Demons are the natural enemies of all sentient races. They first appeared in Aularon over a thousand years ago, when the Gates of Inferno opened and legions of dark spawn swept across the land, leaving nothing but scorched wasteland in their wake.

  But a united army of all sentient peoples, setting aside their quarrels, managed to halt Inferno's advance and eventually seal the rift. A long time has passed since then, but demons continue to seep into Aularon through countless smaller breaches.

  In response, a council of all major nations founded the Order of the Swallow — an order of knights and mages whose purpose was to fight demons and other spawn of Inferno. To root them out wherever they might be. But at some point, the Order grew so powerful, its authority and independence so vast, that the nations became afraid of this force.

  The attempt to disband the Order of the Swallow led to an actual war, which ended with the Order's dissolution. And yet the demonic threat hadn't gone anywhere. Inferno portals still opened — not on the same scale as before, but something had to be done.

  Trilor was the first to revive the Order, but Emperor Husar of Faldaria reacted extremely poorly. He believed a new order that could freely enter his territory was just a clever scheme by Trilor. So the Emperor founded his own — the Order of the Falcon.

  Now the two organizations competed with each other, and not so much over demon kills as over various artifacts — created by ancient mages and necromancers from the remains of greater demons.

  It was to this new Order of the Swallow that Katrina de Shinro belonged — one of the few female paladins in its ranks.

  She'd come to Vularian on reports of demons spotted near the old road. For nearly a week, she and her squad had combed the abandoned route, but found no trace of Inferno's spawn.

  Just in case, she decided to linger in the city. Her people were worn out from a recent skirmish with a group of necromancers in a neighboring county and needed rest. She'd lost her squire in the fight and was still grieving. Dugo — that was his name — could've passed the trial within a year and earned the rank of knight. But alas…

  Katrina suspected the demon had likely been imagined by some merchant who'd raised the alarm and called in the Order of the Swallow. That happened far more often than anyone liked. Still, the paladin was glad her people could afford a bit of rest. Plus, it was a chance to recruit fresh blood.

  Mortality in the Order was quite high, which meant regular recruitment drives were a necessity.

  Officially, open recruitment on Trilor's soil was forbidden. A volunteer had to come to Kadral — the Order's headquarters — on their own and declare their intent to serve. Katrina had always thought the law was stupid, but it had to be followed. Which meant most recruits came from the Free Counties — young people chasing glory and fortune. And those who survived their first year of service really could look forward to both.

  Right now, Katrina stood on the veranda watching Torig — one of her squad's best swordsmen — evaluate the new recruits. Though "evaluate" was generous. It was already clear what they were. Ordinary boys, sixteen to eighteen, desperate to escape poverty. Some were even younger, but Torig had weeded those out immediately. No talent, no skills. They'd all need to be trained from scratch, with someone making sure they didn't die in their first engagement.

  "What the hell kind of swing is that?!" Torig barked, spectacularly knocking the wind out of one cocky kid whose father had taught him a couple of moves and who now fancied himself a great warrior. "Footwork! Footwork! You move like a pregnant woman!"

  They were sparring with sticks, naturally. If Torig had been armed with a real weapon, the kid wouldn't have lasted ten seconds. The rest watched in fascination as the man moved, effortlessly battering his clumsy opponent.

  "Hey, Agnish — is that one a girl?" Katrina called over one of her men standing nearby, pointing at a short-haired young woman desperately trying to pass herself off as a boy. Probably had her chest bound with bandages too.

  "No idea, my lady," he shrugged.

  Frowning, she descended from the veranda and strode briskly toward the trainees.

  "That's enough, Torig." She clapped the warrior on the shoulder, and he obediently stepped back. The girl swept her sharp gaze over the dozen or so boys, paying particular attention to the "last" one.

  "I am Paladin Katrina de Shinro, captain of this combat unit of the Order of the Swallow. If you pass this training, I will be your commander until such time as you are transferred to the training division, from which you will subsequently be assigned to combat units for field practice."

  Katrina paced along the line of recruits until she stopped in front of the only girl.

  "You. Woman." The paladin pointed at her. It wasn't a question.

  "Me?" The girl blinked in surprise. "You're mistaken."

  "And now you're lying to me? Step forward!"

  After a moment's hesitation, the female recruit complied.

  "Now pick up a stick. I want to see what you can do."

  With that, Katrina glanced at Torig. He shook his head disapprovingly but tossed her a thick rod, which the paladin caught with easy grace.

  "Attack!"

  The girl took the rod, bit her lower lip for an instant, and made her first thrust. It was frankly pathetic — Katrina didn't even need to dodge. She simply knocked the stick from the recruit's hands.

  "Pick it up."

  Clenching her teeth in frustration and anxiety, the girl picked up the stick again, this time choosing not to charge in blindly. Not that it helped. Katrina took one step and thrust forward with inhuman speed, jabbing the girl right in the throat. The wood barely grazed her skin, but the recruit instantly lost her balance and doubled over coughing.

  "Is that all?" Katrina asked imperiously. "Women have no place in the Order of the Swallow!"

  "Kh-kh… but you're… kh-kh… a woman too…" the recruit wheezed.

  "And? Don't compare yourself to me. But if I'm wrong — prove it. Show me what you're made of."

  Fighting through the pain, the girl got back up, grabbed the stick — and was immediately struck in the face, crashing to the ground. This time she didn't wait for the command. She rose at once, lifting her weapon, only to get hit again. She spat blood, got up, and fell again.

