Medicine for the Demon

He followed the guards, looking around. Compared to the capital of Mystarsia, Arcadia looked like a provincial town, although it was clean and cozy. Gradually, the streets filled up with people hurrying about their business. The prince's residence was located near the city center in a small two-story building. The head of the guard entered a spacious and cozy office. Then he went out to the reception area and invited the teenager to enter. In the office, a young dark-haired man who was not even forty years old was sitting on an upholstered chair. His expressive profile, the proud set of his broad shoulders, and the commanding gaze of his blue eyes made it clear that he was a hereditary aristocrat of royal blood. The young man knelt down, his eyes cast down. The leader studied the young slave for a moment. He was tall and thin, although he was starting to broaden in the shoulders, with jet-black hair and yellow eyes. The boy was dressed in tattered trousers, which had become much shorter over time, exposing his calves, and a sleeveless shirt that was incredibly wide, clearly taken from someone else's shoulder, with slits for the wings. The prince ordered the blacksmith to be summoned and the shackles to be removed. "Are you sure, sir?" Shackles on slaves don't just dress like that," one of the guards said warily. "Look at him. It's good if feed him once a day. And you think that in this state this child can harm me," the prince grinned. The blacksmith who took one of the boys came, took off the shackles and took them with him. The guy remained on his knees, rubbing his aching wrists with the marks from the shackles. "What is your name?" asked the prince. "Antsifer," the boy replied. "Your name means useful, now we'll think where you can be useful," the man replied, carefully examining the young slave. The emaciated body of the teenager clearly made it clear that he was not yet fit for serious work, until he was stronger, but who would keep an employee who could not do any work. The man sighed heavily. A young, beautiful, richly dressed woman, a blonde with pistachio-colored eyes, entered the office and looked at the young man intently. "I'm sorry, dear, I didn't want to disturb you," she said in an apologetic tone, looking at the man affectionately. "It's okay, Sophia, I'm always happy to see you. I don't know what to do with this gift," he said, nodding at Antichrist. The woman looked at the young demon with regret. "I don't know. We have plenty of workers in the kitchen, in the house, and in the stables. He is clearly not suitable for working in fields or farms," the woman concluded. The Prince sighed heavily. "It seems we need Lady Milagros' wise advice," he said. "You're sure she got up so early on her only day off," Sofia said doubtfully. "You don't know her very well. We don't have high-profile events very often. And I'm sure she has not only interrupted her sweet dream, but is also scouring the whole city in search of information about them," the prince grinned. "Okay, I'll send a servant for her now," Sofia smiled and left the office. Antsifer realized that his future fate would depend on this woman. And he waited with trepidation for his fate. About half an hour later, the door to the office opened and a richly dressed girl of about eight, a dark blonde with blue eyes, entered the room with all the solemnity she was capable of. "Good morning, Daddy," she said, curtseying slightly. "Honey, I don't know where to define this young man. Maybe you can give me some advice," the prince said with a smile. The young lady gave the kneeling slave an appraising look. Antsifer's heart stopped. If his fate depended on the child's decision, his life could become a nightmare. "Get up," she ordered the teenager. He obeyed. "Hmm, and you'll be a little taller than Alession, taller than Karmin for sure," she concluded with a grin, then grabbed his arm and dragged him along. "Mistress, don't touch him. He's dirty, he may be sick, he may be contagious, he may have scabs and lice," the girl's servant babbled, following her. The young lady, ignoring the warnings, led the teenager into a nearby office, slamming the door in the servant's face. The room was empty except for some boxes of papers. It was likely used as a storage space. The boy knelt down again. The girl studied him for a moment, then approached him closely and grabbed his hair, pulling him down and forcing him to lower his head. He had expected something like this. It was common for the children of the nobility to torment their young slaves. And this beating was the easiest of them. Sometimes it led to serious injuries and death. And no one punished them for it. The master simply bought another living toy for the young monster. So most of the scars on the slaves' bodies were acquired during their childhood. The girl carefully combed through the coarse strands of his hair, occasionally tugging on them painfully. The teenager endured