Getting out of the bath after about a half hour of soaking, stretching, people watching and staring far away into the night sky. If there's a Council somewhere around here, it doesn't look like they make the women's bath their meeting area. Grabbing a towel from a bin by the exit and starting to dry off. Heading toward the exit, but then stopping. Unless, of course, there's a secret door or something around here.
Continuing to towel dry while walking around the perimeter of the room, studying the walls, fiddling with a few of the hooks and lights. Nothing. Getting to the other corner and checking if anything was there. Nope.
“Excuse me.” says a voice from behind me. “Did you lose something?”
Who's...? Oh, she looks different with her hair wet, almost didn't recognize her. She's my year, think she's with Wyrmsblood. And then, walking up to join her, an absolute stunner and impossible to forget. Charity. They came up to me, may as well ask about it, they could know, they could not.
“No, I didn't lose anything. This might sound like a strange question but I heard something about a Council here in the bathhouse. Do you know anything about that?”
“A Council?” says the woman. “I don't know. Do you know what she's talking about, Nancy?” Nancy. Maybe just friends, or maybe Charity ended up at Wyrmsblood. If that's the case probably Five as well.
Charity quirking her eyebrow and giving a half smile, “Never heard of it.” Can't tell if she's lying or telling the truth. Always been tough to read, definitely adds to her charm. May as well take a risk, see if she'll open up.
“I'm not trying to step out of line, step on your toes that is, but I heard it was here. Be a peach, big sister.”
At the phrase Charity's smile growing to fill her face. “Honestly, truly, I've never heard of it. Little sister. No offense but you have me at a loss, I don't remember ever meeting you. Who are you?”
“Macarthy.”
At the name, Charity letting out a musical, tittering laugh and her friend looking a bit green. “Wait, are you actually his...?” Answering her unasked question with a half smile of my own. “Oh, that's amazing, you came all the way out here. Listen, when you see him, give him a message for me. Tell him once he's done sulking, and once he's fit to be seen in public, that he should come pay me a visit. I'd love to catch up. You should come, too.”
“Wait, Macarthy?” says the woman. “Nancy, I don't think that's a good idea.”
“Sue, listen, Mac's always caused trouble, but he's extremely useful when he wants to be. He's not as bad a person as you think - his good points definitely outweigh the bad, at least - and I'm sure the House will see that.” Then, to me. “But you, since you just got out here, be careful. Mac's got a knack for getting himself out of all the trouble he causes. Make sure it doesn't come onto you.”
Causing trouble, huh? Can't even get annoyed at that, she's got me dead to rights. Really good to see her, and it's nice to see she's made at least one friend over at Wyrmsblood. She'd always had trouble with that. Might even take her up on that offer, if only to chat, but as far as this whole Council thing, probably a wild goose chase. Not promising her anything but thanking them for letting me know. Abandoning the search and grabbing another towel on the way out for my hair. Getting to the locker and putting on my clean socks and underwear. Maybe they have a brush at the desk. Getting the claim ticket and heading to the front counter.
“Here's the ticket for the clothes, do you guys have anything I can use to comb my hair, I completely forgot to bring it.”
“You can buy one here,” says one of the attendants.
Getting some coins from the locker and heading back, my spotless, pressed and still warm clothing and pack ready on the desk. They did a great job in no time at all. Handing over the copper for the comb, picking up the laundered items and walking back towards the lockers. Getting halfway down the hallway, and then making another pause. May as well ask.
“Hey, sorry to bother you again. I was told to come here, to the bathhouse, to find the Council. Do you know what that means?”
The attendant on the left instantly shifty eyed. The one on the right bringing his hand up, touching his nose with his pinkie, waiting a moment, then forcing a cough and using that hand to cover his mouth.
“No, never heard of it, don't know what you mean,” says the one on the right. “The Council doesn't exist.”
“The Council doesn't exist,” the one on the left echoing.
Both of them clamping their mouths shut after their near identical pronouncements, and staring at me with a wild, nervous energy. Clearly lying. But so obviously lying they have to want me to know. Between these ones and that gypsy woman it looks like they're the ones who are in the know, and not any of us.
“Alright, sorry to bother you.” Their tension breaking and relief flooding in, overwhelming the unmistakable undercurrent of fear they'd been struggling against.