  This went on for about ten minutes. The girl was beaten to a pulp, but she kept getting up. Even Torig, who wasn't known for coddling recruits, winced at the sight. This wasn't a skills test anymore. It was a beating.

  Finally, Katrina sighed tiredly and tossed the training weapon aside.

  "We're done. What's your name?"

  "Gera…" the beaten girl rasped.

  "Very well, Gera. You pass," Katrina said flatly, watching the new recruit try to stand again, then turned and tossed the rod back to Torig. "The rest is yours. And get her a medic."

  Katrina didn't make it back to her observation post before she was intercepted by a man in his forties, dressed in travel clothes, unshaven, with a touch of gray in his hair.

  "If you'll permit me, Lady Katrina — weren't you a bit harsh with that young man?"

  "That was a girl."

  "A girl? Well… all the more reason."

  "Günther, you know perfectly well how hard it is for women in the Order. You need iron will, and I think that little runt has it."

  "Still, I believe her resolve could've been tested in a more humane way."

  "Look, did you come here just to lecture me?" Katrina frowned, contemplating whether to slug the mage for sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

  "Alright, let's drop it," the man said, sensing his commander's foul mood. And it truly was foul. Katrina had taken no pleasure in beating up that poor girl. But some things had to be done. Some young women who dreamed of knighthood took one stick to the face and never wanted anything to do with the Order again. But this one definitely had grit — something might come of her yet. "I have something interesting for you, along with an equally interesting story."

  "I'm listening."

  The moment she said that, the mage grinned and pulled a callar demon's head from his bag. Katrina was speechless.

  "Where did you get that?!"

  "I was strolling through the market by the south gate this morning. Thought I might pick up a trinket for the wife, and I saw them hauling a new prisoner into the dungeons."

  "And? What's that got to do with us?"

  "Normally nothing. But one of the guards came over and told me a curious tale. Apparently this fellow — young guy, buck naked, covered in blood, holding an elven sword and a demon's head — came charging up to one of the checkpoints near the city."

  "Well then," Katrina said, genuinely surprised. "You think he killed the demon himself?"

  "I think so, given what happened next."

  "There's more?"

  "Oh, ye-e-es," the mage grinned. "The guards naturally tried to stop this suspicious individual. But he was, shall we say, not himself. When they tried to detain him, he resisted. And then some. Lord knows where a scrawny kid like that gets the strength, but he sent one guard flying a good thirty feet with a kick."

  "A mage, maybe? Enhancement spells?"

  "That's what I thought too, but I didn't detect any trace of magic on him when they carted him past. Though given he really wasn't in his right mind, maybe he'd downed some potion."

  "So what happened?"

  "Three guards seriously injured. Five more got off with bruises and scrapes."

  "Interesting story indeed…" Katrina murmured thoughtfully, staring at the demon head in the sack. "I should have a look at him."

  "My thoughts exactly. He's in solitary right now, and apparently he's much better. The watch captain says he's behaving reasonably. There was a risk the guards might've roughed him up on the sly, but I've already paid the right people to leave him alone."

  "Good call. What's he facing?"

  The mage thought for a moment.

  "Well, he maimed a couple of guards, so five years hard labor minimum. Though, given this isn't Trilor, they might just hang him without much deliberation."

  "Can we get him?"

  "I think so. Count Vular's friendly to us, so I don't see any issues with a prisoner transfer."

  "Excellent," Katrina smiled.

  A vampire's body is a remarkable thing. It can recover from the most incredible wounds and injuries, as long as there's enough sustenance and the vampire's own will to live. Killing someone like me for certain requires only one thing — removing the head. But as long as it's attached, any "fatal" wound isn't quite so fatal.

  Whether Selina understood, when she cut my throat, that it wouldn't be enough — I have no idea. If she'd done it a day later, I'd probably be dead. But at that moment, my body still remembered the taste of blood all too well and was screaming for more. To get a fresh dose, I didn't even need to drink — it simply seeped into my wounds from the dead demon.

  I'd heard stories about vampires surviving on rats and pigeons, but I doubt any of them had ever drunk demon blood.

  Unfortunately, even so, my consciousness didn't fully return. After absorbing the demon's blood, I was basically tripping. I vaguely remember crawling out from under the carcass and, for some reason, hacking off its head.

  I think… I said something like…

  "Let all know that I am a slayer of demons… I'll hang this in my castle…"

  What castle? No clue. Apparently I'd decided I was some great hero. Head in one hand, trophy sword in the other, I stumbled off in the same direction Selina had driven away with all my belongings.

  Probably.

  That whole stretch of time was like a fog. One long dream.

  I don't even know how long I walked. A day, two, a week — or maybe just a couple of hours. Just walking, periodically drinking from the severed head to keep going. Eventually, the first settlements appeared ahead. People stared at me in shock, but I couldn't have cared less. The only thing on my mind was Selina.

  I wanted to find her and kill her with my bare hands.

  Then… I think some guards approached me. Asked me something. When I just kept walking, they tried to stop me. So they got what was coming. The whole thing turned into a brawl that ended with someone cracking me hard across the back of the skull.

  I woke up in a prison cell with other inmates, one of whom immediately started pushing me around. I shattered his jaw with my first punch, and the guards moved me to solitary. No window in there, but honestly? Might be better this way.

  After some time alone in the dark, the fog started to lift.

  "Note to self: don't drink demon blood," I muttered, remembering the events with horror. In any society, assaulting law enforcement is a serious crime, regardless of the world or country. I was in deep trouble.

