The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

The sun rose on Grand Meridian through smoke and broken glass.

Austin Veyron watched from the roof of the hotel as the first pale light touched the district. The old territorial spat had torn marks into the street below: black stone carved into a circle, snapped chains, discarded weapons, and the twitching bodies of demons who’d preferred Malrec’s final order to self-preservation.

The Freehold roots ran through it all.

No one was dragged. No one was ordered. Roots patched cracked walls, rolled wreckage from doorways, and cleared paths towards the hotel for anyone who wanted in.

Austin Veyron could feel them making it right on every heartbeat.

The lord mantle had wanted names and ranks and obedience. The Freehold gave him alarms and boundaries and free volunteers. Seven guarded the front gate because he told them to. Elena was directing the human survivors because they liked her. Rin stalked the last chain handlers because it amused her and because she loathed men who thought chains were better than negotiation.

It was inefficient as property.

It ran like life.

Downstairs, Kaela’s smart dropped off prisoners of war.

The truck was stripped of half its armored plating. One wheel had been replaced with a ring of rootwood. But it carried Sarielle and Kaela and Elena and Rin and two dozen freed prisoners and twice enough stolen firearms to arm the entire lobby.

Austin Veyron met them halfway before the truck stopped moving.

Kaela leapt out of the bed and hugged him. ”She’ alive.”

”I know.”

Sarielle descended more cautiously after her cousin. Her shirt was torn open over the blackened tracker burn across her chest, but she stood tall. She eyed Austin Veyron like someone considering the usefulness of a blade before she took it. ”You denied the mantle,” she said.

”Did.”

”You could have made every demon here kneel.”

”They would have hated you for it.”

The demon girl squeezed her eyes shut. ”Hate is not refusal.”

Austin respected her words. ”Refuse something then.” He gestured at the streets below. ”Practice might help.”

Every prisoner within earshot held their breath.

Then Sarielle laughed sharply.

”Fair enough.”

In the lobby of the hotel, Malrec lounged in a chair woven from black roots. His wrists were secured with normal steel cuffs instead of contract chains. The extracted demon core sat in a warded glass case on Malrec’ desk. Maelis had etched ember runes around it. Seven stood behind Malrec’s chair with arms crossed.

Malrec appeared smaller without the green cage of chains wrapped around him. Not peaceful.

”You are making a mistake,” he said as Austin entered the room.

”What mistake?”

”Letting me live.”

”I will let you live if you have answers.” Austin pulled another chair across from Malrec.

”I will tell you what you need to know.” Malrec leaned back.

”Shoot.”

”That core was part of a chain lineage older than this district. It did not begin with me. I was merely its keeper.”

Rin leaned casually against a wall nearby, tails swishing. ”Interesting phrasing considering you kept it in cages.”

”A slave who aspired to be more.” Malrec smiled wickedly. ”Do not pretend Eldrys was noble.”

Austin ignored the jab. ”Who was your master?”

The chains were gone from Malrec’s smile entirely.

”The sovereign who owns that chain line. Lady Vharra, Collector of the Ninth Dominion. She doesn’ care that I lost a district.” Malrec waved a hand at the room around them. ”She cares you broke a registered core and disobeyed the mantle that would have preserved it.”

Elena’s face hardened. ”What do they want?”

”They collect.”

The Freehold roots beneath the tiles trembled.

”Ignore me,” Malrec continued smoothly. ”Vharra will come for the core. For the escaped prisoners. For your useless little heir and finally, for you, Austin Veyron, because you have proven yourself insolent enough to interfere with sovereign property.”

Sarielle stepped toward him. ”My bloodline holds no status under the Ninth Dominion.”

Malrec regarded her chest scar contemplatively. ”It does now. The tracker marked you.”

Kaela placed her hand on her knife.

Austin stood.

The Freehold alarm sounded before he could respond. A vibration carried through the roots. Not an order. Not an announcement. A shared warning with anyone inside the Freehold boundary. Downstairs, bodies moved instinctively. Seven stalked towards the front entrance. Elena started delegating tasks. Rin launched herself through a shattered window towards the roof. No one asked Austin Veyron if they were allowed to fight back.

Sarielle studied the hustling room curiously. ”Your... family acts quickly.”

”My kindergarden?”

”They are not my family,” Austin Veyron said. ”These are people in the Freehold.”

It was subtle. Vital. Austin could already sense the network itching for him to neglect the difference. Every emergency became justification to exert dominance. Every scared face became an excuse to forge another chain.

Kaela sidled up next to Sarielle. ”Then give us something to do.”

Austin met their gazes. ”Help Elena sort the rescued prisoners into rooms and tally what we have. Anyone who wants out gets supplies and an escape route. Anyone who stays fights with us. We take weapons from the stores and let everyone offer input on how to defend this place.”

Malrec chuckled softly from his seat. ”Let everyone offer input? You think a sovereign will wait while your peasant committee debates?”

”No.” Austin held eye contact with him. ”That is why we make the committee dangerous.”

Hungers stirred. They wanted property to devour, new cores to shatter, excuses to sprout teeth.

His stomach growled at the word. Property.

Austin looked around the lobby instead. At the scared faces of rescued prisoners. At the human survivors of the siege. At the demons who had chosen the Freehold over another lord.

”Then let’ s get busy,” he said.

Malrec laughed quietly. ”Busy defending against a sovereign?”

”Against a collector.” Austin eyed the rootbound core on Malrec’s desk. ”Especially her.”

The windows shook.

Every ember rune decorating the core blackened simultaneously.

Thin black chain appeared within the warded glass container.

It hadn’t been there seconds ago.

The chain rapped the glass thrice.

Frost spread from the inside edges of the warded glass. Maelis stepped forward, ember flames licking both arms. ”Do not touch it,” she warned everyone. ”A collector’ chain is seldom only an arm extended from elsewhere.”

He did not reach for it. Instead he studied it. Contract sense reached out and found a chain line dissolving far outside the district, outside the war camp, into a concentration of power that made Malrec’ foolish little core seem like child’s play. It did not pull against him. Not yet. It was taking its measure.

Then somewhere outside the hotel—elsewhere yet still present—a woman’s voice whispered through the lobby.

”Return my property,” she said, ”or I will personally come count the losses.”

The voice vanished, but the black chain remained intact behind glass.

No one in the lobby spoke or moved for several seconds.

Then Elena pressed a rifle into the hands of a freed prisoner. ”Alright. We have a sovereign coming. We need supplies, exits, patrol shifts, and every doorway screaming pain if someone tries to waltz in.”

The prisoner gripped the weapon with shaky hands. ”What if it isn’ t enough?”

Austin eyed the collector’ chain wound through glass. Inside him, hungers whispered he had a lord-cores connected to him by contract chains and an enemy kneeling on the ground. Weapons. Reasons to win that were immediate and available.

Easy excuses for him to lose sight of why he started this fight.

He looked away from both women.

”Then we find more,” Austin Veyron said. ”But they follow us because they want to be here.”