Maxwell

  “For all of my bravado and big talk of vulnerabilities, I have yet to distance myself from Sarah. I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame, to her hazel eyes and chestnut hair. It has been nigh on a century since last I grappled with such emotions, and as expected, I am losing the battle day by day.

  Sarah… has an effect on me that I can scarce begin to describe. She makes me smile. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel things I have not felt since my youth. We could spend time on the most asinine and pointless of endeavors, and yet it would not feel like a waste, for it would mean time spent with her. And that is a precious thing, worth its metaphorical weight in gold.

  I sense disaster looming on the horizon. Every part of me is screaming out in unison, to warn me of the coming danger. And yet, I cannot stop. In this sense, perhaps I am already doomed.” - Writings of the Sword-Saint, 2149 Post-Separation (PS).

  Sleep did not come easy that night. My mind was alive with a million thoughts as I lay tossing and turning in the bedroll, mulling over everything I had learned during our conversation. I tried my best to avoid waking Amelie. She was sleeping right next to me, her rhythmic breathing acting as a metronome to my anxious shifting. It was an arduous affair. I could not for the life of me remain still, no matter how desperate for sleep my body was.

  There were so many things taking up space in my brain that I could not even hope to begin making sense of it all. In fact, it was nothing short of a miracle that I had not suffered a full-on mental breakdown yet. I was all but certain there would be one, at some point. I just did not know when.

  To my right, Amelie gave a brief sigh as she turned in her sleep, pushing her forehead against my shoulder and her leg against my knee. She snuggled into place, hunting for the most comfortable position, before falling silent once more, with a tiny smile on her lips.

  It was astonishing how quickly I had gotten used to sharing a bed with her like this. One would think that the prospect of such intimate sleeping arrangements would trigger some sort of natural hesitation in me, but for some reason, that had never happened with Amelie. It was simply… the way of things, as they had become since my arrival here in Alwaar. And compared to all of the other craziness I had been subjected to in this world, I supposed sharing a bedroll with a stranger would not even qualify for the top ten.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, and tried to block out the churning of my mind. It helped to focus on Amelie, and her breathing. It had a calming effect, like that of rain falling outside your bedroom window, or the hum of a ceiling fan on a warm summer evening. A uniform sound, providing safe harbor from the raging storm.

  Despite this, what little sleep I eventually got was restless, and fitful. It was not before the morning hours that I fell into a deeper slumber, which was all too soon interrupted by the sound of Regulus waking. In all, I managed what felt like a measly two hours before it was time to pack up camp, which left me in a bad way for the start of the day.

  Amelie, on the other hand, appeared to have had a blissful night, as she rose from the bedroll with a mighty yawn and her hair in complete disarray.

  “It has been some time since last I had such a good night’s sleep,” she commented some time later, as I forced down a mouthful of dry bread for breakfast and she packed up our things. “Your shoulder made for an excellent pillow.”

  “Well, I’m glad one of us got some sleep,” I complained. “I was up all night thinking.”

  “Makes sense,” Regulus chimed in as he worked the straps on Waylan. “We had quite the conversation yesterday. Lots to process, and take in.”

  “You’re telling me,” I sighed, chomping down the last of my meal and getting to my feet. “Astra this, Empyrean Sigil that…”

  “Well, if it helps, you’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep in the village,” he said. “No point in spending the night anywhere else, not with all the Husks around.”

  “Yeah, about that…” I started. “I couldn’t help but notice that the village doesn’t appear to have any defenses.”

  “Oh, that’s because it doesn’t need any,” Regulus shrugged. “Not while I’m around, at least. And I’m always around. It’s my favorite village, after all.”

  “Okay…” I frowned. “So, what… you scare off the Husks, or something?”

  “You could say that,” he smiled. “My eyes have something of an, uhh… uncomfortable effect on them.”

  “… Do I even want to know?” I asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “The actual effect is mostly irrelevant at this point, anyway. They’ve learned to stay away from the village by now.”

  We finished packing up the rest of our camp in silence, with Amelie whistling up a tune as we worked. It was the first time I had seen her do any such thing. In fact, it was the first time I had seen her in a state of mind that was not just “introspective brooding”. That night of sleep must have had a bigger impact on her mood than I realized.

  At last came the time to leave. We said our goodbyes to Regulus, with a promise to meet again the following morning, before setting off towards Taft. There was a bitter chill in the air, eliciting shivers and mumbled complaints from me as we followed the road out of the thicket in which we had spent the night. A partially-obscured sun hung low on the horizon, the strength of its warming rays greatly diminished by the cloud cover.