Heading back to the locker room, getting the shirt, pants and shoes on, and then both sheathes for the knives. Combing my hair, mostly not that wet, rebraiding it and tying off the end with a bit of string. Stuffing the pack back into the locker. No reason to put the screws to them right now, it'd be difficult to do so, at this point, anyway. Probably impossible, right now. Going take some time and poke around the lockers, and then out in the hallway to see if anything looks out of place.
Starting my search, looking in corners, up at the ceiling, down by the floor, smiling and nodding at a woman who came in to the locker room from the baths, and who'd been looking at me with a little concern. Probably the knives. Making a full, slow loop. Nothing. Leaving the locker room and looking around the hallway. Checking under the benches in the alcove, poking at the wall sconces and tapping on the tiles. Nothing.
Where else to even... there, off to the other side, the men's locker room. Terrible idea. Where else, though? Maybe claim idiocy if found. That's be a believable claim, would need to be totally unobservant to miss the symbols denoting each locker room. Only a couple points in sneaking, just have to be extra careful.
Poking my head in. Looks empty, sounds empty. No one in sight, no shuffling of feet, no banging of lockers. Similar layout to the women's: a rectangular room, the perimeter with lockers facing in and then a row two deep facing each way in the center.
Checking in corners by the entrance and then along the walls. Moving further in, studying the tiles, poking here and there, studying the lockers and looking for any subtle differences. About halfway in. There, this locker here, it's larger than the others by a couple inches. Definitely looks out of place.
Pulling a knife out and trying to pry at the side. Not really working, maybe down here. There we go. The bottom part bending open a little. Peering in, but only boots sitting at the bottom. Maybe it's just a regular locker, after all. Wait, what's that noise?
Holding my breath. Is there someone in here? Glancing left and right. Don't think so. Wait, from the entrance, voices. And they're getting louder. At least a couple sets of booted footsteps coming from the front, and at least one of them is definitely wearing chain armor. Back up a bit, if they stay on that side, head forward and get out, otherwise go this way and loop around. Their heavy footsteps entering, their babbling baritones bouncing off the walls. Okay, it sounds like they're coming to this side, go around.
Keeping my eyes toward the entrance and moving sideways around the end of the lockers. Bumping up into something solid. Turning my head to see what. His figure towering over me, a pagan god, enormous, heavily muscled, and completely nude. Karson. My eyes drifting downward. He had truly been blessed. A feeling in the pit of my stomach doing a spin before sinking down. Trying to dart by and his arm shooting out. Attempting to block it, but his hand tearing through the Runic Shield like it didn't even exist, the room filling momentarily with its crackling flash. My attempted escape completely halted, his bear paw grip firmly latched on my shoulder. He's so strong, he could snap my arm like a twig without even trying.
“Miss, please don't run,” his words coming out in a surprisingly gentle tone. “I apologize, I think I've somehow wandered into-” Karson looking toward the entrance. The sound and light from the shield had drawn attention and the other men who'd just come in had backpedaled at bit to investigate the cause. “Wait a minute,” he says, slow and deliberate, “little lady, I think you're the one who may have come into the wrong locker room.” Looking over at them again to confirm and then nodding his head. “Come with me.”
Where's he going to take me? Is he going to- No. Tightening my grip on the knife. Don't care if there's no chance, going to go down slashing. Preferable. My eyes drifting down again. Probably. Karson escorting me back to the entrance and amusement filling the faces of the group that had just come in. My face nearly catching fire.
“There's no need to be so embarrassed,” he says. “I've taken a wrong turn in here, once or twice, it can be very confusing.” That's because you're an idiot. The man bringing me to the locker room exit and my shoulder being released. “There you go, no harm done, and now you'll know where to go next time, you won't repeat this little accident.” Pausing, furrowing his brow. “But, if you did come in to peep, then maybe next time you should also be a little more careful, yes?” Pulling his hand back, too fast for me to react, and giving my ass a good smack, making me jump. “Run along.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The sting from the blow lingering, following me into the women's locker room, and my face burning even hotter. Grabbing my belongings from the locker and then all but running out of the bathhouse.
