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I don’t stop slashing at the plants until there’s a wide enough space for my zarryns and carriage to pass through. When I’m done, my shadow dagger retracts until it takes the original form of the shrub’s shadow once more. Then we pass through with ease.
“The journey from Ikoth can be long and treacherous, and those xaphans don’t have the courtesy to make the voyage any easier for me,” I say aloud, with no one but my two zarryns to hear me. They neigh and shake their heads on occasion. “One day, they’ll come to respect us demons. We’ll be as rich as they are.”
In fact, that’s precisely what I’m on my way to do.
I’ve created an up-and-coming business for myself on Ikoth, reselling valuable stones and items I amass during my travels to other continents. The politics on other continents are quite precarious right now, so New Solas has become my most frequent visit.
Once there, I don’t stop until I fill my carriage with precious goods to take back with me to Ikoth. Then I resell at exuberant rates, sweetening the ears for any potential buyer that walks past the threshold of my store.
I’m quite honest most of the time. Bloodstones, nimond beans, pyrion peppers, Ecthelion caviar, whisperquartz, and more. These are not easy things to come by. However, paying two nodals for a bag of nimond beans could raise some brows.
Thankfully, I usually seal the deal before those brows have a chance to move. Soon enough, my wealth will be enough to send me into the upper echelons of Ikoth society. All of Aerasak will know my name. And they’ll know I’m a demon who does not wince at a good business deal.
“Pinni, Zinni, do you know where I can find the fangs of a Shozuh crown serpent? It’s a highly coveted item in Ikoth, you see. Used in potions and for blood magic rituals.” The beasts keep hauling my carriage along. It gets lonely on these travels. “Perhaps one day, I’ll have enough money to take you back to Ikoth with me.”
The zarryns neigh softly as we continue on our way.
Just as the sun starts its gradual descent towards the horizon, I see an old friend in the distance. Vrask, a cecaelia with just as much ambition for wealth as I have. On land, he stands on his legs, but tentacles extend out of his back, arms, and neck. The tentacles squelch from the excessive moisture continuously oozing from his pores. His green skin matches the hue of the gillyweed I hope to barter from him.
“Took you long enough, Kazrith,” he calls out to me, beckoning my zarryns over with a hand. He reaches out to run his sticky hand along my beast, who shies away from his touch.
“Don’t bother her,” I retort. “She’s had a long journey.”
“Ah. You’ve cozied up with the zarryns, too? Soon enough, you’ll have the xaphans hanging from your arms.”
I scoff at the mere thought of a xaphan trying to get into my good graces. “I’ll cut the wings off of a xaphan with my shadows if one dares to talk to me for too long.”
“Not yet.” Vrask holds up a hand. “We have some trading to do. After that, feel free. Have you forgotten all of the lessons in patience I’ve given you?”
Dismounting from my carriage seat, I laugh aloud. “That’s rich coming from you. You threatened to cut the arm off a selkie the last time it crossed you.”
Vrask waves away my remark. “One day you’ll understand why. That selkie didn’t want to give me what I was owed. He all but deserved that treatment.”
Taking my zarryns by the reins, Vrask and I walk toward the bustling trading hub that rests along the outskirts of New Solas. Bustling, loud, and cluttered, the trading hub features merchants from across Aerasak who come to earn a quick nodal or two.
I plan to stay at a tavern here for a few days, amassing as many items as I can before returning to Ikoth. Vrask plans to help me, but he wants part of the profit I make from reselling my goods. Petty bastard. That’s what I get for dealing with a cecaelia.
“Have you fared well during your journey?” Vrask asks.
My well-being isn’t his top priority, of course. He just wants to know if I’m up for a night of drinking at the closest tavern. That’s where I talk up the fellow patrons while he sticks his tentacles into pockets, pulling out whatever sticks onto his skin.
“Good enough. But the xaphan have increased their tax on the port when you arrive, did you know that? They’ve upped it to two nodals now instead of just one.”
Vrask snorts loudly, shaking his head. Some water hits my face because of his tentacles, and I don’t do much to hide the grimace that follows.
“I think that’s just the tax they impose on demons who come to port. Our fee is still a nodal.”
“Bastards.”
“They need all the nodals they can get to pay for those pretty castles,” Vrask replies with a shrug. “Business is business. You should know that by now.”
Of course, I do, and I also know that the xaphans would rather Ikoth get swallowed into the sea. One day, I’ll make them eat the disparaging comments they make about demons. I’ll strip the wealth from their buildings and haul it all back to Ikoth if I have to.
Just as Vrask aims to pull me into a tavern for a mug of amerinth, I pause and gaze at the auction house across the way. Demons walk in with their prideful strides, pockets full of nodals and novas to buy humans on sale. Usually, the xaphans auction the pathetic creatures for incredible prices.
I just don’t understand it.
“Kazrith?” Vrask joins my side again. The fool had already sauntered inside, hoping to get a good drink and a good pickpocketing session in. “What are you still doing out here? Don’t tell me you’re ogling a human.”
