Day 7, 11:00 AM

“No, only kidding. She was rubbish.”

— Billy Mack

Lea’s bare breasts move up and down as she sleeps. Nude, sleeping women are an enchanting sight. Something I appreciated even before I can remember.

I could spend hours watching her lie atop the primitive bedding we have made of torn remains of her dress, my clothes, and the spare clothes we looted from the bandits. The fire crackles a yard away, keeping her warm even without a cover, bathing her in orange light.

She’s a pretty girl. Unfortunately, she had no idea what she should be doing. Maybe we could try again? She’s bound to be better?

I should clear my head and get my urges under control before meeting Manuella.

A part of me wants to have sex with my goddess right away, another, more sensible part, wishes not to hurt her and give her enough space and time to heal and make her own decisions.

With a sigh, I dismiss the thought and wash up in the pond. The water is freezing against the angry burning wounds, but I survive. Fifteen minutes later, I’m splitting the edible weeds I collected along the way. The roots go into the ashes near the fire. While I’m waiting for them to bake, I munch on edible sprouts and jerky.

This is the last day. The edge of the forest is three hours away, and I need to plan my next steps. I’ve spent a lot of time these past few days thinking about how to approach Manuella again, and no matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t find a solution. She won’t trust me unless things turn dire. And I don’t want things turning dire.

I’m not even certain she trusted me last time. Not until I carried her till the brink of exhaustion. Maybe she didn’t trust me until I died.

I banish the dark, rational analysis of my past and the random prostitute I fell in love with. Instead, I focus on the future. I think about what I need to buy and how to best avoid the pursuit. Prevention is the best kind of damage control.

Half an hour later, Leandra stirs, then pretends she’s still asleep, but her red face and eyes shut a tad too tight, betraying her.

She’s just a kid.

I walk over to her and kiss her forehead. Her breast is the most natural place to lay my hand, but she might get more embarrassed, so I place my palm on her tummy, covering her bellybutton.

“You are beautiful.” I pause. “Do you regret what we did?”

She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes tighter.

Up or down? I wonder for a moment before my hand slides lower, towards the frizz.

She squirms, but doesn’t say no.

I close my lips around her nipple and suck while my hand keeps moving.

I rise my head, tugging a bit with my teeth before letting go.

“We are parting ways today.”

“No!” she says, squeezing her legs together, clamping my hand. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“We could stay together an extra day if you want us to remain here a while longer. But it’s dangerous. More bandits could chase after us, and I’m wounded. I’m not sure I can protect you.”

She shakes her head like a child.

“You can come with me, join our guards—”

“Nobody will trust me, and your father certainly won’t marry his daughter to a common bodyguard. Our relationship cannot last after we leave the forest.”

“I love you,” she says. Maybe she believes it. I know she’s just afraid, she has someone to protect her, someone she wants close, but she doesn’t know a better way of expressing it. Maybe she really is in love, but she definitely doesn’t love me. Too young, too shallow.

Later, if it all worked out the way she wants it, and if I wanted to go with her, I would become the mistake. Someone who ruined her future. I don’t want that. I want Manuella, and I don’t want to slip up and lay a hand on her before she’s willing. Going to brothels, or something like that is an even bigger taboo. So the only one I have to sate my base instincts with until Manuella loves me is Leandra.

“I love you too,” I lie, “but sometimes love is short. It burns like a raging fire and then keeps you warm for the rest of your life. We both know there is no way your father will let a dangerous, lethal man into your home. Not after Sir Gohen happened.”

A tear escapes her and slides towards her ear. I wipe it before kissing her again.

“We can take the risk and spend the night here.”

She nods, and I climb atop of her.

***

I feel bad for seducing Lea. Just a tiny little smidgeon of guilt watered down by a lot of good. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have done it.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

It’s ironic. If things had worked out this way the first time around, I would have followed her. I don’t know what kind of future would have awaited us, and frankly, I don’t care.

As a father, I know how I eyed each male friend my girls brought home, and that was the twenty-first century. A noble lady’s father would have likely gone medieval on my ass the moment I smiled and called him father-in-law.

Hey there! I took your daughter’s virginity, then banged her six more times for good measure on our first date in the deadly forest. Let’s shake on it. I smirk, thinking how I would have suffered a stroke if that happened to me.

This is for the best. I fidget with a gold bar, one of six Leandra gave me to pay for my services, then touch my chest where her locket touched my skin. The guards were stunned when she took off her golden necklace and gave it to me.

“That was your mother’s!” the gray haired guard shouted, with an incredibly amusing look of shock.

I wonder whether he had a similar adventure with Leandra’s mother. Maybe she’s his daughter? The thought passes through my head just as I enter the jeweler’s.