silently, knowing that nothing good awaited him. "Where are they?" she demanded. "What are you looking for, mistress?" Antsifer asked softly. He had never had lice. "Horns. You're a demon, and demons should have horns. Why don't you have any?" she asked just as sternly, as if the answer was obvious. Horns. They were periodically sawed off by the slave owners, especially if they served in the master's house. The last time it was done to him was before it was sent to the market. "They were sawn off," he replied. "How? The horns are very beautiful," the girl said with disappointment, as if she had received a defective toy. She walked around him and looked at the wings. "Can I touch them?" the girl asked. The boy froze in amazement. It was the first time he had ever heard a master ask for his permission. Slaves were not asked for permission, and they were treated as such. "Yes," he replied slowly, unsure if he would regret it. The girl touched his wings. "They're warm," the young lady remarked in surprise. She unfolded her wing and saw the torn membranes. The last time she saw him, her master liked to amuse himself by breaking the membranes of demonic wings with a whip. This was a punishment that could be given for any misbehavior, even for not looking respectfully enough. That's why he often bought children who hadn't had their wings amputated yet. Anzifer had tried to escape from him twice, but he was caught and severely punished. "How dare they!" the girl got angry, pacing the room irritably. The boy froze, watching her. She caught his eye. He hurried to lower his eyes, realizing that he was showing unheard-of audacity. "Eyes like dandelions," the girl grinned. Antsifer was completely confused, as she alternated between being arrogant, displeased, and calmly, almost affectionately, speaking to him. He was well aware of this, having been taught by older slaves to understand their master's moods. This was crucial for survival in the world of slaves. However, as he looked at this young girl, he found himself at a loss. "What's your name?" The young lady finally asked. "Antsifer," the boy replied. "And you have a beautiful name. And my name is Milagros Ileria Estrella Sofia Villamain," the girl introduced herself, making the proudest expression she could, thinking about the correctness of the order of her names. "Milagros," Ancifer repeated softly. "You can just call me Milagros or Mily, or you'll get confused. I get confused myself," the young lady admitted. He suddenly began to shake as if with a fever. He looked at the girl in bewilderment. What did she want, what was she after. Perhaps it was some kind of trick or ruse. Perhaps she was deliberately acting in such a way that he would trust her, so that she could laugh at him later. A slave could not be a friend to his master, nor could a master be a friend to his slave. The demon tensed instinctively, sensing a threat. The girl came closer and placed her hand on his head. "Don't be afraid," she said, stroking his thick hair. Her light, weightless touch sent a wave of small tremors through her entire body. Usually, touching people since childhood was associated with causing pain, but here he exuded warmth, care and compassion. He saw his hands tremble, folded in his lap, felt the moisture blurring his vision. "Don't believe it, it's a trap," the instinct of self—preservation kept repeating, but my heart ached painfully, tired of holding all the pain that had accumulated over the years. Milagros watched, a little startled, as his shoulders shook from silent sobs. "What are you doing? Are you cold or unwell?" She said, a little scared. The guy was wiping his wet face with the back of his hand. "No... It's okay," he said in a voice that was choked with sobs. The girl came up to him and wrapped her arms around him. "This is a dream. It can't be real," he thought desperately. "The horns, they'll grow back, right? I'll have the jeweler make silver tips for them... They'll be beautiful. Better than the real ones. And we'll fix your wings. I'll think of something, I'll definitely think of something," she said soothingly, stroking his rough but pleasant-to-the-touch hair. The demon embraced her, pulling her close, and finally let himself cry. "Don't cry. I won't let anyone hurt you. You're mine now...You're my brother," she continued to say. Returning to her father's office, the girl announced her decision to him. "Well, if that's what you really want," the Prince said, smiling at his daughter. The man got up from the table and approached the boy. "My name is Aldo Villamain. I am the ruler of Lavedania and from this moment on, I am your adoptive father," said the man. "My name is Sophia Villamain, I am the wife of the ruler of Lavedania and from this moment on, I am your adoptive mother," said the woman smiling at her husband, who was still in the study. The boy's legs trembled and he fell to the floor from the excess of emotions. "The son of the ruler...this