Nun the Wiser – 1

Paragons, you scoff.

They’re basically power rangers. They’ve got shows, branded clothing, themed drinks, the whole shebang. And the type of person a demon like you should be avoiding to the utmost of your abilities.

You bow generously as Paragon Jesper strides past you. He barely glances in your direction, which is great, but…you shuffle uncomfortably in the thick nun dress you find yourself in. No matter how you move, the outfit hangs unsexily from your frame.

You take a peek as the Paragon turns a corner. He’s the only male Paragon of this generation. Normally, he’d be in violet full plate armor, to match his title of Paragon Violet. There hasn’t been a demon attack for a couple decades, so it’s mostly for photo ops. Nowadays his casual wear is more refined, a noble’s fancy doublet and tight leggings.

For a silver fox, he’s got a great ass.

He turns back and glances at you. His lips upturn slightly, a slight smugness barely concealed. You almost consider getting more insight on the guy with soulsight…but you were warned that powerful magic-users would detect such an intrusion.

He’s a power ranger though, so he should be a good guy.

Sighing, you climb up the tower. You haven’t spent the past week doing nothing. You worked hard to study arcane magic rather than pulling from your demonic energies to do telekinesis and other bits of magic. It took the combined powers of you and the dean to slide you into a spot as one of the caretakers of 9 o’clock tower. Not that there were plenty of volunteers for the ‘Dhampir’s Tower’.

Caretakers were basically cleaning ladies. Go inside the tower and work your way to the top, cleaning and picking up trash. It may be a misuse of your holy powers, but it’s really quite easy for you. With how obtuse Prillian society is, you’re confident you could have gone to work in any of the other eleven towers with a cute French maid outfit. But this one scared people because of its solitary occupant at the top of the tower.

A dhampir, born of a union between a vampire woman and a human man. Rare in itself, but her human heritage is not so mundane. Star’s father was a powerful wizard in his own right, having been capable enough to teach Sher’Khan and a vampire centuries his senior. A vampire he eventually seduced.

You’re impressed. Game recognizes game.

Politically, Star is nothing more than a student. The rumored child of the last great archwizard and a legendary vampire bloodline, practically a fairy tale, but still just a student. Magically, however, she is one of the most powerful beings in Camelot. That’s not even counting her vampiric abilities. Not the type of person people want to accidentally provoke into a blood-hungry rage.

The dean pointed you in the direction of a couple pencil pushers you could hypnotize into skipping the rigorous background checks. Positions reserved for honored fighters within the Holy Knights had been relegated to easy spots for nobility to send their children to. Not that the most important responsibilities were relegated to nepo-babies. A few of the higher-ranked knights were skeptical of you.

Your cover story resisted scrutiny. As Scarlet Lily, you are an unlucky elven maiden whose family was trapped in the underdeveloped Boreal colonies for the past few centuries. Poor Scarlet was born in the Boreal colonies and had to scrounge by to make a living until she eventually found her way to Camelot. The story garnered sympathy and explained the lack of documentation. The north is a harsh place to live, bordering the lands of the mad satyrs and frequently having to deal with undead crypts causing ‘flareups’ every couple years. It helped that you expressed a talent in holy magic. It got the attention of the stiff crone of an invigilator you had to deal with.

Mrs. Dass did not mess around.

The Holy Knights aren’t bad. Very regimented, sure. Disciplined, incredibly. From the windows of the tower, you can see hundreds of them regularly practicing in the central church courtyard. Training with weapons, tactics, and occasionally showcasing holy magic strong enough to make your skin tingle from several blocks away.

The true believers are often the ones who go patrol Prillia, while easy-goers buy their way into cozy administrative positions. Even walking in the street, the knights on the beat typically go out of their way to help citizens. How can you hate a group of people for rescuing cats out of trees and sharing their food with dogs?

You’ve been here two weeks and the nervousness hasn’t completely disappeared. It’s the first time you’ve stayed in a place for so long without literally being shackled down. Camelot, despite being the anti-demon capital of the world…is pretty nice.

