The Road to Change, Parts 1-2 (Man & Woman Multi TFTG)

This is an ongoing major story that will feature a TON of TF and TG elements that I hope you will enjoy. I'll be posting up a poll tomorrow of what changes you might like to see in the story. This part is mainly set up, but after this each chapter will deal with new changes, fantastical and more generally TG. I hope you enjoy it.

By FoxFaceStories

A Commission for Al

Melvin is a noble-born magic caster, stuffy and serious. Allison is a vibrant and confident fighter, charged with his protection. Despite their contrasting personalities, the two must set forth together on a grand mission when a foul demon lord rises and unleashes transformative domination magic across the land. As the two adventure and deal with their own series of bodily transformations, they are forced to grapple with their own growing feelings for one another.

Next Part

The Road to Change

Chapter 1: The Beginning

It is said that two children born on the same day in the same household share a special connection. So it was hoped for Melvin Dawnway, third child of the esteemed Dawnway noble family of the rich city of Arlingdale, and Allison Greenwood, product of the married union between the family maid and family gardener. The pair even came into the world within five hours of one another, and on the two hundredth anniversary of the Demon Lord’s defeat at Ravenkind, no less. So it was believed that the pair would be, in some way, linked.

Unfortunately, said link did not exactly manifest in the way anyone expected. Perhaps it was the fact that Allison was a child of the lower class, or perhaps it was that fact that members of the household continually tried to push the two together against their will, but the pair developed rather clashing personalities fairly early on. Melvin was a serious child and, being the third child and second son of his noble house, was expected to develop some matter of skill useful to the family as he was not the heir. He was aware of this pressure from a young age, and his older sister Marion often teased him about it.

“Spare, not the heir! Spare, not the heir!”

This only had the effect of making him all the more serious, as well as developing a dry and sometimes snarky humour that rose up in defence.

“At least I won’t be married off to some fat balding lord!” he would respond, sending Marion into tears and running for their mother. 

And that was just him at age five. He had developed dark brunette hair and vivid green eyes, and his family’s usual light olive complexion. Many spoke of him as quite the handsome child - something he saw as fickle and hated - but his lack of smile was of constant bewilderment to his eager mentors. 

“Why should I smile?” he said when he was seven. “Smiling for no reason is stupid. It’s a thing stupid people do. Like Allison.”

He was hushed for this. Melvin had been told more than once that the omens stated the pair would form some sort of connection. Not a marriage of course - perish the noble family’s thoughts! - but perhaps she would serve as a dutiful maid or wise accountant, or otherwise a voice of reason at a critical juncture. The omen-readers were rarely wrong about such things.

The problem was, Allison was day to Melvin’s night. The girl had developed blonde hair the colour of honey, and blue eyes the bright colour of a coastal shoreline. While she was raised up by her maid mother and gardener father, she was actually given quarter at the Dawnway estate directly (her parents shifted to these better lodgings with her) and a number of mentors were sent her way to determine what gift she would offer young Melvin in his journey towards manhood and nobility. The results were not particularly what anyone (save perhaps Melvin) expected: Allison was a poor student in almost every possible profession. She was a bubbly girl, constantly talkative, sociable, and deeply inquisitive. She continued to sneak outside to see the horses and view the yard where the guards trained their weapons against one another. She mimicked their motions, laughing and imagining herself a great knight.

***

Time passed, and the pair continued to develop, their lives overlapping and contrasting in many ways, particularly when it came to their various studies. Allison had little time for academia. She drew silly pictures of far off places, and during history lessons was far more interested in fables and tales of the horrible Demon Lord.

“That was two hundred years ago and of great significance,” her history instructor Ellis told her. “And indeed, it took a mighty mage and his knightly companion to end the threat.”

“Was it true they were turned into all sorts of beasts and monsters?”

“Well, yes. The histories say so. The Demon Lord brought in his wake Domination Magic, the most chaotic and disruptive of all magics, and the only kind to be able to truly and even permanently transform one’s body and mind. Many armies were thus transformed, sometimes into the Demon Lord’s garden statues, into his army of succubi and harpies and ogres and so forth. Others even became his concubines, bringing forth more demonic children into the world.”

“What’s a concubine?”

Ellis blushed, realising he was getting off-topic. “Once again you distract me with your interest in swords and sorcery, dear Allison. Now, we must recite once more the names of all the members of the house of Dawnway. Begin with me, Robert the First, Robert the Second, Abigail the Foolhardy . . .”

