They departed at dawn, leaving behind the ogre village just as the morning mist clung to the muddy swamp grass. Shu waved with both meaty hands, his hulking form standing proudly at the wooden gate, while the tiny village chief—no taller than a barrel—nodded once, half-asleep already. Diana sat atop their newly gifted swamp yak, wrapped in a patchy blanket, still drowsy and quiet.
The road stretched long, winding through lowlands and broken stone paths until the towering gates of the city came into view. It was an old place, built of pale bricks and tall, imposing walls. Even from afar, it radiated that blend of civilization and weariness only cities could.
Upon entering, Overon muttered, "Well, no screaming guards. That’s a first."
Deserter didn’t reply. His hand brushed his coat, activating the illusion spell that masked his demonic features. Horns vanished, his eyes dulled from gold to brown. He repeated the spell over Diana and Overon, adjusting them to appear human enough to avoid stares.
It didn’t work. The perfectly crafted disguises faded away the moment they entered the towns barrier.
At the first clothing shop, the stares came anyway. The woman at the counter greeted them with a too-bright smile that never reached her eyes. Her gaze lingered on Diana's still-dirty feet and Deserter's strange bearing, flickering with suspicion.
"Welcome," she said, almost too sweetly. "How may I assist you...huh.. travelers?"
Deserter's expression didn’t change. "We need clothes for the girl. Everything."
The woman blinked, briefly glancing to Diana, then to the threadbare blanket she clung to. Still, she nodded and gestured to the racks.
They picked out a soft, cotton dress dyed violet with silver lining. It shimmered in the light like starlight in twilight. Shoes, small and sturdy. A ribboned hat with a wide brim that made Diana giggle when she saw it in the mirror.
When she emerged from the dressing room, Deserter and Overon froze. It was like seeing her anew—not just a survivor of some haunted ruin, but a child again. Diana twirled once, and the hem of the dress flared around her knees.
"Do I look nice?" she asked.
"You look... like Diana," Deserter said.
She tilted her head. "Diana?"
"Your name now," he said simply. "Unless you pick another."
She smiled. "Diana...." she smiled as if she had been given something truly precious although it was strange as we had been calling her Diana for a few days so we guessed it just hadnt clicked yet.
We left the shop to more stares, and eventually made their way to a worn but tidy inn tucked beside the market square called “Daisys retreat”. Inside, a scent of smoked herbs and wood polish filled the air. A feline woman leaned behind the counter, tail flicking absently as she examined a ledger.
"Rooms available," she said. Then, her ears twitched as she looked up. "...You three aren't from around here?"
Deserter leaned in. "You noticed."
She smiled faintly, golden slitted eyes narrowing. "City folk know what to look for. But I’m not one to shout. My name's Sheral."
Overon crossed his arms. "We got some... hard looks earlier."
Sheral nodded. "Demonkind aren’t illegal here, but they’re not exactly welcome either. The war left scars. Most families lost someone. Doesn’t matter if you're innocent or a child. People remember."
“Its a shame” she continued “lots of your kind in the slave markets now adays”
Deserter's voice dropped. "Theres a slave market here?"
Sheral blinked, then sighed. "That’s a longer talk.Most travellers don’t know all that much living out in the boonies amnd all. But hey I can tell you far more if you stay here and for a fee ofcourse"
I looked towards Overon as he nodded back and I placed 3 silver coins on the table. Sherals eyes widened as she snagged the coins fast as lightning.
“Thank you for your patronage enjoy your stay at Daisys retreat, heres the key to your rooms. If you’ll meet me at the coffee table in 10 minutes I’ll be happy to tell you what you want for a few copper, nya.”
I stared hard along with Overon as she gesture a cat pose after saying “nya” eyes glazed over in disbelief that that just happened we then left to the gestured at table and sat down.
After a few minutes Sheral approached and sat down across from us.
“So what did you wanna know? nya” she again made the pose.
“Can you tell us about the slave situation in this country?” Overon lean over to ask.
Sheral paused as Diana quietly nibbling some dried fruit Sheral offered.
"There are a few types," Sheral began. "Criminal slaves. Usually scum, sentenced for crimes, no rights left though there are some some that didnt do many harmful crimes and are just serving a sentence. Hard labor as the name implies they work in mines and stuff, women are slaves too by the way sold to brothels mostly, I’m pretty sure you get what they do. Then there are debt slaves—people who couldn’t pay what they owed. They retain some rights. They can buy their freedom back, eventually."
She took a breath.
"Then you have prisoner slaves. Soldiers from conquered lands. They’re treated just a little better, sometimes given work, but many end up like criminals. The kingdom pretends to pity them, but it’s all policy."
Diana listened, wide-eyed.
Sheral continued, voice softer. "There are types of use, too. Fighter slaves for protection some lords buy them to bolster their armies too. Work slaves for heavy labor. Daily life slaves, like maids and stuff. Love slaves... well, you can guess. They’re the most expensive. Some choose it, some are forced. Though its not all bad due to our laws we can choose the conditions most of the time like who can do you or even choosing your master."
Deserter frowned. "And there’s more?"
"Labor slaves," she said. "Catch-all term. Do whatever they're told. Then there are life slaves. Born into chains. Inherited like livestock. Almost no hope of freedom unless their master chooses to release them. Sad existence"
Her eyes darkened, tail still.
"Even with contracts and rules, it's a harsh life. Not all are mistreated. Some even grow loyal. But it's... a gamble. There are no age limits. It all really depends on their contract and what it stipulates things like no harming your master, obedience, and other conditions they make. Oh by the way there are laws against misuse of slaves like killing them and stuff you can get fined and even become a slave yourself, luckily the restricciones on all contracts state that you they can refuse a death orderthat applies to most except for fighter slaves which have it written differently since they risk their lives continuously."
Diana's gaze lowered.
Deserter said nothing. He stood and thanked Sheral, then led Diana upstairs.
Overon thanked Sheral for the info and paid her.
Their room was simple. One bed, a chair, a mirror, and a shuttered window. Diana stepped inside, then immediately moved to the corner and curled up on the floor.
"What are you doing?" Deserter asked.
She looked up. "I... I thought this was yours. I can stay here."
He walked over, bent down, and lifted her gently.
"You sleep on the bed," he said.
Her eyes welled up. "Really? I’ve never... are you sure?"
He nodded, adjusting the pillow beneath her head.
"From now on, no cold floors. No empty stomach. No chains."
She smiled through tears. "Thank you."
He turned away, realizing only then that Overon wasn’t in the room.
He checked the hall.
Nothing.
"Overon?" he called softly.
No answer.
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