Mitchell arrived at his destination without much issue. The Cracked Flagon, while clearly not too different from any regular hole-in-the-wall bar back home, was a fairly noteworthy establishment for the much less well off part of the city it resided in. The hunter could already hear the faint ambient commotion from inside as he approached.

Mitchell ignored the foot traffic in the street as he stepped inside. Upon entering, the sight that met his eyes was almost enough to give him pause. While the establishment hadn't looked like anything to write home about from the outside, the interior appeared rather cozy. Wood tables and seats held a surprising number of patrons, creating a boisterous atmosphere. A worn, yet clean bar sat at the far end of the room, shelves holding numerous bottles lined up behind it.

Upon seeing a middle-aged bartender preparing a beverage for one of the men sitting at the bar, Mitchell made his way over to wait by the bar.

The bartender turned from what he was doing to nod at Mitchell. "I'll be with you in a second."

Mitchell returned the nod. "Aight thanks." He took a seat in one of the open seats at the bar, deciding to bide his time. From there, he listened to the various conversations around him.

"You hear about those new refugees that just showed up?"

Mitchell turned his attention to who spoke, noticing two men sitting at a table off to the side, nursing their respective mugs. One of the men, a stout man with a thin beard rolled his eyes at his companion. "From the way they all suddenly appeared? Who hasn't?"

The other man, a lean man with sharp features, seemed to take his companion's sass in stride. "I heard they were from one of the frontier towns."

"Oh really? Did you hear which one it was?"

"Toulouse, I think," the lean man responded. He shook his head. "And not even a day after the refugees from Rondell showed up too. Those damn monsters have been taking settlements left and right…"

The stout man took a drink from his mug. "It's the Fourth Born leading them, so we shouldn't be surprised. We've all heard the horror stories about her."

The lean man grimaced a bit. "Don't remind me." He suddenly leaned forward on his seat. "Oh yeah, did you hear the rumor about a guy who killed a lilim?"

"Yeah, I did. Heard it at the marketplace today," the stout man answered casually, taking another drink from his mug.

Mitchell shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'Oh shit, people are already talking about it?' He took a quick, paranoid glance around the bar. Thankfully, no one showed any interest in him.

"You sound awfully cavalier about it," the lean man accused, frowning at his companion. "I heard that this guy killed her in merely two blows!"

"Uh-huh, and I'm the king's wiper," the stout man drawled flatly. "A human killing a lilim? One of the spawn of the Demon Lord herself?" He leveled an unimpressed stare at his companion. "Don't tell me you actually believe any of that nonsense."

"I don't, I'm just telling you what I heard," the lean man defended, leaning back in his seat. "And that's not even all of it either. The Silver Tracer was with those Toulouse refugees."

The stout man paused for the first time in the conversation. "Wait, you mean the 'hero' that got kicked out in disgrace a couple of years back? I hadn't heard anything about her since then, so I figured the monsters must've finally got a hold of her." The man snorted. "Shame. Arrogant bitch would have deserved it."

Mitchell's mouth grew taut, his fists balling as he listened in. The urge to speak up in his friend's defense seized him, but he suppressed it. Barely. 'No, Mitch. You really shouldn't draw attention to yourself. Just let it be.' Focusing on the shelves in front of him, he scrutinized the various labels of the bottles to calm himself down. It didn't help much, especially when he remembered he couldn't read here.

"I agree, but hey, at least she'll be good to have around in case the monsters come calling," the lean man concurred. "She might have been an unlikeable wench, but no one could say she wasn't skilled at her craft."

Disgusted with what he was hearing, Mitchell tuned out the conversation. Luckily, he noticed the bartender heading over to him. The hunter was grateful–his tolerance had been rapidly evaporating the more he listened.

"Sorry about the wait," the bartender stated, flipping a wash rag onto his shoulder. "What can I get for you, stranger?"

Mitchell shook his head, waving his hand. "Ah, I don't really need anythin'. I'm actually here to pick up a delivery of milk for Miss Fullmoon."

The bartender paused for a moment. "Oh. You're here for Sasha, huh? She busy at the moment?"

"Yeah, she's off doin' errands right now," Mitchell drawled with a shrug. "The person she left at the orphanage is busy, so I offered to come get this in their stead."

