“What is he like?”
Gina smiles knowingly as she refills her newly clean teapot for what must be the tenth time today. Carefully, she scoops out various dried herbs from several different bags sitting in a drawer of her kitchen counter (which looks a lot like a hidden spice wrack if Jarl can be honest) to the faint sound of Manus and Áesta rolling around in the hay (or, rather, Gina’s bedroom: where they decided to haul up for this conversation) before allowing it to steep.
She then brings the set back—cups and all—to the table
before the fireplace.
“He’s quiet,” the witch begins, voice softer than Jarl’s come to know it. “Not in a shy or bashful sense, mind. It’s more that his occupation requires it.” From a small compartment in her kitchen cupboard, an icebox, perhaps, the herbalist retrieves a variety of small treats like cupcakes, cookies, and candies (actual ones) before finally sitting down on the hot pink couch with the out-of-town priest.
Jarl cautiously accepts a cookie from the offered pile, “The bounty hunting.”
“Yes.” Gina nods as she takes a candy for herself and then sets the treat tray down on the coffee table. “Bounty hunting does require a lot of sneaking around and stealth so he is quite hard to track.”
“… I’ll have my work cut out for me then, huh?”
“Oh, very.” The witch laughs at Jarl’s upset face, mostly because he’s clearly trying to hide it. “Not, of course, that it matters. Ye all already know where he is, right?”
Jarl huffs, “We do; but that’s not…”
“That’s not why ye’re here; right.” Gina pours them each a cup of tea before continuing, allow the scents of bergamot orange, lemongrass, mint, and chamomile to fill the where. “Red is an honorable daemon.”
The priest raises a doubtful brow at this but says nothing.
Gina smiles at him. “He’s hard working, respects others, and is no longer a total git.”
“Wh-wh…?”
She giggles, looking young despite her obvious age. “Red is… what daemons call Remade. He was human, once, before he was a daemon—before he was Red. That means that he summoned a daemon (as a human), used that daemon to live a life of hedonistic pleasure, died a sinner, and chose to be reborn as a daemon after purging himself in Hell.”
“… That… is really how it works???” Jarl asks this but it really isn’t much different from what he expected following Áesta’s brief explanation of how daemons work.
Castlegodry’s witch nods again, “It really is. In some cases, a summons isn’t required for the human to turn—many make that choice after purging their sins in Hell based solely off of the daemons they worked under—but it usually helps as it gives them a more personal connection to their Daemon Head.”
“Daemon Head?”
“Daemon Lord might be easier for ye to understand.” Gina sips her tea and motions for Jarl to sip his.
Surprisingly, he does.
“Basically, daemons—and sinful humans—congregate under extremely powerful daemons for protection, places to stay or belong, and purpose. Also just for the sake of having a stable social life (Áesta told me that). It’s a lot like the feudal era: the most powerful daemons have large plots of land and a big home in the center where they live with all the daemons and humans subservient to them. If a human summons a daemon—regardless of that daemon’s power—they become tied to that daemon and automatically placed with them.”
Jarl looks disturbed.
“It’s for the best, I assure you,” Gina comforts him when she notices this. “By the time they die and go there, the daemon knows how to take care of the human and most of them have pretty good friendships.”
“… Friendships?” the priest asks, looking doubtful again.
The witch simply nods. “Think of it like this: Manus would have ended up in Áesta’s House if he had died.”
Jarl’s lips downturn even more (Does that mean… Manus is truly…?), “… Áesta has a house?”
“Yes; Áesta is probably the most powerful Daemon Head ever (other than Lucifer).”
(WHAT?)
~
“I… G-getting back to Red…”
“Right.” Gina drains her cup slowly before setting it down on her unupholstered couch and breathing deeply. After she exhales, she reaches forward and takes Jarl’s hand in between her own. It surprises the holy man whom wasn’t expecting her sudden movement or touch, just as much as it confuses and overwhelms him.
Her soft but wrinkled hands squeeze his own calloused one much more earnestly than he’s prepared for and her eyes look at him with more wisdom than he really knows what to do with; he stutters, “Wh-wha—?”
“Ye’re worried,” the witch cuts him off, voice firm but gentle. Her unique purple eyes have a similar feeling as they bore into his soul. “Yer little brother is in the care of a daemon and ye fear for him.” Her hands squeeze again, “Don’t.”
Jarl practically growls as he bares his teeth in defensive defiance, “How—‽”
“Red is a bounty hunter because he was one while still alive. THAT Red were an arse: he wouldn’t’ve cared about the well being of his cargo because he wouldn’t have HAD one; he killed and that was it.
“But he changed after his rebirth.
“He wasn’t just a murderer anymore: he was a hunter, a guide, an informant, and a protector; he is a friend. Jasey’s been kidnapped, yes; but Red is a hired hand and a GENTLE one at that.
“Why else would they go boating???
“I understand ye’re scared; but Red is not the problem: the one whom hired him is.”
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