Blood of the Dragon King

Daemon Sadi

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Prologue
The Making


Queen Shiya stood over a pine wood table. The wind was howling softly as her High Priestess chanted the Words of Binding over and over. “Come to thy plane, harming nothing. Do not allow any to hamper you, and no barrier to bar you. I call you, Blood Demon, to the mortal plane. Come now, with all haste.” Her voice was low in volume, but deep in emotion. Shiya had done the unthinkable; she was making an immortal being. The bones of a man, every single one of them, lay on the table. Along with five ornate bowls.

The bones were bleached white, clean and smelling faintly of roses. The bowls were gray and white, vines and flowers decorating the outside. Inside each large bowl was the blood of a virgin slave. Under the table lay a larger bowl. It was just a plain white bowl. Her eyes tried to stray from her task, but she could not. She needed this being. He, it would save her land, and its people. She had let drip the blood of her favorite slaves, each one no older than fourteen. In the larger bowl, smelling slightly of copper was her daughter’s body, blood, and soul. Tears streamed down her eyes as she knelt by the bowl.

“Oh, Sela, please forgive me!” Shiya sobbed quietly, not wanting to distract her High Priestess. “But the Dragons need to be stopped! I’m so sorry!” She wailed and wailed, disgusted with herself. Reaching up with her right hand, she wiped away the tears and snot, and went about her task. Grabbing the silken garments, a pair of skin-tight leggings, a long-sleeved skin-tight shirt, dragonscale gloves, and a small gem-studded dagger, she placed them in the large vat of blood. For one full hour they would soak in the blood, the High Priestess chanting non-stop. They were plain white now, but once the Blood Demon, Vampire, Undead, whatever he is called came, they would be vital, and blood red.

As she slowly let each garment get covered in her daughter’s blood, she sobbed hard, and mumbled under her breath. “Please forgive me.” Over and over, she sobbed, wringing her hands. The wind howled into the palace garden. Roses in blue and red, pink and white littered everywhere, their buds masking the scent of death and blood. Dandelions in one corner, yellow glowing in the moonlight made a sharp contrast to the gray stonewalls of the palace. The stars were visible as few clouds shrouded the night sky.

Lying down, exhaustion consuming her, Shiya fell into a deep slumber with dark dreams assailing her. She was standing in her bedchamber, her husband bedding another woman, moaning and grunting. A knife was in her hand, and she walked across the skins placed upon the floor. Raising the knife in one hand, she softly spoke, “How dare you, cretin!” And her hand fell, the knife plunging into her husbands bare back. Blood oozed from the wound, a few drops staining her face. “I hate you,” she shouted at his shrieking form. Pulling the dagger from his back, she stabbed again.

Her yells of anger brought a man who had no face into her room. He smiled at her dead husband, and laughed as Shiya began to stab again and again the harlot who had been sleeping with her husband. Blood and gore stained her light pink silk dress, her face, and her hands. The faceless man walked quickly, his footfalls making no sound as he cross the large room. He bent down to her blood smeared face and licked her lips free of the blood. Shiya kissed him then.

Losing herself in the warmth and softness of his lips, she closed her eyes briefly. The man’s hands slid gently up and down her sides as her arms wrapped themselves about his neck. She leaned backwards, his lips leaning with her. She opened her eyes and saw her daughter lying below her husband, several stab wounds in her abdomen. She tried to pull away from the faceless man and his all consuming lips, but failed, his hand pushing the back of her head into his lips.

Trying to scream failed her as his gentle tongue entered her mouth, tickling and exploring. She moaned unwillingly, the pleasure of his mouth sending warm chills down her spin. She shivered as his free hand grazed her breast through her silk dress and shift. He broke the kiss, his eyes clear and dark staring into hers. She loved this faceless man, yet she did not know who he was. She kissed him again, her daughter all but forgotten in her aroused state.

Her daughter’s screams filled her head as her lips pressed roughly against her lover, and she screamed loudly into his mouth. Her daughter’s pleading face flew by, her pleading voice, “Stop, mommy, please stop. It hurts!” Her girls voice said, tears flowing down her face thickly. Why oh why did I kill my daughter? She awoke with a scream, sitting up quickly. Her eyes scanned her surroundings and she remembered what she had been doing.