"I see," the bartender acknowledged with a slow nod. "Well, alright. I'll go get it then." He gestured to a door further down from the bar. "Just give me a second and you can be on your way."

Mitchell rapped his knuckle on the bar. "Sounds good. I'll get on that right now actually." With that he stood from his seat, heading over to the door the bartender indicated.

The bartender hadn't taken long, arriving with a large carton of milk that he set on the floor outside the door. "Here. I have to get back to work. Give Sasha my regards, would you?"

"No problem," Mitchell replied, lifting up the carton with a slight huff. "I'll let her know if I see her. Take care."

Seeing the bartender returning to his duties, Mitchell wasted no time heading out. He really didn't want to lug around all this milk for any longer than he needed to. Exiting the Cracked Flagon, the hunter couldn't help but notice that the foot traffic in the street had lessened a bit. He could see a procession of what looked like guards or soldiers moving further down the street, with pedestrians making an effort to move out of their way.

Mitchell shook his head to refocus, making his way back to the orphanage.

"Did you have any trouble?" Arriet inquired, opening the door wide to let the hunter in.

"Nah, everythin' went off without a hitch," Mitchell assured as he stepped inside. He hefted the milk to a more comfortable position. "Carryin' this around was pretty much the extent of my problems."

Arriet smiled. "Ah, wonderful." She glanced down at the contents Mitchell carried. "Well, let's get that out of your hands then, shall we?"

"Sure thang," Mitchell drawled readily, falling into step behind the harpist. As he followed her, he frowned as thoughts of what he heard from the bar returned. "Y'know, I happened to hear some stuff while at the bar earlier. It seems like rumors about us are already startin' to circulate."

The harpist looked back curiously, but Mitchell could see a hint of concern in her gaze. "Truly?"

Mitchell nodded, ignoring the fatigue in his arms from holding such weight. He looked at her with a knowing gaze. "Yeah. They mentioned somethin' about a 'guy who killed a lilim'."

Arriet grimaced. "I was afraid this might happen."

"Uh oh," Mitchell remarked, observing the girl's reaction. "How bad is it?"

"It's not encouraging, that much I can say with certainty," Arriet responded. She looked over at Mitchell, her gaze serious and concerned. "Slaying a lilim is by no means a small feat, Mitchell. If the authorities catch wind of this, I have no doubt they will bring you in for questioning. Perhaps even…"

The harpist paused for the briefest of instances, looking down as she recalled past memories. "'Bring you into the fold', so to speak."

Mitchell felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. 'Oh fuck me. Did I become that important? Shit.'

Arriet noticed Mitchell's disquiet. She stopped, turning around to face him fully, her smile clearly an attempt to be reassuring. "But not to worry. They may be unlikely to believe it. What you did has never been done before, after all."

"We can hope, right?" Mitchell concurred optimistically. "I think I'll lay low while I'm here though, just in case."

"That may be for the best. At least until we depart the city." With that, Arriet gestured over to the group of children at the far end of the room. "But let's leave that for now. It's almost time for the children to eat."

Mitchell bowed his head to her in exaggerated gratitude and subservience. "Yes, ma'am. I am at your disposal."

Arriet's rolled her eyes, her lips pulling into an amused, slightly exasperated smile as she shook her head. "Oh, stop."

"As you command, milady," the hunter drawled, making his way over to the small kitchenette off to the side. He could hear the harpist snort behind him as she followed.

As Mitchell set the milk on a table, he saw a large pot holding a delectable looking stew. A large wooden plate of biscuits sat beside it. The hunter remembered his lackluster meal earlier, eliciting a surprising amount of envy in him. 'Dang, these kids get meals like this? Lucky them.'

Arriet clasped her hands together. "All right, everyone! It's time for lunch!"

Hearing the former hero's announcement, the children's attention snapped up from what they were doing. Seeing that everything was ready, a couple of them hurriedly got to their feet, the rest joining them as they rushed over. "Yes!"

"Don't run," Arriet admonished as she made her way over to join Mitchell at the table. She began setting out bowls for the children, addressing them, "Now, has everyone finished their studies?"

"Yes, Lady Arriet," a younger girl answered politely as she sat at the table with the others. "I didn't know so many important things happened."

"Yeah!" A boy spoke up, his expression excited. But judging by the way he eyed the food in front of him, Mitchell suspected that the lesson wasn't the cause of said enthusiasm. "Heroes are so cool."

