Perfectly Safe Demons -Ch 112- Generosity is it's own Reward

This week Rikad and Ros both give generously to change the lives of the working class and poor.

A wholesome* story about a mostly sane demonologist trying his best to usher in a post-scarcity utopia using imps. It's a great read if you like optimism, progress, character growth, hard magic, and advancements that have a real impact on the world. I spend a ton of time getting the details right, focusing on grounding the story so that the more fantastic bits shine. A new chapter every Thursday.

*Some conditions apply, viewer cynicism is advised.

Map of Pine Bluff

Map of Hyruxia

Map of the Factory and grounds

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Chapter One

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“Tell me lad, what’s the best places to drink ales?” Geon asked. He rubbed his freshly shaven chin and his long sideburns glistened in scented oils. 

“Um, I don’t really know,” Ros admitted. “I wasn’t much of a drinker when I lived here.”

“Religious?” Geon asked.

Ros shrugged awkwardly, “No, but I was in a lot of churches.” 

They were silent together as the Whale blew closer to Jagged Cove. The basalt spires that gave the city its name slipped past the ship on both port and starboard. 

Ros added, “The nicest looking alehouses are in the upper trade district. There is a plaza with a statue of a lady getting gored by a boar. That was always where the rich out-of-towners went.”

“Aye, I’ll take a look. I’ve lately come to have some deeper pockets than I used to. I reckon you‘n I both. On account of our same boss,” the captain intoned. They could hear the seabirds circling and the shouts on the docks ahead.

“You can probably come with us when we get drinks. I’m not sure if you’d have fun, it might be boring,” Ros offered.

“A kindness, but I have people to meet. Deals to hammer out. I might need to hire a few of you later, to watch my back. I’d like to shop for a ship.” He sighed and patted the railing, “I love the Whale, but I’ve got more money than a damned dragon, I can afford an upgrade. Just good business.”

“I’d love to, but I’m not in charge of where we get posted. Maybe talk to Rikad. Or Aethlina?”

“Aye, fair.” 

Ros went below decks to get geared up. The other men were already there, putting on their armour. 

Eowin was fussing with some buckles. “How is it that the super-heavy armour is about the same weight and five times faster to put on than this ‘light’ gear?”

“Easy, you’re clumsy and blind. I coulda told you that the day I met you,” Jourgun said as he put on his open faced half-helm. “We can’t look like demigods from the Age of Miracles just yet! We gotta be low profile.”

“Low profile? The city guards don’t wear steel. Let alone custom partial-plate! I bet there isn’t a duke’s son that’s as geared as our ‘disguise’ armour,” Theros jeered.

Ros quickly got ready, and felt very exposed compared to the whole body hug his normal gear gave him. But it also made sense, Mageplate was too unique to wear here. 

“It’s fine to be rich! We want the noble Baron to look well funded!” Jourgun said, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms to make sure it was properly fitted.

“Eww, what’s this tabard he gave us?” Eowin complained.

“That, filthy commoner, is what men of my class call a family crest. The Steelheart crest to be specific!” Rikad walked into the stinking bunk room. He slouched against the door jam with a grin. “How I envy your simple lives; unburdened by the incredible weight of command and ambition. Hurry up, we're almost there!” He left without waiting for a reply.

They chuckled and shook their heads. Almost all of them were ready now.

“Say what you will,” Eowin said optimistically, “I appreciate how much less condescending he’s become since leaving the Mageguard.”

Even Ros snorted at that. He snapped a longsword to his belt and followed the rest of them to the deck. 

They’d gotten closer, the tall city walls were both familiar and strange. Ros hadn’t seen Jagged Cove from this angle before. When they fled last year, it was predawn and he didn’t get a good look. He wasn’t sure how he felt, but he wasn’t eager to get to the city, even though he was before he saw the walls. The Jagged Cove was dirtier and more menacing than he remembered.

They were signaled to an empty trade dock and they moored the ship. There were a few moments of shouting chaos but then it was time to disembark.

“Oy! Don’t go too far Pumper-man! We’ll be findin’ ya for some free beers! This whole trip was a vacation with some’n else doing the shite work!” one of the bigger sailors said, patting Ros on his back with enough force to put him off balance.