  But there was one silver lining to the situation — though some might find this a laughable plus. They gave me clothes! Total garbage, but at least I wasn't naked anymore. When I think about wandering down a public road in my birthday suit, I want to die of embarrassment.

  What to do now, I had no idea.

  Try to escape?

  There were two ways out of the cell. First — a steel door made of bars, but even with my noticeably enhanced strength, it was an impassable obstacle. Second — a hole in the floor for answering nature's call, but it was so small I could barely fit a fist through it. So the escape plan was shelved for now. Maybe an opportunity would present itself. If they didn't decide to hang me right away, there might be a moment. Sure, I'd attacked guards, but if there was a proper trial, I could plead stress from the demon encounter.

  Something like: "I'm sorry! I lost my mind from fear!"

  A garbage excuse, obviously, but maybe they'd take pity and reduce the sentence. Then again, given how thoroughly I'd wrecked those guards… I probably wasn't getting off with a fine.

  I still had some vampire strength left, and it should be enough to handle a couple of guards if I did go for a breakout. But I was afraid that would only make things worse. The last thing I wanted was to be a wanted fugitive. Especially when I had no idea how advanced their criminal pursuit system was. What if mages hunted down criminals here? There you are, running for your life, and some bastard is tracking you with magic. You could flee to the other end of the world and he'd still find you.

  No thanks. I'll pass on that kind of luck.

  A bearded guy came to check on me a couple of times. I tried talking to him, but he completely ignored everything I said.

  Infuriating.

  One thing deserves special mention — the food. It was atro-o-o-cious. I'd thought the porridge Selina made wasn't great. The stuff they served in prison? I don't even want to talk about it. Like someone had taken paper and by some miracle turned it into mush. Oh, and I found a cockroach in the bread.

  And the worst part — I had to eat it. My body demanded it.

  Finally, I got some information about my future. A female warrior came to my cell, clad in a rather unusual set of lamellar armor, clearly a cut above anything I'd seen before. It was well-fitted to her figure too, designed not to restrict her movement. The martial gear was completely at odds with her face. The woman was genuinely beautiful: long golden hair, large emerald eyes, thin sensuous lips. Even through the armor, it was clear she had the figure to match.

  I would've taken her for a model doing a fantasy photoshoot, but the way she carried herself, the way she looked — there was confidence and power. And then the smell. She smelled of blood. Not a simple girl by any stretch, and it would be a mistake to be fooled by that pretty face.

  "So this is what you look like — the naked demon slayer," the visitor said with a sarcastic smirk, appraising me with a skeptical eye.

  "Who are you?" I asked, getting to my feet.

  "I'm asking the questions right now," she said, bluntly. "And I wouldn't recommend being evasive. Your answers will determine your future. Whether you live or swing from a gallows."

  "Alright…" I wasn't thrilled with this turn, but I didn't push back.

  She wanted to know exactly what had happened, so I told her the story — leaving out certain details. The girl listened intently, never taking her eyes off me. She conducted the interrogation alone, inside my cell, which was a little strange. Wouldn't it be easier to question me from the other side of the bars?

  "So you're a Chosen of the Tower," she said, summarizing what she'd heard. "Though you don't really look like one. My grandfather was one of them. He appeared very close to an Inferno rift, far from any civilization. By the time they found him, he'd killed and eaten over a hundred demons."

  "Impressive."

  "And he had no weapons, no tools. He managed to kill them with rocks and sticks. He's now one of the Lord Commanders of the Order I serve in." She paused. "But we're getting sidetracked. You were found by a merchant's caravan, and then bandits attacked. Correct?"

  "Yes."

  "You fought them off, but only you and the sorceress survived. Then in the caravan you found a chest of gemstones, and the girl decided to grab it for herself, using the demon attack as cover?"

  "That's right. Left me for dead, figuring the demon would finish me off. But I finished it instead."

  "Something doesn't add up…" she mused. "Why didn't she just kill you outright? With magic."

  "She was still wearing a magic-blocking bracelet. They'd put it on her before the ambush. One of our guards was a traitor, working with the bandits."

  "Still…" the girl narrowed her emerald eyes, sensing gaps in my story. But tell her I was a half-vampire? No thank you. "You're not telling me everything."

  "That's all I can say," I shrugged. "You can keep asking if you want, but the truth won't change."

  The girl pressed her lips together, stared at me like a hawk eyeing prey for a few moments, then suddenly stepped forward and grabbed my chin. Hard. So hard I never would've guessed this warrior was that physically strong. She was every bit my equal in raw power, and that said a lot.

  "Something's off about you… I can literally feel it…" And she actually sniffed me! Then she abruptly stepped back, raised her hand in front of her, and I was blinded by a brilliant light. "Feel anything?"

  Of course I did. It was literally burning the blood in my veins, slowly and steadily. A couple of hours under that "sunshine" and I'd be cooked alive. The vampire essence inside me writhed in agony, but the human part was stronger, so I held steady through the bizarre impromptu sunbathing session.

  "No. Just a bit too bright."

  "I see," the stranger said, and the light vanished instantly.

  "What the hell was that?!" I couldn't hold back.

  "'Touch of Light.' It burns creatures of darkness."

  Very, very good thing I hadn't said anything. So if I'd mentioned the burning, she'd have known she was dealing with something unholy. Not good. Not good at all. I needed to be more careful. The girl said nothing more, simply turned and left in silence despite my attempts to get some clarity on my future.