***
Several blocks away from the building and only then my temper beginning to cool, the sting from the blow had faded well before, but the humiliation endured. Gotten the better of by Karson – of all people – can't think of anything that could've been worse. Maybe losing to him in a spelling contest, or, or- Trying to clear my head, trying to think more rationally. Walking through the streets in the direction of the dorm, but taking a more roundabout route out of old habit to reduce the likelihood of being ambushed, and arriving without incident.
It hadn't been a waste of time listening to that gypsy woman. Clean clothes and pack, and this Council, whatever it is, really does exist. But what to do about it? Not much now, unfortunately, file it away under things to be done later. As for the next four days, currently way further ahead than planned with experience because of those rats, essentially done. Had really gotten into it; it had been exciting to start mastering the shield, crushing them in place for a quick kill. Then again, Karson showed trying that on anything larger isn't doable, but he may not be the best barometer. Who did end up winning the tournament, anyway?
The entry to the dorm empty and the dining area as well. Missed dinner by several hours. Had been hungry earlier, but not so much now, but should force myself to eat. Looks like a third night of food from the kitchen, and much better to take advantage while it's still here. Going to hit level 5 tomorrow evening, late. Going to have to figure out a place to sleep, probably the Rat Cellar. From what Matheson's master had said they'll all recognize me. Should check up on things over there, shoot the shit, play some dice, and get a feel for what's going on. The food's pretty good and the drinks could definitely be worse. Wait, Matheson's master? He's my master, now. That's a weird concept to wrap my head around. Well, compared to everything else, maybe not so weird at all.
My belly full and heading toward bed after hitting the bathroom and undoing my braid. Two girls coming toward me, oh, it's those girls from this morning. What were their names? Blondie and freckles. Ellen and, um, something. Cathy? Something like that.
“Lucy!” says the blonde one. The two coming over with huge smiles, the blonde one grabbing one of my hands, and the brunette the other.
“Thank you so much,” says the blonde.
“Seriously,” says the brunette, “we made more money delivering packages today than we did the entire last week.”
“And look at this.” The blonde dropping my hand and doing a little spin. “New clothes that actually fit. Oh, and Kate found this great place today for lunch, you have to try it. You should come with us tomorrow.”
Ah Kate, that's right. And Evie. And wearing completely impractical clothing. Kate, shorts and a T-shirt. Evie, a thin dress just above the knee. They still think they're on vacation.
“That's great, how much did you pull in?”
“Eighty,” from Kate. “Sixty five,” from Evie.
They definitely applied themselves - that must have taken some time - and even after all that running around they seem peppy enough now. Okay, it's settled, rats are off tomorrow, instead these two need to sink or swim. They'll initially be useless for fighting, but they'll be a nice set of pack mules to help haul everything back. It'll be a good chance to see what they're made of. If they have potential get them up to level 5 by the end of this so they get kicked out of the dorm and are left with no choice but to succeed.
“That's really great.” Putting a huge smile on my own face. “That must have taken you awhile. How about instead of me going with you to lunch, you two come with me tomorrow morning. I'll make you more money than that, and in half the time it probably took you, and then we'll all grab lunch.”
“I don't know,” says Evie, getting a little wary, “I don't think we'll be much help.”
“Nah, you'll be great, and you'll be doing me a huge favor. Please?”
The two looking at each other. “Yeah, okay,” says Kate, after considering. “But where are we going?”
“Not too far outside the gates. I promise it'll be worth it.”
“Well, I guess,” Evie conceding.
“Great, lets try and get out of here by quarter after seven, I want to be outside the gates before eight but we need to make a stop first.”
