Moving with great care and trying to under stress every movement, I was able to emerge from my sleeping bag with it still intact. There had been a few moments when my movements placed a notable strain upon the fabric of the seams, but thankfully they held firm.
Now free and able to move about unencumbered, I cast my eyes to where I had thrown my soiled bedding in the middle of the night. “Huh!” I was surprised to see that instead of the messy bundle of bedding lying beside me, there was a freshly laundered set of sheets and bedding. Guilt quickly smothered by appreciation coursed through me.
“My master is entirely too kind to me.” I muttered under my breath.
Shaking my head in bemused gratitude, I avoided making contact with that pile as I was in no condition to mess with the fine-tuned motor movements necessary to make up the bed. I rather not repay my gratitude by tearing the bedding. That thought made me chuckle to myself at the too real possibility of that happening.
Getting dressed was hard enough as some of the seams of my shirt and pants did tear with my unintentional rough handling of the apparel.
Finally, with myself fully dressed and relatively presentable, I made my way down the stairs with careful steps. Attempting to be as gentle as possible led me to almost having a tumble. Smacking my hand against the wooden guard rail I fumbled around before getting a grip on the pole. Surprisingly nothing broke in my near fall, but the wood of the railing creaked dangerously with my tight grip.
Being even more careful as I descended the rest of the way, I came to the bottom of the stairs only to meet the face of a slightly worried but more so very amused master.
Her eyes sparkled with delight as if happy for both my transformation and entertained by the great inconvenience it was giving me.
The quiet concern I had seen on her face for much of yesterday’s trials appeared to be swept away in a newer sense of calm and renewed mischief.
It honestly felt good to have my previously spirited master back. I was unsure if it was my unique recovery or something else that brought about this new change, but I was glad whatever the reason.
After giving me a thorough once over look, giving pause at the tears in my clothing, Victoria guided me over to the dining table.
“Based on your new development, a normal breakfast will not suffice. I already prepared a highly nutritious meal with emphasis on replenishing the used protein and other nutrients which went into strengthening your physique.”
With her explanation, a gigantic plate of cold cut meats and cheeses with bread was pulled out of her cold box. My eyes widened at her as she motioned at me to begin.
I balked at her request saying. “Are you expecting me to eat all of this?!” The spread before was enough to make three days’ worth of meals in my opinion.
“You can and you should.” She replied. “After this, we are making a special trip together to Monroe’s.” Her eyes again sparkled at saying that.
Ahhhhahaha. . . This made more sense for her upbeat appearance.
Victoria then continued explaining. “Monroe has special experience with learning one’s limits in order to regain control over your movements when you’ve experienced such an explosive growth.”
As I listened to her, I was already reaching for the bread, cheese, and meats. Today’s dishes appeared to be particularly thick and sturdy, and I was not afforded any utensils. Good thing the food was prepared in such a way as to not require them this time.
Victoria’s mention of Monroe’s special experience made me think back to our few sparring and training sessions. Recalling the methods by which he taught, I could fully believe that he was equipped to handle my particular problem.
After receiving my profuse thanks for her work in preparing today’s breakfast, Victoria went about taking care of the shop as I chowed down on the mountain of food in front of me.
I don’t know how much time had passed, but just as she foretold, I was able to consume the entirety of the food before me in that single sitting.
Not long after finishing up, and before the food had truly had time to settle in my stomach, the shop doors were locked, and my master and I were seated in a carriage on our way to Monroe’s home. Victoria apparently does not drag her feet when it comes to seeing her crush. Not that she did for things otherwise, but she had a particular alacrity for today’s event.
On the way there, I kept an eye out for various Travelers as they went about their personal quests and responsibilities. An interesting fact I learned is that this city has the closest Traveler’s stone to the local battlefront just on the edges of what used to be Canada. That means that every time a Traveler who last touched the pillar here dies at the forefront, they will resurrect at least six days later back here in the city.
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The military leaders were thrilled with this new nearly inexhaustible supply of cannon fodder in the form of reckless near immortal daredevils. However, they weren’t the ones who would then immediately deal with the pent-up energy release that the returned Travelers all too often suffered from.
Most would simply go to the nearby shack created for recruiting newly arrived Travelers and collect their earnings for their latest suicide run. Then you’d soon find them drinking away their worries, reveling in their latest run, and hitting on the cutest girl at the nearest tavern that allowed them entry.
Surprisingly the drinking age was anywhere from 14 to 16 years old depending on where you lived. In the more rural or antiquated areas, that also tended to be the age of matrimony. Too often, those living in the smaller villages experienced frequent monster raids which culled their populations to the degree that young teen marriages were necessary in order to maintain the population. That was far too young in my eyes to be placing those kinds of burdens upon the shoulders of children. However, this was a different world, where outside of a heavily protected city like this one, children were forced to grow up far too soon.
Returning to the topic of Travelers who resurrected here from the battle front, there were certain groups that would go about causing trouble for the citizens of the city. Given one day of furlough for each suicide run, they sought to make the most of it in the little time they had, before they would get carted back to the front lines. A few took that day much too far in their personal interpretations of revelry and celebration.
I had seen a few occasions where the city guard had to be called for a particularly violent or disruptive individual or group of returned Travelers. I had yet to learn what punishments or warnings might be given to those that let their actions harm innocent civilians, but I hoped that it was severe enough to fit the crime.
