Chapter 604 - Interlude - Schoon Verfrist - Conflict (Patreon)

Schoon Verfrist lived a cursed existence.

The demon hadn’t asked to be born. Hadn’t been asked to be born a demon, specifically. Hadn’t asked to be one of the Immortal races, hadn’t asked for White Dove to curse him with a compulsion that could never be satisfied.

Hadn’t asked for a Sin that was unusual, outside the norm. An outsider even among demons.

Many of them got typical Sins. Lust and Pride, Sloth and Gluttony, Wrath, Greed, and Envy. Each was difficult, but they were known. Others knew how to handle a demon of Sloth slacking off, or working themselves into an early grave. It was understandable when a demon of Gluttony declined a meal, or asked for fifths.

Schoon’s Sin was Clean.

It colored his perception of everything. Every surface was dirty, and could be cleaned. Every floor needed to be swept, every dish bussed, every rug beaten. Other demons could understand a demon of Envy copying every style and fashion. They didn’t understand Schoon’s need to wash his hands a fourth time, a fifth time. How simply removing his hands from the water made them dirty once again, how the very dust in the air was enough to pollute his fingers and make him unclean.

It extended to more than that. Food was never prepared properly, specters of disgust floating through his mind. Ideals were polluted, always with a flaw. The less he learned of society, the better. 

It wasn’t like his Sin was Lust, and he could simply go without. Entirely ignoring his urges led to a slovenly life, a rejection by peers as he smelled, dishes going unwashed and getting sick with disease. Leaning into them had led to him cleaning his house again and again, until there was no more house left, until his hand freely bled as he’d flayed his skin off.

There was no winning.

The best thing Schoon had found was to throw himself into work, any work. The villages and peaceful, ‘flat’ lifestyle of Draakveld didn’t lend themselves well to throwing themselves into endless work to distract him.

When Vorstenhel came along, Schoon had found his answer. A leader, a cause, a mission. In the wake of the Immortal War, the demons were rising, determined to conquer the world, and take their rightful place in the hierarchy. The so-called ‘lessons of the past’ were a distant memory to nearly every living demon, and it made no sense to most of them why they restrained themselves so.

The demons weren’t the only faction to come through the war intact enough to take a stab at creating a new world order. The thrice-cursed elves, beloved by the gods in a cruel twist to every other Immortal, had come through intact enough. The New Remus Empire had risen from the ashes of the Tympestshard forests, 512 elites determined to force the world to bend to their will.

Given the shared border, the two factions had rapidly clashed against each other. Vorstenhel was able to rule the field where he went, but the New Remus Empire had scattered, striking a dozen blows for every one he was able to land. 

The struggle for supremacy was escalating, but the shadow of the Immortal War that had nearly wiped life off Pallos was keeping blows restrained and skirmishes small. Now the two civilizations were racing each other, trying to gather more surviving towns under their banner. It was entirely possible the world would end up divided in half, the demons of Draakveld on one side, skirmishing with the New Remus Empire on the other.

Or one would gain some critical edge over the other.

The sheer scope of the project excited Schoon, who saw endless difficult work to engage in, all to distract from his ever-present need to Clean.

His role was scout and outreach, attempting to gather more to their banner and plant the flag of Draakveld. To bring law, order, and governance to the wild outposts that had survived the mighty clash of Immortals, and to provide immediate assistance with the war.

Less charitable members might call the immediate demand for goods, money, and services extortion. But they were a legitimate government, so instead it was taxation.

He hovered over the center of the town, idly noting how well developed it was. It was the most advanced town they’d seen so far, and clear marks of city planning showed. Most excellent. It was nighttime, but that didn’t matter. People could wake up upon hearing the good news.

A larger part of him noticed how filthy everything was. Dried manure in the fields getting blown around, buzzing flies, dust and splinters. There was just so much everywhere that could be cleaned up, worked into a more perfect state. It grated at him, like nails inside his mind.

He tried to clear it by thinking of his speech. What would the right opening be this time? Serf? No, he was too far east, this was still old Exterreri land. Still High Elvish for the language, but that looked like the Sea of Stars. He’d have to switch soon. Villein? It was technically correct, but nobody knew what it meant. Ah, time for a classic.

“Rejoice, minions! The glorious Kingdom of Draakveld is delighted to annex you and your lands! No longer will you have to face the darkness alone! No longer must you worry about what strange and new world you find yourself in! We demons declare a new era! One of peace, prosperity, and learning! Together, we can see this vision made real! Together, we-”

Schoon’s speech was cut short by a blade going through his heart. He twisted around, meeting the visage of a snarling elf. The elf leaned forward, butting Schoon with his horns. The demon felt cold, his lifeblood flowing out of him. 

“Long live Remus.” He spat into Schoon’s face before twisting the blade and pulling it out with a flourish.

Both Schoon and the elf blinked as Schoon remained hovering, looking hale and whole. The moment of shock quickly passed, and the two exploded in a flurry of blows and magic. Swords clashed as Sound tried to vibrate the elf apart, and Mist condensed and froze on Schoon’s skin, trying to hinder and slow him down. The two battled, the ferocity intensifying as they realized any injury done to them would be healed - but by the same token, any injury they dealt was soon removed. 

A barrier of glittering stars popped into existence between the two of them. Both Immortals hit it at the same time, knowing well the rules on instant barriers created out of the Celestial element, assuming the other was responsible, and both bounced off in surprise as the shield held.

A light flared nearby as a witch dropped her invisibility. She sat side-saddle on her broom, a wide blue hat over blue eyes and hazel hair, stars sparkling in her eyes and on her robe. The light came from her pipe as she inhaled, then a puzzled look crossed her face. Turning the long pipe upside down, she smacked the bottom a few times before a flaming bird popped out.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the elf. Schoon expected to be hit with a tidal wave from his Sin, ashes and smoke from the burning bird, but there was none of that. The flames burned in a way that calmed his obsessive urge, that didn’t make him want to clean without end. 

“Brrrpt!” The bird protested, flying over to the witch’s shoulder. Her pipe cleared, she took a long inhale then puffed out two rings, the second, smaller one threading the needle on the first, larger one.

“I didn’t give you permission to die in my city.”