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  "Shit…" I sighed, settling back onto the uncomfortable straw pallet.

  Katrina was satisfied with the interrogation of this young man, but what excited her most was that he was a Chosen of the Tower — which meant the kid had potential. Sure, he looked awfully scrawny for someone who'd supposedly killed a demon solo, but that didn't mean anything. After all, her grandfather had been one of them, and that spoke volumes.

  And yet there was something about this boy that triggered an unpleasant, nagging itch inside the paladin. The kind she usually felt when a creature of darkness was nearby. In her decade of service with the Order of the Swallow, Katrina had learned to sense dark entities, and she'd definitely picked up something dark in this otherwise ordinary-looking kid. But at the same time, the Touch of Light hadn't worked, and it was entirely possible the sensation came from the demon blood he'd been drenched in.

  "How did it go?" asked Günther, waiting for his commander outside the dungeon.

  "Seems sane enough," she shrugged. "Could be he really did take some kind of potion. But I'm almost certain he's holding something back."

  "Then maybe forget about him?" the mage suggested. "Let the local guards deal with it."

  "Absolutely not. He's a Chosen of the Tower."

  "Well, that changes things," the man said, immediately serious. "It's been a while since the Order had a Chosen in its ranks. We could even loan him to the university types for questioning and experiments, heh…"

  "I'll leave the paperwork to you," she told him, heading toward the residence assigned to their squad. "When you're done, send him to me along with that beat-up girl."

  "Her? Why?"

  "I liked her spirit. Reminds me of myself when I was a kid." Katrina smirked. "Let's see if anything comes of those two."

  I sat in the dungeon for another couple of hours after the golden-haired beauty-knight left. Then a disgruntled guard showed up — a different one from before. He slapped manacles on my wrists, led me out of the dungeon, and brought me to someone's office. Two older men were inside — one in the simple traveling clothes worn by countless people in these lands, the other in guard armor, though noticeably more polished.

  "Well then," the guard began. Probably his office. "What's your name?"

  "Maximilian Gothard," I replied.

  "Ahem… quite a mouthful. But doesn't matter. Right now you've got two paths ahead of you, Mahli-malian."

  "Maximilian," I corrected.

  "Don't care," he waved dismissively. "Two paths. First — you go to the mines for seven years. And that's a lenient sentence, because you rid our region of a demon. Behave yourself and meet your quotas, you might get out in five."

  Years in the mines? No, thanks.

  "And the second?"

  "See this gentleman? His name is Günther Kars. He's a mage from the Order of the Swallow."

  "What's the Order?" I asked right away. I needed to understand what I'd be getting into, though I figured it had something to do with that girl who'd come to gawk at me.

  "We hunt creatures of darkness. Inferno demons, necromancers, and other entities that do evil and make life hell for ordinary folk."

  Fantastic. Sounded like I might fall under that category myself. Okay, calm down. Calm down, Max. It's not that bad. The key is not to raise suspicions early on, and then physiology should do the rest — I'd revert to my human state.

  Hunting those things was dangerous work. But who said I had to do it forever? Deserting the Order would probably be easier than escaping a mine.

  "So what'll it be, young man?" The guard had stopped trying to say my name, and I appreciated that.

  "As if I'm being given a real choice. Something tells me life in the mines isn't exactly pleasant."

  "A very wise decision," smiled the man introduced as Günther Kars. "In truth, joining the Order is a great honor. Those who endure the hardships of military service and the demon battles can eventually look forward to a noble title and a comfortable retirement."

  "And how many actually make it?" I couldn't resist the sarcastic grin.

  "Enough," he answered, quite seriously. I didn't believe him for a second. "The main thing is don't play hero without good reason. Follow Lady Katrina's orders to the letter, and you'll be fine."

  His words did nothing to convince me — if anything, they put me more on edge. But then again, a noble title… that sounded pretty nice.

  "Hold out your hand," the mage asked. I complied without a second thought and instantly regretted it. He placed some round metal object on the back of my hand and muttered a spell under his breath. And in that instant, it felt like someone had poured molten iron on me.

  "What the—?!" I yanked my hand back.

  "Easy. It's insurance in case you decide to run. A magic brand."

  "Excuse me?!"

  "You're now Lady Katrina's property. And property gets marked. If you run, they'll find you anyway. But then you'll be classified as a deserter, and deserters get hanged."

  Wonderful. Just freakin' wonderful. This is the end. Maybe I should've taken the mines? Ugh…

  "Alright, let's go!" Günther clapped me on the shoulder.

  "Not a chance. Give me my sword back first."

  "Sword? What sword?" The mage looked at the guard in surprise, but the man just shrugged. Günther promised they'd give me a different one, but there was no way in hell I was leaving without my weapon.

  I literally dug in my heels, declaring I wasn't going anywhere until I got it back. Günther grumbled, then went to sort it out. Judging by the fact that they returned my weapon in under thirty minutes — minus the money, of course — the Order of the Swallow had serious pull in this city.

  "Fine blade," Günther said approvingly as he handed it over. "I can see why you kicked up a fuss. Though I'm not sure how you ended up with it."

  "Spoils of war. Took it off one of the bandits."

  "Hm… Interesting," the mage mused. "Wish we'd run into bandits like that more often. We deal with that kind of rabble from time to time, but finding a trophy like this is practically a miracle."

  "It's mine," I said, just to be clear.

  "It's yours. Don't worry — Lady Katrina is fair and won't confiscate your things. We're a serious organization."