Shiya stood, and looked upon the dark sky, a silent prayer on her tongue. One hour before sunrise, she would have to personally drink the blood of ten live humans for the beast, her savior, to form a real body. Disgust came unbidden to her, and her stomach heaved itself through her mouth. Not only would those ten people need to die, but the beast would need his fill as well. The magic in the air stank of jasmine and whisperwind. Herbs that would imbue the beast with his inhuman powers, or so the ancient books said.

According the books, this creation had only been done once before, nearly three thousand years prior. The demon, his name Shadowslayer, rampaged through the land for nearly a hundred years. He single handedly destroyed four cities, and killed thousands. Shiya thought herself smart enough to control the demon once he was created. He would have the power of ten men, and his skin would be harder than rock. Human blood was the only food that would sustain him, and his power of magic unmatched. Using shadow as a weapon, he could form clothes, change his body shape, hide, and even kill with just a shadow.

A Dragon army so vast had descended upon the lands. They breathed fire and poisonous gas, lightning and frost, and they were strong, fast, and they flew. Shiya hoped this demon to slay them with his unimaginable powers. Her eyes clouded as she cried silently. She had no sons left, she had killed her own daughter, and her husband was off hunting the Dragons with her armies. Last she had heard of him, he had killed four of the beasts, with great losses. Shiya had begged him not to go.

Four Dragons for four hundred loyal men! Her outrage at his letters was lost on everyone else. Their fear and hate made them blind. She prayed silently, to God, or anyone who was listening. Let this demon save us, and die! Please forgive my sins against my daughter, and let me have peace! Please, I beg of you! Her eyes widened suddenly. She saw the faint light of sunrise. It was time for her deed. She called to a guard, and asked him, her tear-streaked face making the man stare at the ground, “Will you go get the ten men and women who volunteered for this?” The man nodded and ran of, disappearing behind the flowers and walls.

She grabbed the knife from behind her belt. It was a fanciful thing. An ivory handle with many sapphires in its hilt and sheath set of its blade that was a hand length, and slightly curved. She heard the footsteps before she saw the proud and dignified faces. She wiped her eyes. She had to be strong for her people.

“Cara, my sweet, are you sure want this,” Shiya asked softly. Cara was a short woman, well in her middle years. Gray-streaked black hair cascaded down her body in small waves. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight.

“Yes, Highness!” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, showing her fear. Shiya nodded sadly at her longtime friend. Embracing her as a daughter does a mother, Shiya kissed her on both cheeks, and the lips. In Cara’s hand there was a large ornate silver goblet. Cara got down on her hands and knees and place the goblet under her neck. Shiya followed Cara, and dropped to her knees, her silken dress already dirty. She was mumbling words, but Cara heard her. “It’s okay, Highness! I want to help save the people!”

“But what will I do without you? I love you, Cara!” Shiya said softly, but with strength. Cara smiled at the Queen, and whispered soft words of encouragement and pride. Shiya brought her knife to her second mother’s neck, and slipped it through the skin. Cara didn’t cry out, but Shiya did, whispering, “I love you,” over and over. The woman’s blood dripped into the goblet, and Cara made choking sounds.

She kissed the older woman one more time on the lips before she died, and asked the guard to take her away, and let her be buried with her departed husband. Her hand went around the stem of the goblet full of blood, and drank it as quickly as possible. It tasted metallic, and gross, but she drank it all down, letting none pass her lips. She coughed several times as she swallowed, and her tears got rougher and more painful. She repeated the process with each and every one of the people, crying and making sure they wanted this.

The sun rose, but the garden was in shadow from the large palace walls. The demon came, the bones being wrapped in flesh as pale as ivory, Shiya was drinking the last cup of blood. A body no older than herself and eyes a dark violet stared at Shiya as the demon sat up. Pure violet eyes, with no pupil or iris, strong and distinct chin and cheek bones. Tall, and slim, built nicely as a male. A smile of evil intent spread over its face. It stood up from the table, it’s very long black hair as black as night flowing down to it’s lower back. As it walked closer to Shiya, she noticed its eyes had ice blue streaks running through the violet. It was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on.