Ros smiled at the kind words, and struggled to reply, “I, erm, it wasn’t a–”

Rikad cleared his throat and ordered, “Ros and Eowin, attend me. Jourgun, arrange watches for the ship, and assign someone to the Captain for the day. It’s simpler than having to spend a whole day planning a rescue if he gets kidnapped!”

Ros waved to the grinning sailors and hurried off the ship.

Rikad was wearing his very finest doublet. It was one of astounding intricacy and detail, a standout among even impish quality. Silk brocade and thread of gold competed with bright, vibrant colours that didn’t exist in nature. Ros hadn’t ever seen someone so fancy walking the streets of the city in his whole life. He hoped that meant he wouldn’t have to fight muggers.

“Man, I can’t wait to stab some muggers,” Eowin said with relish as they walked down the dock. “Thanks for doing everything you can to make that happen, your Grace!”

“I knew you were the man for the job. I only hope you remember to angle any arterial spray away from me. We haven’t proper laundry facilities here. Not Pine Bluff quality at least,” Rikad replied. “I don’t think I need to explain that perceptions are reality here? Or do I? You were a woodcutter before you got hired, yeah?”

“I’d been a woodcutter, a butcher, a roofer and a poet. Never made money with that last one, but it landed me a wife!”

“Ah, I might get your help with that, I am looking for a wife myself on this trip. On second thought, your wife–”

Ros held his breath; Eowin’s dedication to his wife was legendary.

“--erm, on second thought, that’s rather a thing I must do on my own,” Rikad finished diplomatically.

“It’s the best thing you can do. For a buncha reasons,” Eowin said slowly, the tension thickening between the men.

“I have a great many things to do and far too little time to do it. I do not intend to spend the winter here.”

hey walked through the port district. The narrow cobbled lanes were slick with mud and it all stank of low tide. The press of bodies and the deafening din were wildly unlike anything Pine Bluff could offer. This was where small time traders, scammers and smugglers congregated. 

Rikad grinned like he’d come home. 

“Feels different, don’t it?” the Baron asked. “Not even surprised no one recognizes me. I doubt I would.”

Ros nodded. “Very different. Too different?”

Eowin snorted, “Yeah, it feels good to be strong, rich and armed.” They continued through a narrow alley and into a wide plaza with vendors. “I guess we were one of those things right before we left.”

“Aye, feels strange. A strange homecoming. It feels like I haven’t been gone a day.” Rikad smiled. “That said, I need to learn a bit. I don’t know nearly enough about the Church– I’ll figure it out.”

“Aye, don’t envy your problems,” Eowin agreed.

“We can help, we all know the town, and I know lots of Churchers, but none of the ones with the big hats,” Ros added.

“Big hats are exactly my quarry! Not today though, let's first find somewhere to stay.”

They continued in silence; as Rikad plotted, his men looked for threats.

Oh, those are Skullstealer gangers! I recognize the hats! They look less scary. Why did they let those kids in? They are too skinny and too young. That’s a serious gang, they can do better than them. I wonder what’s happened.

The trio of youngsters in black and white striped hats watched them pass. They averted their eyes when Rikad stared at them. 

Looks like Eowin will have to wait a bit longer for his fight after all.

They weaved their way up until they found what Rikad was looking for, a small inn off a quiet alley. 

“This’ll do. Eowin, walk the area, evaluate the security. Ros, come with me. Do your best to look less bony. Chin up!”

With the lordly confidence he’d developed, he went in to find the innkeeper. “You there! Lass, are you the owner here? Is he about?”

The startled young lady spun at his words, “Uh, I’m in charge, milord. What seems to be amiss?”

“Amiss? Not a thing! I’m Baron Rikad Steelheart in town for business and I fancy staying here. How many rooms do you have?” Rikad wasn’t looking at her, rather inspecting the decor. He managed to be both intense and bored at once.

“Ten. Ten rooms in total, milord. But only eight are free at the mo–”

“That’s fine, I’ll take all ten. What’s the rate here? We came by sea so I have no horses, but I’ll be acquiring some.” 

The young woman, no older than Ros, struggled to reply. This wasn’t where nobles stayed in the Capital. Real ones all stayed in the townhouses and palaces of their allies. It was very likely this was the first man of high birth she’d ever spoken to. 

“The rooms is all different, as it pleases the lord… They run five to twenty, beggin’ your pardon... sleeping in the common space is–”

“Perfect. Call it two hundred a day for the whole place? Meals included I assume?” 

