Familiar with Benefits Ch. 01-06

Author's Note: It's been a while! So, this is much longer than one of my typical stories, and the "good parts" are pretty deep into the narrative. Things heat up a lot more in subsequent parts, but I thought it was only fair to set expectations early on. Part 1 here is actually chapters 1-6 of the larger story, so you can expect more down the line. With that said, I hope you enjoy, and please let me know your thoughts if you have any you'd like to share.

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Copyright © 2023 C. D. Fable

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All characters appearing in this story are over the age of 18.

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Chapter 1

The Tower of Duibheagán

The dark Tower of Duibheagán loomed over the town, though the title of 'tower' was somewhat misleading. While it may have started as a rickety pile of rocks, it was now an imposing keep and made of much better material. The tower proper still stood at the center of the keep and fulfilled the same dreadful purpose for which it was originally constructed. Sturdy stone walls kept out the unwelcome and curious alike. Only those with immense wealth and power were permitted visitation.

The keep looked like most in the region. The inner ward was lined with cobblestone paths leading between the stables, kitchens, library, dormitory, and dining hall, all of which were unremarkable. A small wilting garden lined the foundation of the central tower. Moss and vines crept along the base, thinning as they reached higher. The Blazing Order of Ber'Soniur didn't keep gardeners on its payroll.

The inside of the tower was nothing special as far as imposing structures go. An ever-persistent draft kept the tapestries swaying gently, tapping against the worn-down stone walls. There was always the sound of some unseen water dripping, but the source remained a mystery. The ever-present scent of sulfur wafted through the air, though the inhabitants hardly noticed it anymore.

The townspeople knew, more or less, the cult's intentions and wretched purpose but rarely spoke of it aloud amongst themselves and never to outsiders. A mix of fear and bribery kept them from asking too many questions. In return for their cooperation, the Order shared its fabulous wealth with the town, and as a result, it thrived. Ignorance was in the people's best interest. They figured gold was preferable to knowing what caused those pained howls some evenings or why, once a year, so many of their members were admitted to the healer with grievous wounds.

It was clear the tower was some den of evil and depravity. Tenebrous halls teeming with the vilest mortals this side of Eros. A haven for only the most heinous occultist to have ever walked this plane of existence.

"Fiddlesticks," cursed Ryg. He sat in the library, hunched over a large square parchment. Sweat beaded on his brow. He drew a deep breath as he steadied his hand. With his quill, he very slowly closed the circular pattern and carefully touched up the protective glyphs around it. He exhaled and slumped in his chair.

He had a scholar's build, that is to say, average height and somewhat lanky. His face was pleasant enough, clean-shaven and kind, save for the dark circles around his blue-grey eyes. His short dark hair was unkempt from constantly running his fingers through it. Like all initiates, he wore a brown hooded robe tied at the waist with a chord that never seemed to hold its knot. Affixed to the belt were several small sacks of reagents, tinctures, and one pouch containing some snacks in case he got hungry. The uniform was always woefully drafty, even in long underwear.

The sound of quills scratching parchment filled his senses. He pulled back his hood and looked around the library to see how his fellow initiates were doing. Most looked to be in the same state as himself: Stressed. He wondered if he'd finished too hastily and double-checked his work.

"Looks about right. I think..." He groaned and second-guessed every line on the parchment. "I'm overthinking it," he muttered to himself, "It's a basic summoning. You do this, you lose your S-Card, and you earn yourself that black hood." His pep talk did little to convince himself. He groaned and slumped back in his chair, covering his eyes with his forearm. "She's gonna think I'm such a loser."

"Who will?" asked a soft voice.

He shot up and nearly toppled the rickety wooden table. He was met with a collective hush and several derisive stares from his fellow practitioners.

A fellow initiate stood over him. Her straight, raven black hair was neatly tucked behind her ears and draped down to the small of her back. Her face was pale and lightly freckled. Her smile and hazel eyes both held a welcoming charm within them.

"Dys!" He whispered loudly. "I didn't see you. I figured you'd be halfway through your summoning by now." He blushed.

She chuckled softly and gave him a playful tap with her own rolled-up parchment. "Not exactly. It is exciting, though, isn't it?" She gestured toward the door with her head.

"Yeah," he said unconvincingly. He rolled up his parchment and followed her out of the library and into the courtyard. Along the cobblestone path, they passed several others who were waving their hands and mumbling incantations on repeat.