Shiya felt fear; terror never felt before. This being could rip her to shreds in a second; make her a slave to it just as easily. “Demon of Blood! I am your Master, and you are my Slave!” Shiya said, fear not affecting her voice. “I bind you to this Plane of Existence, and I bind you to my Will! Obey me, and Serve! I name you as you are, Drinker of Shadow, Jiayan!”

“I hear and obey, Master. If I may ask, politely of course, where be the Second Skin, or Innocents Armor?” Shiya was shocked. Nowhere was it said that the beast would be knowledgeable, or capable of speech. “Oh, yes, Master, I have the memory and knowledge of the Summoner. Everything you know, I know. Funny, ain’t it?”
 

Lalaith

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In my filed of paper flowers
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OMG... so much blood *passes out* jk.

Wow, that's just brilliant. I love the plot, it's really interesting. And I love hpw you put so much description, that's exactely the kind of story I like to read.And if it was a book I'd buy it, you bet.

Now go on and post more, I wants to read. :happy:
 

Daemon Sadi

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Chapter One​

The Kiss of Life and Death



Jiayan stood in the garden, his eyes flowing from left to right, searching for humans he could eat. His Master was not one, but the guard was small, and smelled of dirt, Jiayan figured he would taste bad. “Master, I need my Innocents Armor, otherwise my powers are lacking, and weak. I am no stronger, than say, Sela?” Jiayan laughed at his Masters grim and sad expression. She was a beautiful human. Tall and slim, blood on her lips and dress, her hair all tangled. Eyes like liquid sapphire, and hair as black as midnight. Young but not youthful, as her full breasts and round hips spoke to Jiayan.

Cheeks full of life, slightly pink from fear and her youth, she spoke softly, but angrily. “Don’t you DARE,” she yelled the last word. “Don’t you dare speak my daughter’s name, Jiayan,” she repeated in a level voice as she pointed at the vat of blood and body underneath the pine table. “You’re Blood Skin is in there, demon! Equip it, and follow my orders exactly!” Vehement, his Master was, but it could not diminish her beauty. He found it hard to believe she was only twenty. I wonder if she’ll enjoy a nice bedding, since her husband’s been gone for nigh two years, Jiayan thought silently.

“Yes, Master,” the tall male spoke with care, not wishing to push his Master beyond her limit. He walked backwards over the soft paving stones to the table. “Come to me, Skin of Innocent Blood, clothe me as is my will.” A heavy wind screeched overhead, and as every eye closed from the blast, the silken clothing, now blood red in hue, wrapped itself around Jiayan, and melted upon him. “I bid you Shadows, come to me, silently and with all haste, wrapping me in robes of black, and sandals of leather!” Jiayan cried out, the power of magic coming to him. In seconds a large black billowing robe clothed him, it’s hood lying softly against his neck.

“Master, I am clothed as per Ordered!” He shouted out, the wicked smile still upon his face. His Masters eyes were wide with shock and fear, her tongue licking softly at her pouting and full lips.

“Good. Now, Jiayan, go to the Den of Insanity. You will there find humans who will be your food. Do not, I say, do not torture them. Give them the Kiss of Life and Death, and returning, harming no other, and wasting no time. Tomorrow night, your war will begin!” She paused here to catch a breath. “Depart now, Jiayan, and Obey!” Jiayan did just that. His thirst for blood made him blind with lust as he hid himself among the shadows of the city. Slinking from one to the other as fast as thought, he was at the Den of Insanity in seconds. It was a square building of big lines, two stories high, and made of white painted wood. The demon could smell blood and the stink of magic coming from the building. The door he stood at was tall, and wide; a small piece of glass at eye level.

Opening the door with a simple thought, he walked inside. Walls painted blue with images of hunting scenes, and horrible dragons were everywhere. A few young children carried items back and forth, room to room. Jiayan called out in a loud and clear voice, “Hello, I am here to drink my fill!” Sarcasm was laced in every word, and adults popped their heads out of the rooms. One, an elderly man with white hair, a bent back, a small walking stick in his right hand, and a long bushy beard, came up to Jiayan.