On one occasion, I had seen the eyes of a young woman just after the incident of when she had been assaulted by one of those Traveler’s. They were filled with a kind haunted deadness, as if she was living on auto pilot after the horribly disturbing experience. This once again made me deeply question the level of artifice that this world was made of.
Shaking my head at the sad memory, I reaffirmed my determination to become stronger to defend both myself and those who were innocent around me. This would be done regardless of how false or real they were.
To me, it was real enough.
.
.
.
My thoughts and recollections were interrupted by our arrival at the white stone home of City Councilman Monroe. As we came to a stop, Victoria alighted from the carriage and then moved to aid me down as I was still quite unsteady with my very recent strength and bodily enhancement. Being as careful as I could be to not damage the seat and carriage, I was again surprised at the concealed physical strength my master must have in order to support me as she did.
We were greeted by and admitted in by the butler even before the knocker could be rung on the door. Almost as if she had considered this her own home, Victoria nearly dragged me with her to the sparring room. The lion maned figure of Dalton followed in tow.
I came to the familiar mirrored room but was surprised by the latest addition. A table, much like you might expect to see in a massage parlor was situated near to the middle of the room. To the side of it, I watched as Monroe was organizing a raised portable workstation that had a series of thin but long pins or needles neatly aligned on it.
“Good morning Monroe.” Victoria’s voice sounded out from our place in the entryway, leading to my self-defense teacher raising his gaze to meet hers. A warm smile crossed his face as his eyes stared into her own. I certainly did not miss the tension in the air. It wasn’t a bad tension, but certainly it lacked subtlety in hiding the interest they had for each other.
Victoria was the first to break their shared gaze as she turned a little red in the face before glancing downward. Reaching into her clothing she pulled out a vial of a kind of deep purple that swished about. “I brought the paralytic solution you requested.”
My eyes widened in surprised curiosity with her declaration.
Noting my expression, Victoria gave a teasing smirk before offering an explanation. “As I said before, Monroe is very experienced with aiding in the restoration of one’s self-control after an explosive growth in strength and development.” Nodding to the needles and set-up as well as holding up the bottle filled with the purple liquid she continued. “Those needles will be administering this paralytic to your muscles, in order to temporarily suppress their strength. This is done to give you a gradual return to full strength while adapting to the effects.”
Wow! I was unsure if this was more like medieval or magical acupuncture. My medically inclined mind ran through many scenarios where this could go terribly wrong involving systemic infections, nerve damage, muscular necrosis, and other unsavory medical concerns regarding unhygienic and untrained practice.
My eyes darted about several times between the raised bed, tray of tools, Monroe’s seemingly professional appearance, Victoria’s look of utter amusement, as well as the bottle she was holding. I was having serious second thoughts at this moment. Was this really something I wanted to do, or have done to me?
Admittedly, and to be honest, out of all the individuals I’d met in this world, Victoria, Monroe, and possibly Gertrude were the ones least likely mess things up in my opinion. However, it was still a background comfort knowing that this was not being done to my real body, and that neither death nor injury was permanent here.
“Andrew.” I flinched a little as Monroe called out to me. With an indrawn sigh and depressed drooping of my shoulders, I resigned myself to this fate. Looking up at me with patient expectation, he appeared to be finished setting up the array of tools he was planning to use. Beckoning at me to approach, he ordered “Please come over here and disrobe fully.”
Say what!?! I didn’t mishear him, did I?
Casting a glance back at my apothecary master I saw her originally amused expression morph into a kind of wolfish smile that showed nearly all her teeth. She was enjoying this far too much at my expense.
“Um Monroe.” I swallowed an anxious knot in my throat. “Can . . . May I have some privacy?”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips as I heard a chuckle sound out from the female traitor behind me. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Victoria called out cheekily. “I don’t believe I brought any replacement clothing for you should you tear your current attire even more.”
My face flushed red, and I stumbled a bit with the uncontrolled muscle exertion it took simply to turn around and face my tormentor more fully. After giving her a bland look and seeing it only stimulate her mirth even further, I turned back away and pointedly ignored the peanut gallery.
Monroe patiently waited for me to turn back to him before answering my question regarding privacy. “Certainly.” He replied. Picking up a towel that had been laying on the raised bed he added. “Although it’s not much, simply cover yourself with this once you’ve gotten yourself settled, call us in and I’ll get started.”
Then, together with a still snickering Victoria, he left me alone in the empty sparring room.
Now alone, staring at the mirrored walls on either side of the room, I felt intensely awkward. Sigh. . . “I’d better get undressed.” I muttered to myself.
Stripping myself bare was a real struggle. After making several token attempts to remove my apparel standing up, which resulted in much stumbling and falling as well as additional small tears at the overly stressed cloth; I resigned myself to just lying on the ground and shimmying out of my clothing.
As I unsteadily regained my feet and stood, feeling the cold padded flooring, and seeing myself in all my nude glory in the eternity mirror effect from the side walls, I felt a distinct sense of vulnerability. I’d never performed or seen it done it before, but I heard that when women undergo a Mammogram or men have a prostate exam, that there is a severe sense of invasion of privacy. I believed that after this experience, I would have a far greater sense of empathy for those poor individuals and the unpleasantries of life they had to experience.