can't be," he thought in disbelief. "Antsifer, what's the matter with you?" Milagros was startled, rushing to him. "No, it's fine," the teenager assured her, getting to his feet. Sofia called a footman and ordered the children to be taken to the manor. "Are you sure about your decision?" Sofia asked her husband. "A ruler should serve as an example for his subjects. Now I think the ruler should take an example from his subjects. You know that most of these slaves were taken by people who came to the market," the prince replied. "Karmin will be unhappy with your decision," Sophia replied. "As the future ruler, he will have to make decisions that benefit others rather than himself. Let him get used to it," Aldo said seriously. Approaching the carriage, Antsifer climbed onto the trestle to the driver. It was wild for him to ride in a carriage with the ruler's daughter. Milagros also left the carriage. "Lady, please return to the carriage," the footman insisted, leaning out of the small window. "If you want to ride in the carriage, then ride in the carriage," the girl said sternly and went to the coachman, asked one of the guards to seat her next to him on the other side. "Let's go," Mili commanded, and the carriage pulled away. The footman, muttering discontentedly, remained in the carriage. "Mother... father..." thought Antsifer, trying to regain his composure. He had never known his father. He barely remembered his mother, although he doubted that the demoness who had raised him was his real mother, as he had been sold for the first time at the age of five. A tall, blue-eyed blond man was standing in the greenhouse, pruning the long branches of a shrub. He did not immediately notice the nervous footsteps of a short, green-eyed brunette approaching him. "How dare he make such a decision without consulting us!" — He was indignant. "Does that bother you?" The blond man asked calmly, without interrupting his work. "It pisses me off. Eating at the same table with a slave?! What's next? Maybe he'll make us sleep in the barn?" the boy continued to be indignant. "Karmin, you're talking about this like it's the end of the world. His father has acknowledged him, and we must respect that," the blond man said. "Consider him equal? Never! And why are you so calm? Don't you find it outrageous that our father is catering to Milagros's whims? She wanted a living toy, and she got it," Karmin said. "In that case, she wouldn't have acknowledged him as her brother," the other man replied. "Alession, I will never acknowledge him," said Karmin firmly as he walked away. "Never say "never," said the ruler's eldest son quietly. "Here we are," said Milagros as the carriage passed through the large, ornate gates. In front of them stretched a huge park, and beyond it a white stone three-storey mansion with high spires on the roof. Antsifer only had time to turn his head, admiringly looking around, looking at the neatly trimmed trees and shrubs. Soon the carriage stopped in front of the long steps of the mansion and the young lady led her newly-made brother into the spacious hall. "I'll show you around," the girl said enthusiastically. A servant immediately approached them. "I'm sorry, mistress, but your...young master should rest and take a bath," she said. "Oh, well, all right," Milagros said with regret, and Antsifer followed the servant. She led him to a spacious bathroom with a large bathtub filled with warm water in the middle. Next to her was a cabinet with various bottles and a ladle, and a folded towel was on a chair. "If you need help," the maid said. "No, thank you, I can do it myself," Antsifer said, blushing. When he was alone, he slowly took off his clothes. Then he sat on the edge of the bathtub and slowly lowered his feet into the water, remembering how he used to take a bath in a river, or just splash around in the water near a barn or a slave bathhouse, where a bunch of people would bathe in the same place. Suddenly, the bathroom door opened, and Milagros appeared on the threshold. "I came to help!" She announced solemnly. Antsifer barely had time to abruptly sit down in the water so that she would not see him completely naked. The girl was wearing a white apron and looked like a maid. "I can handle it myself," he said softly, tucking his knees into his chest, blushing with embarrassment. Ignoring his words, the young assistant resolutely approached the cabinet with vials. "Which smell do you like best? Violet, lily of the valley or mint?" she asked. The question stumped him. He had no preferences in smells, for him they were divided into pleasant and unpleasant. "Well, you say you don't need any help," she said, noticing the concern on the teenager's face. She took a green bottle and poured some of the liquid into the water. The water took on a pleasant, invigorating, and refreshing mint scent. The young assistant then took a ladle and began pouring water over his hair, taking another bottle and pouring some of its