“Are you the Blood Demon, then?” The old man asked, his voice fearful and shaking slightly. Jiayan nodded, and the old man turned and started walking down the hallway. “Follow me then, and I will show you your supply of blood.”

“Great, I’m dying of thirst.” Jiayan snickered. “Well, in a way, you see. I’m already dead.” Laughter came bubbling out of Jiayan, his magical and musical voice causing one young woman to swoon and blush faintly.

“Listen here, you,” the old man rounded on him, his voice rising with anger. “Just because you’re a demon doesn’t give you the right to mock us!”

“Oh, but it does. You see, I can kill everyone in this city besides my Master in a few seconds. Shadows are everywhere.” Laughing at his own cruelty, Jiayan walked past the old man. He smelled his victims. They were behind a heavy locked door. The hallway was crowded with old and young faces. Some beautiful, and some not, they all stared at Jiayan with expressions of fear, or curiosity.

He slunk into the shadows, the words coming to him from nowhere, “Bind me within, Shadows, and let me slip amongst you” he whispered. Along the Shadows, he saw many things, a man sitting behind an ancient desk of carved oak, writing on paper. He saw into a small room, with a couch and a chair a young woman crying in a corner, whispering out prayers for forgiveness to an unnamed god.

Slipping himself into the room as if he were liquid, he stretched his limbs as they reformed. Before him stood dozens of young men and women, the prettiest of the city, Jiayan thought, gathered for my lusts. “Ah, my pretties, how I thirst for you.” They all wore different forms of clothing. A young girl wore a dress of silk, with roses and vines, all in shades of blue. Another young woman wore clothes like a man, but tight fitting, in shades of blue and red and pink that showed off her curves.

One young man, wearing a brown robe of linen was crying softly, a young woman comforting him. Hair colors of all shades stood out in all shapes and forms. Some of them had wavy hair, others straight, and a few curly. Long, shot, medium, no hair. The room they all were standing in was large, with beds of silk and feathers, a couch of white wool, a few wooden rocking chairs, and a small desk, with two stacks of paper and a can holding writing tools.

Every eye was wide with shock, fear and outrage painted every face. None were older than the queen, and all were healthy, and vibrant. They cowered into a corner away from Jiayan as he formed from seemingly nothing, which made him laugh. “Where do you think to go? I wont hurt any of you, but I will not tolerate fear!” He exclaimed in a moderate tone. The young faces turned to him, and the young boy stopped crying. He waggled his finger at one young woman to come to him, and she did, without complaint.

“Young one, what is your name?” She was standing right in front of Jiayan, and her smell of herbal soap, and sweet innocent was intoxicating.

“Uh. . . Muh name is Sheari, my Lord,” her voice was leaking with the scent of fear. He nodded at her, and placed his hands on her shoulder. Bending slightly so he could look directly in her clear blue eyes, Jiayan smiled at her. She wore a knee-length skirt of dark blue velvet, a few flowers decorating the hem, and a long-sleeved velvet **** of the same blue hue. She reeked of such fear that Jiayan wrinkled his nose.

“You don’t need to fear me, little one. You know you are to die, yes?” He only barely waited for her slight nod before continuing. Ah, what pride in death these odd people have, Jiayan thought to himself with a smirk. “But you will not die in pain, as I’m sure you fear. You will feel immense pleasure as I bite into your neck, you see. Yes, there will be some small pain, but mainly only pleasure. Now, kiss me, so I can taste your lips before I drink from you.” She hesitated, but she leaned forward, her lips pressing slightly against Jiayan’s. Leaning into the kiss, his hands slid down her arms, and wrapped themselves around her waist. Picking her up so he could stand straight, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, and tickled her own.

She moaned slightly from the action, but Jiayan did not know whether it was in fear or pleasure. His sharp teeth bit into her bottom lip very carefully, drawing a drop of blood. It hit his tongue, and it tasted like bittersweet candy. His hands began to grope around her hips, his tongue dancing inside her mouth. Before long, he noticed the other little ones watching with glazed eyes and vacant expressions. Jiayan ended the kiss reluctantly. “Did you like that, Sheari?”