She nodded as he placed stacks of silver stag coins on the counter, the ‘agreed’ upon rate. They made a sharp clack as he put it in front of her, drawing all her attention.

Rikad pulled out two more stags, an additional hundred glindi. “You seem an enterprising sort, If you can talk the two others into leaving with just your words, feel free to keep these. Otherwise, bribe them along. I’ll be back with my men and luggage in a few hours. We’ll have seafood for dinner. Whatever’s in season now.”

Ros never made that much in a month when he lived here, until the Mage of course. Rikad was already halfway out the door, so Ros fell in behind him.

“That’s a bad deal. Renting a whole inn, you coulda negotiated a huge discount, that place was almost empty,” Ros pointed out, confused.

“Save money? Light above, am I the only one here that remembers our mission? We’re here to be noticed and make friends. The girl will tell this story until the day she dies. Do you remember what’s weighing down the Whale’s hold? We can afford it.”

Ros shrugged. “It’s just a lot of money. But she seemed nice, so I’m glad you helped her.”

Rikad paused, his eyebrows knit in confusion. “What? No, that’s– yeah I helped her so she lives longer.” He snorted. “I need most of the squad to stay with the ship, thankfully no one here knows what we’re holding, but we need to get that cargo shifted fast. I’d rather that become the Ministry of Colonial Affairs’ problem than mine.”

Eowin rejoined them. “The inn looks good, sir. Plenty defensible if we need it, and three ways to leave it.”

“Glad to hear,” Rikad said distractedly. 

He’s got a lot on his mind and I don’t blame him one bit, it seems like an impossible task now that we’re here. The city is too big, too stuck all together. At least he still cares about helping the inn lady.

They worked their way across the city as the light faded: first to schedule a formal delivery window for the taxes, then to hire enough carts to move the chests, and finally through the crowded market stalls to pick up last-minute necessities for a long stay.

Half the squad and most of the sailors stayed on the Whale, while Rikad, Ros and a few others enjoyed a lavish feast at their recently commandeered inn. 

Ros leaned back, full to bursting with all the interesting dishes the inn had managed. It was a little over-cooked and under-seasoned, but he knew they were doing their best and it wasn’t really fair to compare people to an imp’s culinary mastery. 

“Should I bring the rest of the food to the port? What are they gonna eat, just more ration bars?” Ros asked.

“It’s an hour walk. I wouldn’t worry about it. Geon takes care of his people,” Rikad said, picking his teeth.

“Still, there is so much we didn’t eat!” Ros knew all along they would make too much food. The number of rooms implied a lot more than the five men that were here, even as hungry as they were.

“Food’s cheap. Don’t worry about it,” Rikad replied.

“Can I go bring it to them? I don’t mind,” Ros offered.

“Sure, pick up a cask of beer on your way too. They earned it,” Rikad said dismissively.

Ros bounded to his room, put back on his arms and armour, then loaded the leftovers into the chest his armour shipped in, pots and all. It was absurdly heavy but since he was very strong now, he could manage it.

Probably good exercise anyhow!

With a grunt he kicked the door open and left. “Bye guys! Back soon!”

He made slower than usual progress with his burden, only setting it down once when he found someone to sell him a small cask of ale. He balanced it on top and carried on his journey down the hill into the port district. 

To think I used to avoid this place, back when I was skinny and scared. I used to be afraid of all sorts of things, but really most people are nice, maybe I was just being–

“Hey! Asshole! Gimme your loot. And your money!” someone shouted.

The handful of other pedestrians scurried to safety, leaving Ros and three gangsters.

“Oh! I recognize you! From before, the lookouts for the Skullstealers!” Ros said. “Nah, this is just food for my friends, and ale. You can have some money though if you want.”

“I dinn’t ask! Give it all to me, big hero!”

Ros put down his load, it was sweet relief to his aching arms and back. “Oh, I can’t but if you guys are just hungry, I can help.” He pulled out his coinpurse, found three skinny silver coins with a hawk on them. “Ten each should be enough for fish and onion skewers all week!”

“It inn’t a negotiation! All of it, if you wanna live to see the mornin’! Armour too! Strip!”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Ros said more slowly. “It’s not really my armour. And I need it. For work.” 

