The next few hours were a flurry of activity. The streets were empty, as the citizenry had been told to head to the closest basement and listen for any sound of breach. They took the orders seriously, and it led Tristan to believe that perhaps they had been assaulted from the underground before. The guards were in full force, and the Demon House Guards were amongst them, giving orders and acting as focal points of coordination – demonstrating their possible millennia of experience.

Tristan was led to one of several areas designated for quarantine, and over the duration of the day and into the night, he was busy drinking down essence elixirs and re-casting Cleanse on the populace brought to him. He was able to listen in to the reports as well – the guards had fully swept through the tunnels and cleared them out, capturing all the infected they came across by breaking limbs.

Thus, Tristan's job was two-fold; healing and cleansing. He exhausted the whole city's supply of essence elixirs before getting halfway through the populace, and resorted to his personal stash of essence elixirs, which were far more potent and restored much more of his essence. Something he ensured to comment to one of the House Guard nearby. "I'm spending a lot of my personal resources for this. Make sure you tell your master that."

Felicity for her part refreshed the disguise on Tristan and then went to go and cause a bit of mischief inside the city. Nothing nefarious; just tilting paintings, knocking over objects in houses, and being a cat-like menace; a poltergeist who left nothing but headaches in their path. She returned here and there, sharing her exploits.

By the time the Fingers of Night were far overhead, Tristan was notified by one of the Demon House Guard that the severely infected were dealt with. He performed one more use of Cleanse on himself – despite the five day recommend period of not affecting himself with the spell being violated. A necessary risk, he thought. He also had the time to slip to the privy and discuss his plan with Felicity, to which she expressed ecstatic joy. He opened his Pocket Dimension II, and she wriggled her way inside before he allowed it to shut.

An hour of air, he thought as he followed the Demon House Guard that had been accompanying him. That guard escorted him back through the city and to Lord Dalphatroux, who tapped her armrest on the throne as he approached and stopped at the marked position on the floor.

"You have done my city a service," she stated. "One that I am thankful for. I still wish to meet this Lord Winterbloom. How quickly can you arrange a meeting?"

"Right now," Tristan said as he spun his crucible, and poured his essence into his amulet holding the storage spell. He ensured to taper the flow as the rift opened in the air next to him, having it face the front. Felicity was in there; but her head was as big as Tristan's. In fact, it was Tristan's.

She spoke in his voice, which was a little unsettling, and in Elvish. "Hei, Demon Lord!" (Hi there, Demon Lord!).

Tristan cleared his throat, speaking in Demon's Tongue. "I can translate. Lord Winterbloom greets you."

The Demon Lord leaned forward on her chair and grinned, "How is this possible, mercenary Marius?"

Felicity speaking as the Tristan face duplicate, spoke once more in Elvish. "Well obviously because I'm amazing, and the best artificer of all time! You should bow before my amazingness!."

Tristan suppressed a slight chuckle and fake-translated. "An artificed item that allows for realmwalking based communication. A gift from the Lord of the Fey Realm."

Dalphatroux smiled sweetly, "Lord Winterbloom…tell me of this plan of yours that involves Marius here."

Felicity chuckled, and Tristan was a bit in shock of just how perfectly she emulated him and copied his mannerisms, speech, and intonation. "It's ingenious, and my wonderful fairy dragon companion, Felicity, came up with it! My minion Marius here can tell you all about it."

Tristan 'translated' once more, "He says that it is my charge to tell you more about the plan." He turned to Felicity-disguised-as-him and spoke in Elvish, "You're doing great, but say something really complicated that I can pretend to translate."

Felicity nodded, "There is a dissonance in the quietude of the vexing fairy dragon who should be causing a cacophony of chaotic mayhem. This ruse is a respectable resolution to my boredom."

Tristan spoke in Demon's Tongue, "I informed Lord Winterbloom that I have explained the plan, and he expects your participation in his scheme to destabilize Duberceix's rule, since his panacea elixirs and contracted mercenary – myself – have helped to save your city from a dire fate."

Debera's face darkened ever-so-slightly, despite the diplomatic smile gracing the corners of her lips. "Then tell Lord Winterbloom he can count on my support. Duberceix will fall, and we will assist in the matter by acting as this uprising as you, Marius Lestrange, have proposed previously. Please convey to Lord Winterbloom my desire to establish friendly diplomatic relations with my Demon House and his Fey Realm, as the Dalphatroux House is prominent when it comes to inter-Realm affairs."

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Tristan turned to Felicity and rapidly translated into Elvish, finishing with, "Thanks for doing this. You did amazing."

"This was fun! Good idea on the ruse."

Tristan grabbed one of the scrolls that Eloise had acquired from within the space, then let the essence fueling the spell fade as Felicity was shut off inside the storage dimension once more. He turned and spoke in Demon's Tongue, "He said he will send representatives to discuss with you." Tristan cleared his throat, "Now, speaking as myself…thank you for pledging your support to this cause."

