A/N: Quietly posts this un-beta'd and runs away...

Daemon Magic

As the little group crested a hill, they saw the destruction before them. The refugees had stopped in a little valley between two grassy hills, and now the valley blazed. Alfred gasped as a rocket of flame shot up into the air, eating away at the remains of a wooden wagon. The heat was incredible, especially after the chilly night. Beads of sweat trickled through Alfred's hair.

He was knocked to the side as Ludwig rushed past him, down into the burning valley. Alfred called after him, but as he opened his mouth, smoke flooded in. He coughed and sank to the ground. He found Feliciano there, trembling in terror.

"We've got to do something!" Alfred said, coughing. "There are people down there."

Feliciano stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Are you crazy?" Feliciano squeaked. "I can't go down there!"

"Ludwig went. We need to help him!"

Feliciano looked down at the flames. Terrified screams drifted on the hot wind, carried up into the black sky. He clawed at his ears, pressing them closed.

"I can't!" he wailed. "I'm sorry."

"Feliciano!," Alfred shouted. He crawled over to his friend and pulled at his arms, trying to get him up. "We've got to. We can save them! We can be heroes!"

Pulling away from Alfred, Feliciano, drew his legs up beneath him and huddled in a ball. Try as he might, Alfred could not make him move. Another wagon collapsed behind them, sending up a shower of sparks. Feliciano cried out and huddled closer to himself.

"Fine," said Alfred. "Be a coward!"

He rose to a crouch and moved into the valley. The smoke was thick and oily, and Alfred had to stay low not to choke on it. Dark shadows moved within the inferno, but they were hard to pin down as they kept disappearing into the shimmering haze of heat. The first person Alfred came across was an old woman, who was trapped underneath a collapsed wagon. She was unconscious, and Alfred dragged her out from under the scorched wood. She moaned in pain.

A shape, covered in ash ran up to her and started taking her away. Alfred, his mind a blur, left them and ran deeper into the smoke. At first he heard screams, but they were soon drowned out by the roar of the flames.

Alfred was nearly knocked to the ground when a large man ran into him. He turned and saw it was Ludwig. His arms and legs were bright red, and his hands were starting to blister. He grabbed Alfred and dragged him close, yelling in his ear.

"There are wagons full of wood and blasting powder just at the edge of the camp," he shouted. "I need you to help me move them before they ignite!"

Alfred coughed and nodded. He followed Ludwig through the carnage in the valley, not stopping to think about those who had fallen in their path. Eventually, the smoke thinned, and Alfred could see several unharmed wagons ahead. At the rate the fire was spreading it wouldn't take long for them to be consumed as well. Ludwig and Alfred ran over the ground, amidst flares of embers and spreading fingers of fire. When they reached their destination, the wagons was already starting to burn. Ludwig leapt inside.

Alfred heard him grunt. "This is it!" Ludwig called.

He reappeared, rolling a great barrel to the edge of the wagon.

"Help me!" he said. "We can't afford to drop it!"

Alfred's muscles screamed, and he bent over coughing when he tried to take a deep breath. When he got his breath back as much as he could, he nodded at Ludwig.

Together, the two men lowered the cask to the ground. Alfred felt his vision go blurry around the edges from the exertion. When it was done, Alfred and Ludwig gasped for breath and coughed as if they were trying to lose their lungs. But they could not tarry, and Ludwig motioned for Alfred to help him roll the cask.

"There is a creek just a little ways from here," said a voice from over their shoulders.

Alfred turned to see Arthur behind them. He wasn't looking at them, but pointed and dashed into the fire. A blur of smokey shadows dashed overhead.

"Daemons," Ludwig said in awe.

Alfred saw that it was true. A pack of the skeletal, dog-like creatures that had chased him down before dashed into the fire. Turning back to their task, they painstakingly rolled the cask to the creek and dumped it. Ludwig kicked a hole in it, letting the powder soak through.

When it was done, Alfred and Ludwig slumped with exhaustion. Alfred made to stand, but Ludwig pulled him down.

"I've got to go help," Alfred mumbled. "There might be others I can help."