Mitchell glanced over at Arriet, wondering what the topic of discussion was about. Arriet mouthed to him, "History."

The hunter nodded in understanding. It was at this moment that he noticed that he was the subject of curious scrutiny by the children. One of the kids, a boy, looked up at him. "Hello. Who are you?"

Mitchell waved with an easy-going demeanor. "Hey there. Nice to meet y'all. I'm Mitchell."

"Hi!" A girl wearing a nun's dress waved at him, giving him an adorable smile. "Thank you for the milk, Mister Mitchell!"

"You're welcome, miss," the hunter drawled, returning the girl's smile. "Happy to help."

One of the older boys across the table leaned forward in his seat, regarding Mitchell with obvious anticipation. "Can you tell us some stories, Mister? Miss Arriet said you're good at it!"

Mitchell turned to regard the harpist with a raised brow. 'Oh really now? Whatever happened to no storytime?'

The harpist merely shrugged, her lips pulled into a smirk. The mischievous gleam in her eyes told her response, 'I changed my mind.'

"Well, uh," Mitchell began, turning back to the gathered children, who had already started to dig into their meals. "I can give it my best shot. Just bear with me, aight?"

"Okay!" The children all sat straighter in their seats, their eyes all shining with curiosity. The innocent expectation in their eyes made him feel oddly under pressure all of a sudden.

The hunter grabbed a seat, making himself comfortable. 'Might as well make this fun for them.' He leaned forward in his seat, giving Arriet a quick look that promised to repay the favor later. "Aight then, I think I got a good one for y'all. Lemme tell ya about the adventures of Tom Sawyer an' Huckleberry Finn…"

As Mitchell regaled his enraptured audience with the timeless classic of two friends and their adventures, lunch was finished before all of them knew it. The hunter felt proud of his storytelling skills thanks to the fact that the children seemed encapsulated by the tale. But sadly, all good things come to an end.

When Arriet noticed that everyone had finished, she saw the dirty bowls and utensils left out. She sighed, standing up from her seat reluctantly. "All right, everyone. It's time to clean up."

"Aww…" The children wilted a bit, their interest dampened at the thought of chores. "But it was getting good!"

"No buts," Arriet stood her ground, grabbing one of the bowls. "Sasha should be back soon, so you don't want her to come back to a dirty kitchen, do you?"

A couple of kids made a face at that. "No…"

Seeing this, Mitchell also stood from his seat, grabbing one of the bowls as well. "Hey, no worries. We can continue this later if y'all want. Here, I'll help ya out."

"Thank you, Mister Mitchell," the girl in the nun dress thanked, her sweet smile once again present as she joined the others in helping. "Lady Arriet is right. You tell nice stories."

Mitchell shrugged, setting the bowl into a washtub. "I try." He regarded the girl apologetically. "An' sorry, little miss, but I never got your name, did I?"

The girl perked up. "Oh, it's okay! My name's Lisia!"

"Pardon me, Mitchell, but could you bring the pot over here please?" Arriet queried, washing one of the bowls over the washtub. The children stood around the washtub with her, cleaning their own utensils. "I have my hands full at the moment."

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that. I'll take care of this."

Mitchell and Arriet turned to see Sasha at the door, neither of them having heard her enter. Sasha strode over to them. "I've kept you long enough, haven't I? Sorry about the delay."

Arriet stopped, raising a brow at her friend. "It's fine. Did you have some trouble?"

Sasha shook her head reassuringly. "Not at all. It merely took a bit longer than expected, that's all." She regarded Arriet, her gaze soft, but Mitchell could see that she seemed worried for some reason. "Can I…talk to you for a second before you leave, Arriet?" She glanced at Mitchell as well.

Arriet followed Sasha's gaze to Mitchell before looking back at her in bemusement. "Of course."

"Thank you." Sasha looked over the children. "Once you've finished cleaning, you're free to go play. Say thank you to Arriet, everyone."

"Thank you!" The children waved politely at the harpist, their smiles bright. "It was fun!"

Arriet returned their smiles, waving back in her friendly way. "You're welcome. I had fun with all of you too. Take care!"

"Be good now, ya hear?" Mitchell added, giving them his two-finger salute.