Sheari nodded happily, a smile splitting her pretty face in two. Jiayan bent down, and sunk his teeth into the side of her neck. A soft gasp of pain erupted from the girls mouth as the skin of her neck broke. Blood as sweet as a flower flowed into his mouth, and he felt himself get stronger with every ounce. The girl beneath him quivered and whimpered in pleasure, her arousal reaching Jiayan’s strong nose. Only seconds, it lasted, but he was incredibly stronger than he was, full of life and color. He laid the young woman, now dead, down softly, and whispered words of dismissal. Her body disappeared, and was done.

“Oh my, she tasted wonderful! Her lips were as sweet as honey pork, and her blood was like butter upon my tongue. You, little boy, are my next for now. Come here, sweet one.” He nodded towards a young man in poor farmers clothes, his eyes wide and searching. A smart one, is he?

The young boy in question came, walking on bare feet. He stood directly in front of Jiayan. He was maybe seventeen, a tiny bit of stubble on his chin. His eyes were black, and his hair brown. An odd combination to be sure, Jiayan thought to himself. “And what is your name, precious?” Jiayan purred out, his own emotions affecting his voice.

“I’m Aseisn, Lordship,” the young beautiful boy whispered out in tones of fear and pride.

“Well, Aseisn, do you fear me?” Jiayan smiled reassuringly at the boy. The boy’s eyes twinkled knowledge and wonder, searching every inch of Jiayan up and down. What he saw, he liked, as his eyes and mouth both quirked. A slim muscular body, clothed elegantly and richly, without being haughty.

“No, Lordship! I was told I would help you save the people! I will be honored!” The boy was proud to be here, proud to die. Jiayan picked him up in the same manner he had Sheari and kissed him roughly, lovingly. His tongue licked the boy’s lips, asking for entrance into his mouth. The boy’s mouth parted as Jiayan’s hands groped his behind, and his tongue entered. Kissing the young boy as a lover for several minutes, he purred as his hand roamed over the boys private region. But all to soon, Jiayan put the boy down, and smiled as he saw the boy was breathless and happier still.

Jiayan’s warmth and lust was evident in his posture, from the way he stood, to the searching and grazing of his eyes. His body radiated heat as if he were a human, but his easy strength spoke of power beyond knowing. Skin now slightly tan, and with a blush of redness spoke of his vibrant life.

Bending over, he licked the boy’s neck before sinking his teeth in. He drank in the scent of blood and arousal, his hand still groping the boy through his garments. He kissed and kissed and kissed the boys neck, a pleasure rarely found. In this time, men and women were named adults at a much younger age than Jiayan would figure. Ah, what short lives they live, Jiayan thought to himself as he drank deeply from the boy’s neck. His tongue licked the skin of the boys neck every few seconds. To Jiayan, he tasted of skin and honey. Once the boy was empty, Jiayan laid him down gently, and laughed softly as he saw the wet stain around the boys thin leggings. He had climaxed from dying. What a weird little man.

“This is called the Kiss of Life And Death, little ones. I need one more of you for now, and then I will be sated for several nights. From my memories of my Master, she is paying your families well for their sacrifice.” He lied, and called over another young woman, probably the oldest of the lot. He used the same spell on Aseisn as he had on Sheari, and his body disappeared.

The little woman he called over was young, in her late teens, maybe older. She smelled of iris and velvet. She wore a beautiful lace gown of red and creamy white, vines and all sorts of flowers covering every inch of the weaving.

He asked her name, and she told him it was Trita, and he kissed her like he had the others. Unlike the others though, he ripped the girls clothes off, laid her down, and pleasured her with his extremities. Her moans of pleasure filled his ears and urged him on. He drank her slowly the entire time, increasing both their pleasure. She climaxed just moments before she died, and triggered Jiayan’s own ecstasy. He dispersed her body after clothing her in the finest garments he could picture, and slunk back to his master. Through the shadows of the sun he floated.