"You're no use to anyone if you get yourself killed," Ludwig chided. "Sit, and drink some water."

Before Alfred could protest or move back towards the fire, the daemons, rushed out, most of the seemed to be carrying people. They fled to safety, and Alfred watched them go with relief.

He watched dazedly as the fire crept closer to him and Ludwig, but he couldn't seem to make his body move. Every part of his body hurt, and it seemed like more effort than he could manage to continue fleeing the flames. Ludwig seemed to be in a similar condition, as he also didn't move, but stared blankly into the firelight.

Alfred dimly registered a shadow move before the blaze, and after a moment of trying to make his stinging eyes focus, he realized it was Arthur. He had no strength to do anything more than watch, and so Alfred did. Arthur raises his arms, palms up. His cloak slide off revealing his thin arms, creating a halo of shadow against the brightness.

Arthur's movements were both powerful and slow, as if he were moving in water. He spread his arms, and Alfred felt the wind around him quiver and grow damp. The fire began to edge back, caught in a circular wind. The blaze swirled, as if angry at being confined. It crawled up the sides of the tower of wind, and sprayed sparks higher and higher.

With an audible exhale, Arthur lowered his arms, bringing his finger tips together. Immediately, a light rain began to fall, though the sky was still clear. Tiny drops hissed as they burst into steam at the fire's heat, but the drizzle increased, and the flames were battered down.

He started to open is hands again, and with a sharp intake of breath, flipped them palms down and snapped them up.

The ground beneath the fire, and the areas surrounding it turned to mud. Alfred and Ludwig sank into the sudden bog with cries of surprise. The fire was instantly dowsed. Alfred stared into the night, waiting for his dark vision to recover. When it did, he saw one of the low daemons, step through the marsh and pick up Arthur, who had collapsed. Another daemon joined the first, and then another. Finally, they managed to prop their leader up on one of their backs and stalk away.

Alfred and Ludwig lay panting, letting the cold mud sap away some of the heat from their burns. After a while, Ludwig stirred and groaned.

"We need to find Feliciano," he said.

"He should be fine," Alfred said. He was reluctant to move, and when he tried, every fiber of his being protested. He let out a little moan. "He wouldn't go near the fire, the coward."

Ludwig shot a glare at Alfred. "It is no shame to not want to run into a wildfire. Be kind to him."

"But there were people who he could have helped," Alfred said.

"Or he could have died. He has a brother, friends, who expect him to return."

Alfred shrugged. "I'll just remember not to trust him with anything important if anything real is at stake."

"Your words are unkind. Save your condemnation."

They walked in uncomfortable silence, trekking through mud and ash. Alfred wish more nothing more than his winged boots so he didn't have to slog through the disgusting muck. Arthur's little magic trick had left the ground a knee-deep soup of mud and ash. Alfred and Ludwig were coated with the sludge in moments as they waded back the hill where they'd left Feliciano. They finally reached the base of the hill and threw themselves down on the solid earth. Alfred stared up at the sky, thinking about Arthur and catching his breath. Alfred finally broke the silence.

"Did you know Arthur could do that?" he asked, panting.

"I'll need you to be more specific," Ludwig said. He voice was almost level, but Alfred could hear a hint of a tremor in it. "Are you referring to the hoard of daemon hounds at his disposal, or the storm he conjured, or how he appeared right when there was a fire blazing?"

"The storm specifically. The other things I'm pretty used to by now."

Ludwig stared at Alfred and gave a weak little laugh. When he next spoke, there was something like respect in Ludwig's bearing.

"I have heard many tales of daemon magic," he said thoughtfully. "I always dismissed most of them as rumors. As powerful and old as the gods may be, their 'magic' as such is not what makes them impressive."

Alfred nodded. As impressive as the gods were, he'd never seen them pull a magical stunt the like of what Arthur had just done.

"I don't think they would have intervened," Alfred said, indicating the remains of the refugee's burnt out belongings.

Ludwig was silent at that. Alfred didn't push the line of thought. When they had fully caught their breath, they stood again, and Alfred grimaced at the black sludge drying on him. He'd have to ask Antonio for new clothes.