At which point, Allison’s brain began to fall out of her ears, at least that’s how she described it. When her inattention was obvious, she was sent to the Dawnway library to fetch relevant books, and there she would often encounter the one who shared her birthday, and who was younger than her by a mere five hours. Melvin sat in the same nook in the library each time, his spectacles on his young face, his gaze intense as he absorbed work after work. His understanding of magic had caught the attention of his arcane tutor Votif, a man from Ahmak, and so he was pushed evermore into this specialty. Noble houses traded well on having a wizard to protect their interests, and Melvin found the arcane particularly fascinating. Unfortunately for him, Allison loved checking out whatever book he was now on and teasing him about it. 

“Which one is this?” she said, bouncing over to his side. They were both ten years old now, and her excitement had never left her, while his had remained cool as ever.

“The Mystic Arcanum,” he replied flatly. “It’s the book where all magic spells come from. Well, most of them. It’s for wizards only. You can’t look.”

“Aren’t you not a wizard yet?”

“I’m a wizard in training. Technically an arcanist. That’s what Votif says.”

“Can I be a wizard?”

“Don’t be stupid. You have to read lots.”

“Oh, I definitely can’t be a wizard then! Looks too boring; so many pages! Do you get to practice spells outside?”

“We practice spells in the spellchamber, under careful watch.”

Allison groaned. “You never get outside! I can’t believe your skin is darker than mine, because you should be so much paler. When did you last see the sun? Do you need me to describe it for you?”

“I know what the sun looks like! Look, just leave me alone. I keep losing my place.”

“Only if you help me find three books. I can’t find them and they’re on my list for my lessons.”

With a deep sigh and an adjustment of his glasses, Melvin rose and aided her reluctantly. She skipped from spot to spot, while he walked calmly and with clear direction, just as his tutors had taught him.

“You know you don’t always have to move, right?”

“I know! I just like it. Just like I like running. And jumping. And swimming.”

He halted. “You can - you can swim?”

Allison chuckled. “I taught myself! Well, I watched the guards trained, and then I taught myself. I’ve nearly drowned so many times.”

“You are . . . really weird. I have no idea how you’ll be of help to me one day.”

But at that, Allison just elbowed him - a huge social faux pas, given his rank - and grinned with girlish confidence. “Maybe you’ll help me!”

Melvin grabbed the books, rubbed the side that had been nudged, and handed said books over.

“I highly doubt that,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to keep studying.”

“Oooh, you two are together again!”

The pair of them both groaned in unison as Tiffany strolled into the library. She was only eight years old, and Melvin’s only younger sister. She had bright red hair that everyone adored, and was clearly her father’s favourite despite all noble patriarchal concerns.

“Go away, Tiff,” he said.

“Yeah, this is a private conversation!” Allison barked. “You should leave.”

Melvin frowned. “You are not allowed to speak that way to a superior. Tiffany, this is a private conversation, so leave at once!”

But Tiffany, as ever, didn’t care where she went. She hopped her way over to her big brother, hands behind her back and a look of mischievous innocence all over her face.

“You should both kiss already. I’m the only one can see it but you two are going to be prince and princess together.”

“We’re not that high-ranked, Tiff.”

“Well, maybe you will be! You’re born on the same day on a really important anniversary, so all you have to do is follow a prophecy or something, like in the stories. And then you can grow up and fall in love and start kissing and be princes and princesses.”

Melvin squirmed in discomfort. “That’s not happening.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening!” Allison declared. “Your brother is a stick on the mud.”

“Stick in the mud,” he corrected, “and I’m not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am - ugh, this is stupid! Go outside and play in the mud yourself, Allison.”

He stomped off back to his nook and took up his book as loudly as possible, his eyes burning through the paper. He was examining the arcane nature of domination magic and its various transformative aspects. One page spread showed a valiant knight being reduced to part of a goblin horde. The next page showed the goblin now to be female. The third page showed . . . something inappropriate that he didn’t quite understand but knew to be embarrassing. The fourth page showed many little goblins heading out to war, the female goblin’s belly swollen with babies. 

“What are you looking at?” Tiff asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ooooh, it must be love poetry for Allison.”