  None of these things seemed to bother Amelie, who had continued whistling to herself ever since we broke camp. A satisfied smirk lingered on her lips as she led Waylan over a small stream, and out onto the open fields that separated us and the village of Taft.

  “So… What’s got you in such a good mood then?” I asked, staring at the great expanse of farmland in front of me. “Other than your good night’s rest, of course.”

  “Oh, you’ll see,” she said, offering no further explanation.

  Alright then…

  It took us a few hours to reach the village. It was bigger than it had looked at a distance - more akin to a township than a hamlet. A large statue depicting a young woman with a lute in her hands marked the center of the village, flanked by a stone fountain and a large, open space, which held several tables and benches for public lounging. An old well saw heavy use as villagers lined up by the dozens to draw water, engage in some lighthearted conversation and trade gossip with one another. They seemed a friendly bunch, smiling and waving at us as we passed them by.

  I stared in wide-eyed fascination at their cloth tunics and sheepskin cloaks as Amelie led us deeper into the village. It was as if I had been taken back a thousand years, to the age of kings and queens, knights and castles. The medieval society one could read about in history books, come alive in front of the naked eye.

  “We need to get you some new clothes,” Amelie said, speaking in a low tone of voice. “You stand out like a sore thumb.”

  I looked down at myself, and felt a sudden rush of embarrassment. She was right. My black hoodie and blue jeans were hardly in fashion around here, and offered little in the way of protection from the elements. If I ever wanted to stand a chance of blending in with the locals, a good place to start would be with some new clothes.

  “Let’s find a place to spend the night first,” I said, looking around for the kind of stereotypical medieval inn I had seen in video games and TV shows before. “Then we can go shopping.”

  “… Shopping?” Amelie asked, somewhat perplexed.

  “Uhh… Don’t worry about it,” I said, realizing they might not have that particular expression here. Amelie seemed confused at my hesitation, but otherwise chose to let the matter rest.

  Winding through the maze-like streets of the village, we eventually came to a halt in front of a wooden building that stood proud in the middle of a busy intersection. A lone lantern hung outside the entrance, illuminating a signpost on the wall. It showed a hammer being swung towards an anvil, with the words "The Lone Blacksmith" written above it.

  It was not a lavish establishment, but it had its charm. A rustic bar counter held mugs specked with droplets of old ale. Dark-wood tables and varnished chairs made up the seating arrangements, and a grand fireplace at the far back provided heating and a comforting ambiance. In the midst of it all stood a strange contraption – at a glance, it appeared to be some kind of fountain, except it had no running water, and was covered in various strips of paper. The top was adorned with a crude-looking figure carved from marble. I could not make out the exact details of it, but it looked intricate.

  I held back as Amelie negotiated with the innkeeper for room and board. It was not a particularly long conversation. They argued for a short few minutes, before Amelie handed the older man a small pouch of coins. He did not seem very pleased with the transaction, even as he pocketed the money.

  We were given a single room to share, with two beds standing at opposite sides. The rest of the space was sparsely decorated with a desk, an oil-lamp, a run-down wardrobe and a crooked chair that had a leg that was shorter than the others. Needless to say, we did not spend much time there, other than to drop off our meager belongings before heading back out into the village again.

  The following hours were spent stocking up on supplies for our journey. We went by a variety of stalls and shops for things like rope, string, a small cooking pot, an axe to chop firewood with and an extra waterskin for convenience. Then we went to a village store for salted meat, bread and cheese. Lastly, we visited a tailors’ boutique for a new set of clothes, and an extra blanket. I came in wearing my black hoodie and jeans. I came out wearing a wool tunic, a linen shirt, a fur-lined traveling cloak and leather trousers.

  By the time we returned to our room at The Lone Blacksmith, the sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting the world in a dim light that was gradually fading over into nighttime. Rainbow twinkles could be seen glimmering far above, growing stronger in their radiance by the minute.

  To my surprise, however, our day was not over just yet. With a childlike secrecy that was unexpected from a person of her stature, Amelie dragged me back out into the village again, a mischievous smile on her lips. We walked in silence as we made our way out of the town square, and towards the outskirts.

  At that point, I was feeling more than a little confused. Why was Amelie leading us out of the village so late on a Husknight? What could possibly be so important as to risk an encounter with one of those monstrosities?

  I did not have to wait long for an answer. A couple of minutes later, Amelie came to a halt in front of a large building that was unlike any I had seen in Alwaar up to this point, standing alone at the top of a hill.