He’d seen people like this before, but never as the focus of their ill intentions. He didn’t like it one bit. The cruelty in their leers made him uncomfortable.

How would Mage Thippily solve this? Probably something smart and wordy and magic. I’m none of those things. Bah, everyone else I know would hurt these people and that’s not what I want one bit!

The three youths spread out and circled him. Being surrounded was normally terrifying, when the attackers knew what they were doing. These three didn’t.

“Tell whatever gods you meet that it was all your choice!” the lead one said, driving in with a dagger.

Ros sidestepped and batted away his hand as his mind raced. He wished badly he was even a bit better at thinking under pressure. Or at all.

Oh! What would Rikad do, IF he thought they mattered? Disarm, disable and taunt I bet!

Ros pulled the hat over the eyes of the closest, hip tossed the next and lifted the last by his collar. He yanked the dagger out of his hand, and pinned it through his coat and into the wood frame of the nearest house. 

In the handful of heartbeats it took, one of the others recovered. Ros heard the screech of his armour deflecting the stab in the back with their dagger. He punched him in the face. Ros winced when the nose broke, but managed to avoid apologising and another few heartbeats later they were all bound.

Ros held the ‘dagger’ in his hand. It was a shard of iron, poorly sharpened, likely by rubbing it on cobblestones. The handle was stained rags. Ros tossed it on the roof of a nearby building. He hadn’t even touched the hilt of his own sword in the commotion.

“I’m super good at fighting, and you’re not. So don’t start fights!” Ros chided.

Disabled, disarmed, and taunt delivered! Success!

He looked at them; their faces were masks of wild-eyed fear, staring at him like he’d crawled out of a nightmare. They’d grown pale and flinched with Ros’s every move. He didn’t like how often people looked at him like that. He also knew that they were only doing what they thought best, and it’s impossible to be upset at anyone trying to survive.

“I’ll give you guys that silver though, since I’m not mad, you guys just don’t know that hurting people’s bad. But it is. Someday a great mage will help you, I know it. He’s way better at helping folk.”

He slid a single silver hawk into each of their pockets and they stared at him in mute terror.

Ros picked up his chest of leftovers and cask of ale and continued on his journey to the ship.

It’s too bad we’re only helping people in Pine Bluff now. They need way more help here. 

He had no idea how much money was needed to help everyone in town. It would be a lot. But he also knew he had a lot of money. Maybe even enough to make a difference. He turned over his options in his mind.

Soon he arrived at the Wily Wailing Whale, and was greeted by Jourgun standing on the bow; it was his lookout shift.

“Hey guys! It’s me, Ros! We had a heap of leftovers, so I brought them down!” 

They greeted him warmly, but when he revealed the cask of ale they cheered him like a conquering hero. Ros stayed for a single mug while they tore into garlic shrimp, steamed snapper, and a pot of rice.

None of them had ever eaten rice before. It cost a dozen times more than barley, and they handled it uncertainly at first—strange texture, mild flavour, little white pellets that defied their attempts to cut. But none of that mattered. Rice was rich-people food, and eating it made them feel like they’d been invited to a lord’s table.

“Alright fellas, I gotta go, just load the chest and dishes with the rest of the luggage when you move up to the inn. It’s pretty nice. Not as nice as Thed’s but nice.”

He smiled, waved, and returned to the cool night. When the sun set there was always a stiff inland wind for a while, and it was the only time of the day the harbour smelled clean. 

If I helped three people, could I help more? I think I only have a few hundred glindi on me now, mostly I kept my spending money in my rucksack. I bet Aethlina could give me more of my money though, good thing she’s here.

Not like I need it, I’ve gone entire months with barely spending a bronze, I’m given everything. More than everything!

Then that’s clear. It’s what the Mage would do, help people because he could!

With a plan and already equipped with everything he needed, he took a different route back. A longer, darker route. He spied his first beneficiary: a lump of stained rags with a foot sticking out.

“Psst, wake-up!” he whispered at it. Thankfully it rolled over and was a whole person, and not a trash-covered severed limb.

“Fuck off,” it moaned at him. He couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman.

“Here’s fifty glindi, you can go back to sleep now.” He passed them a thick silver coin. It would go further if he gave everyone less, but he also didn’t think he could find someone to make change for him this time of night.