His eyes scanned everything he could see as he followed the shadows back to the palace. A family eating a breakfast of biscuits and gravy, eggs and a white cheese that faintly stank. A large man, with shoulders as thick as Jiayan could imagine was pounding away at an anvil, a glowing orange and white piece of iron in his gloved hand. An elderly woman stocking herbs in a medicine shop, humming a tune, and brimming with life that defied her features felt his passing and looked around worriedly before returning to her duties. Guards at the palace, their eyes wide and searching beneath their conical helmets stood in the brisk clear air of morning. Large halberds made of steel, iron and wood shined brightly with reflected light. Into the palace he went, as quiet as a mouse.

Servants scurried hither and thither to complete their morning duties. Six young males carried a large bronze tub, and many young woman carried buckets of steaming water behind them, all sweating with the effort. I wonder who is having a bath? Maybe I should watch them. Candles, lamps and torches were being lit all along the gray corridors. The floors were marble, painted different colors. Niches of treasure littered the passageways. Marble statues, gold idols, and teacups that looked hundreds of years old but complete and unmarked were the decoration of this hall. A few tapestries sat by large steel doors. One of them caught Jiayan’s eyes; it was an image of a large man, a sword in his hand being thrust through a lion. He came upon his Master’s rooms.

“I am returned, Master,” he whispered into her ear as he formed. She was in her bedroom. A large silk-covered bed, with four posts lay in the center, with gold and red coverings spoke of wealth. The gray walls were hidden behind large velvet and wool sheets depicting flowers and trees, people and animals. He whispered into her ear, “I am full of life and power, and I drank three of them dry. I wish their families to be well paid, for they gave a great sacrifice.” Goes such against my evil character, my Master should be shocked into listening to me. He noticed she was crying as she sat at a writing desk, and frowned when she did not respond. “Master, if I may kiss you?” Maybe if I make here angry she will answer me, and then I can get on with my duties.

“No! What, do you think I am some petty harlot?” Her rage flared so high so fast, Jiayan took a step back. “I will pay their families well, and even give them my High Priestesses blessing. You did not torture them, correct?”

“Yes, Master, I did not torture them. The first one was a pretty little thing that reminded me somewhat of you, her name Sheari. I kissed her, and bit her. I sent her body into the earth in your garden.” He smiled with the memory. “The second, a young man named Aseisn, I kissed deeply, and groped. Before he was empty, he climaxed into his soft garments. I also sent him into your garden, deep beneath the surface.” Jiayan stopped here, waiting for his Master’s response.

“And the third?” She said, her voice tingling Jiayan’s stomach. He nodded proudly at her, and smiled.

“I kissed her, Trita, and then took her virginity. Before she died, she felt pure ecstasy, and I also sent her to your garden. Is there anything you wish of me, Master?

“Yes, in fact I do. Warm my bed, and the air in this room, and then cloak it in light shadows,” she ordered, a small smile on her face. Jiayan was happy that he has pleased her, and kissed her cheek. He knew it a mistake the second he started to pull away, even before the full armed slapped took him across the cheek. “How dare you, Slave?” Screaming at Jiayan for several minutes, he smelt her pleasure at being kissed by warm lips.

“Sorry, Master. I wont do it again.” He smiled as he agreed; knowing she enjoyed the feeling of warms lips on here cheek. He warmed the room and her bed with a simple spell, and brought shadows with his will to block out the sun from the room. He sat then, in the deep shadows of the room, on her bed, and marveled at the feel. So soft, and yet firm. This is a bed meant for love, Jiayan thought happily, imaging what his Master and her husband did at night.

“Jiayan, I want you to go and bring hot water for my bath,” she said, her tears had stopped. “I would like to clean this muck off me before I sleep for the night.” Jiayan smiled at her pleasantly, which made her frown.

“Right away, Master? I wish to talk.”

“What do you want to talk about, slave?” Shiya was angry with her disobedient slave. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts, in the way woman are want to do. Her lips curled downward in a frown, and her eyes were smoky with anger,

“I just want to talk. Nothing in particular, not really. Do you miss your husband? Are you angry with him for being gone so long? How old were you when you gave birth to Sela? Why did you make me? Why am I so perfect in form, yet not in soul?” Jiayan asked his questions quickly, not letting his Master get a word in edge-wise.

