The thunder of hooves rolled over the field. Mordo stiffened, raised his hands in surrender, and dragged Li Feng into the brush.
A lone rider in a rough cloak galloped past, oblivious to the two sorcerers crouched low.
Li Feng tracked the retreating figure, mind working. If I can just get my hands on one of those crusader swords… I'll know for sure which world we've landed in.
Mordo rose slowly, eyes narrowing. "From the look in your eyes, you seem to know something about this place. Care to explain?"
Li Feng scratched his head, feigning nonchalance. No way he could say I've seen the movie. "I just noticed a crusader's cross on a sword earlier. Looked like Church insignia."
Mordo frowned. The banners over the gates had already confirmed the Church's dominance. Crosses on blades were hardly a revelation. He hadn't spotted such detail himself. But everyone had secrets—and if Li Feng ever proved a danger, Mordo told himself grimly, one spell would end him.
"Come," he said. "I need to know if that girl really carries a demon."
Li Feng sighed, following. If this really is the story I think, Mordo doesn't have a prayer. No relics, no rites. He could glare at that girl all day and still miss the truth.
They caught up to the convoy quickly. Ahead, a grizzled knight with a scarred face was sparring one-handed, testing a younger man's guard.
Li Feng's eyes widened. Behmen von Bleibruck. Hardened veteran, deserter of the Crusades after refusing to butcher innocents. And beside him—Felson, his lifelong brother-in-arms.
Season of the Witch. No mistake.
The tale unfolded just as he remembered: condemned by the Church, released only on condition they escort a supposed witch to the abbey at Severac. The accused, a young woman in chains, sat caged on the wagon bed. Innocent face, but Li Feng knew better.
Behmen halted mid-spar, gaze snapping toward the newcomers. Felson casually switched his sword to his dominant hand, blade ready.
"The last time someone trailed us, it was a boy dreaming of knighthood," Felson muttered. His eyes flicked over them—Mordo robed like a monk, Li Feng foreign and out of place. "These two? Not squires."
Mordo barely registered the threat. His focus was locked on the cage. If the girl truly harbored a demon, he had to act.
Li Feng groaned inwardly. Without the right tools, you'll see nothing. She's clever, the soul isn't destroyed, it's shared. You'll feel unease, not truth.
Suspicion was inevitable. Two strangers, one Black, one Asian, approaching a crusader column under Church banners? Behmen's sword lifted, barring their path. "State your business."
Mordo pointed to the cage, voice sharp. "I sense a demonic presence. Let me examine her."
Behmen barked a short laugh. The Church branded the girl a witch. Now this stranger claimed she was a demon. Which was it?
Inside the cage, the girl's eyes flicked open, unsettlingly calm. The demon within stirred. It could taste their power—especially the shadow that clung faintly to Li Feng. Interesting.
Felson sneered. "If anyone here reeks of darkness, it's you," he shot at Mordo. "A black-cloaked demon standing before us."
Li Feng grimaced. Great. One more word and it's sorcerer versus knight.
He stepped forward, hand brushing the hilt of his sword. "We're travelers. Let us join you. I want to learn swordsmanship."
The young squire, Kay, perked up at the mention of training. He remembered sparring with Felson himself and vouched cautiously for them. But the priest riding in back was less forgiving. He spat, "No. They're heretics. They can't come with us."
Heat surged in Li Feng's chest. Heretic? Really? His fingers toyed with a card, flame licking its edge. One flick and the priest would be ash.
Mordo caught his arm, low voice urgent. "I can't feel a demon's aura, but the girl unsettles me. Do you sense anything?"
Li Feng's answer died in his throat. The girl's gaze had locked onto his—sharp, knowing. A warning. If he spoke, she'd make him pay for it before Mordo could blink.
He forced a smile instead. "Since I'm a heretic, all the more reason to travel together. That way, Father, you'll have plenty of time to judge."
And plenty of time for me to make you regret it.
