The Bathhouse was a lot larger than the one at Hemgård, with a lot more people. Saga found themselves a lot less modest by each day in this strange world and just sank into the warm water of a smaller bath located behind some screens. Sasha sank next to them and let out a content sigh.

“What did people do before warm baths..” She muttered, closing her eyes and seemingly shutting off completely. Saga took the time to just take her in. She was built more lithely than Saga, even if she had clearly defined and thicker muscle than most women Saga had met back in the old world. Her purple hair spilled out across the water, free from its usual braid. Its purple color was still mesmerizing to Saga and it took real effort on their part to not revert into some sort of awkward nerd at the sight of her.

For all the confidence they had acted with, they knew a lot of it was just hot air. They were just going with it, keeping their head up over the water as the river tossed them around like driftwood. Each time they stabilized, they were soon running across something new to drag them into more danger. Because the alternative was to stop and think. No. IT was better to lose yourself in the food, in the magic, in the strange new sights. In the duty of being sworn to a Goddess. A Goddess of Death at that. They had home now. A place with their name attached to it. All because of the kindness of others.

It was a debt that could never be paid.

Try as they might, it was hard to look past their old self. Their old demons. Their old doubts. So they had to pretend that person was gone. That they were this Berseker. This avatar of confident violence. That’s why they had cracked the rich kids' noses. Because back home, doing that would land them in court, up against a couple of grossly overpaid lawyers.

Here, they had found out that the rich kid hired someone to possibly kill them. And it hadn’t bothered them half as much as it should have. Instead, it had cemented the image of confidence, it had helped build the image of Saga, the warrior. The hotheaded but honorable warrior. Like something out of the fantasy books, they had obsessed over as a kid. But it also means they almost died several times. And they had seen that battle was anything but glorious. It was quick, dirty, and utterly terrible in its finality.

. “Fake it ‘till you make it” They muttered to themselves.

“What was that?” Saga opened one eye, glancing over at Saga, noticing her partner was staring out into nothing, looking slightly bothered by something. Saga for their part glanced down at the mostly submerged axedancer with a warm, if guilty smile.

“Nothing.” Saga said. “It was just my brain, catching up with me.”

Sasha pushed herself out of the water while pulling Saga down deeper into the pool. Saga blinked, about to protest before they were unceremoniously dunked under the water. As they came up for air, they stopped dead. Saga sat at the edge, fully resplendent in all her glory. Saga unabashedly took her in, drinking every detail.

“Isn’t this a semi-public bath?”

“So we have to be quick.”

“I thought…”

“Thinking is overrated.” Sasha mused. She crooked her finger and it was as if Saga's entire existence was suddenly hyper-focused on that one digit. “Don’t you think?”

“Yes, Mam.” Saga grinned wolfishly, chasing their moment of doubts away with an imaginary blowtorch as they swam up to that woman who for whatever reason decided to throw her lot in with the Berseker.

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–

The two of them bowed deeply, faces red and apologetic as they were being chewed out by a very upset woman. There was some sense of modesty in this part of the world it seemed and Saga had stepped over the line as it were.

“If it had been a private bath, then you may do whatever. But there are rules. And that was not a private bath.”~The woman's voice was loud enough to draw the attention of others, which Saga figured was on purpose. They just stared at the very interesting grain in the wooden floorboards. She had a set of pipes on her, that was for sure. The 50-something, slightly grey-haired, the bronze-skinned woman was built in a way that Saga could only describe as matronly.

Her arms were thick but not defined, she filled out every inch of her clothes and was quite heavy sat. But the clothes were expertly tailored to her form and her frown and scornful eyes were that of someone who had this entire spiel memorized by now.

“Well. What do you have to say for yourselves.” Her words fought to speak over the flush of blood that pounded in Saga's ears. They could feel their ear tips burn red as they squeaked out an “I am sorry Miss.” Stealing a glance at Sasha, the woman was pale as a ghost rather than redder than a GMO tomato.

“Please don’t tell my Aunt,” Sasha said, voice choked with terror. Saga blanched at the thought of Olga finding out they made a spectacle of themselves and went from red to ghostly pale in seconds flat. Seemingly pleased at the apologies, the woman laughed softly.

“I’ll try not to disclose such things.” She mused as Saga and Sasha slowly relaxed and glanced towards the door.

“You can leave. Just pay the fee for a private bath next time, yes?” She said, rubbing her temple as she let the two chastised warriors out of her sight. Saga and Sasha only made t about a few meters down the street before they both exploded into laughter, drawing more than a few looks. Saga laughed so hard their cheeks hurt and had to stop themselves from face planting when the laughter caused them to slip a little on some of the cobblestones. This in turn reignited Sasha's laughter and the two were almost exhausted from laughing by the time they reached an Inn. Saga felt as I something inside them had dislodged, a dark, venomous thorn of dread. All that terrifying, heavy tension from almost dying and the self-doubt that rode the wave of mortal dread like a surfer crushing a big one. All of it seemed to melt away if only briefly.

–

They had chosen a place quite far from the house and even farther from the Tavern where the rats had been. It was a little ways off the main road that bisected the city. The two laughed and chatted animatedly as they made their way through a broad alley towards the door. Outside, a small sign read "The Huskarls Shield" with a shield having been fixed to the outside of the door. They knew it mattered little where they stayed since the undead vermin had been using the sewers underneath the city and could theoretically show up anywhere. But it still felt a little better being on the other side of town from where they found the corpse. As soon as they opened the door, they were met with the warm glow of a hearth and a small heating crystal opposite the open fire. A few people were having a meal by the corner of the room, a family of three from the looks of it.

The elf that tended the Inn was the first case of a more portly frost elf they had seen since arriving in this world. It was nice to see they weren’t all impossibly elegant and graceful or obscenely pretty. The elf, whose name is Ormnir, was a very humble and warm-natured host. He was a bit shrewd when it came to payment and seemingly compelled to try and sell the two warriors on his son's amazing cooking at every turn until they say down to try it. The food was all right, but the young man's grasp of herbs and spices was sporadic and experimental at best.

After eating a piece of lamb chops with some root-like vegetable that tasted similar to a potato even if the consistency was all wrong, the two retreated to their room for the night. Tomorrow, they would start on the house.

Tonight, however?

Saga barely got past the door before they began to shrug off their clothes. Their eyes glimmered with mischief as Sasha turned around and feigned surprise, hand raised to her mouth like a proper 'maiden'.

"You have a one-track mind" She chided with a giant grin on her face.

There would be very little rest that night, healers are damned.