A New Day

You jolt awake in the morning at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching your room. You stand, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as a blanket slips off your shoulders. Huh? When did that get-

The heavy oak swings forward, launching you forward as Sir Verheart brandishes his steel. “On your feet, boy!” he roars. “There’s an infernal in the temple! It’s trying to hide its essence from me, but it’s surely ‘ere!”

“Shut up!” you bellow, catching both of you by surprise. Verheart gapes at you as you squeeze past him to shut the door. “S-sorry, master,” you mumble. But I know already. I meant to wait for your return, but I must’ve nodded off during the night and…”

The sheets shuffle beside you. “Whuzz go’n on?” comes a soft, puzzled, and distinctly female voice from your bed.

Verheart rounds back on you with a far more accusatory gaze than before. “The infernal is in yer bed.”

Serrica freezes, slit-pupils dilating as she sees the perfectly still tip of a blade leveled at her brow. “Roland?” she croaks, looking at you in confusion and fear.

“I ‘ope you can explain this ‘un to me,” your grizzled teacher growls.

“I can!” you assure him. “Well… I think I can. I wanted your help, but I didn’t want to start an uproar with the clergy of course - but maybe that would’ve been a better idea, if they-”

“From the start!” he bellows.

Your jaw snaps shut as you reel in your words. “Right.”

It’s certainly not a particularly comfortable conversation, but Verheart’s stoic professionalism helps you get through it, including your, er, misadventure with the succubus. When it’s over, your teacher is dead silent, his expression unreadable. His eyes never left Serrica’s quivering form the whole time you spoke, so you breathe sharply when he turns his attention to you.

“Yuh dun fucked a succubus silly. I’m impressed.”

You’re coughing too much to form a coherent reply. “I - ack! - I what??”

Verheart sheathes his weapon and scratches his head. “I’ve ‘eard of she-devils fallin’ to powerful men. They lose their powers or have ‘em stolen outrigh’, but I've never seen it meself before.”

“Wait, so, she’s really safe? I’ve still got my soul and everything?” you ask.

“Righ’ as rain, methinks. She, on the other hand, is in a pickle. Aren’t ya, lass?”

“Me?” Serrica gasps.

“Ya see any other fair ladies in this room? Yes, I’m speakin’ of you,” the paladin sighs. “I’ve taken an oath and, powerless or not, I can’t just letcha walk away or pounce on me apprentice as you’d like. Fact is, I’d have to slay ya right quick if I don’t have a proper reason not to. Ya got any?”

“S-slay me?” Serrica repeats. “B-but I can’t-! I can’t do anything! I can’t hurt anybody or use magic!”

“For now, sure,” Verheart says. “But you’ll get some of yer mana back sooner than later, and then what am I ta do if you decide to have another go? No, I need to know whatcha good at. What can ya do to help a humble servant o' the light? What use might a paladin have of an infernal like yerself?”

“U-use?” she asks, her voice weak. “I… I don’t have-”

“She’s a good detector,” you pipe up. “She stayed away until you left and I’ve never been able to feel your magic. You know how bad I am, Sir. She’d be a dead useful keeping me out of danger.”

Verheart is quiet, actually considering your proposal. “Interesting idea,” he admits. “But you’re gonna lean on an infernal to keep your hide safe? Not the soundest logic there, lad.”

“She, uh, did say she was my **** after we... after she lost.”

“Bah. Words don't mean nothin', not to a devil,” Verheart shakes his head. “No, ya need a powerful, bindin' contract. One that’ll keep ‘er from gettin’ up ta no good. Tell me, hell-spawn, if ya'd give yerself over to contract?”

Serrica’s eyes bounce between him and the sword in his hand. “I guess I don’t have a choice. But I can’t create a contract, not in this state.”

“No matter,” Verheart grunted. “I’m a paladin. I’ve got contracts of my own. Methinks a mutually bindin' one might be for the best - they tend to be harder ta break. You, boy. Since yer stupidly carin' for this thing’s life, I don’t suppose you’d be against promising its safety?”

You scratch your head, feeling a little nervous all of the sudden. “I g-guess not.”

Verheart frowns. “You’d swear to protect and conceal ‘er, no matter the consequence or circumstance?”

There's a creeping sensation of dread forming in your stomach, but his burning gaze forces an answer out of you. “I… I swear it?”

He rounds on the succubus sitting on your bed. “And you promise to be faithful to Roland; to protect and guide ‘im?”

“Y-yes, Sir,” she replies, wide-eyed as she recoils from his sudden intensity.

“Wonderful,” Verheart replies, clapping his hands before opening the door. “I pronounce ya man and wife. Now hurry up and get dressed, we’re late for practice.”

“...Verheart?” you wheeze.

“Yes, lad?”

“Did you just… did you just marry us?!”

The old man’s eyes wrinkled in confusion. “Obviously. Strongest contract there is. ‘sides, it’s the only one I know. Now hurry up! I expect both of ya - yes, both! - to be ready for practice in five minutes. Don’t want you gettin’ yourself killed in some dungeon and leave this mana-blind fool on his own. Couldn’t tell Baphomet from ‘is own mum.”

And with that, the paladin breezes out of the room, leaving the two of you in stunned silence. You turn to look at the purple-skinned girl, who seems about ready to faint right then and there.

“I-I’ll be in your care…” she mumbles, giving a demure bow.