow side street. His enhanced senses detected a faint scent unlike anything he'd encountered before—something like scorched metal and exotic spices.
The figure stopped at a nondescript door, glanced around with a wariness that confirmed it was engaged in clandestine activity, then slipped inside. The building appeared to be an abandoned storehouse, its windows boarded and its exterior neglected.
A meeting place? Skaravosk suggested. Or perhaps a base of operations.
"Worth investigating," Tom agreed, scanning the area for observers before approaching.
Rather than attempting the front door, Tom circled to the rear of the building, finding a loading entrance secured with a simple padlock. Enhanced strength made short work of it, allowing him to slip inside quietly.
The interior was dark, but his draconic night vision revealed a large open space filled with stacked crates and discarded furniture. A faint light showed through cracks in a wooden partition at the far end, accompanied by the murmur of hushed voices.
Tom moved silently across the warehouse floor, avoiding debris and potential noise-makers with practiced skill. As he neared the partition, the voices became clearer—a tense conversation in an unfamiliar language that nonetheless triggered recognition from Skaravosk.
Demonic common tongue, the dragon identified. The formal language of the Demon King's realm, used for diplomatic and military communications.
That confirmed these were not simply more corrupted humans but actual demonic entities—a significant escalation from what they had encountered previously. Tom positioned himself beside a crack in the wooden wall, peering through to assess what they faced.
The room beyond held five figures gathered around a rough table covered with maps and documents. Their cloaks had been discarded, revealing their true nature—humanoid in general form but with distinct differences that marked them as non-human. Reddish-gray skin, small curved horns protruding from their foreheads, eyes with vertical pupils that reflected the lamplight like a cat's.
Lesser demons, Skaravosk identified. Civilized rather than bestial, capable of complex planning and infiltration. The Demon King often uses their kind for intelligence gathering and sabotage.
As Tom watched, one demon—clearly the leader based on deference shown by the others—jabbed a clawed finger at a map, speaking urgently. Though Tom couldn't understand the words, the body language suggested frustration and tension.
"Can you translate?" he asked Skaravosk silently.
Partially, the dragon replied. My knowledge of their language is ancient and likely outdated, but the general meaning is clear enough. They're discussing the abandonment of something called the 'crystal network' and redeployment to new assignments. The leader is distributing territory sections for surveillance.
This aligned with the reduced corruption presence Tom had noted throughout the city. Something had changed in the Demon King's strategy—a shift away from the crystalline corruption toward more traditional espionage.
"Why the change?" Tom wondered.
I can only speculate based on fragments of their conversation, but it appears the corruption approach has been deemed inefficient or compromised. There's mention of 'network collapse' at multiple sites.
Tom felt a flutter of satisfaction at that. His destruction of the Westridge corruption and likely similar interventions by others had apparently forced the enemy to abandon that avenue of infiltration.
The meeting appeared to be concluding, with the demons gathering documents from the table. Tom retreated silently toward the rear entrance, intending to withdraw before they dispersed—direct confrontation with five demons in an enclosed space seemed unnecessary risk at this point.
But as he navigated back through the darkened warehouse, a stack of crates suddenly shifted, one toppling to the floor with a crash that shattered the hushed atmosphere. Not his doing—a rat or some other vermin had likely disturbed the precarious balance—but the damage was done.
Shouts of alarm erupted from the partitioned room, followed by the sound of weapons being drawn. Tom abandoned stealth for speed, making for the exit as the demons burst through the doorway behind him.
He might have escaped cleanly if not for a sixth demon—a sentry he hadn't detected—who appeared suddenly in the loading doorway, alerted by the commotion. This one was female, slighter than her companions but blocking his primary escape route with a drawn shortsword.
Tom didn't slow his advance. As the female demon raised her weapon, he smoothly transitioned into a partial transformation—scaled armor flowing across his forearms, strength and speed enhanced beyond human norms. He deflected her blade with one armored forearm and seized her by the throat with his other hand, using their combined momentum to carry them both through the doorway and into the alley beyond.
They hit the cobblestones hard, Tom maintaining his grip as he rolled to his feet, putting his back to the wall of the adjacent building and positioning the captured demon between himself and the warehouse entrance.
When the others burst out seconds later, they found their companion held firmly before Tom, his partially transformed hand around her throat, claws extended but not yet breaking skin.