  It was not the intricately carved wooden beams that caught my attention the most, nor the windows shaped to look like portholes running along its flanks. No, it was the entire framework itself that beggared belief, built to appear as an upside-down ship, its hull pointing towards the heavens, the bow cradling the hill's summit in a surreal embrace. A construction of such magnitude, I could scarce believe it existed on the outskirts of what was otherwise the completely ordinary village of Taft.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  “It is something else, is it not?” Amelie breathed as she took in the view, an excited glimmer in the corner of her eye. “I have seen it depicted in paintings and drawings before, but never had I thought it would be such a feast for the eyes. The legendary Bathhouse of Taft, known for its rejuvenating waters and serene environment.”

  “It’s… magnificent!” I gasped. “Why didn’t I notice it before, when we were coming into the village?”

  “It is constructed in such a way as to blend in with the hills,” she explained. “The hull forms an even arch across the terrain that can be difficult to distinguish from its surroundings. But once you see it…”

  “… Yeah,” I said, blinking at the warm light radiating from its windows. “Is this what you brought me out here for?”

  “Yes,” Amelie nodded, before the mischievous smirk from earlier came back in full force. “But we are not stopping here. It would be a shame to come all this way without taking use of its facilities now, wouldn’t it?”

  I turned my head to look at her. She met my gaze with ease.

  “After you, ma’am,” I said, feeling the corners of my lips tug upwards into a smile.

  /-0-\

  Which way did the clerk say I had to go again? I pondered to myself as I walked through the hallways of the bathhouse, equipped with nothing but a towel around my waist. I know it was in this direction, but where do I enter…

  Arriving at the end of the corridor, I was presented with a choice: two entryways, one covered by a red cloth and one covered by a blue cloth. Scratching my head in confusion, I took a moment to consider which way to choose. At first glance, it was easy to presume that red meant "women" and blue meant "men", but seeing as this was the first bathhouse I had ever been to, I was hesitant to make blanket assumptions.

  As I stood paralyzed by indecision, the sudden sound of footsteps coming from the hallway behind me jogged my mind into making a decision. I did not want to be seen wearing nothing but a towel after all, and so I quickly entered through the blue entryway, walking with haste towards the light up ahead. As I came closer to it, a surge of warm air hit my naked skin, causing the hair on my arms to rise. Emerging into the bath beyond, I could not help but gasp at the sight.

  Beneath the grand canvas of the night sky, where the rainbow stars painted brilliant hues upon a cosmic dome, a vast oasis awaited me, a clandestine paradise wrought in fog and azure waters.

  A meandering path of cobblestone, lined with rustic lanterns, wound its way through patches of wildflowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. A collection of verdant plants filled the space, planted with care in specific locations where they would not obstruct the view of the bathing area ahead. The meandering path concluded at the bank of an open-air pool, laying nestled in the embrace of the landscape, adorned with sandstone highlights and surrounded by wooden walls on all sides except one, to offer its visitors a splendid view of the surrounding fields and forests as they lounged. Water, steaming-hot and inviting, filled the basin to its zenith, complete with scented oils and concoctions for luxury and comfort.

  Casting a quick look around, I did not see anyone else present in the bath, and so, with anticipation building within me, I rid myself of the towel wrapped around my waist, and took a few steps down the path, towards the waters. The smooth stone felt cool and pleasant beneath my bare feet, and as I took in the view that lay beyond the bath, I felt a strange sensation flare to life inside of me.

  Contentment.

  It was the first time I had felt like this since arriving in Alwaar, and so I took a moment to bask in the feeling, allowing it to wash away the worries that had been my constant companions for the past couple of days. The serenity was further heightened when I descended into the warm embrace of the water, a symphony of sensations playing out in my mind – the gentle warmth, the soft murmur of the wind, the subtle rustling of nature. The world beyond the bath seemed to fade away, leaving me immersed in a moment suspended in time, each breath a declaration of comfort and satisfaction.

  It was not before some time later that I felt the surface of the water ripple against my skin in an irregular pattern, causing me to open my eyes again. For a moment, it had felt as if someone had entered the bath with me… but that was certainly impossible. Who else would visit the bathhouse at this hour of the night?

  “Ahh… Now that hits the spot,” a feminine voice said, bringing my world to a sudden and abrupt halt. “I had forgotten how good it feels to take a proper bath.”

  … Of course.

  “Uhh… Amelie?” I asked, trying to prevent my voice from reaching into the higher octaves.

  “Yes, Maxwell?”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Well, because I fancied a bath, of course,” she said. “Why else would I bring us here?”

  “Okay, but… isn’t this the men’s section?”

  “There is no such thing as the ‘men’s section’. It is a communal bath.”

