Wake up, unfortunately

As the image of the Space Between Spaces fades from your mind, you become increasingly aware of the sensation of the wooden slats pressing into your side through a thin layer of padding. You open your eyes to find yourself in the tiny room of the Wayside Inn, and yesterday’s events all come back to you in one big rush. Throwing off the blanket, you set about pulling your boots on.

Today is Day 2 of your second chance at life. You have lots to do, from finding out about magic to possibly finding a job. You also have to be extremely careful, because any minute you could find out that your identity as a Demon Lord has become official. Once people know, it’s hard to say if there’s anywhere you’ll be safe. Shelving those worries, though, there’s also the issue of Blythe. She came to you last night because her family doesn’t accept her fetish. You’re more than happy to help her be more open and honest about her sexuality, but you worry about keeping her safe. Ideally, as the Demon Lord you will create a world where Blythe can feel confident in every aspect of herself, perverted or otherwise. However, until then, you’re an “evil monster,” and she’s going to be guilty by association.

You stand up and walk over to the door before you realize something is wrong. You feel lighter than you should be. Patting your pockets, you quickly discover that your pockets have been completely cleaned out. It doesn’t take you long to search the entire room, as small as it is, and come up with nothing. As you are about to grab the handle of the door, you hear a light knocking. The door is already swinging open before the knocking ceases, leaving a very surprised Blythe standing in the hall with her balled fist hovering between the two of you. She is wearing a light gown that reminds you of pajamas, which reaches down to her knees. Below that, you see that she’s still barefoot. She must have come here straight from bed.

“Did you hear anything strange last night?” you ask.

Blythe catches on to the urgency in your voice immediately. “Strange? I do not believe so. What is wrong?”

“I’ve been robbed,” you say. If Blythe is the culprit, it wouldn’t make sense for her to still be here, so you decide to trust her. “My money, my cellpho… everything I had in my pockets is missing. I’ve already searched the room and came up empty. Someone must have taken it all.”

Blythe’s hand, having remained hovering in place until now, moves to her chin as she thinks for a moment. A couple seconds go by, after which she seems to make up her mind. “You should go and speak with the innkeeper. I have heard of some thieves having the ability to move silently, but perhaps he saw something. I will assemble my belongings and meet you shortly.”

“You’re coming with me?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh… y-yes, if… if you will have me I suppose.”

You place a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks for helping. I’m sorry this is getting in the way of the talk we were going to have this morning.”

Her green eyes crease into a smile. “Worry not, I understand the urgency of the situation. Now, go. I shall be down shortly.”

You brush your hand across her smiling cheekbones as you move past her and down the stairs. The albino innkeeper is sitting behind the reception desk reading a book. As you approach, he folds the corner of the page he’s on and sets the book down to address you.

“Sleep well?” he says. His tone is somewhat sarcastic; you suspect he knows exactly how shit the sleeping arrangements of this place are, even if he doesn’t go upstairs himself anymore.

“The sleep didn’t bother me, actually,” you say. “I woke up to one hell of a problem, though.”

“If it’s any consolation, I can direct you to an excellent massage parlor.”

“I was robbed.”

“Oh.”

“Have you seen anyone leave the inn since I came last night?” you ask.

“Leave? Only the young catkin I pay to clean the rooms,” he says. “She left right after you came last night. I saw her again briefly this morning — she said she’d left some stuff out last night and wanted to put it away.”

“Do you know where I could find her?”

“Now hold on, I don’t think I like hearing you assume my little helper is a thief. Someone came in after you did last night, you know, an elven lass —”

Just then Blythe walks down the stairs and joins you at the counter. She is wearing actual clothes this time: a green doublet with tree iconography sewn into it with brown thread covers her torso, which leads into a matching pleated skirt reaching half-way down her thighs; brown thigh-high boots come up to just below the rim of her skirt, showing off a tantalizing inch and a half of her thick, creamy thighs; on her arms, she’s wearing long leather gloves that pair well with her boots; a brown rucksack is slung over her shoulders, and strapped to her waist is a long, thin sword with an elaborate hilt encasing the grip. Her long blonde hair, which was down last night, is tied up into a ponytail at the back of her head.

The innkeeper sees the two of you standing together and crosses his arms. “I didn’t know you two were buddies,” he says. “I don’t like this. First, two people stay here on the same night, and now one of them is accusing my employee of stealing.”

“Look,” you say. “She’s the only lead you’ve given me. Plus, she kind of has a motive. I sort of blackmailed her into showing me around town yesterday.” Blythe grips your arm lightly, concern showing in her face. You shoot back a look of guilt.

“If the innkeeper is unwilling to help any further, I may have a solution,” says Blythe. “Do you have a clear picture of the suspect in your mind?” You nod, remembering the catkin woman’s short black hair and violet eyes, her dirty beige gown and the scrapes on her elbows from when she fell in the street. Blythe swings her rucksack around and pulls out a small object. She hands it to you, and you realize that it’s a magic crystal much like the ones used as light bulbs, only with a rune carved into the side. You look at her, helpless, but she appears unbothered. “Picture the person you wish to find, and repeat after me,” she says. In this way, she leads you through the incantation for your first magic spell.

“I call to the wind and soil. See what the light cannot see. Bring forth that which is unknown, and let it become known. Memory holds the flowers of our past. In the name of the ancient travelers I beseech thee, lead me to the root.”

The crystal in your hand begins to glow faintly. Suddenly, something resembling the needle of a compass projects itself from the rune on the crystal, and you watch it spin around and around until it slows to a halt, pointing, you assume, in the direction of your guide-turned-thief.