Cheese slept deeply that night. He did not dream—such is the way with men at war. Exhausted, his mind overtaxed, the moment his head hit the bed he was tugged into slumber rather than drifting to it.
He awoke early in the morning to the nudging of a gloved hand. As his eyes adjusted to the dim, candle-lit room where he'd made his bed, he recognized the form of Nold. The small boy nodded at him and said, "Sire, you must awake. The bath is drawn, and the Baron waits for you in the war room."
"Bath?" asked Cheese, his voice tinged with incredulity. Why would he need a bath?
"The Baron insisted, sire. He said… he said your appearance was fine for a battlefield, but if you insist on calling yourself a Bladesman, he insists you be washed." Nold hesitated, avoiding Cheese’s gaze. "He laughed when he said it, sire, but he seemed very serious."
Cheese chose not to push the subject, simply raising his arms to allow the boy to remove his shirt.
Nold dutifully stripped the larger man, and as he worked, Cheese felt the cool air prickling his skin. Though the room was warm, compared to the heat under his blankets, it seemed as if he were in a snowstorm. As Nold handed him a clean shirt, Cheese rose and stripped off his pants. They came away with a wet, sucking sound, and he winced as he looked at his leg. The bone was slightly exposed, and the movement had removed a layer of skin, but staring at the wound, he felt a faint hope. Given time, he might recover.
But Cheese knew time was not in abundance. He grabbed a hooded cloak and the pair of pants Nold offered, hobbling after the boy, his nudity forgotten.
By the gods, the stone was cold underfoot. Most of the keep was made of hard stone, and these warriors' quarters lacked the wooden flooring common in Timberbrook to insulate against the chill. Cheese supposed this construction style—strong, magic-wrought stone—would persist now that the old restrictions on mages had been lifted. He wondered idly what that would mean for woodcutters like him.
No, he decided. Nothing could replace a man with an axe and a saw, strong arms, and the will to create.
The hallways were busier than he expected for the early morning. Hobbling along after Nold, Cheese felt a moment of embarrassment, his awkward gait and bare legs exposed to all. The feeling only deepened when he passed two young maids he didn’t recognize. They turned toward him, giggling, before covering their faces and bowing.
"Bladesman," they said in unison.
Cheese chose not to respond. It had nothing to do with his reddening face or how quickly he hobbled away. And the squeak he let out while rounding the corner to the bathing chamber? Absolutely unrelated to the roaring giggles that followed him.
Standing awkwardly in the doorway, Cheese muttered, "Nold?"
The boy looked up from where he was stirring something into the steaming water. "Uh, yes, Master Bladesman?" Nold asked, his face confused.
Cheese sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he said, "Nold, please. When we’re alone, call me Cheese."
The boy hesitated, clearly grappling with something. "But my grandpa and the Baron said—"
Cheese cut him off. "Nold, we’re both from Timberbrook. Your da and I played together as kids. I know your ma—hells, I know your ma. I’m no lord, Nold. Out there, maybe, but not when it’s just us. Please."
Nold nodded quickly. "I can do that, Cheese."
"Thanks." Cheese glanced at the steaming bath and frowned. "I’ve never used one of these. I’m no perfumed noble. What do I do?"
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Nold grinned and shrugged, holding up a sponge. "I think you scrub with this. The guards gave me the perfume. I think I mixed it right. You just take soap and a sponge and wipe yourself—or, uh, I wipe you."
Cheese grimaced. "A sponge? Like Ma used to clean plates with when I was a kid?"
Nold nodded. "Yup. I guess they use them to clean their bodies. It’s weird. Whenever I wash, I just use a rag and some soap."
Cheese agreed silently but hobbled to the water. Without further complaint, he sank into it gingerly.
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It was nice. After a few moments, Cheese’s body adjusted to the heat, and the tension in his muscles began to melt away. The water, scented faintly with lavender and something sharper—mint, maybe—wrapped around him like a warm embrace. He hadn’t realized how much grime and sweat clung to his skin until now, as the soapy water worked its way into every crease and scar. He flexed his hands under the surface, watching dirt and blood slink away in cloudy wisps.
His leg, though still painful, felt lighter in the water. The heat soothed the angry throb of the exposed wound, and as he shifted his weight to find a more comfortable position, he let out a long, shuddering sigh. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time in two days, it felt like the weight of the world wasn’t trying to crush him.
The weariness slinked off his bones, slowly, reluctantly, but it was leaving. His muscles relaxed one by one, his breathing deepened, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to just be—a man in a bath, warm and clean.
But the memories crept in. They always did.
The battle with the giants. The way the air had seemed to hum with the force of their blows. The sound of wood splintering, of men screaming, the goblins and orcs, rushing like a tide of chaos and filth. He remembered Hald and Bjorn and the explosion.
He thought of his father. His proud smile when he saw Cheese with the axe with its Susine wood haft and engraved runes. The letter. The way the words had reached into his chest and pulled something loose, something raw and unfamiliar.
Before he realized it, hot tears were rolling down his cheeks, mingling with the water. At first, they came quietly, then in soft, heaving sobs. Cheese didn’t try to stop them.
A small hand rested on his, and he looked up to see Nold sitting on the edge of the tub. The boy said nothing, his own eyes glistening as tears began to fall. They sat like that for a while, hand in hand, both crying for the weight of what they’d lost and what they’d survived.
In time, Cheese’s sobs quieted, his breathing steadied. He gave Nold’s hand a squeeze, waited for the boy to gather himself, then asked, voice hoarse, "Have you bathed yet?"
Nold shook his head, wiping his face quickly.
Cheese frowned, standing slowly in the tub as the water sloshed around him. "From now on, you bathe before me. I need you to take care of yourself, Nold. Understand?"
The boy hesitated, then nodded, his gaze steady.
As Cheese stepped out of the bath, Nold was there with a cloth, helping him dry off and then dress. The shirt Nold handed him was purple—a deep, rich color that seemed out of place on Cheese’s broad, calloused frame.
"Purple?" Cheese asked, looking down at himself.
"The Baron said it’s your house color now," Nold replied, carefully fastening the shirt.
Cheese’s brow furrowed. "House color? I don’t even have a house."
Nold smiled faintly. "The Baron stayed up all night after you arrived. He’s been seeing to everything—setting the defenses, sending out scouts, reorganizing the men. He even named Elder Thompson your second in command. Both of you have been given rank in the nobility."
Cheese blinked. "Can he do that?"
Nold shrugged. "He did. Unless the king says otherwise, this is the way it is now."
Cheese stood still for a moment, absorbing the information as Nold finished fastening his clothes together, and began putting him in a solid breastplate. His life, it seemed, was changing faster than he could keep up. "How do you know how to do this" Cheese asked the boy as he slipped a set of old iron bracers onto Cheese` hands.
"My pa wanted me to join the guard here in Fairhaven. He said it would be good for me. So he... well he taught me a few things. He was a page you know, back before grandpa and great grandpa became woodsmen."
Cheese nodded as the boy spoke, finally looking down to his neat outfit. He had an old breastplate, it was not form fitted like the barons, but it was quality. A set of bracers and a set of gauntlets were in his hands, they made them feel unfamiliar, yet Cheese knew they had purpose. his feet now had simple shoes made of leather, and his shins were covered with a set of nice pants. "Nobility," he murmured, shaking his head. "What a mess."
But when he looked at Nold, still dutifully brushing lint from his sleeves, he managed a small, weary smile.
"Let’s get on with it," Cheese said, adjusting the purple shirt. "The Baron’s waiting, and there’s work to be done."