“Gah?! What? Why? I don’t owe you shit! Is this real?” the derelict said in a jumble, holding the coin against their cheek.

Ros moved on. He had many more coins to give.

Three bearded men were sitting in a dim alley around a single flickering rushlight. He could smell the sour stink of cheap wine on their breaths. 

“Good evening gentlemen, I’m Ros. Here’s fifty glindi, and since you guys are already friends, can you share it?” 

He passed the nearest man a silver stag. Nearly two months wages to a farm labourer, about a month’s salary to an apprentice. It should be plenty for all of them to get some new clothes and hot meals.

“It’s mine! Sod off!” the man with the coin sprinted down the alley and out of sight with uncanny speed.

The remaining two looked confused and hurt. It broke Ros’s heart to think he’d ruined their friendship.

“Alright, you two can have money too.” He passed them each a thick silver coin. 

“Uh, my friend is at home. Maybe I get a coin for ‘im too?” one asked. “He’s got a broken leg, and he’s an orphan. And he has a sick kid.”

“Thirteen sick kids!” the other added.

“Oh my! Of course!” Ros pulled out a thicker electrum coin, this seemed like an especially good use of it, helping a whole family. “Here’s five hundred, but make sure he spends it responsibly!”

“Oh we will, milord!” and before Ros could ask a single follow-up they were long gone. Their suddenness worried him. Their friend might not even have a broken leg. 

Well no matter what, that money will help someone more than it was helping me in a sack!

He moved on. It was getting late and he had to be up early.

He found some more people sleeping in a heap of rags at the edge of a plaza and just as he woke them up, someone shouted behind him, “Oy, that’s the guy! Black and red surcoat!”

Ros looked down; those were the colours of the Steelheart crest.

“Hi, I’m Ros, how can–”

“I heard you’re just giving away money, I need you to give it to me.”

“Oh, certainly! I’m happy to help anyone in need of–”

A new voice shouted, “The hell you will, mister! Your money is mine! This is our turf, and none of you is getting a skinny copper!”

“Hello!” Ros said, waving. The men speaking looked less poor than the beggars and had actual swords and hatchets. He’d rather not give to gangsters, but fighting them seemed likely to end up hurting them. He was here expressly to help. 

“Do you think I’m afraid of some puffed up pick-pocket?” the leader of the first gang shouted at the other gang. Lanterns in windows flicked alive around them. Drunks, revelers and destitute gathered to watch.

“No need for conflict! Plenty for everyone!” Ros said, defusing as best he could. Their eyes shone in the dim light, filled with an unsavoury hunger.

“Nah, only enough for the Ribbonsnakes!” the leader of the second gang said menacingly, drawing a nicked iron shortsword.

“Here! I’ll put the money in two even piles, that way—” Ros poured the rest of his coin purse into his hands, and everyone stared at the heap of silver. Some mouths fell open. It was probably less than a thousand glindi, but that would be enough to help a lot of people, you could eat okay for a few days on a single gee if you were smart about it.

The first gang leader flung a throwing knife at him, so smoothly that without his enhanced reflexes it would have caught him in his throat. Ros spun and raised his hands to knock it away, a reflex that launched the coins high in the air. The dagger deflected off the steel plates in his gloves. It stung a bit but he knew he was fine.

The rain of money, however, was unlike anything he expected. In his panic he’d thrown it high and rather than wait for it to come down, the gangs immediately fell into violence. The first man to grab at the coins was stabbed twice before he could even close his fist. The gathered onlookers darted through and took what they could, often out of pools of fresh blood, and the armed gangsters cut them down without hesitation. 

At least a dozen were dead and somehow more people were flooding into the square.

Ros grabbed the hilt of his own longsword, but froze. 

Kill them all? That’s not helping! No one is attacking me!

The city watch bell started to ring and the screams of the wounded and dying dominated the night. 

Ros didn’t like anything about this. He turned and ran the other way, trying not to flinch at the fresh screams and death rattles. He stepped on something soft. He hoped it was a discarded cloak. 

When a dozen city watchmen with halberds thundered down a narrow lane, he had to detour. Fully clear of the riot, he found his way back towards the inn, making far better time than he had lugging that chest. 

He couldn’t help but worry that he didn't improve very many lives tonight. Maybe next time he'd do it right. He could help, so he had to. 

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