"Hopefully," she started, "we'll all be blackhoods by soon."

"You will be. Some of us will just be lucky to still have all our limbs afterwards."

"Well, the healer says no one has actually died from initiate rites in ages, so that kind of takes the pressure off."

"Or it means we're due," he muttered. His eyes lingered on a fellow student a year older than him, wearing an eyepatch and missing several fingers.

"Dysglaer," called a brown-robed woman waiting at the tower's entrance. She was about the same height as Ryg. Her eyes were always half-closed and dispassionate, and the circles around them were so dark you'd half expect to see holes instead of eyes. She kept her messy blond hair in a tight braid that she wore over her shoulder.

She stormed over, her cold eyes fixed on Ryg. "Why are you wasting your time with the bargain buy-in? Our black hoods await."

"Úll be nice," said Dys. "Ryg is going to be a fine summoner."

"Can't be that good if his parents were willing to sell him for, what, five gold pieces? Didn't even try to negotiate for more? You know they go up to ten, right? Must have been real eager to dump you off."

Ryg looked away.

"Úll," said Dys, "leave him be. Our ancestors were all sold here at some point. Besides, we can't sustain our numbers with towerborn alone. He's going to do fine."

Úll snatched his parchment.

"Hey!" he protested, meekly trying to retrieve his parchment.

Úll unfurled it and looked it over. "Jittery lines. Retouched glyphs. Do you want your imp to know you're a nervous wreck? Abyss, did you cheat on the last exam for that top five placement?" She tossed the parchment back at him. "Fine by me. If it shreds your face, that'll probably be an improvement."

"Úll, that's enough," said Dys firmly.

"Fine, fine," she said, rolling her eyes, "I was just having a bit of fun. Right Ryg?" she shot him a stare that told him not to answer. She looked to Dys. "You ready?"

"We're doing a little extra credit," said Dys, turning to Ryg.

"Extra-"

"Bab bab bab!" shouted Úll, waving her hands wildly. "Don't tell him that. He hasn't earned it."

"I'm the one who figured out the new glyphs. I can tell who I want," said Dys.

Úll looked furious but held her tongue. She shot Ryg a spiteful glare.

Dys cozied up next to Ryg and opened her parchment before him.

The seal looked very different than his. The entire circle had been modified, and a good deal of re-enforcement glyphs had been added.

"Dys is this a full circle?! You'll never be able to control whatever comes out of that!"

"Mind who you're addressing buy-in," sneered Úll.

Dys ignored her. "Not quite a full circle. It's kind of like an imp deep dive. My theory is that we can reach deeper into the abyss without breaching the greater barriers. See how I've modified the circle here? The target is still set for an imp, just deeper within the first boundary. If depth determines power like the current theorems postulate, then I should be able to pull a powerful imp from there. Still an imp, but something more impressive."

"And you want to test this on your first summon?" he said, still examining the extended seal. "That's so needlessly risky!"

"I've got a reputation to uphold," she said proudly.

"But-"

Úll groaned. "You're wasting your time trying to explain it to him." She turned around and headed into the tower. "Common!"

"Sorry about her," said Dys.

"No, it's fine. She's just joking," he replied with a forced laugh.

Dys frowned. "Well, anyway. I'm gonna get started and earn myself one hells of a black hood. I hear they actually keep the draft out."

"Woah, really?"

She giggled. "Yeah."

There was a pause between them.

"Ryg, do you want my notes?"

"For the deep summon? No thanks, I-" he stopped as he watched her smile slowly fade. "What I mean to say is, are you sure?"

"Yeah, sure. Truth be told, it was your oral report on abyssal barriers that gave me the idea in the first place. But if you think it's beyond your abilities-"

"No no no! Of course, I can do it. I just don't want to... steal your hellfire."

"Nonsense!" She beamed and handed him her massive grimoire. It had dozens of color-coded tabs sticking out from between the pages.

"Ignore the margin doodles. The black tabs contain all the relevant information on extending the seal. Now, you'll have to exert a lot more focus in order to activate this glyph here, see? Focused intent is key. Alright, good luck!" She spun on her heel and rushed toward the tower. "You'll do great!"