Debera raised a hand, and a servant ran over, "Parchment and ink," she hissed, and the Demonkin servant ran off. She then looked at Tristan, "You have done us a service…you have so many spell types as assets. There is no way you are just a Demonkin."

Tristan smiled cooly, "I have quite a few artificed items-"

"No, my House Guard informed me that you were casting the healing and curative spells. Not an item. And ice walls to block off the initial found entrance? You have far too many spell types to be a simple Demonkin…so you will tell me the truth, or I will ensorcell you to tell me."

"You would irreparably harm Lord Winterbloom's plans if you harm me in any way," Tristan stated.

"He would never know," she replied as she reached for an object on her belt. A brief flash of green surrounded her, and she spoke. "You will tell me everything about yourself." Tristan could feel the pressure on his temples indicative of an enchantment spell – the slight, piercing pressure. But thanks to his ingestion of demon dragon blood in the largest size category, he was able to simply shrug it off without even dedicating willpower to resist. Debera looked insulted as she let her hand slip down to the throne's seat. "How did you resist?"

Tristan tapped his head, "Oh. Was that you? Sorry, that was such a pathetic enchantment spell." He chuckled, "Should I tell Lord Winterbloom about what you just tried? Or shall we keep it between us?"

The woman's lustrous, red skin paled ever-so-slightly to a near white-pink as she realized she had been outplayed, overtipped her hand, and was now effectively at Tristan's mercy. He could sink an alliance with a powerful benefactor if he chose. The woman bowed her head, "I apologize, Marius Lestrange. You are a powerful individual, despite your lack of affiliation to a Demon House. Let us keep this between us-"

"If you want me to do that," Tristan interrupted, "Then you will give me a missive I can carry with me to my next destination; Brightmarch, the Alphinaud Demon House, to their ruler Stramal. Commend me to his service. I will prove my worth when I arrive there…but your polite, cordial words will smooth along the plan. I will insure Lord Winterbloom does not know of this event, and will notify him to send envoys to parlay."

The woman winced slightly at being squeezed diplomatically, but nodded curtly. "It shall be done." The servant came up with ink and parchment on an ornate tray. "I had planned on that," she said. "But…with your…persistent request, I will ensure it is flattering."

Tristan held up the scroll he had grabbed, "This contains a pact. A binding spell lies upon the agreement." He held it out for the seneschal to grab, but spoke to Debera. "Read it, then we both shall commit essence to it, sealing our intent to ally in this manner."

The woman scowled and put the ink pen down, shooing the Demonkin away to carry the plate holding the paper to Tristan. He looked at it, quickly reading down the letter and noting how it was very flattering, and placed him in an impeccable light. Now I just need to hope that she is on good terms with the Alphinaud House, he thought. This will get me my audience, and then I just work for them a bit until they trust me. Hopefully it won't be another disease or plague situation…and I should follow up on that.

She spoke a moment later, breaking Tristan from his thoughts. "Well, approach my throne. These terms are fair, and I accept them."

Tristan walked forward and she held part of the binding-spell-containing scroll. He took hold of the other side, and spun his crucible, pouring his essence into the object. Now, he thought with delight, she is bound to my cause.

Eloise had ensured her friend, the professor in charge of teaching binding spells, had worded the document very carefully. Then, Tristan had used Imbue Ink on the final draft which was then re-copied. I have five more of these in the storage dimension, Tristan thought. Enough for each Demon Lord, even though we will probably not be able to ally with some of them due to their devotion to Duberceix.

The scroll flared with his silver essence, and her slightly red essence, before fading. The scroll then disintegrated. "It is done," she stated as she sat back.

Tristan stepped away and down to the appropriately marked place on the floor. He bowed deeply, "Thank you for your benevolence, Lord Dalphatroux. I will convey your wonderful treatment to Lord Winterbloom, and he will have envoys in touch soon." Tristan stood up and grabbed the now-dry letter recommending him to Lord Stramal to the south. Rolling it up, he put it into his hip pouch and turned to leave. One of the Demon House Guard escorted him outside, and once he was across the drawbridge in the now-once-more bustling town proper, he was left alone.

Letting out a big sigh of relief, he opened the storage dimension once more, and Felicity came out. She sucked in a big lungful of air. "That…huff…that was…too long!" she slapped him upside the head. "You could've suffocated me!"

Tristan frowned, "Sorry," he muttered in Standard Tongue. "Let's get out of town."

She flew on top of his head and nestled into place between his horns. "We aren't going to figure out the source of the disease?"

"That's on the way out of town," Tristan replied. "I want to investigate those tunnels more thoroughly. Maybe pick up on something that was missed when they were being cleared out. Someone put the infected I saw with the Locate spell in a cage…I want to find out who."

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