Even with a map in hand, it took Cobalt many twists and turns to finally stumble his way to the Covenant Plaza. He got plenty of strange looks and disapproving glances as he staggered around the Mancer District with his nose jammed into the map, but upon finally arriving at his destination, the Incubus found himself awed by what he found. Neither the little pentagonal blip on the map nor the Archdean’s description could do it justice.

  It was a huge, wide-open space, larger even than Brimstone’s biggest town square, to the point where it seemed as though it would take more than a few minutes to cross from one side to the other. Cobbled walkways criss-crossed through a grand central green, while dotted all around it he could see fountains, flowerbeds and trees, as well as outdoor seating areas and even a rockery. With the sun shining strong, there were plenty of academics about amongst the grass, readings books, eating lunch or chatting amongst themselves.

  Now that he knew of the Covenant system, he was somewhat perturbed to find that the groups seemed quite segregated. A trio of burly demons with red accessories hunkered by a bike stand, cigarettes burning in their mouths, while a few individuals with neat green ties hurried on past them, their arms filled with file folders.

  He shook his head. He had just arrived; it wasn’t really Cobalt’s place to judge. Taking a deep breath, he instead turned his attention to the five massive buildings bordering the plaza, forming the walls to the grand enclosed space.

  The first was quite brutalist in appearance, with stark stone walls and rough edges, all haphazardly painted in shades of red and black. The second was much sleeker, with an almost art-deco design spanning across its clean white walls and green roofing tiles that struggled to support the sheer amount of satellite dishes and antennae upon it. The third was almost frighteningly nondescript, save perhaps for the fact that all the windows had been bricked up and painted with threatening yellow eyes. The fourth was the largest of all of them; resembling a castle more so than anything else, with pink cut-stone bricks and spires topped with gold. It was so large and gaudy that it almost entirely dwarfed the final building next to it, the saddest and smallest of the lot. It was clearly in a lot of disrepair, sporting broken and boarded windows, flaking blue paint, and plants growing all over it.

  The Covenant buildings, at a guess. He was expected in all of them.

  Taking a deep breath, Cobalt approached the first, feeling his heart pound as he approached its great metal-riveted doors. Now that he was right in front of it, he could see the clenched fist of Rotalleb emblazoned above the entrance. The house of the strong, or so the Archdean had put it. He could see no doorbell or knocker, spurring him to swallow hard and nervously reach up to knock upon it.

  “Move!” yelled a voice from behind him, as someone barged into the Incubus’ back.

  His cane fell out from under him as a denim-clad Oni shunted him aside, bowling Cobalt to the ground. He was a large, aggressive-looking fellow, his hair held out of his eyes by a red headband bearing the Rotalleb crest. Paying no heed to the man he just knocked to the floor, he shunted the doors open and strode inside the building.

  “Agh…” Cobalt breathed, forcing himself back to his feet, shaking all the while.

  People here were certainly very… brusque. It was a good thing Lydia wasn’t here, otherwise there would be Hell to pay.

  Once upright, the Incubus quickly scuttled through the front doors before they closed behind him with a resounding clang. The first thing he noticed was the smell; the entire building had an underlying stench of smoke, sweat and alcohol, permeated by a pang of something much more sinister. Shuddering at the smell of blood, Cobalt blinked away his watering eyes and peered around.

  He was in an entrance hall, though it almost seemed as though measures had been taken to make the place as unwelcoming as possible. The walls were bare concrete and covered in more graffiti than he thought possible, while much of the furniture was either broken or heavily vandalised. A few Rotalleb students were loitering around, leaning against walls and hunkering in corners, and most of them were smoking indoors. Cobalt could hear pounding music from deeper inside the building, though it was hard to determine where from.

  As soon as the doors were fully shut, the Incubus was overwhelmed with regret. He felt as though he had just stepped right into a lion’s den. His mind was buzzing with panic; where the Hell was he supposed to find the Head?! Did he even want to talk with them if this was what their home was like?! Everyone was staring at him, and-!”

  “Oi.”

  Flinching, Cobalt whipped around to face the source of the voice. Just to his left, an Imp man sat upon a half-destroyed bench, a smoking cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He nodded at the Incubus.

  “What the fuck are you supposed to be?” he asked in a gruff tone.

  “Um… I believe I’m supposed to be meeting your Head…?” Cobalt asked nervously, peering around for any potential escape routes.