He drew a deep breath and looked at the grimoire. Internally, he went on and on about not deserving this, the best way to chicken out last minute, and what to tell Dys in the aftermath. He stood there inspecting his seal for several minutes, ensuring Dys would be well into her summoning before he entered the tower. Once he was sure he wouldn't embarrass himself, he went inside.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. A couple of the other initiates were placing their parchment on a table to be inspected by a blackhood. A few of them were chastised and told to start over. Others were told they failed outright. His inspection proceeded without incident, though his superior did comment on his shaky lines. The blackhood assured him that she was also nervous her first time. She handed him a key that had a small bit of paper attached to it by a bit of string that read 3F. He headed up the winding stairs to the third floor and unlocked room F. He was so preoccupied he didn't notice someone step out of the room beside him.

"You're not actually gonna do it, are you, buy-in?" asked Úll, leaning against her door.

"I uh-"

"Didn't think so," she scoffed. "You wouldn't have been able to pull it off anyway. Frankly, it was almost cruel of Dysglaer to give that to you. Practically a death sentence for a buy-in."

He didn't respond.

"Smart. For once. Summon some pathetic imp and stop clinging to Dysglaer. It's embarrassing. It's never going to happen for you."

"What are you implying?"

"Too dense to figure that out? She doesn't want you the way you want her. Every time I see you with her it's written all over your pathetic face. You want so badly to impress her. Well, guess what. You never will. You're just her charity case."

"That's not true. We're friends."

"She's like that with everyone, twit. You. Aren't. Special. You'd be lucky to be anyone's lover, never mind Dysglaer. Guess we could ask her. See if she feels the same way about you?"

"No, don't!"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Run along and summon your little imp. And hey, if it doesn't obey you, maybe you can bribe it. Five gold ought to do, don't you think?" She laughed and entered her summoning chamber, slamming the door behind her.

He slunk into his chamber, closed the door behind him, and pressed his head against it. The smell of sulfur was noticeable here. The floor was abuzz with the sound of incantation, hissing, and the occasional pained cry.

He took stock of the summoning chamber. There was a smooth surface in the center of the room, which was the same dimensions as his large parchment. A very basic wooden table and chair occupied the corner. The table had all manner of salts, chalks, candles, and other instruments required for summoning.

He sat down at the chair, placing his parchment and Dys' grimoire on the table. He gave his work on final inspection.

"A simple imp," he muttered to himself. His eyes wandered over the grimoire. His hand hovered over it briefly before opening it to one of the marked pages. He gave it a quick skim. "Hellfire, this is so far ahead of anything they've taught us. She really is a genius." His heart fell the more he read. Úll's words rang in his mind.

"I have to at least try," he said to himself, not entirely convinced. He looked at his parchment. "It's just a few alterations. And it's still just an imp. It-" Someone screamed down the hall. He gulped, "Just an imp."

He pulled out his quill and inkwell and followed the notes contained within Dys' grimoire. The more he changed, the more he understood the theory behind the new seal. He took extra care with every stroke. Every alteration was triple-checked. He knew he could be in trouble if caught using an unapproved seal, but he didn't care. If things were to go bad, he'd have far bigger worries than facing his superiors.

"There," he said, finishing the last stroke. He gave his work one final inspection. "She wasn't kidding about focus. If I'm understanding this combination correctly I could actually pierce the greater barrier if I'm not careful..."

He placed his unauthorized parchment on the floor, holding it in place with four small stones. He lit several candles and encircled the entire setup with salt. This was it. He cleared his mind and began to chant the incantations.

He focused his mind on a simple imp. Small, wretched, and hairy. Focus. No, it needs to be impressive. What does an impressive imp look like? Larger? Intelligent? Focus. It needs to be impressive. Impressive enough for Dys. Dys... When you see what I can do, then-

The salt around the circle hissed as shadows coalesced into the center of the seal. The candles flickered and rapidly burned down to a pile of bubbling wax. This wasn't right. The smell of sulfur poured into the small room. The shadows began taking form. The parchment burst into flames, and as it burned out, so too did all the light in the room. He felt a great deal of strength leave his body as the room went pitch black.

The summoning was complete.

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Chapter 2

K̶̢̙̈́i̷̝̽̏ū̵̺͝s̴̢͖͠ȁ̴̰̗t̷̗͒a̴̤̖͘̕b̷͔͂ø̵̲̹̀͝l̴̙̉̈́ḻ̸̨̈́e̴̘̽

The summoning had extracted a great physical toll, leaving Ryg barely standing. He coughed and steadied himself. Scrambling, his arms outstretched, he searched the nearby desk for another candle. After knocking almost everything over, he finally managed to light a candle and held it aloft. A dark smoke still lingered about the room, nearly choking out the light. He saw a small figure stirring within the circle.