  "Good to hear."

  As we walked, Günther filled me in on the Order's operations and my specific duties. Turns out, I wasn't going to be cannon fodder like I'd expected — more like a servant. Knight-paladins frequently took promising young men and women as squires, grooming them into strong warriors who'd eventually become paladins themselves. And that was exactly the role I'd been assigned. Apparently, my origins and solo demon kill had made an impression on the blonde after all. The rest of the recruits would normally be sent to basic training, then distributed among squads.

  I'd gotten lucky, according to Günther, because basic only covered the fundamentals of fighting dark spawn. But when you're a squire to a renowned knight, they personally take charge of your training and often teach things you'd never learn anywhere else.

  While he was explaining all this, I managed to get a look at Vularian and was pleasantly surprised. I'd expected hideous wooden and stone buildings, mud everywhere, and zero sanitation. Instead, I found a reasonably clean city. Stone sidewalks were practically everywhere, so you didn't have to worry about sinking knee-deep in muck when it rained. There were drainage channels, and apparently nobody was dumping chamber pots out the windows. The houses were stone, two to three stories tall. Rarely more.

  They brought me to a fairly large manor with an equally large courtyard. And there, in that courtyard, some guy was making my peers do one-armed push-ups. Naturally, most of them couldn't.

  While I was staring at this bizarre training session, Günther walked over to the group, pulled someone out, and brought them over. At first I thought it was a boy, but the closer he led the other recruit, the more I suspected it was a girl. Way too pretty a face despite all attempts to look like a guy, and the hips were a bit of a giveaway.

  "Come along," Günther said, and now there were two of us following him. I kept sneaking glances at the girl, but she wouldn't even turn her head in my direction. She was actually pretty cute, but in my opinion, the short haircut didn't suit her at all. Otherwise — not bad: brown eyes, dark hair, a cute little nose. Two things ruined the impression. First, the bruises on her face that had come from god knows where — like she'd been in a fight a couple of days ago. Second, her detachment. A blank indifference that showed in every movement and every look.

  The other recruits watched us being led away with a mix of envy and suspicion. I hoped that wouldn't cause problems down the line. I figured every one of them would've killed to be a knight's squire.

  Inside the manor, they confiscated my sword, saying I'd get it back when we went on a combat assignment. Just in case, I told the soldier that he was personally responsible for its safety with his life. I don't think he took my threat seriously. Big mistake. That sword was literally all I had left, and I'd rip throats for it.

  Literally.

  We were taken to the second floor, into a sitting room. The furnishings were quite lavish and tastefully done. At a table in the center sat the same female knight, sipping wine. For the first few seconds she looked subdued and sad, but the moment she noticed us in the doorway, her expression transformed. The haughtiness returned to her gaze, and whatever trace of vulnerability had been there vanished without a trace.

  "As you ordered, Lady Katrina," the mage reported.

  "Wonderful." She smiled faintly, giving us both another thorough once-over. "You may leave us."

  Günther clapped me on the shoulder in farewell and wished us luck.

  "Let me reintroduce myself. I am Paladin Katrina de Shinro of the Order of the Swallow. From this moment, you are my squires. Your duties include everything I command — from doing my laundry to fighting demons. You are both currently on a probationary period, at the end of which I will decide which of you shows the most promise. Understood?"

  "Yes, ma'am!" the girl beside me reported immediately.

  "Yeah… I guess…" I said without enthusiasm, and — miracle of miracles — the short-haired brunette actually deigned to look at me. But the contempt in her gaze was enough to make me uncomfortable. Apparently she genuinely considered scrubbing someone else's underwear an honor.

  "Good," the knight nodded with satisfaction. "Now strip."

  "What?!" I couldn't hold it in.

  "Strip. Completely," the woman repeated coldly, crossing her arms. "Afterward, you'll receive five strikes with a rod as punishment. Remember — I should never have to repeat my orders. Clear?"

  "Yes, ma'am!"

  "Yeah…"

  After some hesitation, I pulled off my shirt. The girl, unlike me, showed zero hint of embarrassment and stripped quickly. She'd wrapped her chest with bandages, and getting those off took some effort.

  But looking at her naked body gave me no pleasure whatsoever. The first thing I noticed was how painfully thin she was. The second — the sheer number of scars covering her literally everywhere, from shoulders to heels. Life had clearly not been kind to her. And lastly — a strange tattoo on her left shoulder blade. Not magical, unlike the one now decorating my palm. It looked more like a brand.

  "Are you going to keep staring at her?" Katrina asked, now addressing me. The girl also shot me a dirty look.

  "Oh…" I sighed and pulled down my pants, under which there was nothing.

  The paladin smirked, then circled us both, examining us closely. She stopped in front of the girl and asked thoughtfully:

  "Branded, are you?"

  "Yes, my lady…" the girl answered reluctantly.

  "How long on the run?"

  "Two months," she said honestly.

  "I see," Katrina nodded. "You can relax now. As long as you serve in the Order of the Swallow, you're protected. Down the line, you'll receive Trilor citizenship, and no one will threaten your freedom."

  "Thank you," the girl answered with restraint, but there were so many suppressed emotions behind those words. It showed in her face, in the way she was barely holding back tears.

  "Now spread your arms," the knight ordered, and then… literally started feeling the girl up. She palpated her thoroughly from head to toe, occasionally asking questions about what she'd been eating, how much.