“Gross!” the two said as one, and that only made Tiffany giggle even further, dancing on the spot and singing.

“You said it together! You said it together! You belong together! You belong together!”

Allison stomped the ground, her cheeks red. “Do not! Your brother is boring and can’t even hold a sword.”

“Neither can you,” he murmured.

“At least I don’t look at pictures of mermaids all day. Oooh!”

Melvin’s cheeks went bright red with embarrassment. He had happened to turn a page to another one of the Demon Lord’s domination magic effects; turning the most heroic mage in the world, Atellius the Grand, into a lustful mermaid. Legend said that he also gave her immortality, and a number of lucky sailors have happened upon her and her desirous new needs. But he had also stared at the page’s image longer than warranted, and paid attention to her gorgeous honey hair. Like Allison’s . . . 

He shut the book.

“I just want to read in peace, okay!? I have to be a great mage! Tiffany, go back to mother or I’ll tell!”

Tiffany squeaked, poked out her tongue, and then scampered away.

“You should go too,” he said quietly to Allison.

The young girl was hot-tempered and always had been, but she cooled just as quick, and a sense of guilt overcame her. “I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she said, after a long pause. “I shouldn’t have made fun.”

“I . . . thanks.”

“I don’t know why people keep pushing us together.”

“Because of some stupid superstition. It’s not even magic. It’s not like you have a talent to help me.”

At this, Allison felt the hot prick of tears in her eyes. “I do too! I just . . . I just haven’t found it yet! That’s all!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant-”

But then Allison was running away too, leaving Melvin alone in the room just as he wanted. It didn’t stop him from feeling bad, though.

***

It was when Allison was twelve that even the noble household could not deny the obvious truth before them: the young girl was, against all tradition, expectation, and good sense, clearly meant to serve as Melvin’s protector. She no longer just snuck out to watch the training yard, she actively used it, at first just by herself, swinging wooden swords and replicating the training movements, and then actually hiding her hair and pretending to be one of the young recruits, sparring with the various masters while acting as if she were a boy. Of course, Quartermaster Berrick figured who it was that was ‘mysteriously’ joining his lessons each morning fairly quickly, but let it slide out of curiosity.

The man had witnessed Allison’s boisterous, confident nature numerous times around the estate lands and even out in the city when she was meant to be running errands for the family with her mother. Despite her upbringing, her station, and her own sex, Allison still found a way to sneak out into the forest and practice what she witnessed in the training yard. She explored past the boundaries of the Dawnway lands, and even into the deeper forest, far beyond what any of the boys her own age and even years beyond were willing to do. She returned with all sorts of cuts and bruises and stories, and occasionally even an animal carcass successfully returned, and rarely if ever seemed torn up about her wounds or the scarier environments she had navigated. And while she and the young noble Melvin bickered whenever possible, Berrick had noticed how she often stayed within sight of him when he was rarely outside, often warning him before he stumbled into the flowers that gave him allergies or running to catch him as he tripped on a rock he wasn’t looking at because he had his head in a book. Besides, as irritated as she got with him, there was indeed something quite encouraging about how she continually bothered the young master to get some fresh air, something his parents paid little mind to. It sometimes even worked.

So he trained her, at first just from curiosity, and then out of interest, and then with great eagerness. Allison took to the lessons easily, uncaring about what new scrapes she received. In fact, she continually took these in stride.

“Can I try that again, Master Berrick!”

“Master Berrick, now did you flank me?”

“Why is a longsword preferred over the short out in the open? Is it because of the greater reach? Then would the shortsword be for better fighting on the steps in the towers?”

Eventually, the ruse had to be up, especially as Allison was starting to ‘develop’ in ways the other future recruits were noticing. When Lord and Lady Dawnway were informed, Melvin was in earshot.

“Surely not!” his mother said. “I know she lacks attention in other areas, but a female knight? A guardian protector? For a girl, and at her station? Surely we can’t teach her in finance?”

“Or perhaps just in religion,” Lord Dawnway offered. “Perhaps we just need to put the pressure on and return her to her original course as a maid. Or even as a gardener; she does love the wild.”

“The wild, my Lord. Not the romantic aesthetic of the garden. And I tell you true; she has the skill. More than any other recruit I have trained in thirty years, and I make no exaggeration. And she has the passion for it, too. She can outfight most of the boys, and in time will outfight all of them; I have to pit her against the olders just for a challenge. She is as skilled in the art of combat at her age as your own son here is skilled in the arts of the arcane. Like the great mage Praemis and the noble knight Cawthor all over again.”

