Ichabod froze as the demon seized him by the shirt and hoisted him into the air.  For an instant, his whole life flashed before his eyes.  The small farm where he’d been born, the happiness of the first few years before his mother’s death, the grim desolation of his father’s grief.  Rebellion, punishment, escape, hardship, discovery, love, abandonment, survival.  Was it all leading up to this?  Had all those moments, all those steps on the path of becoming himself, only happened so that the gods could laugh as he was torn apart by a demon?<br/><br/>However, it quickly became clear that he wasn’t the main target of Ruin’s wrath.  Ichabod winced as razor sharp claws mauled the deer’s body, splattering blood everywhere.  It was hard to stop himself from imagining similar damage being inflicted on the Duke.  But even then, Ichabod couldn’t bring himself to go against everything he believed in by binding the demon.  And, as if sensing his reluctance, the demon snarled scornfully and released him<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Maybe this can still work out</span>, Ichabod thought desperately.<span style="font-style: italic"> Somehow.</span>But then the tavern’s owner appeared, violence clearly etched into his angry expression.  And the demon seemed eager to meet that violence with some violence of his own.  No matter who won, blood would be spilled, and there was only one person who could stop the impending slaughter.  Bitter and sickened, Ichabod surrendered to the cruel demands of necessity.<br/><br/>“Stop!” Ichabod shouted for the second time that night.  Then, reading from the note he’d been given, he spoke the necessary phrase -- each word twisting his guts as he forced it out.  “Ruin, I command you protect and serve me.  As your new master, I forbid you to harm anyone unless they present an immediate threat to me or yourself.”<br/><br/>That dealt with the demon.  Now, Ichabod focused his efforts on appeasing the tavern’s owner, who was still clutching his butcher knife and glaring at Ruin.  “I’m sorry about this,” Ichabod apologized.  “I really am.”  Returning to the card table, Ichabod pocketed a few coins -- that would be enough to get them to the next town, and hopefully, the next card game.  Then he gestured at the rest with a broad sweep of his hand.  “Please accept this as compensation for the trouble we’ve caused you.”<br/><br/>A weary sigh escaped Ichabod.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this exhausted.  All he wanted to do was claim the room he’d rented, crawl into bed, and sleep for a week.  But they couldn’t stay here.  Ruin’s little display of violence had turned the tavern staff against them, making it unsafe to remain.  By now, rumors were probably spreading through the whole town, and it was only a matter of time before some wannabe demon slayer showed up.<br/><br/>“I hope you’re fucking proud of yourself,” Ichabod snarled at Ruin.  “You could have eaten a nice meal and I could have slept in a soft bed.  Now we’ll be lucky if we find a suitable bush to rest under before dawn.”<br/><br/>After shouldering his travel pack, Ichabod marched to the tavern door.  However, before exiting, he looked back at Ruin.  “And for god’s sake, don’t make me go through the whole ‘Your master commands’ routine every time I need you to do something.  It’s really annoying.”