  Having satisfied her curiosity about the girl, she ordered Gera to get dressed and turned to me. She did the same thing, and what surprised me was that with each touch, I felt heat. Like invisible tendrils of warmth pushing under my skin and doing something in there. It was hardly pleasant — the heat stung painfully, and I had to fight not to wince.

  "You have strange muscles. Strange body in general," she mused. "You seem human, but…" She paused. "At the same time, I sense significant differences. Interesting. Is everyone like this where you come from?"

  "Quite possibly," I lied.

  "Fine. You can get dressed too."

  The moment she said that, I rushed to pull my pants back on.

  "Was that some kind of spell?" I asked, just to be safe.

  "Did you feel something?" She raised a thin eyebrow with interest.

  "Well… a slight tickle, maybe," I tried to backpedal, realizing I might not have been supposed to feel anything.

  "Hm… Seems you have a sensitivity to Light magic."

  "Is that good or bad?" I asked, extremely carefully.

  "It's simply a fact. The causes could vary — from a natural affinity for Light magic, to having a creature of darkness somewhere in your bloodline." I swallowed nervously at that. "But don't worry about it. I can only say that if it's an affinity, becoming a paladin will come much easier for you. Mastering Light spells will be significantly simpler."

  I exhaled in relief. Gera, on the other hand, pressed her lips together in displeasure at the mention of my potential paladinhood and shot me a look of pure hatred. Right — we were "competitors," and I'd just accidentally blurted something that put me one rung above her.

  "Follow me," the knight said once I was fully dressed. We passed into the adjacent room. "This is where you'll be sleeping for the time being."

  "Great…" was all I could manage.

  "If something doesn't suit you, I can send you back to your cell," Katrina said acidly.

  "No, thanks. This is fine," I muttered.

  "And you? Everything satisfactory?" my new boss asked Gera.

  "Yes, my lady."

  "Good. Get settled. I'll bring you some books later."

  "Books?" I didn't follow.

  "What did you expect? You're squires — future paladins, if you make the cut. That means you need to know about demon physiology and the magic used by dark mages. Without the basics, you won't just get yourselves killed — you'll send the people who trusted you with their lives to slaughter. So I suggest you take your studies as seriously as your physical training."

  I sighed heavily and looked around our new living quarters. What was the room like? Nothing special. Four walls and two mattresses. That was it. Oh, right — I forgot the one stool. A real fairy-tale castle. No blankets or pillows in sight. The "window" wasn't even worth mentioning. It was a closet that the knight had inexplicably called a room.

  "Now listen up," Katrina commanded our attention. "You first, Gera. I have a mountain of unwashed clothes in my room — you'll wash and dry them. After that, go to the kitchen and help the cooks prepare meals for the soldiers. Eat while you're there. Take a double portion. You desperately need to put on muscle mass. Clear?"

  "Yes, my lady," the girl bowed her head. And in that moment, I realized that Gera and I had essentially become slaves. The girl at least had the theoretical option to run. But me? I was literally this golden-haired paladin's property. Fa-a-a-antastic.

  "Now you," she turned to me. "You're coming with me. There's something I want to discuss. You'll help while we talk."

  "Alright."

  Gera left us, hurrying to carry out her new "owner's" orders, and I obediently followed the knight. First we returned to the same hall where Günther had originally brought us, then passed through into the next room — which turned out to be a bedroom. The décor was quite impressive, nothing like the conditions I'd now be living in. The bed alone was something I'd only ever seen on TV in movies about kings.

  "Help me with the armor," she ordered, and I started unfastening the clasps without a second thought. The armor was complex to put on and take off. On one hand, it didn't seem to restrict her movement much — that was visible from the outside. But getting it on and off required help — too many straps, rivets, and assorted fastenings.

  Did she really wear this every day? That would drive anyone insane. And it had to be hot, considering armor goes over a padded undergarment. In Katrina's case, that meant a simple linen shirt and leather pants.

  "Go to the bathroom," she pointed at a door to the left. "Draw me a bath."

  I went into the indicated room and nearly gasped. The bathroom was gorgeous — I couldn't have dreamed of one like this back home. Marble floor, a spacious tub that could comfortably fit two. But the most surprising thing — plumbing! There was an actual faucet, though getting water to flow from it took me a couple of minutes. The system was absurdly convoluted. First you had to pull one lever on a pipe near the door, then another under the tub, and only then could you adjust the temperature with two valves.

  When I came back, I was momentarily stunned — Katrina had shed her shirt and pants. She was busy dealing with bandages. Like Gera, the paladin had her chest bound, and in her case it was entirely justified. Katrina's assets were genuinely impressive, and without binding, they'd seriously get in the way during combat.

  "You weren't exactly quick," she said, not the least bit embarrassed, irritation threading through her voice. "Help me."

  While helping with the bandages, I noticed something else. Katrina also had a tattoo — over her left breast. Definitely magical, as the ink seemed to faintly glow. The design was so intricate, with so many lines and elegant weaving around them, that I marveled at the precision of the work on such a small area.

  I wondered what it was for…

  The moment the bandage came off, she strode toward the bath without making the slightest effort to cover herself, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

  Was I free to go, or…?

  I very quickly learned the answer was no.

  "Were five lashes not enough?" came the voice from the bathroom. "Get in here!"

  I walked in just as she was climbing into the water, and I'll admit I let myself look a few seconds longer than I should have. But Katrina herself didn't seem to care in the slightest.

  "Right," she submerged for a few seconds, and when she surfaced, she fixed me with an intent look. "There's something I wanted to discuss with you."

  "Go on."