That was enough to prick Melvin’s ears. To be compared to the pair that defeated the demon lord two centuries past? He privately smirked, his ego sated. But then his father responded with a scoff.

“The boy is indeed a talented arcanist, and will be a great wizard in service to this house. I’m not convinced of the girl. She and Melvin are at each other’s throats and yet can’t seem to pull apart. It’s not conducive to his development. It would be better if-”

“Father, no!”

The attention of all in this private meeting fell upon Melvin. He swallowed, not even sure why he had spoken as he did. He didn’t hate Allison, of course. In fact, she was a good person and he knew it. They just clashed, and often at that. He was analytical and often cynical, whereas she was quick to act, and optimistic in a way that clashed with his own pragmatic noble upbringing. And yet . . . that analytical mind of his could reach certain conclusions that he determined not to think of as biased.

“Speak your mind, son,” his mother said. “We’re listening.”

“It’s just that . . . a woman as a protector and knight is not without precedent. There’s Dame Argyle. And Lady Highsmith. And the dwarves have female fighters because they don’t have a good way to tell gender at face value.”

“We are not dwarves, son,” his father said.

“But we have close ties to the wood elves of the Eastern Ridge, and they have female rangers.”

“Archers only.”

“Except for the Hallowtree People, who fight equally. Father, mother, I have seen Allison train. She is talented, and you should take Master Berrick’s word for it. I have no talent in the physical defences, and I shall need someone to protect me.”

“And you would want Allison?”

Melvin frowned. How did he lead himself here?”

“Well, no, not exactly, but-”

His father frowned.

“But it seems that would be the way destiny leans? At least see if she has a chance, father. She deserves that much. And she saved me from a dreadful allergy the other day.”

His parents exchanged a look and sighed. “Very well, then,” his father said. “She shall train. But then so shall you. You must be the finest arcanists in the world by the time you are twenty, and I shall brook no argument.”

“Yes, father,” he said.

He wasn’t even sure his father was joking.

“And that Allison Greenwood, she must be your finest protector, or else she is unworthy of you. Do you understand?”

Melvin chafed at the wording, but nodded that he understood.

“She will be, father,” he said.

But part of him was starting to regret his words entirely. Just what in the hells was he thinking?

Chapter 2: The Return

From that day, their paths were set, and in some ways even mirrored one another despite their deep contrasts. At fourteen, Melvin was becoming adept at abjuration spells and other protective wards. He would spend long hours in his study going over the finest details of casting, inscribing each rune onto paper and sealing it into his memory. Allison, on the other hand, was learning how to fight with shortsword and longsword, spear and handaxe. She was getting to an age where light armour could be fitted for practice, and each morning she went out and practiced her shortbow technique.

At sixteen, Melvin was showing a mastery of summoning in a manner that impressed deeply upon Votif. He could draw forth fire from its realm, and freeze water in a glass across a room without even looking at it. His older sister was married off by this point, much to his relief, though thankfully not to a fat, older man as he’d often snarked to her about. Unfortunately, this just meant more teasing from Tiffany about him and Allison, because he was coming into an age where girls were starting to intrigue him, not that he’d ever admit it. He’d occasionally peruse the pages of the Demon Lord’s horrid domination magic, and his gaze would linger upon the artistic renderings of the beautiful concubines and water nymphs he twisted valiant defenders of Arlingdale into, among other realm’s knights. The bosom part in particular was something he was finding hard to ignore. 

It was at this age that Allison was showing her true skill as a fighter, squaring off against Master Berrick in the training yard and coming close to defeating him, and sometimes even managing that. She was not immensely tall, but she was toned and dextrous, using her greater agility to leverage both her assaults and defence. And, of course, her arms were strong enough to hold a bowshot with stunning accuracy. She remained as bright-eyed and cheerful as ever, but her hot blood came out more often, and she couldn’t help but notice that Melvin was exiting the estate more often just to watch her bouts in the training yard. Despite her repeated cuts and scrapes and small scars across her wrists, she was becoming quite the young beauty, her hair golden as ever and her figure developing into womanhood. As such, she found herself occasionally looking up at Melvin in the stands, seeing the glint of his glasses and his neat, archivist’s hair, and she found herself oddly curious about it.