"Close enough," Tom warned in the common human tongue, gambling that these infiltrators would understand it. "I have questions. Answer them, and your friend lives."
The lead demon snarled something in their language, but made a gesture that caused the others to hold position rather than attack. Switching to heavily accented common speech, he addressed Tom directly.
"What do you want, human? Or..." his vertical pupils narrowed as he studied Tom's partially transformed arms, "...not entirely human, it seems."
"Information," Tom replied. "Starting with why the Demon King is abandoning his crystal corruption network."
The leader's expression registered surprise before he could mask it. "You are well-informed for a random interloper. Who are you?"
"Someone who destroyed one of those networks at Westridge Mine," Tom answered truthfully. "And who can do the same to your operation here if necessary."
This statement produced a ripple of tension among the demons, with rapid exchanges in their native tongue that Skaravosk translated in fragments.
They're debating your claim, the dragon informed him. The leader believes you but advises caution. There's mention of someone called the 'Whisper Lord' who would be displeased if they engage directly.
The lead demon finally turned back to Tom. "Release Sarai. Then perhaps we talk."
"I prefer my current leverage," Tom countered. "But as a show of good faith, I won't kill her if you answer my questions. Why has the corruption strategy been abandoned?"
The demon leader hesitated, eyes narrowing as he assessed Tom's resolve. A slight smile crept across his face.
"You humans lack resolve for such things," he said dismissively. "You threaten but rarely follow through."
Without warning, Tom's claws extended another half-inch, drawing five thin lines of dark blood from Sarai's throat. His expression remained utterly calm, eyes cold with the detachment of a soldier who had seen and dealt death many times before.
"I've killed more beings than you've met in your lifetime," Tom stated flatly. "Demon, human, or otherwise makes no difference to me. Test my resolve again, and I'll separate her head from her shoulders before your next breath."
Sarai's terrified whimper and the sudden rigidity of the leader's posture told Tom his message had landed. The other demons shifted uneasily, hands tightening on weapons but not daring to advance.
"So!" Tom said with a sudden, incongruous cheerfulness, "Shall we chat about corruption networks and your master's plans? I'm absolutely dying to know." He flashed a bright, friendly smile that seemed bizarrely out of place given the situation.
Then, in an instant, his expression transformed back to deadly seriousness, all trace of humor vanishing as if it had never existed. His eyes hardened to cold steel as his grip tightened precisely on Sarai's throat.
"Speak quickly," he commanded, voice dropping to a menacing rumble. "My patience wears thin."
The abrupt shift from jovial to lethal clearly unnerved the demons even more than consistent threat would have. The leader swallowed visibly before replying.
"Inefficient. Too easily detected once active. Too easily disrupted by..." he gestured vaguely toward Tom, "...interventions like yours at Westridge."
"And now you're using direct infiltration instead?"
"We observe only," the demon claimed, though his shifting gaze suggested partial truth at best. "Gather information for our master."
Tom tightened his grip slightly on the female demon's throat, earning a strangled gasp. "And the Stone Crown? What is its purpose in your master's plans?"
This question provoked a stronger reaction—genuine alarm in the demon's eyes, quickly suppressed. "I know nothing of stones or crowns. We are simple observers."
He lies, Skaravosk confirmed unnecessarily. But it's interesting that this question frightens him more than the others.
Tom studied the captured female demon more carefully, noticing details he had missed in the initial confrontation. Unlike her companions, who carried themselves with military discipline, her posture and expressions suggested civilian background. Her hands, though clawed, lacked the calluses of weapons training. Most telling, her eyes held not the cold calculation of a trained operative, but naked fear.
"You're not soldiers," Tom realized aloud. "Not trained agents."
The female demon—Sarai—stiffened in his grasp. The leader's expression hardened.
"We serve as required," he replied flatly.
"Under duress?" Tom pressed, watching their reactions closely. "Conscripts rather than volunteers?"
Sarai's subtle flinch confirmed his suspicion. The Demon King wasn't deploying elite agents but pressing ordinary demons into service.
Tom shifted tactics. "What happens to your families if you fail?" he asked Sarai directly.
Her eyes widened in surprise at being addressed. After a hesitant glance toward her leader, who remained stone-faced, she whispered, "They die. My children first, then my mate."