  “A-Ah. I see.”

  I promptly slid further underwater, until I was fully submerged up to a point just below my lips.

  “I didn’t know that,” I added in a small voice. A light giggle sounded in response.

  “Do not worry. An honest mistake.”

  We were sitting some distance apart, and so I could not see anything of her body below the neck. The water was cloudy and muddled from all of the scented oils and mixtures, making it near impossible to glimpse at what lay beneath the surface. I found myself exceedingly thankful for that particular aspect of the bath right about then.

  “You don’t seem very concerned about the fact that we’re both naked right now,” I eventually said, after a suitably loaded silence. I did not know why I felt the need to pursue this line of inquiry, but for some reason, it seemed fitting, given the circumstances.

  “It does not really bother me, no,” she said, her raven hair floating about her neck in winding curls. “My first trip beyond The Long Divide and into the Darkenlands rid me of many of my previously held inhibitions.”

  “Oh?” I asked, clinging on to the topic for dear life. “How’s that?”

  “Well, when you spend every waking moment of your day trapped in a literal hellscape, fighting creatures from your worst nightmares, the terror of being seen naked loses its edge.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “I can see that.”

  “What about you?” she asked, turning the question around on me. “Are you feeling embarrassed?”

  “W-Well, maybe a little bit,” I said. “I mean, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days, and sharing a bath with someone isn’t really a common occurrence for me…”

  “You say this, yet you seem rather comfortable sharing a bedroll with me every night,” she pointed out. “How is that any less embarrassing?”

  “I… I don’t actually know,” I said, furrowing my eyebrows. “I guess I’ve… never really thought about it. We only have one bedroll, and so sharing it with you just seemed-”

  “Natural,” she said, finishing my sentence for me. “Which is precisely the mindset you need when you are on the road. There is no room for embarrassment or shyness out there. You do what needs to be done, even if it falls outside your comforts. It is perfectly simple.”

  I considered this for some time, as Amelie tilted her head to the side and dipped her hair in the water. She ran her hand through it several times as she did, until at last, she closed her eyes, and went under completely.

  Four breaths passed in silence. Then, she was back, emerging from the depths like a water dryad.

  “Ahh…” she breathed as the cold air came into contact with her wet skin, evaporating the droplets, making it seem as if she was emitting steam. “I cannot even begin to tell you how nice that felt.”

  “It looked nice,” I commented, purposefully ignoring the fact that I had caught a glimpse of her naked chest when she came back up from the water.

  “You should do it too. Your hair is not even wet yet,” she said with a smile. “You will not regret it, I promise.”

  I gave the matter a brief two seconds of consideration, before I shrugged and dipped below the water, allowing it to consume me whole. At once, I was enveloped in a blanket of warmth, brushing lightly against my skin. She was right - it felt very nice indeed. Nicer than any bath I had taken back in my own world, in fact.

  “What did I say?” she said once I resurfaced with a content smile on my lips. “A good bath does wonders for a weary soul.”

  “Absolutely,” I breathed, rubbing the water from my eyes. “That was… amazing.”

  “Mhm.”

  We basked in the comfort of a quiet moment, before a question wormed its way into my thoughts, one that tugged at my curiosity until I finally gave in and admitted defeat.

  “So, you must’ve seen some things, huh? Out there, in the Darkenlands,” I said.

  My words seemed to give her pause, as she tilted her head back to look at the stars, their rainbow light reflecting in her eyes.

  “The Darkenlands is not a place for the faint of heart,” she said, a touch of despondency to her voice. “It is a foul, vicious piece of land, infused with the malevolent desires of the Great Corruptor. Nothing good resides there. Only evil. Only death.”

  “So… why go there at all then?” I asked, genuinely curious at this point. “If it truly is as cursed as you say, what possible use could there be in going beyond this… Long Divide?”

  “Because of the Anomalies.”

  “Anomalies?”

  “Strange objects with unusual powers and capabilities,” she explained. “Due to the nature of the Darkenlands as the home of Gol’Truun and his corruption, the very soil there is rich with Astra, bathing the environment in a constant shower of divine energy. As such, certain objects will, over time, accumulate enough Astra to develop rare or extraordinary characteristics. Things that cannot be found anywhere else in Alwaar.”

  “… Such as?” I prompted.

  “An ordinary apple suddenly develops the ability to heal whoever eats it. A branch from a dead tree becomes capable of emitting a flame that burns in perpetuity. A drop from a pond of water evolves into a powerful aphrodisiac, able to rejuvenate the libido of any man, young or old.”