Sure, there’s the bad neighborhoods closer to the palace where all the people are stuffy nobles. But otherwise it’s a great place to live. There’s a thriving (sexless) nightlife, a delicious (for mortals) assortment of restaurants, a host of (non sex freak) artists, and everything is just so pleasant. The people are well fed, well informed, and safe.

Maybe complacent.

There is an undercurrent of something else. International papers talk about disasters all over. The fall of the Minotaur’s capital, Minos, and its consequences. The warring Equint tribes of the southwest headed by demon summoners, shamans, and necromancers, amassing into larger blocs of power. The harpy civil war tearing the former empire apart (with some “I told you so’s” from their exiled Empyrean).

Not all is perfect in Prillia either. The slave ring busted in the burgeoning city of Hacksonville was alarming enough. Rumors of attacks on smaller villages throughout Prillia. There are also signs of old grudges. The knights are predominantly human, elven, and dwarven. There’s a few centaurs (you had to stop yourself from checking underneath them), but harpies and goblins are practically absent, and you’ve yet to see a single kobold. And not all the nobles in the upper district are treated equally. Few harpies, fewer goblins. The holy Knights have roots in defending Camelot against invaders.

Those wars were centuries ago. Still in living memory for many elves.

Grudges must last longer with an immortal ruler and long-lived races.

You break from your thoughts and focus on restraining your more subtle demonic energies. You knock at the door politely, then loudly. Your ‘subject of study’ is often lost in books. The first few times, you had to work up to rapping the door loudly. Most of the time, a young woman’s voice would tell you to leave the books she’d requested outside her door. When you insisted you needed to come in to clean, a plastic bag full of ramen cups, soda cans, and crumpled up paper would teleport in front of you.

This time, the door burst open.

“I told you, I don’t want—!"

Her eyes are blazing purple, arcane energies rippling from her fingertips.  Her fierce fangs and slim face are all too familiar. This is the first time you’ve seen Star, but not the first time. You freeze.

Paradox.

Even without the cybernetics, she’s easily recognizable.

Even if she’s wearing leggings underneath a ruffled black skirt and a large, ugly sweater. She’s cute, in a kind of tired nerdy way. Her purple eyes and hair are far less crazy than before, but it’s still her.

You stumble back in fear. The dhampir looks hurt and shrinks back. Her fangs recede as she hides behind the door.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Star mutters.

The illusion is broken. The way she carries herself is completely different. Where Paradox moved about like a maddened beast that relished in the pain of others, Star is demure woman who flinched away from the thought of hurting someone. She isn’t spineless, clearly. You don’t doubt that a blood-mad Star could rip you limb from limb.

“I’m the caretaker?” You avoid her gaze. “Scarlet?”

In part because you were told eye contact could ‘excite’ blooddrinkers, in part because she was a weird copy of one of your most terrifying foes.

“Right, you’re the new girl.” She sighs and opens the door further. “Would you like some tea? It’s the least I can do.”

She’s clearly not expecting you to come in. The door is more open, but not all the way. The dean mentioned that there was a revolving door of caretakers for Star’s tower. Technically, it was the University’s, reserved for the Mastery classes. Someone decided that since there was so little traffic, they could relegate the Dhampir to her own dorms at the top.

A normal caretaker would scurry off at the first chance. You’re not normal. Even more when you think back on that sensation when she first saw you. Quickly quelled, but not entirely by the spell. DESIRE, wrapped with more.

“Sure, thanks.”

“Okay, goodby—huh?”

Her dumbfounded expression as you walk inside is adorable. She grumbles about wasting time but magically summons a teapot anyways. You’re about to comment on the messiness of the massive room, but Star is way ahead of you. In a stunning display of magic, the books scattered across the room float off the ground, chairs, and tables. In a smooth concerto, they zoom into specific openings in the massive bookshelves.