  His response was met by a smattering of snickers from all around the entrance hall.

  “That a fact? He order a rentboy to paint himself blue?” the Imp asked, getting to his feet.

  “Excuse me?”

  Stalking over to Cobalt, the Rotalleb student began to circle him scoffing and snickering as the rest of them looked on in interest.

  “I’m an Incubus, for your information,” Cobalt said, feeling his neck prickle as his nerves began to twinge.

  “You made that up.”

  “Wha-?! I did not!”

  Snorting, the Imp suddenly lashed out with a foot and kicked the Incubus’ cane out from beneath him. His leg buckled and he clattered to the floor, eliciting howls of laughter from all around the entrance hall. As he tried to get up, however, the Imp suddenly planted his foot on Cobalt’s chest.

  “This isn’t a place for kids. Scram. Before you get hurt,” he warned, glaring down at him.

  “I’m here to meet the Head!”

  “The Head don’t like to be disturbed! Now are you gonna get the fuck outta here, or are we gonna have problems?!” he hissed pressing his foot down harder.

  Surprisingly, Cobalt’s chest refused to give, despite the additional weight being applied. The Imp’s clear attempt at intimidation didn’t hurt; rather, it only served to irritate the Incubus. Furrowing his brow, he grabbed the man’s leg and gripped it tight, digging his bony nails into the lower half of his jeans, much to his surprise.

  “Now you listen here, sir; I’ve been asked by the Archdean to meet with your Covenant Head. If you can’t point me in his direction, then I’ll ask you to please leave me to my business,” Cobalt asked, feeling uncomfortably warm.

  “What the-?! Let go you freak!”

  He just dug his nails in deeper, fixing on proving a point. A part of his mind insisted that de-escalation was the way to go here, but something about the Imp’s attitude got his blood running hot. He just arrived here; he wasn’t about to make a display of himself being a pushover.

  “Is he here or is he not?” the Incubus continued, narrowing his eyes.

  “Let go right fucking now, or I swear I’m gonna-!”

  “GET YOUR FUCKING FOOT OFF OF HIM!”

  The Imp looked up to the source of the great booming bellow right as a blast of high-pressure water struck him in the face. Recoiling, he screamed and clawed at it, and as Cobalt watched steam rise from the point of contact, he realised with horror that the water was scalding hot. The rest of the Rotalleb students quickly turned their gazes, their demeanour changed from cocky bullies to meek bystanders in the span of a single second.

  Pulling himself up onto his knees, the Incubus peered up to find someone descending a flight of concrete stairs just a few feet away, his boots echoing loudly of the stark insides of the building. They alone were a sight to behold; monstrous footwear comprised of black leather, silver buckles and countless straps.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “I TOLD YOU IDIOTS I WAS WAITING ON COMPANY!” the man barked, his every word causing the other Rotallebs to flinch.

  Coming to a stop by Cobalt’s cane, he peered down at the Incubus, in turn spurring him to look up.

  It was clear from a glance that this man ran Rotalleb with an iron fist.

  He was a Glutton, bearing an unnerving visage that caused Cobalt’s brief bout of bravado to melt away into nothing. Piercing eyes, a thick brow, a downturned frown, and a coarse layer of stubble that extended up to his poorly shaved head. A thick bronze ring hung from his nose, and as Cobalt’s gaze tracked down, he noticed that he wore his coat open, exposing his bare chest. It was covered in tattoos, prominently featuring a large, furious-looking boar. Picking up the Incubus’ cane, he began to circle the entrance hall, staring each of his subordinates in the eye as he brandished it like a club. His coat – a heavy article laden with buckles and trimmed with grey fur – had the Rotalleb insignia proudly displayed upon the back.

  There was no doubt in Cobalt’s mind that this was the Head of the Covenant.

  “I don’t ask for much from you fucking losers, do I?” he asked in a gruff tone.

  Nobody could look him straight in the eye.

  “DO I?!”

  “No sir,” came a slew of murmured replies.

  “Yeah. So when I tell you I’m expecting someone…”

  Charging towards the Imp, he abruptly swept the man’s legs out from beneath him before he began brutally beating him with Cobalt’s cane.

  “THEN THE LAST THING YOU SHOULD DO IS TRY TO FUCKING SHAKE THEM DOWN, YOU MORONS!” the Glutton bellowed, punctuating each word with a swing of the cane.

