The Scumbags Guide to Enslaving Demon's

”Gather the team,” Austin Veyron said. ”We go to the Ember Marches before the sample reaches Kharvek’s camps, and we take the open-count safeguards with us.”

Amra did not board the coast vessel with them.

The ledger runner stood at the Black Mouth Exchange’s salt gate with Ceryn’s copied procedures in one hand and a stack of blank food records in the other. Behind her, the damaged market was still counting itself, workers moving between the broken stalls with lanterns and ledgers, trying to rebuild something honest out of the wreckage.

”The Exchange needs someone here,” she said. ”If I leave, the brokers will call the open count a temporary disruption and put the old clauses back by morning.”

”You do not owe us the work,” Austin Veyron said.

”I know.” Her silver eyes moved slowly over the damaged market. ”I choose it.”

Vessa handed her a small courier seal, blank except for a single white route mark pressed into its face. ”Use this if a city needs proof that the procedures came from people who survived the plague lot,” she said.

Amra tucked the seal carefully into her ledger chain. ”Bring back a reason for Kharvek not to buy a second sample,” she said.

The team departed before sunset.

The Ember Marches began where the coast turned to red ash. Black cliffs gave way to burned plains, old trenches from wars no one had bothered to finish, and settlements built from scavenged wagon frames lashed together against the wind. Smoke rose from distant campfires along the horizon, but no one on the road treated a fire as a comfort. Out here, a fire meant someone was watching.

Nyra kept the heart shard held beneath her coat, and every few miles it pulsed in response to something waiting ahead of them.

”The sample is active,” she said. ”It is not strong enough to become a network yet. But someone is testing it.”

Austin Veyron’s wrist mark pulsed in answer, and he felt it all the way up his arm.

Veyra noticed it immediately. ”How strong?” she asked.

”Stronger than it was at the Exchange.”

”Do you want to stop?”

The question mattered, and he knew she hadn’t asked it lightly. Austin Veyron looked at the red road stretching out ahead of them, then at the people traveling beside him.

”No,” he said. ”But I want witnesses close.”

”Good,” Veyra said, and she moved a step nearer to prove she meant it.

Orena guided them along an old shore road that wound between tall ash dunes. Rin ranged ahead to scout the path. Vessa and Ceryn walked together, comparing buyer contracts against the plague routes marked on their record sheet. Sable carried the broken crown shard openly now, since there was no longer any reason to hide a countermeasure in a country built around false relief.

They found the refugee convoy at midday.

Three wagons stood trapped in a narrow canyon, their wheels half-sunk in the ash. Adults and older teens crowded around them, their faces lined with exhaustion. Two guards held spears at the ready, but their attention was split between the canyon entrance and a row of ration crates stamped with red marks.

Hunger-contract raiders stood on the ridge above them, looking down.

Their armor was patched together from military scrap, mismatched and dented. Each raider wore a red cloth tied over the lower half of the face and carried a tag-hook at the belt. A loudspeaker cone made from bone amplified their leader’s voice so it echoed from every wall of the canyon.

”Relief rations for those who accept Kharvek’s protection!”

The refugees stared at the crates, and the hunger in their faces was impossible to miss.

A woman standing near the first wagon clutched a child’s hand tightly. ”We have not eaten since yesterday,” she said.

The raider leader smiled down at her. ”Then accept,” he said. ”Ember Hold keeps its people fed.”

Austin Veyron could see the sample residue clinging to the crate seals.

PROTECTION REQUIRES HUNGER.

It was not a direct command, and that made it worse. It was a promise designed to make hunger itself feel like evidence that people needed a warlord to survive.

Veyra looked up at the ridge. ”We take the raiders?” she asked.

”Not until the refugees know the crates are poisoned by terms,” Austin Veyron said.

Ceryn stepped out into the canyon road and raised the record sheet high enough for everyone to see. ”The relief seals carry a distribution duty,” they said. ”Anyone who eats becomes a feeder route for the hunger plague.”

The raider leader laughed at them. ”Court paper in a refugee canyon? Who will believe you?”

Vessa held up the Black Mouth Exchange dispute seal. ”Anyone who recognizes a hidden price,” she said.

The refugees looked from the seal to the ration crates, doubt spreading across their faces.

One of the guards lowered his spear slowly. ”My sister took Kharvek’s food three days ago,” he said. ”She started hiding bread from her own children.”