***
In bed, comfortable, about to nod off, and then the tick hitting. Putting me wide awake. Level 3, Rune of Accuracy unlocked. Looks like a triangle, with a capital T or capital J, not quite either, bisecting the middle and then coming out the bottom. Probably has to go on the weapon itself. Getting my dagger and the charcoal. Trying to draw the rune on the metal, but not working well. Could painstakingly do it, but there should be something better around here. A small paintbrush and some paint, or ink, would be ideal for this, maybe pick up something like that tomorrow. Skills, increase what's there. Then, oh, some physical stats went up this level. Doubled my strength bonus. Still not even remotely strong
Name: Lucilia Macarthy Profession: Runemage Level: 3 Sex: Female Experience: 6,311 (14,989) Age: 20 Until Next: 2,289 Health 35 Mana 30 Stamina 20 Spirit 8 Strength (STR) 54 (2) Constitution (CON) 61 (5) Dexterity (DEX) 66 (13) Agility (AGI) 85 (17) Discipline (DIS) 74 (12) Aura (AUR) 77 (13) Logic (LOG) 68 (14) Intuition (INT) 71 (15) Wisdom (WIS) 41 (-5) Influence (INF) 74 (12)
Getting out of bed and walking to the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the floor. Maybe oil or grease to turn into that pattern? Flour. May as well try and see if it works. Putting it on the blade and shaping it with my fingers. Looks decent. Okay, going to try this. Steady breathing, focus, mana starting to trickle. Nothing. Maybe touch the dagger itself? Do it again. Feels like it's closer, but not quite. Different approach. Get the piece of charcoal, draw the rune on my skin, but hold the dagger. Focus. No, the mana didn't even try and move that time. The rune needs to be on the weapon. Using the flour to redraw the rune on the dagger. Physically touching the rune. A trickle of mana, and then, a surge of elation, the rune filling.
Taking a few practice slices with the dagger. Tossing it into the air and catching it. Feels maybe a touch lighter, easier to swing, probably sharper, too. Testing the edge with my thumb. Most definitely sharper. Need to physically be in contact with the rune to activate it. If that's the case Disjunction seems like it'd be fairly limited as an attack spell. Think my dreams of killing foes at range with the snap of my fingers and some witty banter just got thrown out the window. Stuck with useful, boring, enhancement magic. C'est la vie.
Getting a drink of water and then heading back to bed. Tossing and turning for a bit, but stuck now with too much restless energy. The progression at these levels is so noticeable, but then diminishing returns slowly set in and by 20 ranks every gain becomes purely incremental. It had been fun crushing all those rats simply because of using Runic Shield, but tomorrow definitely calls for more of a challenge. This experience has been interesting in all sorts of ways.
There had been my adventure in the bathhouse, in the women's bath. Could have snuck in there before, at some point, but never really thought to even bother. Simply entering, and effortlessly blending in, was an opportunity that simply hadn't been possible before all this. My hand starting to move downward, tracing the outline of my panty covered cleft and a heat starting to grow. Following the outline, up and down, and then in the middle, the heat getting more pronounced and a damp spot appearing on the fabric.
Unbidden, remembering what had happened afterwards, after the bath. The heavy booted footsteps and men's boisterous talk sending my heart racing and my senses screaming. Need to escape. Trying to get away unseen but instead being completely overpowered in the men's locker by that hulking brute. Continuing to slide my fingers up and down the fabric. Remembering the conflicting emotions, surprise and panic, and the thrill. This time, in my fantasy, he didn't escort me out, he held me in place and pressed me against the lockers. Trying to slash with my knife, trying to do something, but effortlessly disarmed. Both my wrists held over my head in one of his huge hands and the other pawing at my chest.
My other hand coming up, starting to caress my breast through the tanktop, the touch sending a little jolt of pleasure through the now pointed and sensitive nipple. A soft, quiet gasp escaping my lips. Rubbing each breast and nipple in turn, sending more sparks, and continuing to massage down below.
In the fantasy, he put his hand flat against my belly, his rough, calloused fingers creeping down until they'd reached their destination. My hand following in mimicry, moving under my panties, through the light thatch, and then my fingers directly touching my slick and willing slit. Each breath a little gasp, getting louder, and something starting to build inside me. My thighs instinctively squeezing together, trying to increase the pressure. Building a bit more with each motion. More and more. Then, a few bunks over, someone making a noise and rolling over.
Instantaneously self conscious, the noise bringing me back to the present. Withdrawing my coated fingers, and stopping all my movement. Feeling my heart beat start to slow from its frenetic pace. Listening for a couple minutes more, losing my desire and entire train of thought entirely. Feeling like, maybe, needing to pee. Getting up and going to the bathroom, washing my face at the sink after using the toilet. Blinking several times at the stranger in the mirror, less strange today than yesterday. Exiting and noting, once again, which hand had opened the bathroom door. Returning to bed, and then asleep.