  Cobalt could only sit and watch as blood began to spatter against the concrete floor, listening as the Imp cries became pained gurgles. The smell of his blood hung in the air, causing his stomach to growl.

  Once he was finished, the Rotalleb Head wiped the cane clean with his coat and tossed it back at Cobalt’s feet. He glared at Cobalt, unbothered by the spray of red marring his green skin.

  “Sorry about that,” he said simply, jamming his hands into his pockets.

  Climbing back to his feet, Cobalt couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. When he was told that this was the house of the mighty, he was expecting academics on sports scholarships or perhaps even students of martial history, not… this.

  The Glutton stretched forth a fingerless-gloved hand.

  “Avery Jusene. I’m guessing you’re Trayer, right?” he asked, raising a scarred eyebrow.

  Cobalt shook his hand. The man had an iron grip.

  “What gave it away?” he said with a nervous smile, hoping to ease the tension.

  Avery gave a sharp exhale, but the corner of his mouth didn’t so much as twitch. Behind him, the rest of the Rotalleb students dragged their wounded comrade away, spurring him to roll his eyes and plant a hand on Cobalt’s back.

  “You drink?” he asked.

  “I’m… not sure.”

  He gave him a strange look.

  “… Got a bar in the common room. We can chat there.”

  “Oh, well-”

  “Follow me.”

  Turning on the heel of his steel-toed boots, Avery began to lead Cobalt up the stairs at a brisk pace, forcing him to hobble just to keep up. The rest of the Rotalleb building was much like the front hall; stark, smoky, and covered in graffiti. Doors to small personal apartments hung open as students went about their daily business, which seemed to involve a lot of drinking and fighting with one another. This place seemed like less an academic accommodation building than it did a fraternity house.

  Reaching a set of double doors at the end of the hall, the Rotalleb Head lifted his foot and unceremoniously booted them open, revealing the interior of an expansive common room. Or at least that’s what Cobalt was expecting to see; rather, beyond those doors lay what for all the world looked like a rowdy bar. People sat at tables all around the room, eating, playing cards, arm-wrestling and – of course – scrapping with one another. Heavy music boomed from speakers in the corners, and as the pair manoeuvred past the pool tables towards the bar counter, Avery looked over his shoulder at Cobalt and gave him a nod.

  “Don’t mind the mouth breathers out front. No-one’s gonna lay a finger on you while you’re with me,” he explained, shunting through a group of disgruntled Oni.

  “I- I didn’t know that was something I had to worry about here,” Cobalt replied, nervously nodding to them as he passed.

  “Yeah, well call it a good thing your rep hasn’t really reached here yet. Most folks don’t know about you.”

  “But you do?”

  Turning back, Avery gave him a grin. It was a terrifying expression.

  “Fuck yeah I do.”

  Reaching the bar, Cobalt found that all of the stools were taken, and the three demons behind it were inundated with orders, but that didn’t seem to deter Avery. He just marched forward, grabbed two of the students by the scruff and dragged them off their seats, freeing them up for him and Cobalt. A little perturbed, the Incubus nevertheless took a seat as the Rotalleb head slapped the scuffed bar top.

  “Two whiskies. Make them doubles,” he shouted at one of the barmen, who just gave a thumbs-up in response.

  “So… you already know about me, Mr. Jusene?” Cobalt asked, leaning his cane against the bar.

  “Oh yeah. Was told about you and that hot piece of ass you call a maid a couple of weeks ago, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a while now. Hell of a thing you did back west. Hell of a thing,” he explained, picking a fleck of meat out from between his teeth.

  Cobalt nodded slowly as he turned his gaze to the items displayed behind the bar. Trophies, medals, plaques; all for sports and martial competitions. Proudly mounted above it upon its own display rack was a large sledgehammer, its head rusted and stained. The words “Maul of Slagole – Avery Jusene” was inscribed on a plate beneath it.

  It was strange, hearing that someone from somewhere as far as Furnace knew about everything that had happened to him, and yet Cobalt himself was still largely in the dark.

  He screwed his face up. Wait, what did he just call Lydia-?!

  “The little man in the big chair said you were coming here to figure us out. So here you are. Got it figured yet?” Avery asked, gesturing to the bar all around them.

  “U- Um…”

  As the bartender set their drinks down, Cobalt turned to survey the crowd. They were all very rough-looking people, and he could spot quite a few scars on them. Turning back to Avery, he found that the Glutton had already downed his entire drink.