"Silence!" the leader hissed, but the damage was done.
Interesting, Skaravosk commented. The Demon King appears to be facing resource constraints if he's resorting to such crude motivational tactics with his own kind.
Tom calculated his options. While these demons were enemies by circumstance, extracting further information through threats seemed both inefficient and unnecessarily cruel if they were essentially hostages themselves.
"Here's what happens next," he announced, relaxing his grip on Sarai's throat slightly. "I'll release her. You'll all withdraw from this location and continue your 'observation' mission elsewhere in the city. In exchange, I won't hunt down each of you individually and send you back to your master in pieces."
The leader's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why would you offer terms? You have advantage."
"Because killing reluctant pawns wastes my time," Tom replied evenly. "And because your master's plans interest me more than your lives."
After a tense moment, the demon leader nodded curtly. "We withdraw. But this changes nothing. Others will come."
"I'm counting on it," Tom said. He released Sarai with a slight push that sent her stumbling toward her companions. "Now go. I won't offer mercy twice."
The demons retreated, disappearing into the darkened streets with surprising speed. Tom remained in place for several minutes, ensuring they had truly departed rather than circling back for an ambush.
A curious encounter, Skaravosk observed as Tom finally moved away from the abandoned warehouse. Though informative in unexpected ways.
"Very," Tom agreed. "The Demon King is shifting tactics, but potentially from weakness rather than strength. Abandoning the corruption network after our intervention at Westridge suggests vulnerability."
Or adaptation, the dragon cautioned. Never underestimate a demon lord's capacity for strategic flexibility. What appears as retreat may be merely redeployment.
As Tom made his way back through Eastwatch's evening crowds, he analyzed what they had learned. The reduced corruption presence suddenly made sense—resources redirected to more traditional espionage. But the use of essentially civilian demons as agents was puzzling. Either the Demon King was facing resource constraints in his military forces, or these civilian conscripts served some purpose that trained soldiers could not.
Most concerning was the reaction to his question about the Stone Crown. Whatever was planned there clearly held significant importance—enough to frighten even demon agents who had been deliberately kept ignorant of details.
We should accelerate our timeline, Skaravosk suggested. Complete the mine investigation with haste, then proceed directly to the Stone Crown.
"Agreed," Tom replied. "Though I'm curious why they've maintained any corruption presence at all if they're abandoning that strategy."
Perhaps the Helmgard Mine serves a different function than mere infiltration, the dragon mused. Its proximity to the Stone Crown may be relevant.
By the time Tom returned to his inn, he had formulated a revised approach. Rather than the methodical investigation he had originally planned, they would need to move quickly—neutralize whatever remained at Helmgard Mine, then immediately investigate the Stone Crown before the Demon King could adjust to their interference.
As he prepared for sleep, Tom reflected on the demons they had encountered. Not the monstrous entities of campfire tales, but people of a sort—with families, fears, and apparently limited choice in their service to their cruel monarch. It added complexity to a conflict he had previously viewed in simpler terms.
You feel sympathy for them, Skaravosk noted, not critically but with curiosity.
"For their situation, perhaps," Tom acknowledged. "Being forced to serve through threats to loved ones... it's a familiar tactic in human conflicts as well. Effective but despicable."
A perspective I would not have anticipated from you, the dragon commented. Your military background suggested a more... pragmatic view of enemies.
"Twenty-three years of warfare taught me to distinguish between those who choose the fight and those who have it forced upon them," Tom replied. "Those demons were the latter."
An interesting moral calculus, Skaravosk mused. Though I wonder if such distinctions will matter in what awaits us.
Tom had no answer for that. Whatever the Demon King planned at the Stone Crown, whatever awaited them at Helmgard Mine, the stakes extended far beyond the fate of reluctant spies or conscripted agents. The pattern of dimensional weakening they had traced suggested catastrophic implications if successful.
Tomorrow would bring them closer to understanding—and hopefully, to preventing—whatever dark working was underway. With that resolve, Tom Reed, once the most unremarkable of soldiers, now perhaps the most remarkable hybrid being in the realm, surrendered to sleep, his dreams filled with stone circles and crystalline corruption beneath the earth.
And watching through his dreams, an ancient dragon contemplated revenge against enemies who had long thought him destroyed.