“Of course I’ve heard of the Demon’s Wives,” grumbled Faine. “Who hasn’t?”

"What I mean is-what have you heard about them?" The Asian man bounced his knee excitedly, and Faine did want to indulge him, but he was feeling his own impatience. Was no one going to introduce themselves?

"Not much," and here he left a meaningful pause, "just that Lord Ovis keeps forty of the most beautiful women in the world in castles across Flenoria, and calls them his wives.” Faine pitied those women. He couldn’t imagine what they went through, when being married off was a tragedy all on its own. A pang struck his chest at the thought of Alodie, and her grandparents’ cruelty, but he stayed quiet. Such a topic was rarely discussed.

“I'm a student,” the Asian man was saying. Faine blinked, wondering at what he had missed. “at the Bright Center for Civil Advancement at Ballard-”

“The Weasels!” The men on either side of him cheered, jostling him. His nostrils flared in irritation.

“We’re the Mongooses!” groaned the Asian man, though it seemed playful. “And I’m doing research on the Wives’ secret castles-”

“Hi, I’m Faine Harlowe,” he blurted. “I’m a traveller, on my way to see my mother. I’d like to be on my way soon, but I think I’ll hear what you have to say first. It’s interesting to me personally.”

“Rumour is-” continued the Asian man, blithely.

“I’m Ricmar,” the Latino man quietly interrupted. He sat in an open position, but his muscles wound tight, hands twitching at his sides. The fiercely watchful gaze he fixed on Faine made him wish they weren’t sitting so close. Slowly, Ricmar pointed at the pale man. “and this is my cousin, Calemund.”

“And this-” beamed Calemund, waving at the woman. “is Kelmara! Our fair lady.” Kelmara gave Calemund a dumbfounded look that Faine had to stifle a laugh at, especially when Calemund nodded at her exuberantly. She shook her head, muttering to herself, before grunting at Faine disinterestedly.

“Call me Evander,” clipped the stern man from his stump.

“Rumor is, there’s a castle near here,” Sawyer burst, “and we’re trying to find it.”

“That doesn’t explain what you want from me,” said Faine.

“We’re strangers,” Calemund shrugged, “looking for people to enter the castle with, and since you said you were interested, we thought you might want to join us.”

Faine considered it. A troupe of travelling companions could prove useful. His own quest would start with the nearby castle, with or without them, and it would be well guarded. If his search didn’t bear fruit, then he would move north to the next one. He wasn’t opposed to helping others out, either. Only, he was travelling alone to avoid discovery as a witch, and he couldn’t trust these people so easily.

“I’m doing research for my apprenticeship at Ballard,” Sawyer continued. “My task is to unearth and collect tales of the castles and wives, and print them in an anthology-a collection of short stories. So, if you have any, I’d love to hear them. As for me, I have a couple of my own.”

Sawyer reached behind the log he was sharing with Kelmara and retrieved a fine satchel with a tin weasel adorning its back. From it, he pulled a thin stack of yellowed parchment.

“I was sent with this,” said Sawyer. “a copy of a firsthand account by one of the High Mages, Durmada.” He sat a little straighter, and cleared his throat. Nobody moved to stop him, so Faine grit his teeth, but kept quiet.

“It was the year 44D05Y, in sweet October, the 25th, and the Overnight Invasion had begun. The weather was unseasonably warm, sultry with the stench of orcs congested at our doors. First Lieutenant Walsh’s reports detailed the state of the 19th battalion’s interception at the base of Hawk’s Climb; the band of unnamed witches’s burning of Port Harold; the imperceivable numbers of bestial monsters attacking the whole of the country; all tragic matters, but alas, my focus trained on the pressing matter of the protection of Castle Wallworth.

Cut off from the lower town and the countryside, we were vulnerable to a siege. We could hear the distant screams of the people, fallen victim to the orcs' savagery and rage. The soldiers were vastly outnumbered, and failing fast. Nobody knew the origination of these orcs, the manner in which they overtook the land so quickly, or what their aim was. It was when the lead scout spotted the Hillcrest Church burning that we decided on our course of action. There was no choice but to turn to an ancient evil to save our country.

Lord Ovis, the sloth demon of hypnosis, had been listed as the kindest of the great demons in our bestiary. When comrades Duncan and Donovan suggested summoning him for help, I at once agreed. Anything was better than certain death.

Myself and Jesh bravely prepared the ingredients for the spell while Duncan, Donovan, and Mercer led the defense of the front gate. Eardwulf guarded the king, who is very wise in leading the kingdom, but relies on our council for defense against opposing militaries. It took a labor of three hallboys and three scullery maids to fetch the pine credenza and place it at the grande altar. Herbs and spices and other ingredients were ground in a bowl and consumed by the leading pair. In under ten minutes, the spell was prepared. Our comrades met myself and Jesh in the innermost antechambers of our laboratorium.

The demon stood twenty feet tall, tall enough to scrape the rafters with his Alpine horns. His legs were as thick as tree trunks, his fur matted and stinking of an earthy odor. Fleshy wings the size of wagons stretched and flapped leisurely. Enormous teeth shone at us before Lord Ovis opened his mouth wide. In a moment of rare weakness, I feared an attack-but he lifted the credenza to his mouth and crushed one end with a thunderous crunch. He was nearly done with the credenza when, just as I was about to speak, Eardwulf stepped forward and began the negotiations. A deal was struck shortly. We were in a state of great desperation, and everything of value lay in a state of uncertainty. All that we could respectfully offer in exchange was the title of King. But all that is common knowledge, already.

The orc menace was gone by dawn. Lord Ovis took flight from the western courtyard, and his dark figure could be seen snatching orcs from their ranks and munching on their heads. Fire spread across the enemy force, shielding the massacre from our sight. Only when the fire had died down at sunrise, could we investigate. Deep fissures marred the land. Some bodies, laid strewn about, ripped to shreds, but massive numbers of orcs had disappeared without a trace. Reports throughout the country matched our situation. Lord Ovis returned at midday to claim his throne, and we welcomed him gratefully. The king welcomed him. The castle welcomed him. And in the past two weeks, we have seen acceptance among the people.”

“That was interesting,” Faine allowed. He wondered how a six person spell could be cast. “But Ballard’s more than a month’s journey from here. You really came all this way for a school assignment?” Sawyer shook his head, smiling ruefully.

“I was born on the night of the Overnight Invasion. My parents died protecting me,” explained Sawyer. “So, this assignment is dear to me….and it’s not my first castle.”

“Oh,” Faine nodded awkwardly. “I was only a baby, then. My father died looking for shelter.” He felt an unwanted feeling of kinship with Sawyer, for a brief moment. He tried to catch his eye, but Sawyer turned away. A corner of Sawyer’s lip quirked.

“Calemund, on the other hand, is not so noble,” teased Sawyer. Calemund crossed his arms in haughty self-defense, but chuckled.

“Marriage is always noble, my friend,” declared Calemund.

“And so is the pursuit of happiness,” said Ricmar. “Especially when it comes to money. Right, Kelmara?”