Which meant that she was distracted enough to take a blow against her armour from Berrick, sending her flying.

“You lose,” he said. “And quite embarrassingly too.”

“It’s not my fault, it’s his! Melvin, the reflection from your glasses is distracting me!”

“If that’s all it takes to defeat you,” the young mage said. “Then I doubt you’ll be of any use to me or anyone in this household.”

“He’s right,” Berrick said. “I suggest you focus on your opponent, and learn to filter out . . . distractions.” The man gave a smirk that neither understood, but left them folding their arms and looking away from one another. 

The years continued to flow. At eighteen, Melvin was outlearning his tutors faster than his parents could hire them. They had to reach far and wide for magic users and masters of the arcane, and even then, he was such a quick study and impressive adept that their visits were often short-lived at the Dawnway Estate. He could command fire into the shape of a dragon, he could heal serious injuries, he could let loose bolts of pure strands of magic that only the most powerful of defences could overcome. The only thing he seemingly couldn’t do was actually work on his physical fitness, and given the tiring nature of magic, it only made him aware that he’d have a serious vulnerability going forward.

Which is where Allison came in. She was, at eighteen, the most skilled fighter in the Dawnway household barring Master Berrick himself, and even he felt she would surpass him, particularly given his own aging body. Allison threw everything into her role, though she spurned heavy armour, detesting how it restricted her movements and slowed her down. Instead, she favoured much lighter protection and relied on her speed and cunning to see her through. It also aided her continued explorations: Master of the Hunt Portas repeatedly took her into the woods to show her how to survive in them. 

“These skills may be necessary one day,” he told her. “Of course, you’ll mostly be around estates and castles and on the fine roads, what with protecting the young master and all.”

At this, Allison just sighed. “I suppose. I’d much prefer to join the Royal Contingent.”

“I imagine so! Everyone has heard the pair of you bicker!”

At this, she just blushed. She didn’t intend to bicker with Melvin, but whenever they crossed paths - which was increasingly often - it seemed like they could do nothing else. Melvin was slated to be betrothed in the future, and she would protect him and his wife. And that . . . bothered her. It bothered her a lot.

“A waste of my talents,” she said. “I could be a noble hero. A great knight! A woman of legend like Dame-”

“You will be what he needs you to be, and nothing more or less. That’s your role, Allison Greenwood, and don’t you forget it. We must remember our station, girl.”

He said that last part softly, but his meaning was clear.

What she didn’t know was that Melvin was having his own problems. While his mastery of magic was very impressive, his ability to socialise and make a good impression with other noble houses was . . . less than impressive. Allison was present for some of this, operating as a guard in training for him at balls and other events, and she giggled more than once at his overly-formal costumes at such galas. But what she didn’t see was the way his cheeks paled when talking to possible suitors, or how he disengaged from even pretty noble women because he struggled to talk to them, at least on their level.

“Yes, the nature of magic is quite absolute, except for domination magic. That’s what makes it so fascinating to me. The Demon Lord brought it into our setting, and it vanished with him, but we still see some traces in the world, though none can wield it. And of course, when the Demon Lord did appear, magic everywhere else was diminished; so it must be parasitic in nature, you see.”

Poor Lady Anning of D’arbour just tried not to yawn. 

“That’s . . . interesting. Shall we dance?”

That was a mistake. Melvin was many things - intelligent, analytical, reserved and, yes, increasingly handsome - but he was not coordinated, and he had two left feet on the dance floor, both of which stubbed Lady Anning’s toes.

Of course, other possible partnerships were rejected by him. While Lord and Lady Dawnway would have final say over any betrothal, they couldn’t deny the cunning arguments Melvin concocted to avoid ending up with a particular woman, even if she was a pretty one. He himself couldn’t understand why he was doing this, especially when it came to one Lady Skara of Ahmak, who he actually got along with quite well). She seemed more amused by his obvious attempts to squirm out of any potential partnership and, far from taking further offence, seemed more than fine with it herself.

“It seems neither of us desire a betrothal at this point,” Lady Skara mused with a wry smile upon her lips. “I wonder if it is for the same reason?”

“I’m just too busy with my work,” Melvin said. “Why, what was your reason?”

The lady’s expression barely changed. “The same reason, really. Too much work.”

