4 Opportune Moment

That moment took longer than he anticipated. The Slinktails across from him had long given up, the chicken bone now tossed to the side once the sun was beginning to rise. Zephyrion's eyes drooped, his head dropping as fatigue tried to pull him under. It had been a long night of failure. 

The wagon's rocking motion shook Zephyrion awake. His eyes took in the passing wood-beamed buildings, the mucky streets and the smells of urine mixed with clean washing hanging above. Glancing up, he noted the washing lines going between the buildings they passed by.

Clothes were drying on wooden pegs as the ground beneath the wheels of the wagon rotted with human faeces and rubbish. Two rats bumped into each other and scattered to find other means of survival after the wagon wheel rolled over their food into mush. 

"How long until we're in Valorian?" One of the men outside the cage asked.

It was only now that Zephyrion realised he could understand their language even though his native language was that of demon-kind. Could the others understand them? He was sure the Zephyrion before him didn't understand the human language before his possession.

Was this something he brought with him from the other world because he used to be human?

Zephyrion cast his gaze on those outside the wagon. All of the guards rode on horses, muskets by their sides, the most expensive item among them besides the cargo of demons. Their leather armour was wrinkled and old, some with holes in from previous battles. Unlike the modern world he'd come from, this appeared to be something similar to 17th-century Europe in terms of hygiene standards, armour, weaponry, and building architecture. 

Valorian, the Valorian Empire, lay far from the northern mountains—though Zephyrion struggled to conjure a mental map for precise details. His geographical knowledge was somewhat lacking. Nevertheless, the Valorian Empire was renowned as the formidable human domain in the west—territory so imposing that no demon dared to venture past its borders.

The only other kingdom names that readily came to mind were those near his mountainous upbringing: Emerald Gate and Iron Hold, homes to humans and dwarves, the latter primarily dwelling within the mountains.

Adjacent to the mountain range and the Northern kingdoms stretched to the Dark Forest, it was pretty self-explanatory, teeming with dark creatures, fae and elves.

Beyond this lay the Marshlands brimming with ogres and the like. Somewhere along his hazy memory, he vaguely recalled a vampire kingdom situated across the river from their enemies, the werewolf kind.

Reflecting on it, Zephyrion realised he had indeed resided in one of the safest places in this world, surrounded predominantly by creatures and their territories yet still within close proximity to human settlements. 

"At least a week," the guard in charge finally answered. 

"A week! They're already rotting and stinking up the place!"

"Stop complaining! You can return and spend your coin on your little whore after we drop them off."

Noticing Zephyrion's interest, the guards smacked the bars, warning him. He bared his teeth, aware of their sharpness and smirked at the man's startled expression. Slinktails didn't usually have such an attitude. They were cowardly and always looked to serve those above them.

Zephyrion remained vigilant even if the others dozed, allowing themselves the luxury of one week without any punishment or meeting their owners. In that time, Zephyrion also learnt he had wonky genitalia and almost pissed sideways onto the Slinktail resting beside him when he needed to take a leak out of the cage. It was comical; even the creature's glare made him snicker.

What? He was sure he was losing his mind after dying and returning as a lizard, and then he also discovered he had a wonky, strange-looking dick? 

Bating his time, the demon finally found the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Night had fallen, and the guards grew less. Zephyrion noted their routine and paid attention to when the guards switched places on their posts. At the beginning of the week, they'd been alert and wary of the Slinktails, but as the week progressed, they grew lazy and comfortable, believing the closer they got to Valorian, the less they needed to worry. They were now only a day away from the empire.

Standing near the bars, one guard had been playing with the keys, bored and trying to waste time until another would replace him. Unlike before, the stakes in escaping seemed higher, whereby the other humans were asleep at camp and not nearby at a brothel. Their fire continued to flicker, keeping them warm, although the temperature had gradually grown warmer. 

The guard checked behind him, assessing the demons mostly sleeping or curling in on themselves before he shifted and started undoing his pants. Wait, he needed to relieve himself? 

Gradually, Zephyrion grew closer to the guard, not making it noticeable. The Slinktails mostly looked the same anyway, and he was sure nobody could tell them apart. This was the best shot he had. His heart began to race as he realised what needed to be done. 

Before this, Zephyrion had never harmed another being. He might have fought back pointlessly a few times in his past life, but it was nothing compared to where his thoughts were leading him now. 

This is about survival, nothing more. 

If he didn't do this, he would become someone's slave, beaten and walked over like how his life had been so far. 

Zephyrion couldn't return to that. This was his second chance at life; even as a lizard demon, he wouldn't let it go to waste serving someone else. 

Stealthily, Zephyrion approached the bars and stopped, keeping his back to the guard who turned, his senses telling him something wasn't right. Upon seeing nothing was out of the ordinary, the guard turned back and continued pissing. It was now or never!

In one swift move, Zephyrion pulled his leather necklace off and slung it around the man's neck, instantly yanking back, his head slamming into the bars. 

The guard's fingers instinctively sought the leather tie, desperate for relief from the suffocating lack of oxygen. His efforts grew more desperate as his face shifted from red to purple, but his struggles remained futile, with no sound reaching those at camp.

The Slinktail beside him, who had been asleep, jumped up in surprise, but Zephyrion's stern expression made him pause. "Grab the keys." His order roused others whilst he strained against the man's struggles until, finally, his body grew slack.

Poor sod only wanted a piss.