  “O-Okay…” I said, mulling over this newfound revelation in my head. “So, what… people go out searching for these things then, even though they know how dangerous it is?”

  “There is lots of money to be made selling Anomalies to rich aristocrats or people in need of peculiar treatments,” Amelie sighed. “And where there is money, there are opportunists, willing to risk their life for a profit.”

  “But you don’t strike me as that kind of person,” I said. “I mean, you’re the heir to the Harthway family. Your father is the ruler of a city!”

  “I had my own reasons for going into the Darkenlands,” she said, bringing her eyes to me. Her flame-colored irises bore into my soul, tearing apart my defenses, rendering me vulnerable. I could have been wearing a full set of armor, and I still would have felt naked beneath their weight. “And it had nothing to do with money.”

  “… I understand,” I said, sensing that I was treading onto perilous ground with my questions. “I won’t ask.”

  “… Good,” she said, looking away again.

  An awkward silence descended upon the bathhouse as we both sat with our respective thoughts, lost to contemplation and reflection. In the distance, dark clouds gathered over the forest, threatening rain and thunder. They would make their way here eventually, but by then, we would be out of the bathhouse, and back at the inn.

  I snuck a glance at my female companion as I basked in the warmth of the water, my mind adrift on a sea of turmoil. As much time as we had been spending together recently, I still had no idea what to make of our relationship. We were not friends, as we had not known each other long enough to develop such closeness. But we were not acquaintances either, as our connection seemed to run deeper than mere association. We shared the same bedroll every night, seeking each other out for warmth and comfort, yet there was no romantic or erotic tension to speak of.

  In a sense, the best way I could think to describe it was companionship, but even that felt strangely inadequate. If nothing else, I wanted to learn more about her, and her story. Who really was Amelie Harthway? How had she come to be the way she was? What was it that made her tick?

  These were the questions running through my mind as I looked at her sitting there, with her head tilted backwards and her eyes closed. Her pale skin contrasted nicely against her black hair, and I could not help but dip my eyes lower, towards the swell of her breasts, which was barely visible beneath the surface of the water.

  “Do you like what you see?” she said, catching me by surprise. I immediately tore my gaze away from her figure, and towards a nearby lantern.

  “N-No! Or, I mean, yes, but-”

  “Do not worry, I am not angry with you,” she said, amused at my reaction. “If anything, I am impressed that you have managed to keep your eyes to yourself for so long. Not that I condone lecherous staring, but… well, you get used to such things when you have spent enough time in the company of certain people.”

  “Uhh… What do you mean by that?” I asked, still refusing to look at her.

  “Suffice it to say that… Delvers are not the most civilized people around,” she said. “Manners and decorum are not held to a particularly high standard out in the Darkenlands. When you are huddled together in a dank cave, trying to find sleep despite the walking nightmares that lurk just outside the entrance, it is hardly the first thing on your mind.”

  “Okay…?”

  “And so you can likely imagine what it is like to be a woman out there, so far away from civilization and with all those adrenaline-fueled men jumping at shadows,” she shrugged. “A girl has to be strong enough to fend off any number of unwelcome advances.”

  At once, I realized what she was talking about, and felt a deep shame wash over me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head in apology.

  “It is not your fault,” she said, as if it was a bygone conclusion. “As a friend once told me, us humans have three responses to stressful or frightening situations. The first two are to fight or flight. The last one is to fuck.”

  I did not know what to say to that, and so I simply remained silent, a grimace spreading upon my lips.

  “It is strange to think about, really,” she continued, letting out a heavy sigh as she lifted an arm from the water and used it to brush away a stray lock of hair from her face. “If you had asked me at fifteen summers what I thought I would be doing with my life, I never would have thought to tell you that I would be chasing Husks in the Darkenlands whilst fending off advances from men who wished to sleep with me.”

  Her eyes went to me again, in a contemplative sort of way.

  “Then again, I also would not have thought that I would be sharing a bath with the bearer of the Empyrean Sigil, so I suppose there is little merit to be found in such idle musing.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, the bearer of the Empyrean Sigil never thought he’d be here either,” I said drily.

  “Hmm,” she smiled, before leaning back to look at the stars once more. Neither of us spoke another word to each other until the following morning.

  Check out the Patreon in order to gain access to 8 advance chapters (4 weeks of extra content!)

  We also have a Discord server. More than just a place for fans of the story, we hope to provide a safe haven for ardent readers and aspiring creators to come together to discuss (fan)fiction, writing, music, art and everything in-between. No man is an island, and here, we hope you'll be able to find like-minded individuals to share your interests with.