Most everyone knew that Lady Skara was the one truly in charge of her father’s realm as he weakened with age, his young daughter a mind of great brilliance. It had been hoped that Melvin would attach to her, but instead the pair orbited briefly and then drifted apart.

“Best of luck avoiding betrothals going forward, Lord Dawnway,” she told him. “I shall have to lose out someday, but will hold my best against it as long as I can.”

The beautiful young woman retreated, and then it was on to the next suitor, which was another sound rejection. It remained a mystery to him as to why this continued, a fact that troubled his normally tidy mind, but it meant that the lady he spent the most time around was not a lady at all, but Allison.

“You don’t have to stand so close to me,” he’d say as she followed him down the hall.”

“I’m literally your bodyguard, of course I have to follow you!”

“What, do you think there are threats around every corner?”

“No, of course not! Everyone in Dawnway is lovely, present company excluded. But it’s part of my training, and if I’m ever to be a great knight-”

“Please, you’ll be my glorified silent bodyguard, that’s it.”

“Silent?” she said, shocked. “You can’t possibly expect me to be silent.”

“No, I guess I really can’t, can I? Not with you waving hello to everyone we pass and fussing over the flowerbeds.”

“Those are my father’s flowerbeds, and they’re beautiful, thank you very much.”

She grinned broadly, as if they’d just shared a joke instead of a sparring match. It was not an expression matched by Melvin, though he smirked just slightly, only to catch himself and wonder why he was even reacting this way. He knew Allison was beautiful, even with that bandage on her nose and the slight ring around her eye from a bad training bout, but he couldn’t square that with the knowledge that this girl was below his station, was a rambunctious clashing personality to his, and most of all, drove him up the wall for reasons he could never quite put into intellectual argument.

“Fine, I guess the flowers are . . . nice. If you like that sort of thing. Come, stand in the study and watch me practice spells then.”

“Ooh, are you going to do the fireball again?”

“It’s not called that. But . . . yes.”

She grinned again. “Good. I love that one.”

“Yes, well . . . it is a bit of fun, I suppose. If you view magic that way.”

***

Melvin and Allison had turned twenty just a week ago, and wheels were finally moving in a way neither could prevent. Allison had repeatedly told Melvin to hurry up and get married already, but to her surprise he often weighed the benefits and negatives of each potential suitor in her presence, only for her to put her thumb down on the negative side of the scale. 

“Oh, I’m sure Lady Giselle is very lovely, but she’s so plump!”

“There’s nothing strictly speaking wrong with plump.”

“You want a woman fitter than that. And that ridiculous hair!”

Melvin chuckled. “I suppose it is ridiculous.”

“And you’d be a bad match for her, because she’s nice. That’s why I like her.’

“You just called her plump.”

“Well, there’s nothing strictly speaking wrong with plump. It’s just wrong for you, Mel.”

He groaned. “I can barely follow your warped logic on this.”

“That’s because I’m a nice person and you’re not. You’ll come to judge her, because you’re judgemental. She’ll come to resent you, because she wants to please you and nothing she does makes you happy.”

Another groan. “The worst part about you, Allison, is that you’re sometimes right. Sometimes. And that’s ‘Master’ to you. Honestly, you think that would have sunk in by now. A girl of your station has no place giving me a nickname.”

Being called a ‘girl’ or being reminded of her ‘station’ was enough to get her hot blood warming. “Hey! I’m not the one who can’t even fulfil his noble duties!”

“That’s your fault, not mine! My parents are breathing down my neck. I’m going to be wedded whether I want it or not soon, and that’s because you keep turning down my proposals!”

“That’s because you ask my advice, silly!”

Melvin rolled his eyes. “I see now my error in judgement. Perhaps it would be better if we parted ways for a time. I could get you a position in the Royal Contingent for a time.”

Allison paused. This seemed like a trap. And something about it hurt. But being in the royal contingent? It was almost too good to be true.

“That sounds like a dream,” she said. “You’d - you’d really do that for me?”

“To be rid of you, yes.”

That instantly soured it. She was about to give him an earful about how one should never tear down another’s dreams, no matter how high up in the ranks one’s station was, when suddenly the doors burst open and Master Berrick stormed in, followed by Lord and Lady Dawnway.

“Mother, Father, this is my chamber for attempting spellwork. It is meant to be priv-”

“Silence, son,” his father said brusquely. “We have bigger news, which is also why Berrick is with us, and Votif as well.”