"Bye, Lady Arriet! Bye, Mister Mitchell!" They waved as the adults made their way to the front door.

Sasha led the two to the door, opening it and gesturing them through. As Mitchell followed Arriet through, the priestess joined them outside, closing the door behind them. When Mitchell saw her serious expression, he wondered what this was about.

Sasha seemed uncertain as she regarded her friend. "Something has come to my attention."

"And that is?" Arriet inquired slowly, noting the sudden shift in Sasha's demeanor.

"I recently heard that the Tenth Born was killed at Toulouse." Sasha appeared concerned at the thought. "Is this true?"

Mitchell and Arriet shared a look. The harpist hummed, giving Sasha a look of apology. "It is."

"How?" Sasha questioned with uncertainty. She checked their surroundings in case someone could hear. "Did you defeat her, Arriet?"

"No," Arriet answered softly, shaking her head. "Unfortunately I had no involvement in it."

Sasha was in disbelief. "What? I…I would have thought you were the only one who could…" She shifted on her feet as she mused to herself. "But if it wasn't you, then who–"

"It was me," Mitchell revealed with a sigh, running a hand over his head. Looks like he won't be able to stay anonymous after all. "I ended up bein' the one to do it."

"You?" Sasha looked at him in shock. Her expression seemed to grow more concerned. "So it's true that the Tenth Born is dead?"

"Yes, it is," Arriet replied firmly. She leveled a serious stare at the priestess. "Can I please ask that you keep this a secret? If the Order finds out Mitchell killed a lilim–"

"I know," Sasha interrupted, her visage gaining a look of understanding. "They'd bring him in."

Mitchell frowned, resting his hands on his hips. "I'm just gonna ask. Is there any chance that I could just refuse to get involved with them?"

Arriet's expression soured. "Unlikely. The clergy would see it as an opportunity they couldn't afford to pass up." She sighed in some frustration. "I wish I had been the one to commit the deed. At least then you wouldn't have to be involved."

"Arriet…" Sasha intoned cautiously, looking around again to see if they were being overheard. "If you're going to say such things, please don't do it here."

"Sorry," the harpist winced.

"It's fine. I feel much the same," Sasha assured, shaking her head gently. She stepped back towards the door. "At any rate, that's all I wanted to know. I should get back to the little ones."

Arriet nodded. "Take care, Sasha. Let me know if you need me to look after the children again. They're sweet."

"I agree," Mitchell concurred, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You've got a good bunch in there."

The priestess smiled. "Thank you. They are indeed my little angels. I have no doubt they'll want to see you again."

With that, Mitchell stepped away from the building. "Well then. We'll let ya get back to it. See you, Miss Fullmoon."

"So long, Sasha." Their goodbyes shared, Arriet joined Mitchell as they departed the orphanage.

As they headed back to the area the townsfolk resided, thoughts of being shanghaied into working for a corrupt theocracy lingered in his mind. He had heard the frustration in Arriet's tone earlier and shared that feeling.

Shaking his head free of such musings, Mitchell instead focused on something else–the good food he'd seen in the orphanage. He knew that the townsfolk would need more food soon, the meager rations he'd eaten still fresh in his mind. Such things wouldn't be expected to last long, especially when what little they had were practically freebies anyway.

The hunter turned to his companion, who had been quiet since they'd left. "Well, now that we're both free, what do ya plan on doin'?"

"Hm, what indeed?" Arriet mused aloud, bringing a fist up to her chin. After a moment, she shrugged. "I'm not sure. Perhaps I could provide my assistance in protecting the groups leaving the city."

"Oh really?" Mitchell drawled, perking up. "I had a similar idea." He looked at her inquiringly. "I think I'm goin' to head out an' see what I can hunt in a bit. You wanna come with?"

"I don't see why not," The harpist answered, meeting his gaze. "I doubt my presence here will be needed, so I'd be happy to accompany you if you'll have me."

Mitchell grinned, a sliver of relief felt as he heard her acceptance. "Sounds like a plan then." He made a gesture towards their abode. "We can head out once I get all my stuff ready."

"Of course. I'll need to retrieve my weapons as well, so that works out." At that, Arriet suddenly had a realization. "I just realized, perhaps we should ask Zullie if she would like to join us? Her abilities would be a relief to have around."