The teapot glides happily to the table and pours you a mug. The movements are like the dean’s. You wonder if he taught her magic. You taste the tea.

Yup, still ashy. Star stares at you as you slowly sip at your drink. Silently. Her eyes glaze over and when you turn around, there’s an open book floating behind you. At least she had the sense to feel shame when you raise an eyebrow. You grin smugly.

“I’ve never met a dhampir before.” Best you can tell, Paradox was a full-on vamp.

“I’m the only one I know of.” Star swirls her tea.

“Is it lonely?”

Her spoon stops and she frowns slightly.

“Who needs friends when you’ve got books?”

Super nerd. She’s happy in her little prison of books, happy being alone. You can’t imagine her being so accepting of that. Maybe she’s planning something. Maybe the monster is there, lurking beneath the surface. A scheme years in the making.

Maybe a peek?

You flash your soul sense…and are awed. In a brief moment, you witness the complexity of her soul. Full to bursting of knowledge and emotions, carefully contained in a diamond shell of pure willpower.

All those swirling emotions and wants swirling inside her are not just the maelstrom of DESIREs simmering beneath the dense core of her sense of self, but pieces of a beautiful composition. You feel like weeping. Her soul is unmistakably Paradox’s, but pristine and unshattered. As it should have been.

You can’t help but fall in love again.

She shivers.

“What was that?” She looks around and narrows her eyes on you. “What kind of magic was that?”

“Sorry, sorry. It happens sometimes…” You hide your face abashedly. “It’s a magic talent.”

“Innate, learned, or patronned?”

You took a few classes on magic already. Well, you finished them by reading ahead and doing everything on the syllabi in a few nights. It was a boring first couple days here, okay? It was only a little while ago that you solved that problem.

You can learn four types of magic: Arcane, Body, Ritual, and Soul.

Arcane magic is the most used. To use it, it takes years of study to call upon it and sift it through phrases and calculations to achieve various effects. Like programming, except if you were also the power source. Greater magic calls for reserves mortals typically lack. Arcane magic is so popular because you can use it to work all the other magics, so long as you know what you’re doing.

Body is an alteration of the physical form. Muscle strengthening, healing, and even shapeshifting fall under this school of magic. It’s far harder to do it to others, but lust-aligned demons like yourself have an affinity to it.

Goblins championed ritual magic and introduced it after they joined Prillia. It takes more time to set up but results in larger impacts. Weather manipulation, summoning, divination, enchantments, big stuff for cheap because a lot of people help. In recent years, they’ve moved on from enchantments to full on magitech completely unique to Prillia.

One of your specialties, soul magic, is incredibly illegal. Soul alteration, spirit summoning, necromancy…all are powerful facets of this school of magic. To play with souls is the enter the realm of the almighty, or the truly reviled. It was after all, a powerful necromancer who ended the third Age.

Patronned magic is different. It’s something that’s given, borrowed, or sometimes taken.

Holy Knights and the various groups serving under the Empyreans borrow their power using patronage. Rather than study, it requires someone to be acknowledged by a powerful being to receive a scrap of their power. You could pretend that the soul sense was a part of a patron’s magic, but any digging will reveal your roots are demonic first and holy second.

Sorcery, a.k.a. innate magic presents itself in weird ways. Some people are just born with abilities they use on instinct. Sometimes it’s something as boring as sensing moving water. Other times, it’s a natural understanding of a type of magic or skill. It gets wonky when such a person has kids, because there’s a chance they can inherit their parent’s abilities. These tend to be hit or miss, as someone could have an innate mastery over fire magic, but their kid would only be capable of heating a room by a couple degrees.

You can only convince others your abilities are a weird bit of innate magic.

“I’m not fortunate enough to be chosen.” You say. “It’s a weird power. It allows me to…never mind.”

You cut yourself off, but she’s already curious. The DESIRE roils inside her, moved by flavors you don’t quite understand. Does DESIRE come in forms other than lust? You consider that now that you can feel it so much clearer from the vampire. Sher’Khan was on the right track.

