The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

Something under the northern ash clouds had begun to burn.

Austin Veyron spotted it from the Freehold roof as he returned from the rail cut. The distant glow was faint and easy to mistake for sunrise, but it pulsed at a regular rhythm. Every time it brightened, the Crownforge splinter wrapped at his belt responded with a cold pull.

The city’s recovery had begun below, on the streets around the damage.

The rebuild was slow, but it did not stop because something had appeared in the sky. Roofers crossed over broken beams. Medics worked between the temporary wards. Cooks passed out bread to people who had slept in hallways after losing their rooms. The common ledger recorded a thousand small choices, but every one held the Freehold together more reliably than any crown ever had.

Austin Veyron stepped into the lobby to find Marcus at the planning table.

”Three days?” Marcus asked.

”Three days before the next forging cycle.”

Marcus closed his eyes for a moment. ”Then it is not just a threat. It is a rescue window.”

”It is.”

Elena was already turning Damae’s hide map beneath the light. ”The hidden route leaves from the north road, passes under the old quarry, and crosses an ash trench. It is narrow. Too many people will wake the sentries.”

”We do not take too many people,” Austin Veyron said.

The room seemed to sharpen around those words.

For a moment, he felt the old pressure come that rose whenever people waited for him to decide. Pick the team. Give the order. Make certainty out of fear. DEVOUR liked that pressure. It made every human doubt feel like food.

Veyra came to stand beside him.

”Say the rest,” she murmured.

Austin Veyron nodded. ”We post the mission, the risks, and the return plan. Anyone who comes chooses the role. No one goes because they think they owe me.”

Elena’s face softened. ”I can put it on the ledger in ten minutes.”

”Do it.”

Taryn appeared from the medic rooms before the ink had dried. Her fused armor had been cut away from her shoulder, leaving a long burn scar but no collar. She wore a plain dark coat borrowed from the Freehold stores.

”You are leaving without me,” she said.

”We have not chosen anyone yet.”

”I know the quarry route. I know the sentry calls. I know which pits the Matron uses for prisoners who fight back.”

”You have been awake six hours after a road-brand collapse.”

”I have been awake my whole life.”

The answer hit hard. Kesra stepped from the doorway behind her, spear balanced across one shoulder.

”She guides,” Kesra said. ”I scout ahead. I chose both.”

Sable was next. ”I go too.”

Marcus frowned. ”Sable, the city only just stopped trying to hang you from the outer gate.”

”Then it is useful that I am recognizable. Vordessa knew me before I became Herald. She may speak before she kills.”

”Or she may kill you while speaking,” Veyra said.

Sable’s smile was thin. ”That has always been possible.”

The final volunteers came in ones and twos: Rin for tracking, Maelis and Sarielle for controlled fire, Calder for route disruption, two adult wardens from the north gate, and a healer named Doria who had spent the siege treating strangers without asking which faction they had served.

Austin Veyron read each chosen role twice. No one was ordered. No one was hidden in the count.

Then the Freehold lights went out.

Blackness swallowed the lobby.

A beat later, something struck the upper windows.

Rin’s arrow flashed toward the sound. Glass burst inward. A flock of iron crows poured through the broken frame, their wings made from thin forge plates. They did not fly at random. Each bird screamed a name.

”Mara!”

”Calder!”

”Veyra!”

The names were perfect. The voices were not.

”Do not answer them!” Austin Veyron shouted.

One crow dropped toward the hall where Lia and Mara were sheltering. Veyra cut it out of the air, but the bird exploded into red sparks. A second crow dove at Calder, its beak opening to form the contestant mark’s shape.

Calder threw himself aside. Sarielle’s silver flame caught the bird and forced it upward, where it crashed against the ceiling.

Maelis ran toward the eastern corridor. ”There are more outside.”

The forge crows were not trying to kill them all. They were trying to make someone answer their own name, to create a binding point in the ledger.

Austin Veyron grabbed the transfer book from the table and pushed it toward Elena.

”Witness channel,” he said. ”Not names. Roles.”

Elena understood. She wrote fast.

The common ledger lit across the lobby, not with individual signatures, but with present actions: defender, medic, child, runner, witness. The crows shrieked when the city refused their bait. Their stolen names lost shape in the white light.

A final bird smashed through the side door carrying something in its claws.

A woman.

She wore a forge-worker’s harness and was bound in red wire from wrists to ankles. The bird dropped her onto the lobby floor and opened its metal beak.

NAME HER. CLAIM HER.

Austin Veyron moved first, but Veyra was faster. She drove her blade through the crow’s body and pinned it to the tile. Doria fell beside the bound woman, checking her breathing.

”She is alive,” the healer said. ”Adult. Severe burns. The wire is feeding off spoken identity.”

The captive woke with a scream. Her eyes were dark gold, her horns small and filed down. ”Do not tell them,” she gasped. ”Do not let Vordessa hear me.”

”No one will,” Austin Veyron said.

The red wire tightened.

He could devour it. The command would be easy. The woman’s fear made DEVOUR lift eagerly beneath his ribs.

Veyra’s gaze found his. ”Target the wire. Not her.”

”I know.”

He pressed his palm over the knot at the woman’s sternum.

DEVOUR opened with surgical care. He took the coercive order from the wire: reveal, bind, return. It burned across his throat, but he refused the rest. The red metal went dull and fell away.

The woman curled onto her side, coughing.

Doria covered her with a blanket. ”Do you want help?”

A long pause passed before she nodded.

”My name is Eshra,” she whispered. ”I made fuel pans for the outer forge. They caught me hiding water for prisoners.”

”You are safe here for tonight,” Elena told her. ”Tomorrow you can choose what comes next.”

Eshra stared at the room full of people who had heard her name and had not turned it into a chain.

”Then Vordessa will know the Freehold is coming,” she said.

”Probably,” Austin Veyron replied.

”Her sentries will kill you.”

”Probably.”

The young forge-worker almost smiled.

By nightfall, the city had repaired enough lights to open the northern service gate. The expedition gathered without ceremony. Packs, weapons, water, and the folded hide map were checked against the common ledger. Marcus stayed behind to coordinate the city. Elena stood beside him, holding the transfer book open to the newly marked return route.

”You have three days,” Marcus said.

”We have three days to start,” Austin Veyron corrected.

At the boundary marker beyond the gate, Taryn stopped. The stone was half-buried in ash, its old letters cut deep enough to survive every war.

ASH MERIDIAN — SOVEREIGN FORGE TERRITORY.

The group crossed it together.

Far ahead, beyond the quarry and the black hills, a forge bell tolled once.