The mage stepped in behind the troop. Melvin was about to say something supremely snarky, but then he saw the pale white look of horror upon Votif’s face. Allison was utterly attentive, assuming her role as guard to Melvin without even thinking. 

“Something bad has happened, hasn’t it?” the young noble said.

“Is it the Demon Lord?” Allison asked, but Melvin shushed her.

“Don’t be stupid, the Demon Lord was two hundred years ago, Allison. Leave this discussion to-”

“Actually,” Lord Dawnway said, “your bodyguard is right.”

Silence seemed to somehow echo around the room.

“I - I am?” Allison asked, perplexed.

“Sadly, yes,” Berrick said. “We’ve received reports from the Far Kingdoms, and the Great Citadel of Aenir. A great tear in the fabric of reality itself opened up, causing a planeshift. The Demon Lord’s forces arrived moments later and began attacking that great kingdom, overwhelming its defences. Even then, its mages and soldiers fought back. But then the Demon Lord himself arrived, and the sky burned with his power.”

“It was domination magic,” Votif added. “Entering the world again.”

“Indeed. Those that fled reported that an entire regiment were transformed into succubi to serve the Demon Lord’s whims. Citizens were petrified into stone statues, and many others were twisted into foul beings: goblins, harpies, ogres, all of it.”

“And worse,” Votif added, continuing their back and forth, “now that he has arrived, domination magic is spreading, consuming other forms of magic and weakening it everywhere. Abjuration charms are fading, druidic wards dissipating even as their circles chant in one with nature! Soon it will not be long before those twisted by the Demon Lord’s influence begin to carry the power to transform others, body and even in soul, to their whims and desires, some not even knowingly.”

Allison didn’t understand everything to do with magic, but she understood this, and it sent a chill down her spine. But it also made her . . . excited. She felt immediately bad for that, but part of her wanted to fight the Demon Lord.

“I’ll do what I can to set out and defeat him!” she announced.

Berrick just laughed, as did Melvin, the latter of which made her deeply ashamed. “You alone could not do it, child.”

“Someone has to! We can’t wait for his influence to come here! He’ll fell the kingdom . . . Master.”

Lady Dawnway held up a hand. “We need to prepare ourselves and our defences. Tiffany, naturally, will be sent far away to the borderlands. We have relatives there who can take care of her. Melvin, your older brother Hector is rallying our forces and recruiting more. Hard as it is to say, you will be the heir if he perishes. We must keep you safe. That is your role too, Allison Greenwood.”

Allison bit her lip, realising her error. She bowed low. “Of course, my Lady.”

And yet Melvin was quiet. Votif seemed to catch this.

“What are you thinking, young lord?”

Melvin’s green eyes flashed. “I am thinking that I must defeat the Demon Lord.”

The room erupted into shock.

“Listen to me! I have magic talent beyond most others, and at a younger age too. I must travel to Aenir and defeat him in a battle of contest.”

“You won’t make it fifty miles before you are transformed into a wood woad or somesuch. Domination magic is spreading everywhere, young lord.”

But Melvin was stern. “I was born on the two hundredth anniversary of his defeat. Like Praemis before me, I am a great wizard.”

“Praemis was not alone,” his father warned him, “nor so young. Or so foolish. And I would warn you against airing such ridiculous ideas in the future. Come, son, we must discuss your arrangements. Allison, stay here. This is for Dawnway ears only.”

Allison watched them go, her brow furrowed. She had not expected Melvin to be so . . . forthright. It was impressive. Hell, the idea of him travelling given his own lack of physical activity was . . . surprising to say the least. And yet there was a boldness in it too. She’d thought him so reserved that she’d mistaken it for cowardice. It was clear that he was no coward, and it made her realise something else, too.

***

Melvin pretended to sleep until the entire household was likewise slumbering. Rising, he activated the ritual spell he’d begun earlier, one that would create a perfect simulacrum of his appearance, sleeping away in animation, until someone finally placed a finger upon it. The young man took his things and crept out of the estate. He’d used up almost all of the pixie dust necessary to cast even the briefest of invisibility spells, but it was enough to get past the guards and make it to the stables.

“I’m sorry Father,” he said, looking up at the building that was his home. “I’m sorry Mother. But I must do this. I know I must. It’s what I’m meant for.”