“I made you to fight Dragons, and that is all. You are perfect in form because I imagined you so, but you have no soul! You are an evil demon! The rest is none of your concern,” she paused her ranting for effect and to catch her breath. “Now go get my hot water, Jiayan! Now!” She fumed even after Jiayan left to do as she said.

He walked as a normal man might, arrogantly and proud. His eyes scanned everything. The walls, the floors of painted marble, the images on cloth that were hanging on the walls. Several times he hid from the sunlight that broke through to the floor. Servants and the noble class shrank away from him. He reached out with his mind to read surface thoughts.

An invisible ear slithered into one woman’s brain. She was darkly beautiful, with long hair pulled back into a braid, eyes wide and bright with life. Full breasts and lips caught Jiayan’s eyes. Her dress was of thick and fine silk, purple and black, with white lace at the low neckline, and cuffs. He heard her thoughts, in her voice. The demon! How dare Shiya do such a detestable thing? He’ll kill us all! She smelled of hate, but not fear.

Jiayan walked right up to her, his eyes staring directly into hers. He smiled at her slightly, showing the tips of his sharp teeth. “Miss, would you be so kind as to direct me where to get warm water for my Master’s bath?” He grinned at her expression of distrust. “And if I may say so, you are very beautiful.” Indignation and outrage came out of her in pools when she yelled.

“Go ask a servant, you wretch! Get out of my way!” Jiayan smiled at her, and bowed. He hurriedly kissed her lips before he turned to walk away, and heard her faint dead away. He saw several female servants rush to the ‘Lady’s’ side, and he stopped one of them. A middle-aged woman, with age and poverty displayed on her face.

“Miss, where can I get water for my Master’s bath,” Jiayan smiled as he asked, softening her fear of him. She coughed into her hand, and spoke.

“Two doors to the left you will find a kitchen. Go inside, and ask the washer for two buckets of water.” Her voice was musical, even if her face was not.

“Thank you very much, miss.” He bowed to her, deeper than he had to the lady. She gasped, and hurried away from the still-bowing man. Standing erect, Jiayan smirked. Everyone is either afraid of me, hates me, or doesn’t understand me. Just the way I like it.

He walked two doors down to the left, and entered. A large kitchen, smelling of eggs and sausage, ham and warm bread, was a scene of madness. Men and women ran to and fro, cooking, and plating meals before scurrying off to give them to their lords and ladies. Vegetables of all sorts lay still on a slab of thick wood. Carrots and potatoes, peppers and green beans that smelled to Jiayan of freshness. Several men with a wide girth ran from ovens and grills, baking and cooking different foods.

The raw meat smelled delicious to Jiayan as a man put a slab of it on a flat steel grill, a roaring fire burning underneath. No one noticed him. He walked to the sink, where a pimple faced boy stood washing forks and plates and bowls with hot water and white soap, a dishrag in is hand, and one slung over his shoulder. Tapping the young mans shoulder softly, he asked, “Can I please get six buckets of water, and a rope?”

“Uhh, yeah, I guess. Hey Mely!” The young man roared, and a young woman appeared from a doorway.

“What do you want? I’m busy!” The girl who appeared was short, wearing a thick woolen suit and a white apron that was clean. She looked out of place to Jiayan’s eyes.

“I need six buckets of water and a rope for this guy!”

“Who’s he, eh?”

“I am Queen Shiya’s slave,” Jiayan said, his voice carrying without needing to be raised.

The two thought about this for a moment, and then said in unison, “The Queen has no slaves.”

“Oh, but she does. I am the demon,” he spat the word. “I was created a few hours ago.” Their faces turned from curious to fear, and then to pure terror so fast that Jiayan just had to laugh. “That’s right.”

The girl, Mely, hopped up, turning and running back into a large room. She returned a moment later with six wooden buckets with thin metal handles, and a long yellow rope. The young man quickly filled the buckets, and placed them right in front of Jiayan. I wonder if I can make them soil themselves, Jiayan asked himself. He mumbled incoherent words, and the coiled rope wound itself around the handles, and lifted them up without being picked up. Several gasps echoed around the room, and the cooking stopped completely.

“Thank you, little ones.” And he left, the buckets floating behind him silently. He walked back into the well-lit corridor, his mind wandering over a feeling of being called, drawn to something unseen.