Behmen's eyes lingered on the glowing card in Li Feng's hand. He knew a weapon when he saw one. Better to keep these strangers in sight than risk them circling unseen.
"Stay close," Behmen ordered.
And so, under wary stares, Li Feng and Mordo fell in with the convoy.
True to his word, Li Feng stuck to Behmen's side, pestering him relentlessly about swordsmanship—every swing, every stance, every angle.
Behmen's swordsmanship was forged in war—efficient, brutal, practical. But teaching? That was another matter. Every time Li Feng pressed for guidance, Behmen's patience frayed thinner until, with a grunt, he jabbed a finger toward Kay.
"You want lessons? Beat him first. Then we'll talk."
Spurring his horse, the knight rode on to take the lead.
That night the convoy camped under a thin moon. Firelight threw jagged shadows across worn faces. Mordo sat rigid beside the flames, his gaze locked on the caged girl. Something about her gnawed at him. Demons could mask their presence, yes—but under scrutiny, cracks always showed. Yet this one… the longer he studied, the more she seemed nothing but human.
And still, the unease clung to him.
From Li Feng's evasive remarks earlier, Mordo suspected his companion knew more than he let on. He leaned closer, voice low. "You know why she unsettles me, don't you?"
Li Feng scratched his brow, rose without answering, and picked up a share of rations. "Figure it out yourself. Nights like this don't come often. Keep your guard up—you might need it."
He walked toward the cage.
The priest sprang up, voice sharp. "What are you doing? Plotting to free her?"
Free your mother, Li Feng thought sourly. Aloud, he rolled his eyes. "I'm holding bread, not a crowbar. You think I'll break the cage open while you all stand here watching?"
Behmen's hand drifted to his hilt. "One foolish move and you'll lose your head."
Li Feng didn't look back. He knelt by the bars and snapped his fingers—sharp, deliberate. A ripple of magic whispered through the air. Then he held out the food. "Your body still needs this. Starve, and there'll be no vessel left for you to use."
Inside, the demon blinked. That snap—it had carried power. No attack, just a signal. He knows.
Li Feng tilted his head, voice calm, mocking. "What's wrong? Too tired to walk yourself? Or don't you know the road to the monastery?"
The girl's eyes narrowed. He knew. Not just of its presence—but its destination.
Hands wrapped around the bars, the demon hissed, "Who are you? What do you want?"
Li Feng cast a glance toward Mordo, then back. "Travelers. With overlapping goals. You want to destroy the Book of Solomon. I want to read it. A true spellbook is priceless to me."
That word—priceless—was enough. The demon's smile curled. This one wouldn't expose it. Not yet. Perhaps even an ally, however fragile. They would part as enemies at Severac, but until then… cooperation.
"Then perhaps we work together," it murmured. "I only need to erase a few pages—the ones that bind me. The rest is yours."
Li Feng nodded once. "No reason to make an enemy I don't need. Partners, then?"
"Partners," it echoed.
"What should I call you?"
The demon laughed softly. "My true name? You'll never hear it. But the girl's name is Anna. For now… call me Anna."
It flicked its hair, lashes lowering in parody of flirtation. Li Feng's hand twitched toward his sword.
He groaned. "Spare me. You're in a body that hasn't bathed in years. Seduction's not your strong suit."
The demon shrugged, wolfish. "You don't know Hell's hunger. Any flesh is a blessing. I even keep her soul tucked in a corner, just enough to keep the shell alive."
It leaned forward, voice dropping. "Your companion… he's not like you. His power is clean. Yours leans darker. Does he know?"
Li Feng didn't blink. "Of course he knows. Question is—what should I do about it? Kill him now?"
The demon's fingers stilled. Bluff, it thought. Mordo was too strong for this novice. Yet the calm in Li Feng's eyes unsettled it.
Slyly, it smiled. "I only think you're wasting potential. Maybe you've never had the right teacher. What a pity."
Li Feng folded his arms, studying it as the fire crackled between them. He knew exactly what game was being played. And he intended to play better.
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