The raiders moved.

Tag-hooks flew down from the ridge in a sudden wave. Rin’s arrows cut two of them out of the air before they could land. Orena drove her spear into the canyon wall and used it to pull a refugee child clear of a falling tag line. Veyra charged up the slope, using the ash ledges as cover while she climbed.

Austin Veyron reached the nearest ration crate.

The red seal recognized the mark on his wrist, and black lines spread across the wood toward his hand as if greeting him.

DEVOUR rose inside him.

The sample wanted him to consume everything at once: the whole crate, the raiders, and every hunger claim in the canyon. It promised speed. It promised that one clean solution would prevent anyone else from ever accepting the rations again.

”Target?” Veyra called down from the ridge.

Austin Veyron looked at the seal and made himself narrow his focus to the single line that mattered.

”Protection-requires-hunger clause,” he said. ”Not the food. Not the refugees. Not the sample beyond this crate.”

”Witnessed,” Veyra said.

”Witnessed,” Sable added.

Austin Veyron laid the white root chain over the red stamp, and DEVOUR opened.

The clause tasted like dry bread and a locked gate, a meal offered only to those willing to stay behind the walls.

PROTECTION REQUIRES HUNGER.

He consumed the requirement and left everything else untouched.

The red stamp went gray beneath his hand.

Across the canyon, the other ration crates flickered in response. Nyra raised the heart shard, and blue-black light crossed from seal to seal along the row. Without the first clause holding it together, the plague residue weakened everywhere at once.

The refugee woman picked up a ration sack, read its now-blank tag, and handed it to the nearest child without hesitation.

”It is food,” she said. ”Not a chain.”

The raider leader screamed in fury and leapt from the ridge, his hooked blade aimed straight at Austin Veyron.

Veyra intercepted him before he landed. Her blade met his hook with a sharp crack that echoed through the canyon. He was strong and well trained, and he was desperate to make the sample work. But once the fear underneath it had been exposed, he had nothing left to fight with.

Rin’s arrow struck him in the shoulder. Orena swept his feet out from under him, and Veyra kicked the hook out of his reach.

”Who gave you the sample?” Austin Veyron asked.

The raider spat ash onto the ground. ”Kharvek feeds people,” he said. ”You offer records.”

”We offer food without ownership,” Ceryn said.

”That does not win wars.”

”No,” Austin Veyron replied. ”It keeps people from becoming supplies.”

The raider looked over at the refugees eating from the now-clean rations, and for a moment the certainty in his face cracked.

”You cannot feed them all,” he said.

”Neither can Kharvek,” Austin Veyron replied. ”That is why he needs them afraid.”

The leader did not surrender, but the other raiders had already begun backing away along the ridge. Without the sealed rations, they had no leverage left, and one by one they disappeared into the ash dunes.

The convoy guards approached Austin Veyron cautiously.

”What now?” one of them asked. ”We cannot reach Ember Hold, and we cannot go back.”

Orena pointed out a dry creek route on the map. ”There is a caravan shelter a day to the west,” she said. ”It has a water well and no Kharvek banner. If you choose it, we can mark a clean food route for you.”

The guards and refugees discussed it among themselves while the team waited. No one forced the choice on them. At last, the woman holding the child nodded.

”We take the west route,” she said.

Ceryn wrote the route down on a clean sheet. The convoy added their own roles beneath it: driver, guard, water keeper, medic, witness. Vessa gave them a copy of the open-count safeguards to carry with them.

Nyra watched the canyon while the others prepared to leave, her hand pressed against the shard.

”The sample is closer now,” she said. ”Kharvek is not handing it out at random. He is preparing something public.”

The raider leader’s last words had already given Austin Veyron the shape of it.

”He feeds people,” Austin Veyron said. ”Then he makes them thank him for the chain.”

One of the refugee guards looked toward the eastern horizon. ”At sunrise tomorrow, Kharvek holds the Ember Ration,” he said. ”Every camp around Ember Hold comes to the square. He calls it relief.”

Veyra’s expression hardened at the word.

”And the sample?” she asked.

”The warlord will open it in front of everyone,” the guard said. ”He wants the hungry to see what protection looks like.”

Austin Veyron looked out at the burning horizon, where the smoke of a hundred campfires rose into the darkening sky.

The hunger plague was about to become a ceremony.