Summoner: The Demon

Chapter 4

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"I still can't believe that you found a provisioned pack with hard liqueur in the woods!" Fletcher told Ignatius for the fourteenth time as they walked on the gravel path. They were almost at Corcilium, so it was safe to be in the open. Fletcher shook his head in disbelief. 

"Screeee!" Ignatius told Fletcher, frustrated. 

"Yeah, sure. You found one of the Cavell patrols almost dying from laughter, so you liberated their sack." Fletcher said as he chuckled to himself. Humans were so dense! Ignatius closed his eyes and releasing some smoke from his nostrils. 

Just then, a cart passed along, pulled by a stout mule and filled with foul smelling goats. Fletcher's eyes lit up, they had been walking the whole day. On the other hand, Ignatius wrinkled his nose at the smell, for his sense of smell was more refined. A man with graying hair and a gaunt face sat behind the mule (on the cart, so he wouldn't get kicked), driving it forward. 

"Excuse me," Fletcher said "Do you mind if w--" he made a hrk sound, gagging from the smell. Unfortunately, the man on the cart did not hear him, leaving him in the disgusting muck mixed with dust. Fletcher took a deep breath and sprinted up to the man. "May we hop on your cart please? We're not afraid to pay."

The man, probably in his late fifties, scrutinized Fletcher. "We, ye say? You an' who?"  He said in a rather rural accent. He had probably come to trade at Corcilium. 

"Sorry, slip of the tongue. Just me. I was traveling with my uncle. We got separated a while back by bandits, and he is at Corcilium. Fletcher invented wildly. 

"Ye look a bit lik' a bandit yerself, with that odd swor' ye got there. A strange curve, I tell yah. A strange 'Un indeed." The man said, eyeing Fletcher's Khopesh warily. His hand strayed to a knife in his belt, more for comfort than anything. It would do virtualy nothing against any half competent swordsman.  

"I mean no harm, sir."  Fletcher said innocently. Things were getting delicate. "I have been robbed before. This is strictly for self defence."

"Alrigh', ye seem like ah goo' 'un, can't be tuh carefu' nowadays" the man said "I've got mah ow' here," he patted his knife. Fletcher almost laughed, it was me and for cooking than fighting. "Five shillin's please, an' muck out the back when wuh stop." 

""Thank you!" Fletcher said, grimacing at the ripe odour of goats while Ignatius curled around his neck.

Two hours later, they arrived at Corcilium. There were so many humans, buildings and shops that Ignatius felt his eyes would burst. Master seemed equally awestruck, and they both stared hungrily at the people hawking goods such as salt pork or bread. The aroma of the food was so powerful, it rivalled that of the goat dung. 

"Come on, Ignatius. Let's find an inn for the night." Fletcher said, rubbing the demon's back. The little imp chirruped happily, and started scanning the vicinity. Ignatius' stomach rumbled, sending waves of hunger to his master. Fletcher conceded, loathe to have his demon hungry. Pausing their search, Fletcher walked over to the food stall with the shortest line. After waiting a few minuites, they arrived at the head of the queue.

"How can I help you, young sir?" A red faced, round bellied, cook asked Fletcher, sliding a small key out from his apron pocket. 

"A dozen slices of salt pork and some bread please," Fletcher said, earning an excited yip from Igniatus. The portly vendor retrieved the items and unlocked a chest.