  “I think so. But I was hoping I could maybe hear it from you?” he asked, nervously swirling his whiskey.

  It was brown, almost opaque, and very pungent. There was nothing he wanted to do less than drink it.

  “What’s there to say? Sucifnev’s a bunch of spineless nerds, Edifrep’s a nest of snakes and lowlives, and the Silibons spend more time jerking off in front of mirrors than anything else. We’re the strongest, and we’re the best. Nothing much else to it,” Avery explained curtly.

  Cobalt frowned. It seemed inter-Covenant relationships were a bit… tense.

  “What about Amrifni?” he asked, remembered the fifth seal that the Archdean showed him.

  Avery snorted before spitting a glob of phlegm onto the ground.

  “What about them?”

  “I-?”

  A tinny ringtone began to play from Avery’s coat, causing him to roll his eyes and pull out a cracked phone.

  “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

  Answering the call, he didn’t even allow the caller to get a word in before Avery began to scream into the receiver.

  “JED, I SWEAR TO FUCK; WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT CALLING THIS NUMBER?! YOU RING ME ONE MORE FUCKING TIME, I’M GONNA BREAK MY FOOT OFF IN YOUR ASS, YOU HEAR ME?! DON’T CALL AGAIN!”

  Ending the call, he turned back to the Incubus in his midst.

  “Look, I’m not good at this PR shit, alright? If you can hit hard, run fast and yell loud, then you belong with us. We’re the fucking apex of the district, you know?”

  Feeling himself growing more and more uncomfortable, Cobalt clasped his hands and nodded at the accolades and awards behind the bar.

  “So… sports?” he asked, desperate to change the subject.

  “Hm? Oh, yeah, sure. Got guys in nearly every team in every college here. Football, hockey, volleyball; whatever. But that’s small-time shit. See over there? That’s what we’re about.”

  He gestured past Cobalt direction his attention to a frankly huge cabinet at the other end of the bar. Inside, stored behind glass, were dozens upon dozens of golden trophies.

  “Wow… What are they for?” he asked.

  “Little thing around here called the Grand Tourney. There’s one every year in November. Covenants come together to kick the shit outta each other, and lemme tell you, Trayer; it’s what makes this job worth it,” Avery said with a prideful grin.

  The Incubus scanned the wall of golden trophies.

  “… You’ve never lost…” he breathed.

  “Not since the Covenant’s founding. Got a storage room downstairs filled with the fucking things. Get a fat little payout from it too.”

  Cobalt turned back to Avery, who had completely drained the second glass.

  “Get the picture? Rotalleb's for the strong, for those ready to let fists fly for what they want. You go up against one of us, then you'll go up against all of us. And trust me... you won't look too pretty once we're done with you.”

  For a moment, the Glutton’s face bore a look of terrifying intensity. But before long the disconcerting grin returned and he slapped Cobalt on the back, nearly bowling him clean off his stool.

  “But I gotta say, I like the look of you, Trayer. Gotta appreciate a man who appreciates a good, solid weapon,” the continued, gesturing to the Incubus’ cane.

  “Oh, that’s not a weapon. That’s just to help me walk.”

  He snorted.

  “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  Turning in his stool, Avery made to order another drink, only for his phone to buzz again. He growled and pulled it from his pocket, his mood only growing fouler as he read the message he had just been sent.

  “Right… You know the way back to the door, yeah? I got business I gotta attend to. Urgently,” the Rotalleb Head told him, getting off his seat.

  “O- Oh, um… It was nice talking to you, then,” Cobalt said, still having trouble processing the entire proceeding conversation.

  The Glutton took a few steps away from the bar, only to stop as he seemed to remember something.

  “You were asking about Amrifni, right?” he asked, peering back over his shoulder.

  All hints of levity were gone. His gaze was steely and ironclad.

  “Best leave them in the mud where they belong. Less people get hurt that way.”

  With that – without even waiting for a response – Avery Jusene shoved his way through the crowd, leaving Cobalt alone at the Rotalleb common room bar. As soon as the Covenant Head was gone, a surge of relief washed through him, forcing him to grip the bar counter just to keep himself from flopping over onto the floor.

  There was something about that man that terrified him. No, something about this entire place.

  Clearly there was more to these Covenants than met the eye.