contents onto his head, vigorously lathering his hair with a thick soapy foam. He did not resist her actions, as he had already learned that it was futile to argue with her. The girl took a sponge and, lathering it with soap, began to scrub his wings. "How old are you? And when is your birthday?" Milagros asked him. "I think I was fourteen last year," he replied uncertainly. Traditionally, the age of slaves was determined by the number of winters they had survived, and none of them knew their exact date of birth. The first two or three years of their lives were not marked, as there was a high risk of infant mortality. "So you don't know your exact date?" she guessed. The boy shook his head no. “Cool, so I can choose!!!” she exclaimed, “Well, let’s say tomorrow...tomorrow is your birthday and you’ll turn fifteen. The boy looked at her and a semblance of a smile played on his face. “Just by washing you, you can see how beautiful you are,” the girl remarked, admiring her handiwork, catching the gaze of his yellow eyes. The demon blushed once again. He had fair skin, which was rare for a slave, and it contrasted nicely with his black hair, although it was darker and coarser on his wings. " One more thing ...Now you have two other older brothers besides me. Alession, he's almost seventeen, and Karmin, the feisty little man and heir to the throne, is thirteen," she warned. Antsifer immediately guessed from the unflattering statement that Mily did not particularly like the younger of the brothers. "But isn't the ruler's eldest son inheriting the throne..." he wondered. "According to the laws of our principality, the throne cannot be inherited by someone who possesses magical abilities. And Alession is a mage and one of the best students at our magical academy. He is likely to become the archmage and first advisor," the girl explained. "That's how it is..." The demon replied. Then the bathroom door was once again abruptly flung open and a young woman in a governess's costume appeared on the threshold. "There you are, young lady, leave this room immediately. You're behaving indecently. This is unheard of! He's a boy after all, and you shouldn't see him without his clothes on!" She was indignant. "Well, it's started," sighed Mily. "Go back to your room at once!" the governess continued. The little girl had no choice but to follow her maid. He didn't want to get out of the warm water, even when it started to cool down. But eventually, he had to leave the bath and put on the clothes that the servants had prepared for him. He abruptly opened his wings, shaking off the water droplets. The shirt that had been brought to him didn't have any holes for his wings, so he had to make them himself. A servant entered the bathroom and escorted him to the men's wing of the mansion, where he was given a spacious room. "Ring the bell if you need anything," he said, and left. Antsifer looked around. The furniture was gray. There was a large four-poster bed. He opened a closet. There were clothes and bedding. He walked across the room and sat on the large bed. When the day began, he was a slave, but now he was the son of a ruler. It was too good to be true. He didn't see it as a gift from fate for all the suffering he had endured, and he was certain that there would be a price to pay. With such conflicting thoughts, he fell into a deep, weary sleep. He was awakened for dinner, where the entire family gathered around the table. The prince rarely dined at home, but this time he made an exception. It was here that he was introduced to the ruler's eldest sons. As expected, Carmine looked down on him with disdain. Alession, on the other hand, remained calm, seemingly unperturbed by this addition to the family. He looked at the abundance of cutlery lying next to his plate. "Eat what you're used to, you'll deal with the rest later," Sofia said, noticing his confusion. "Antsifer, can you read and write?" Aldo asked when lunch was almost over. "No, Sir," he said softly. It never even occurred to anyone to teach slaves to read and write, but for some reason, Ancifer was ashamed. "Call me My Lord, since you cannot call me father," the prince replied. "I dare not," thought Antsifer, looking away, sitting at the table across from him, next to Mily. " Now you 'll have to go to school , too ... It's hell," the girl replied. "Mily, it's not proper for a lady to say that," Sophia said. "Well, is it okay to talk to a lady?" She replied with displeasure. "It's worth considering a solution to this problem," Aldo said. His children, like everyone else, went to a regular school, studying exact sciences and literature. And subjects such as the ability to play musical instruments or dance were taught by teachers at home. "If you want, you can ask one of the servants to show you the mansion and its surrounding areas," Aldo said before returning to the city. "Okay," he replied. "Come on, I'll show you around," Mily said, and pulled Antsifer along with her.