  "First — the demon. Can you show me where you killed it?"

  "I'm not sure. Maybe. Why?"

  "Because demons don't wander alone. You mentioned two. Where there are two, there could be a dozen more. They don't appear out of thin air. Either there's an Inferno rift somewhere in the forest, or someone summoned them. Especially since we spent a week searching that road and combing the woods and found nothing. Something doesn't add up."

  "You want to verify my story?" I asked bluntly.

  "That too."

  "Too? There's more?"

  "The gemstones. Since you're from another world, you probably don't know that the open sale of raw gemstones is illegal. Jewelers can only purchase them from licensed suppliers. That's a universal law — applies in both Trilor and the Empire. Which means those stones are contraband."

  "I'm not sure I see what's so dangerous about gem trading."

  "Those 'rocks' can absorb magical energy. And after an artificer works on them, they can be weaponized."

  "That explains a lot. So… they were smugglers?" I asked.

  "If there'd been one or two stones, I'd have thought the same. But dozens? That's a very bad sign. Someone needs a massive reserve of magical energy, and since they're illegal… do I need to spell it out?"

  "They're going to use them for something really bad."

  "Exactly. Nice to see you're not as stupid as you look." She seemed to soften a touch.

  "What happens if an ordinary person — not a licensed supplier — tries to sell one of those stones?"

  "If it's an honest jeweler, he'll buy it — but immediately report it to the guards and, of course, hand over the seller. Otherwise, if it comes to light later, the jeweler himself goes to the gallows."

  So it wasn't as simple as Selina had thought. I wondered if she'd known this when she betrayed me. If not, she had an unpleasant surprise coming.

  Well, she'd made her bed. I wasn't about to shed tears for that bitch.

  "I see."

  "But it would be good to put out a description of this sorceress and intercept her before she crosses the Trilor border."

  "Why?"

  "Once she crosses into Trilor, it's no longer our jurisdiction. On Trilor territory, a different agency handles this sort of thing. The Gray Department."

  "And if we catch her after she's crossed?"

  "Then we get no reward. Worse, we get fined, and headquarters comes down on us. So our best bet is to intercept her before that. Head to Günther now and help him compose a physical description for the bulletin."

  "Will do."

  "Then you're dismissed. I'll take it from here." Hearing that, I exhaled in relief and headed for the bathroom exit. Standing beside a bathing woman was deeply uncomfortable. "One more thing!" She stopped me at the threshold. "In two days, we head out along the old road to find where you killed the demon. So you'd better prepare. Tell Günther to give you twenty silvers for travel supplies."

  "Done with the lady?" Günther asked, waiting downstairs.

  "Yeah," I sighed.

  I gave him a brief summary of Lady de Shinro's orders, and the mage nodded, offering to grab a couple of ales while we were at it. As for the twenty silvers, Günther told me not to worry — he'd hand them over first thing tomorrow. The wanted portrait, meanwhile, we assembled right at a table in the mess hall. Besides us, a fair number of people sat at the other tables, but ours was just me and the mage.

  I drew the portrait myself. They had a man who could draw well, but I preferred to do it. At my request, one of the soldiers brought a piece of charcoal and a sheet of paper, and I sketched the likeness fairly quickly.

  "Not bad at all. And here I thought our boy Katz was the good artist."

  "I was into it as a kid, but haven't really drawn in years."

  "Shame. You've got talent."

  Selina really did come out well, complete with that impudent little smirk. I don't know why, but I desperately wanted to draw her with that exact expression. Maybe add some horns and a forked tongue… but that might be overkill.

  Once we finished with the formalities, I could just relax. The honey ale was right up my alley — not much alcohol in it.

  "That's quite a sour face you've got, Maximilian," Günther chuckled.

  "It's the only one I've got," I spread my hands. "Not much reason to celebrate. Got dumped in another world, nearly killed by bandits, nearly eaten by a demon, and to top it all off — stabbed in the back by a girl and thrown in jail."

  "You're alive. That's what matters. Girls and money — those come with time."

  "If I live that long," I noted skeptically.

  "Well, that part's up to you."

  But those words went in one ear and out the other. Despite the ale, my mood wasn't improving.

  "I've told you once and I'll say it again — the Order of the Swallow isn't such a bad place. Look at all these boys." He gestured toward the recruits sitting separately from the Order's knights. "They're here voluntarily, and every last one of them would rip your throat out for a chance to be Lady Katrina's squire."

  "I'd happily trade places."

  "Maximilian," the mage sighed tiredly. "Trust me — you've been handed a golden opportunity. One day you'll understand that the Tower Gods themselves smiled on you."

  "Sure. I'll understand. If I don't die first."

  "If you don't die first," he confirmed with a slightly mournful smile.

  Then the conversation shifted. Günther, like Selina before him, was fascinated by my world. Interestingly, unlike the girl, this mage had met other Chosen of the Tower, and not once had any two come from the same world.

  Though I did most of the talking, the mage shared some interesting stories of his own.

  "Hey, Günther — could you teach me magic?" The idea had me fired up. What kind of isekai protagonist doesn't know magic? This needed fixing!

  "Oh… that's a complicated question, Max, with a lot of factors. First, that's what the University in Trilor is for. Second, you need an innate gift, and even if you have one, there's no guarantee you can develop it."

  "So that's a no?"

  "Hold on," he cut me off. "In your current situation, you obviously can't enroll in the university. You've still got your 'sentence' to serve with the Order. But here's what we can do. Come see me tomorrow, and I'll try to determine whether you have the gift at all. If you do, I'll try to help. Sound good?"