"Oh yeah, definitely," Mitchell concurred, nodding firmly. He rubbed his chin, already feeling the stubble beginning to grow. "Havin' both a' y'all there? I almost pity the foe who tries their luck with us."

Arriet's eyes glinted with amusement. "Absolutely."

"But with all due seriousness, I agree. I'm sure Zullie wouldn't wanna miss it," Mitchell affirmed. He could see their abode ahead, and he eagerly anticipated the activities awaiting them. "I'll be real with ya, Ettie, I look forward to just enjoyin' some peace an' quiet for once."

"You and I both," Arriet agreed, giving a soft sigh. "Things have been quite hectic lately, so perhaps some time away from this could do us a bit of good."

Mitchell grunted in acknowledgement. He remembered the work he had taken part in outside the city that morning. "Y'know, I think you're onto somethin'."

As they came up on their home away from home, the pair's conversation continued as they entered. There they arrived to find Zullie already waiting for them.

And to no one's surprise, Zullie would indeed join the hunt.

The moon hung low in the night sky, its rays filtering throughout the massive encampment. It made for a lovely atmosphere, even with the myriad of noise that punctuated an otherwise a normal, peaceful night.

However, this night was anything but normal or peaceful. The moon's rays, once a beautiful silvery light, glowed an ethereal red. The noise that punctuated the night–passionate moans and lustful groans–spoke of the decadent debauchery that dominated the camp.

The fourth born daughter of the Mamono Lord Lilith, Druella, couldn't get enough of the sight–no matter how many times she helped make it happen. Hearing such passion, such desire, such love in her fellow mamono and their husbands always helped further her resolve for the cause.

Druella stood outside her large command tent, taking in the sight of the encampment from her overlook with a satisfied smile. Her tail swished lazily from side to side as thoughts of bringing this joy and passion to the rest of this kingdom swirled in her mind.

Lescatie. One of the last few Order strongholds left. And one she would soon show the way to a better way of life, if she had anything to say about it. She had heard horror stories of how humans were treated here from her agents, and soon she'll be able to sleep easier knowing she had brought yet another human kingdom into the mamonos' loving embrace.

The lilim was pulled from her musings when she felt someone's presence at her back. She smiled fondly, even as she kept looking out over her army. "Ah, Kiyome. You don't visit me often."

A woman stepped out of the deep shadows cast by the command tent behind Druella. The woman, clad in revealing kunoichi attire, kneeled in subservience. "Mm. I am here to deliver my report, Lady Druella."

Druella's tail flicked in amusement. "Oh come now, Kiyome. Haven't I told you before? There's no need for that." She turned to regard her friend and leader of intelligence. "No mamono kneels in my presence. That right goes to my mother."

"Yes, Lady Druella," the kunoichi acknowledged in her lovely Zipanguese accent. She stood to her feet in a smooth motion and bowed. "I will keep that in mind for next time."

"Mhm, you said that last time," Druella opined dryly. She rolled her eyes in good fun before turning back to regard the camp. "What do you have for me, Kiyome?"

"I have news from my agents in Salvarision," Kiyome reported concisely. "All of them have successfully gained the allegiance of their targets. They report that our entry into the city will soon be secured."

Druella grinned as satisfaction coursed throughout her body. She loved it when her well-laid plans came together. "Ahhh, have I ever told you how much I love you, dear?"

Kiyome tilted her head, her beautiful features giving off no discernable expression behind her facemask. "Many times, Lady Druella."

"And I'll say it many more," Druella simpered, flapping her wings a bit.

"I have…other news as well, Lady Druella," the kunoichi continued, pausing only slightly as she did so.

Druella paused. Kiyome never paused in her speech. It was so unlike her that the lilim turned to regard her friend curiously. "Oh?"

"One of my agents had stated to me that a number of new arrivals appeared in the city," Kiyome disclosed, her voice serious. Her tail swished to and fro behind her as she met Druella's gaze. "She told me there's been rumors circulating there about a man who managed to slay a lilim…" she trailed off knowingly.

Druella's heart stopped, her eyes widening as that information struck her like a hammer blow. Whatever good feelings she had fled her at that moment. She hadn't wanted to think about Marianne's death. Truly, she hadn't. It was the reason she was even out here by herself, after all.