I give him the golden bar, and he gives me a slightly better price than last time, when I brought obviously stolen goods.

I’m a moron. I think and stand up, feeling slightly confused.

Why did I stand up?

“I’ll ask around. I think I saw another sign down the street.”

What? When?

“No, wait. I can give you an extra silver shield.”

Great!

I shake my head. What?

“I have six gold bars to sell, you will give me seven silver shields on top of the price you just offered.”

The man bites his lip, and two minutes later, I leave his store thirteen silver coins richer than I had expected.

Do skills take over when you use them? I recall several moments during fights when my actions changed slightly against my will. Later, I understood it was to inflict greater damage.

Could be. After getting literate, I don’t have to focus on deciphering texts, I just read them, which doesn’t really make sense if I’m so new to the language.

I shop around town, buying clothes for myself and Manuella, sacks, food, soap, a sharp steel knife, and I have the blacksmith sharpen my razor. It’s getting dark by the time I enter the cobbler’s.

I look at the boots I bought last time, and just like last time, I see nothing wrong with them. There’s no sign saying ‘Inferior boots,’ or anything.

“Excuse me,” I say while the man stares at me like a hawk. “Do you have something less inferior?”

“Get out,” he says, his face crimson.

Yeah, way to go, Blunt.

I visit another cobbler, but I think his footwear is inferior compared to what I purchased the last time.

Me and my big mouth. I buy the boots, and another pair for Manuella.

Food, clothes, footwear, camping supplies, a bottle of really vile liquor to clean any wounds I may suffer…

A quarter of an hour later, I’m at ‘Bella’s’.

“I would like to book Duchess for two days,” I tell the fat hag who runs the joint.

“She’s busy.” Those two words hit me in the gut, and I almost gag. It’s not even jealousy. What I’m feeling is physical pain at her suffering.

“She’ll be free in an hour. You can wait, or come back tomorrow,” the proprietress keeps talking while I consider smashing her head, and escaping with Manuella.

They will catch us even faster if I do that. Should I kill the bastard?

My head spins, and I realize the fat fuck is staring at me.

“I’ll wait. I want you to prepare food for us for tomorrow, and something that can last us a day after that.”

Her look becomes weirder, and I scatter fifteen silver coins on her counter.

“I want some chains or leather straps, candles—”

“You can beat her, but she has to be able to work after you’re done. You have to pay for each day of work she skips.”

My throat clenches again, and my heart pounds like crazy. They treat her like an animal, or a thing.

“I just want to bind her,” I say, and she nods as if that’s normal.

The next hour is a torture. A withered old man walks down the stairs, and the owner calls me.

“You can go up. I’ll have a girl bring you the food in a minute.”

“No need. I’ll take it with me.” I go up with my sacks tied to my belt, thick leather straps coiled around my arms, and two large serving plates. The sight must be hilarious, but I feel like crying, this morning’s good mood entirely erased by guilt.

I should have come sooner. I must have lost my mind, thinking the world simply waits for me to arrive until I’m done with my things. The guilt is suffocating, and I gulp. I’m sorry.

“Good evening,” I push the door open, and enter the tacky red bedroom. She is not entering the room from a side door. She’s already inside. She’s not wearing the green nightdress, she is nude. She doesn’t have the haughty, cold look. Instead, despair tinges her eyes as she lies on the bed, freshly abused, and waiting for the night to end, so she can sleep.

I struggle to hold my tears back.

“I brought dinner.” I pass the large serving plate.

She gives me a suspicious look, but some life is back in her dead eyes. She doesn’t move a muscle, though.

“It’s not poisoned,” I say, trying to ignore her bare breasts and the sketchy teeth marks tainting them. “If you don’t trust me, split every piece in half and give me one half to eat, the other is for you.”

She nods. Slowly. Then she takes a piece of roast and eats it.

“Do you want something to drink? I will order anything for you.”

She swallows her meat. “A cup of wine with a lime.”

I go down to fetch it before she’s done talking.

She stares at me with wide eyes when I bring the poor man’s sangria.

“Why did you bring that?” she asks after I close the door.

“You asked for it.” I hand her the metal cup, but she leaves my hand hanging.

“I do not understand what you are doing?”

“I want you to eat and drink your fill, and then discuss a proposition with you. I wish you to reach a decision while we are as equal as possible, given our circumstances.”

She slowly nods.

“Eat, drink, and sleep. I will sleep on the floor tonight, you take the bed. We can talk in the morning.”

I feared a hysterical outburst, her throwing things, but she just eats, perfectly calm, perfectly indecent.

“Good night,” I say and lay on the carpeted floor, turning my back towards her.

“Good night,” she says after three seconds of silence, then eats another piece of meat, chewing on food and my words.