  "That's great!" Now this genuinely lifted my spirits. Who doesn't dream of learning to cast spells? And I had a real chance — why not take it?

  On that positive note, we wrapped up our drinking session. The mess hall had long since emptied, which made sense — it was already nighttime outside. I was about to head to bed when I remembered Gera and grimaced. The girl hated me, no doubt about it. And after what Selina had pulled, the thought of being alone with her was… not comforting. What if she slit my throat in my sleep?

  Brrr…

  Stupid, sure. But after a betrayal like that, trusting anyone felt dangerous.

  So I went outside instead. And it was lovely out there. No blazing sun, just quiet and cool. Though maybe that was just the vampire genes talking.

  I decided to take a walk around the back courtyard, mulling over my plans for the future. I wanted to go home, but one thing was clear — that was virtually impossible. All I could hope for was the Tower deciding to send me back, and that was pure fantasy. I was going to have to make a life in this world.

  I was about to head back inside when I heard a heated argument nearby. Curious, I followed the voices, and what I saw pissed me off royally. Six people — one of whom was my new "colleague." Gera was surrounded by five guys who were getting in her face about something.

  Then the girl tried to punch one of them. She even connected. But it was weak, and the answer came as a knee to the gut. She doubled over instantly, collapsed to her knees, and threw up her dinner. One of them took the opportunity to kick her while she was down. She tried to swing back but couldn't land it, and caught another solid hit to the face.

  "Shit," I muttered. The sight made my stomach turn. I hadn't exactly warmed up to Gera, but I vividly remembered all those scars on her thin, starved body.

  "Not so tough now, huh, hotshot?" I could hear them. "What does the lady even see in a worthless piece of trash like you?"

  Five on one girl. Real brave knights, these defenders of the common folk against demons. Just thugs. My fists itched to rearrange a few overly smug faces.

  Walking away while this scum beat up a girl wasn't something I could do. Maybe I'm too much of a bleeding heart. Or maybe the vampire genes were just craving an excuse to make someone bleed, even this way.

  "'Heroes,' five on one helpless girl?"

  "Oh, look — we were just talking about the hotshots and the other one shows up." The biggest of the recruits spoke. I'd noticed him right away when I'd first seen the group. Probably trained specifically to join the Order, and now the two cushiest spots had been snatched by some girl and a nobody who appeared out of nowhere. That clearly stung. "Are we beating her up? Of course not. We're just putting an uppity bitch in her place."

  "I don't see the difference."

  "Why don't you just get lost? Tonight."

  "Get lost? You mean back to the manor, or…?"

  "From the Order! The lady deserves a truly worthy squire, not pieces of shit like you two."

  "Boys," I smirked. "I'd happily give up my spot, but Lady Katrina made her choice. Besides, even if I wanted to leave…"

  I held up my hand, showing them the magical brand on the back. Really hoped they could see it — it was nighttime, after all. Though the moon cast a surprising amount of light. Not strange, I suppose — it looked about twice the size of the one back home.

  "He's a convict," one of them realized. They exchanged glances, figuring out that demanding I leave was pointless. But the big guy didn't seem to care.

  "Convicts aren't people," he sneered. "If he happens to get shanked and the body turns up in some alley nearby, nobody's going to cry about it."

  "Oh…" I sighed, shaking my head. What was wrong with these people? Savage temperaments everywhere. Everyone wants to kill you. And I've got feelings, you know! I'd like to keep living!

  Screw it.

  In that same instant, I close the distance in a few steps — so fast they don't even register what's happening — and slam my fist square into the big guy's jaw. A nasty crunch. He flies back a good couple of meters.

  Oops. Might've overdone it. Hard to gauge your own strength during the transition period.

  Before the rest can react, I hit the one next to him — lighter this time. But it's enough. The next one gets a spinning kick and drops like a sack of bricks. The remaining two each go down in one hit apiece.

  Kind of scary, actually. Before, when I'd gotten into fights, people didn't go down from a single punch. I hope they're okay. I'd probably better go wake Günther.

  "Hey, you alright?" I extend my hand to Gera. But the ungrateful girl doesn't even try to show gratitude for being rescued. Quite the opposite — she gets up on her own and does something completely unexpected. She hauls off and punches me right in the jaw. "Ow-w-w…" I groaned, clutching my face. "What the hell?! Are you out of your mind?! I just helped you!"

  "Did anyone ask you to?!" she snarled like a feral cat, and in her eyes I saw genuine, honest-to-god hatred. "Nobody asked you to stick your nose in other people's business!"

  With that, the girl turned on her heel and practically sprinted away toward the manor. And there I stood, dumbfounded, over the fallen enemies, staring at her retreating silhouette. Déjà vu. Except this time, at least, there were no corpses.

  I really, really hoped so anyway…

  Now I was more convinced than ever that every woman in my orbit was a complete psychopath. Keep this up and I'd become a misogynist.

  Bending over the downed recruits, I tried to bring them around. Only managed two. One of them, upon seeing my mug, screamed like a little girl and took off running for some reason.

  "You okay?" I asked the other one — the one who didn't bolt.

  "You hit hard…" he winced.

  "You'll live," I shrugged. "Help me wake up the others. Meanwhile, I'll…" I walked over to the big-mouthed idiot I'd dropped first. "Carry this one to Günther. I think I went a little overboard — without a healer, he's going to be in serious trouble."