Louis blinked, the words filtering through the fog of his hunger.
The City Lord?
The memories provided a flash of a high-walled fortress in the center of the city.
Why would a City Lord want to speak to a starving demon slave?
"Me?" Louis rasped. "Why?"
"Questions are for people, not livestock," the guard snapped. "Get up. Walk ten paces in front of us. If you stop, we spear you. If you try to run, we spear you. If you try to come closer than ten paces..."
He didn't need to finish the sentence.
"Move," the guard ordered.
Louis grit his teeth and pushed himself off the wall. His vision swam, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He swayed, his hoof-like feet scuffing the dirt, but he managed to stay upright.
Audience means a building, Louis thought, his survival instinct kicking into overdrive. A building means food. Even a prisoner gets a last meal.
"Lead the way," Louis whispered.
The guards marched him through the city. It wasn't dead, but it was dying. People with hollow cheeks sat in doorways, watching him pass with dull interest. They were too weak to hate him.
The City Lord's manor was a fortress within the city. High walls. More guards. The air smelled of burnt vinegar—an old superstition to ward off plague.
They brought him to a heavy wooden door. The guard kicked the back of Louis's knee, forcing him to kneel.
"Stay down. Don't look up unless spoken to."
The doors creaked open.
The room inside was dark, lit only by a few candles. A large man sat behind a desk piled high with scrolls. He wasn't wearing armor. He wore fine silk robes, but they hung loose on his frame. He looked exhausted. Dark circles bruised his eyes, and he held a silk cloth to his nose.
This was City Lord Han.
"Is this it?" Lord Han asked, his voice muffled by the cloth.
"Yes, my Lord," the guard replied. "Found in the gutters. Alive."
Han sighed, dropping a scroll onto the desk. "Leave us. Stand outside the door. If he tries to attack me, kill him. If he coughs on me, kill him."
The guards retreated, the heavy doors booming shut.
Louis stayed kneeling, staring at the intricate patterns on the rug. His stomach growled loud enough to echo in the large room.
"You're hungry," Han observed. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Louis croaked.
"Everyone is hungry. The granaries are empty. The last caravan from the Capital never arrived. The one before that was looted by bandits." Han stood up and walked to a window, keeping his distance from Louis. "The Empire has forgotten us, Demon. We send riders requesting aid, and they don't return. I fear the Capital has sealed the borders to save themselves."
Louis slowly raised his head. "What do you want from me?"
Han turned. He held up a sealed letter. The wax seal was red—the color of emergency.
"The Black Peak Sect sits on the mountain overlooking our city. They have rice. They have spiritual medicine. And most importantly, they have a Sound Transmission Array that connects directly to the Imperial Palace."
Han tossed the letter. It slid across the floor, stopping inches from Louis's knees.
"I need you to take this to them. Ask for food. Ask them to open the Array so I can speak to the Emperor."
Louis stared at the letter. The memories of this body surged up again. The Sects.
"They locked their gates," Louis said, his voice trembling. "They kill anyone who comes near the mountain. They're afraid of the sickness."
"Exactly," Han said coldly. "I sent three of my best men last week. They were shot down by archers before they even reached the first gate. I cannot waste any more soldiers."
The truth clicked into place.
"So you're sending me," Louis said. "Because I'm worth nothing."
"You are a demon. You are tough. Maybe you can take an arrow and keep walking long enough to hold up that letter," Han said, his eyes hard. "Or maybe they'll kill you too. I don't care. But if you stay here, you starve to death in the alley. If you go, there is a chance."
Han pointed to a small wooden bowl on the corner of his desk. It contained a single, cold steamed bun.
"Take the letter," the City Lord commanded. "Eat the bun. Then get out of my city and go climb the mountain."
Louis looked at the bun. It was small, stale, and probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Louis grabbed the bun.
He didn't take small bites. He didn't savor it. His survival instincts hijacked his brain, and he shoved the entire thing into his mouth at once.
It was dry, cold, and tasted like sawdust, but as he swallowed, he felt the heavy knot of dough hit his empty stomach. His body shuddered. It was the first solid food this vessel had consumed in days.
As the nutrients hit his blood, a sharp, electric whine pierced his ears.
Zzzzt.
Louis winced, squeezing his eyes shut. It felt like a migraine spiking behind his retinas.
"Go," City Lord Han said, waving a dismissal hand, turning his back to look out the window again. "Don't die before you reach the mountain base."
Louis opened his eyes to leave, but the room had changed.
The sharp whine in his ears faded into a digital chime, clear as a bell.
As Louis blinked, the migraine receded, replaced by something far stranger. A translucent blue rectangle flickered into existence, hovering in the air directly above the head of the guard on the left.
Louis rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked at City Lord Han. Nothing above him. He looked at the other guard. Nothing.
He looked back at the guard on the left. The box was still there, bobbing gently as the man breathed. Text scrolled across it in a crisp, sans-serif font that looked absurdly out of place against the rotting wood and ancient stone of the room.
[ Target: City Guard (Human) ]
[ Status: INFECTED ]
[ Pathogen: Black Death Virus (Incubation Stage) ]
[ Time until visible symptoms: A week ]
Louis stared. The words "Black Death Virus" pulsed with a faint red glow.