He opened the stable door, moving towards one of the horses, only for a figure to suddenly reveal itself as they removed a leather covering from a very bright lantern.

“Well, look who finally made it!”

Melvin nearly jumped. Allison was standing there in her light studded leather armour, her blonde hair tied back in a braid, her blue eyes reflecting the orange light. She had a broad, smug smile on her features.

“Allison? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Going with you, silly! I’m your bodyguard, remember? I can’t exactly guard your body if it’s elsewhere, can I?”

“I’m going alone,” he said, readying the saddle of the nearest horse.”

“Oh, you’re just heading to Aenir alone, are you?”

“Of course, I must defeat the Demon King. I’ve studied for this all of my life, though I didn’t know it.”

“Ah, I see. And you’ve brought your cloak, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he said, readying his saddle.

“And your riding boots, very clever.”

“I am not a fool, Allison.”

“Of course, of course,” she said, barely able to hold back a giggle. “And . . . how are you going for a tent?”

Melvin halted, sensing where he’d gone a little wrong. “I . . . I intended to go back for one.”

“Makes sense, and then you’ll be off?”

Melvin was on surer ground now, but didn’t look at Allison until his cheeks stopped being so damn red. “Naturally.”

“Interesting, interesting. You’ve prepared food and rations already then, that’s great. And you’ve got your hunting gear, for when those run out. Naturally, you haven’t brought just one waterskin, because that would be dangerous. And you’d be choosing a steed you can load up, not one for speed, because speed won’t help you on such a long journey compared to surviving it. A bedroll is a must, so I assume that’s just magically hidden in your cloak there. And a change of clothes, too, so one can be hung up to dry after a wash. Speaking of, did you pack your spare pair of spectacles? Foolish me, of course you did! My wise master wouldn’t forget that. Hell, can you imagine if you forgot rope and torches and pitons? Heaven forbid if you didn’t bring a tinderbox.”

Melvin sagged. Truly, he felt like an idiot. “And here I thought I was the sarcastic one.”

“Well, since you’re galavanting off into the worlds like I would, it seems we must reverse positions! I’m guessing you didn’t think to pack any of that stuff, did you?”

“I brought my spare pair of spectacles,” he said weakly.

Allison burst into silent laughter, and he nearly had to put a hand on her mouth, which would have been very uncomfortable for both of them. But then she straightened, grinned, and gestured to two prepared packs, complete with waterskins, bedrolls, and no doubt everything else they needed.

“Two? Didn’t I just say you aren’t coming?”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re meant to be smart. You’ll need someone who knows how to travel, how to survive in the wild, and to watch your back. Besides, I’ve been dreaming of an adventure like this all my life. We both want to do this. And I’m your bodyguard.”

He considered this. “It will be dangerous.”

“Obviously.”

“And there will be a lot you don’t understand.”

“Well, you don’t even understand how to find north without wasting magic, so that makes two of us.”

Again, he considered this. In the light of the lantern, her hair looked very . . . vibrant. As did her determination. It warmed him, much as it annoyed him. But perhaps such an irritation would keep him alert. When he cracked just the smallest smirk, Allison knew his decision, and her inner self cheered and whooped even as her trained self kept more under control.

“Very well,” he said. “I suppose you can tag along.”

“Please, I can do more than that! Besides, a Praemis needs his Cawthor, right? The mage and the knight, off to adventure, with a Demon Lord to defeat.”

Melvin chuckled, a rare act for him. “Cawthor was a knight. You’re not exactly a knight.”

“But I am a fighter, and I’ll keep you safe. Besides, you can always knight me later.”

With a cheerful grin and a quiet hum, Allison got to work switching the saddles over to a pair of tougher steeds. She loaded them up, attached the packs to the hitch on the saddles, and then helped Melvin onto his horse before getting on her own.

“Are you ready?” she asked, excitement and nervousness beating in her heart.

“I will be,” he said. “I must be.”

“Oooh, cryptic!”

“Let’s just go already.”

Putting out the lantern, and guided only by the earliest light of pre-dawn, Allison led her charge down the forest road. The sky was tinted just the slightest hint of unnatural red. The Demon Lord had arrived, and transformations horrid, wondrous, and chaotic were sweeping across the land even now.

The unlikely, bickering pair headed towards danger, and adventure.

To Be Continued . . .