When she first received word about the death of her beloved sister, Druella didn't know what to think. A human ending the life of a lilim? It all sounded so unbelievable. She could be forgiven for not believing such absurd rumors until she saw it with her own two eyes. And so, with all due haste, she personally flew far and fast to the town where her sister had supposedly been killed.

When she had arrived at the town of Toulouse, the fear she had begun to harbor had been realized. There, one of her finest subordinates, a promising young demon named Saphir, led her to her sister's body. In that moment, everything Druella knew to be true had faltered for the first time in her life.

Her sister was dead. Slain at the hands of a human.

Druella couldn't understand it. Why did her sister have to die? Sweet and playful Mari, who loved to write sensual stories and paint titillating works of art that were spread to wide acclaim throughout the lands of Royal Makai. She dreaded the moment she had to return home and share this awful, gut-wrenching news with her family. But not now–she knew that the moment she did her mother would be in such hysterics she'd forbid her from leaving her sight for the next who knows how long, and that would be the end of her foray into Lescatie for the foreseeable future.

No, she couldn't return home. She wouldn't return home until she had achieved victory and captured the one responsible for her sister's death. She couldn't bear to do anything less.

The phantom feeling of touching her sister's cold, lifeless skin returned to Druella and she shuddered. Slowly clenching her fist to rid herself of the feeling, Druella turned back to her long-time friend. "...Is this man in Salvarision?"

"We have reason to believe that he is," Kiyome answered, nodding slowly. "The timing is too much of a coincidence. I can look into this matter personally if you wish."

"No," Druella denied, furling her wings behind her resolutely. "I need you to oversee the operations as you've been doing. Do you have anyone you trust to look into this?"

The kunoichi's gaze sharpened. "I do. She has an informant she gets most of her information from about the city, so if it's anyone, it would be her."

"Then you know what to do. I'll be moving our forces toward Salvarision in the meantime," Druella maintained, taking a moment to listen to the loving moans of her wonderful subordinates. Determined to lighten the mood, she turned back to the kunoichi with a coy smile. "By the by, have you heard anything about Arriet Archaletta, the Silver Tracer?"

Kiyome perked up at the mention. "Ah, yes. I can confirm that there is talk of her in the city, and one of my agents has seen someone matching her description as well."

At that, Druella gave a wide grin that would make any cheshire cat proud. For a number of years, Arriet Archaletta had proven quite the thorn in the lilim's side, the hero's efforts to counteract the mamono quickly gaining her attention. She had sent many of her followers to deal with the woman over the years as she had helped thwart a number of incursions into Lescatie and its outer territories.

But that wasn't what she was interested in. Arriet Archaletta, or the Silver Tracer as she had become known as amongst both human and mamono alike, had distinguished herself as a particularly incorruptible foe. Druella knew heroes on occasion that would rise to an especially high prominence among human society, but none captured her attention like this one did. Stories of the Silver Tracer's grace and skill with the blade spread and Druella knew she had to have her on her side.

But then, to her complete bafflement, Druella learned that the Silver Tracer had fallen from grace among the Order and summarily exiled for unknown reasons. But the lilim knew opportunity was at hand and sent her agents to search for her, but unfortunately to no avail. The Silver Tracer had vanished, and Druella deeply lamented the lost chance to gain a new friend and follower for the cause.

But now she could finally bring the disgraced hero into her bed. Oh, she couldn't wait to hear that girl's passionate and lustful moans, watching her writhe in ecstasy under her tender loving care…

She would make a fine subordinate.

The lilim could feel a delightful, powerful tingle growing rapidly in her nether regions as she envisioned the sight, the moans of the camp and sounds of slapping flesh spurring her on. After a long moment of watching the shaking tents before her, Druella turned to the kunoichi, who still stood dutifully behind her.

"Mmm, that's wonderful, Kiyome. Truly wonderful," Druella purred, eyeing her friend with a gleam of desire. "So wonderful that I think we should…celebrate…"

Kiyome's eyes glinted, her gaze heavy with lustful desire, but still bowed subserviently. "As you wish, Lady Druella."

With a lewd smirk, the lilim sauntered over to the kunoichi, grabbing her hand tenderly as she pulled her towards her tent. Their tails intimately intertwined as they entered, the flaps closing shut behind them.

Not long after, their orgasmic moans joined the depraved symphony in the camp.