As they made their way up the hill, they came across Feliciano. He was still curled in on himself. His eyes and nose were dripping, and he didn't seem to notice Alfred and Ludwig even as they stood over him. Alfred went to nudge him with his foot, harsh words on his tongue. But Ludwig held him back, as if he knew what was going through Alfred's mind. With care that didn't seem to quite fit him, Ludwig scooped Feliciano in his arms. Feliciano dangled bonelessly, not saying a word, just staring ahead with terror in his face.

"Come on," Ludwig said. If Feliciano's weight bothered him, he didn't show it. Alfred couldn't help but be impressed as they trudged back the Albion.

Alfred shivered in relief when the warmth from the inn's fire washed over him. Upon their entrance, Antonio made a noise of disgust at their appearance. His shout changed to one of concern when he noticed Feliciano in Ludwig's arms.

"Feli!" he called, rushing over. "What happened to him?"

"Shock," Ludwig said.

Just then, Lovino burst from kitchen running to his brother's side.

"What did you do to him you bastard?" he shouted at Ludwig.

"Nothing," Ludwig said, taken aback by the sheer aggression in little Lovino. He didn't resist as Lovino snatched his brother and carried him over his shoulder up to their room.

Antonio said nothing and glared at Ludwig. Alfred stepped forward, putting himself between them.

"He's telling the truth," he said. "There was a fire out on the moors. Ludwig carried Feliciano all the way back."

After a long moment studying them, Antonio nodded. "Clean up and change into something that won't track sludge all over my inn, and then you can tell me the story."

Ludwig and Alfred gratefully departed and Antonio drew them both warm baths. Alfred figured he could've used a second tub to get fully clean, but he was dying to know if Antonio had any more information about the daemon magic Arthur had displayed. When he returned to the common room, Antonio beckoned him over. He placed a cup of hot cider in front of them both.

"So Ludwig didn't hurt Feli?" he asked.

Alfred shook his head. "No. He probably saved a lot of people."

At Antonio's surprised expression, Alfred told him everything—that it was the refugee's camp that burned, about Ludwig charging in with Alfred to save people and make sure the fire didn't reach the kegs of blasting powder, about Arthur and his low daemons saving those trapped in the fire, about the strange magic Arthur had used. Antonio just shook his head in bemusement.

"So you haven't heard anything like that?" Alfred asked, disappointed.

Antonio shook his head. "No. It seems like a secret the daemons guard carefully."

The two sat in thoughtful silence, sipping the warm cider. Alfred sighed as the warmth spread through him, driving away the last of the damp cold that clung to him. A few moments later, Antonio sighed and looked up at the Feliciano and Lovino's room. His kind eyes held worry and he gnawed at his lip.

"So Feliciano is pretty useless in a pinch," Alfred said. He tried to make his voice humorous, but it mostly came of bitter.

Antonio bit down on his lip. "Feliciano has a gentle soul."

"You mean he's a coward."

Antonio glared at Alfred. "The world needs more like him."

Alfred scoffed but didn't respond. Antonio went about his work behind the bar, pointedly ignoring Alfred. Unfortunately for Antonio, Alfred didn't notice the lingering anger in Antonio and soon departed with a huge yawn.

As soon as the door to Alfred's room shut, another opened and Ludwig came into the common room. Antonio gestured for him to sit and put another flask of cider between them.

"Is Feliciano going to be alright?" he asked.

Antonio stared at Ludwig for a moment before nodding. "I should thank you for bringing him home safe. He is…" Antonio looked around awkwardly, "rather fragile."

Ludwig shrugged. "He is kind and sees the best in people," he said softly. "It is not often I'm treated as a friend, or even in a friendly manner. People either fear us," he nodded at Antonio, who nodded in return, "or think of us as priests. Very few see us as just people. It is a nice change."

"I am sorry," Antonio said. "For not seeing it when you first arrived."

Ludwig shrugged. "I don't blame you. The gods' work is often a lonely path."

"Yet you still walk it," Antonio said.

"For now."