She shifts in her seat and slurps down her tea in one gulp. Star licks her lips and leans forward, her ample cleavage obvious through her hoodie as she was leaning on the tabletop…

Hold your horses! Any lewd actions are forbidden.

For now, a small voice says. You shush it. Infiltration mode.

“It’s just…”

You twirl a lock of hair that escaped from beneath your vestments. Star’s DESIRE is familiar as it shudders, yet it is pushed down by another type of desire you cannot yet sense completely.

“I can tell when someone is lying, even if it’s to themselves.”

Her DESIRE is clamped down and nullified immediately. She looks shamefully away.

“Maybe you’re mistaken.” She huffs. “I’m happy where I am.”

You nod.

“If you say so.” You peek at the book she was reading. “An unabridged history of the fourth age?”

You float the book to your hands, a lot more unevenly than Star.

“I know, it’s a dry read…” Star rubs her head.

“I’ve failed history several times.” You say and the dhampir droops. “But I think it’s because my teachers weren’t interested. What are you combing through dusty tomes for? Maybe I can learn something for once.”

Star perks up again. You listen to her intently, occasionally watching the artwork of her soul blossom and whorl as she talked. You’re sure that even if you weren’t demonic you’d still be learning a lot. As it stands, you’re learning a whole lot.

She tells you about the last wars of the third age that bled into the fourth, about the first paragons: the six great knights Percival, Kay, Gawain, Bors, and Bedwyr, plus the great wizard Merlin. Uther’s death on the mountain now named after him, Arthur’s reign and his step-son, Mordred’s, fall. About Vivienne’s elven son who became king, and of his grandson who was deposed. About the last apprentices of Merlin ascending to become Empyreans of Night and Day.

Occasionally, she’d pause for a breath and you’d ask a few questions she was eager to explore with you. She had a lot of answers, but some truths were lost to history. What made those knights special? What happened between Arthur, Mordred, Guinivere, and Percival? Where was the Day Empyrean if she was chosen to lead with her sister?

You two discussed late into the day, piling up books next to you as you dug for answers. When the sun begins to set, you have to excuse yourself.

She almost seems disappointed to see you leave. Then she turns right back to her books and keeps reading. The trip all the way down the tower is creepier at night. It gets quieter and the magic torches dim. If you didn’t have demon vision, you probably would have fallen down thirty flights of stairs.

Soon enough, you make it to the room you were given. Normally, the caretakers would live in the dorms at the top of the tower. But a few people were afraid that the dhampir would eat up poor, innocent Scarlet. They changed a nice little classroom into a small living space for you.

Small problem: The classroom was below all the elaborate machinery that caused the towers to rise and fall with the hands of a clock. If you wanted to get to bed, you would have to make it to your room before nine, when the magical machinery pushed the tower all the way up. It would come all the way down at midnight, opening the path once more.

Great for enforcing curfew, awful for 9AM to 12PM classes. Not that it matters that much, you’re taking your classes in absentia.

There is one other advantage. There’s a load of anti-demon wards all around Camelot. Sometimes you cross a part of the city and your skin tingles. They’re not really strong, they’re mostly there to monitor if a demon infiltrates certain parts of the city. More importantly, they’re tripped when demonic magic is used.

Sher’khan explained that it looked for active magic rather than passive magic because the wards tended to fritz out with vampires, goblins, and certain plants and animals.

The great thing about the room you got is that the combination of the tower’s magical interference and being underground that major demonic magic goes unnoticed. Like, say, opening a portal.

You jump down the stairs two at a time as the massive brass gears start clacking. You open the hatch to the sub-basement and jump in just as the tower begins to rise. When you close the door, it will be as if you stayed there all night.

After all, how could little Scarlet get out of the sealed sub-basement? It’s not like the innocent elf is teleporting to a demonic plane and sharing everything she learned about magic with all of her lusty spawn.