"O̶̙̽h̴̙̋͂ ̷̛͔̣͝ṁ̷̳ý̸̩̆͜ ̶͍̱͆̚f̷̠́̄u̴̳̇c̵̥̉͝k̵͍͒͠ͅi̷̱͒n̵̄͜g̸̲̲͆ ̶̨͝͠ḣ̴͇͋ẽ̴̹̙ȃ̴͖͠ḋ̵̡̙." Its abyssal speech sounded like two discordant overlapping voices. Every syllable stung in his ear. The smokey silhouette slowly rose.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," said Ryg, wincing. He remembered what he was talking to. "Er- Listen to me, imp. Through my power, I have summoned you to this plane. Cower before me and-" He checked the note on his sweaty palm, "serve me well, that your service be a painless one. As your master, I command-"

"Oh shut the fuck up," it spat back in his language. Its voice was now higher pitched and scratchy. "My fucking head is ringing. Asshole!"

Ryg was taken aback. "You speak the common tongue of man?" He watched as the imp's silhouette doubled in height. It became clear they had been lying down but now stood around four feet tall, about three feet taller than any imp should be.

He stumbled back. "Oh- Oh, heck."

The smoke finally thinned enough for the candle's light to illuminate the creature. He expected to see a small purple-skinned creature. One with tiny wings, sharp claws, a scorpion tail, and razor teeth fixed in a mocking grin. That was only partially what stood before him.

It was hunched over, rubbing its shaggy pitch-black hair which nearly hid two small protruding horns. Their hands were more human but were still tipped with long, black, sharpened fingernails. Its skin was mostly red with only hints of purple. It still had a very long scorpion's tail, but its lower half was like a goat's, with thick stubby legs covered in matted fur and ending cloven hooves. Their overall body was humanoid and pear-shaped, with preposterous curves around the hips and thighs.

It opened one eye. A singular black spec of a pupil in a glowing pool of yellow scanned the room before locking onto him. It grimaced, folded its arms, and leered up at him, bearing its razor teeth. Their face was pointed and held an uncanny attractiveness and, for some reason, featured immaculately kept lashes.

"W- what are you?" he asked, cautiously extending a hand and inching closer.

It raised an eyebrow and leaned back. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Regardless," he stammered, "I have summoned you and you must-"

"Must what, huh?"

"Uh-"

"Bitch."

"W-what?"

"Little bitch."

He didn't know where to go from here. The two stared at each other for a while longer.

"I-"

"Smelly virgin. Fuck you."

"Okay! Alright! Enough!" he said, voice cracking slightly.

There was a momentary pause.

"Bitch."

"Okay, I understand you're upset, but-"

"Suck my clit." Unfolding her arms, she revealed large breasts and used two fingers to expose her lower lips and clit from under her matted hair.

Ryg went red and turned away. "I didn't realize you were female! Or so sapient! Or naked! My apologies!" he shouted back. "I- I- I must have made some kind of mistake!"

"Hah! Knew I smelled virgin on you. Nerd." She cackled, her laugh stinging in his ears.

"I don't have any- uh-" he looked around the room, avoiding looking at the diminutive creature. In a sort of panic, he tore the hood off his robe. He tossed the scrap of cloth toward her. "Here. Sorry I never would have- if I had but known-"

He heard a tapping approaching him. He looked to his summoning circle. Empty. The cloth had created a bridge over the protective salt barrier. There was a rhythmic tapping sound in front of him. Slowly, his eyes crept downward. She was directly in front of him, hands on her hips, looking up at him and tapping her hoof impatiently on the stone floor.

"The fuck is wrong with you, huh?"

He stumbled back, tripping over his robe and crashing into the table. "I'm sorry! I'll send you back! Please don't kill me! Please!" he pleaded, scrambling back.

She approached him. "Abyssal depths, you're pathetic." She looked him up and down as he held his hands up defensively. She held her hand in front of him, palm open and fingers pointing upward. Her sharp fingernails transformed into razor-sharp claws in the blink of an eye.

"Why'd you summon me?" she asked.

"I needed an imp. An impressive one to-" He stopped himself.

She raised an eyebrow. "Nows not the time to forget your words, human."

"I didn't mean to summon you. I just needed- I'll send you back."