“There’s a boat,” Amice said, distracting him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his back and causing his blood to stir. But he remained still, focusing on his work. Work which was invisible to the eye, but yet took every bit of his effort.

You have ascended to the Fifth Step of the Divine Steps Realm.

+50 to all physical Stats.

+25 to Wisdom.

+15 to Charisma.

The air buzzed with a mystical power, tingling against his skin. Inside himself he felt the essence of his core shift and turn, as if spinning. A sphere, once, it was now an amalgamation of spheres fused together in a crude shape, like bubbles connected together.

“How strong have you become this time?” Amice asked. Why, love, you already know. But he humored her, nonetheless. It was always good to talk with her these days, even when the topic was as mundane as the weather.

“Strength has increased by 50. Wisdom by 25. Charisma…” by 15, he was about to say, but her lips met his own then.

She twisted around him, slithering over his body like a snake until she was facing him and sitting in his lap, her hands reaching down, enticing.

“Again?” he asked.

“Again.”

When they were done Alden was laid on his back with Amice laid atop him, the rock beneath him pressing hard against him. Her fingers slid back and forth across the skin of his collarbone, and her eyes stared into nothingness.

Seeing her blank stare always made him worry, until reason came to placate him. She sees with different eyes now. He was beginning to as well, slowly but surely. He could make out the general shape of the trees around them. Like the shadows in a dream, present but indiscernible from one another. Similar to Detection Magic, he thought, at least when his skill was low.

“The boat?” he asked, finally remembering. Not one of his, he guessed. She’d not interrupt him for that.

“A big one. Too big for our harbor. A nobleman’s. Or noblewoman’s. A woman in a dress came off it.”

Ah, he thought. That was it.

“I don’t imagine it’s a suitor,” he said.

Amice stood and walked into the river’s water, cleaned herself. Only once she was dressing did Alden think to do the same. Had he even blinked, he wondered?

“Do hurry, my lord. This appears to be an important visitor,” she said as he entered the water. Alden sighed wearily.

Alden allowed the river’s icy waters to wash away some of the scent from his body before dressing himself, all without complaint. This, despite the very desire to utter a word or two of complaint to Amice, who, despite being the one to engage him in such sensual affairs, always pulled away when it was done. The only conclusion he could make was that the act of being with each other, which brought a great many pleasant thoughts, also brought with it a great many thoughts that were not so pleasant.

Life, in all its circumstances, is the cruelest master.

But she was with him now, which was enough, though even that caused its problems. Despite the steel armor and helmet she wore near every day, Alden could only see what lay beneath it. Did he have a choice? Every moment of boredom was soon replaced by the image of her face, her flesh. There was no doubt it would have filled his dreams, too, had he still dreamed.

Together they ran to the village, Alden running as fast as his legs could carry him in a futile attempt to keep pace. Wind pushed back against them like an incorporeal wall, pulling at them with invisible hands as they raced. Brown trees and green leaves became sparse and soon were replaced by brown dirt roads and green grass.

They took the side road, less often traveled and perfect for remaining unseen, though the longer of the options. Not that it mattered, at their speed.

Stopping behind the manor, Alden gasped for air, his lungs heaving from the effort and his heart burning with intense jealousy. Contrary to his own status, Amice was the very picture of calm and composed, neither breathing hard nor flushed in the face, unbothered entirely by the run. Alden had to wonder if it even suited as a warmup for her.

By the look of her, it did not.

When his lungs no longer ached he entered the manor, disrobed, and changed into more suitable attire: a red silk shirt beneath a blue wool coat bearing his sigil on the left chest, along with blue wool pants, and shoes of thick, woven black cotton.

“Suitable,” Amice said. “Besides the shoes.”

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Fucking leather, Alden thought.

With a wave of his hands a pair of fine leather shoes appeared.

Purchase Complete

Fine Leather Shoes

+2 Agility when equipped.

Cost: 200 Impera

“Better,” Amice said.

The church entrance was bustling with a noisy crowd of gossipers that parted upon his arrival. Entering the church he was met by numerous gazes, at least half of them hostile and none more so than the brilliant green eyes that belonged to a young woman near his own age. Wearing a golden necklace and purple dress that flowed as close to the ground as possible without touching it, the woman possessed a complexion so fair as to resemble the porcelain of a doll with a face to match.

“The Baron Alden, I take it?” the woman asked.

“I am. Whom do I have the pleasure of greeting?”

Formalities. The woman’s name hovered above her head in a field of blue. Aelfwynn Stowgardyn. The name made him tense.

“I am Aelfwynn Stowgardyn, daughter to Count Edmund Stowgardyn. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”

“And I you, my lady. If it is not too presumptuous, however, may I ask as to the reason for this visit? I was under the impression that Count Stowgardyn’s ball was not yet given a date.”

Aelfwynn gave a slight nod. “That is the case, my lord. Or was, rather. That is part of the reason for my visit. The ball’s date has been set for next week, though obviously you’d not know; my father’s messenger pigeons have fallen ill and cannot fly, and so I have taken it upon myself to deliver the message. Personally.”

Alden bowed as gracefully as his size would allow. “I thank you, my lady. I must admit that it feels too much, however, for your father the Count to send his own daughter to deliver such a message. I hope the trip was at least pleasant.”

“Oh, certainly,” Aelfwynn said, a hint of glee in her tone. “I was able to see such brilliant green hills and such lively animals. Just the other day we witnessed a pack of wolves– or were they wild dogs? Ah, no matter, but you should have seen it, my lord. More than twenty of them were drinking at the lake’s edge. And a few days before that I witnessed some flying monster or another high above us. Truly a sight, that. Antlers like a deer, and so many colors! It was as if the creature was a rainbow personified.”

“But,” she said, the glee gone, “ I must correct you on one matter, my lord. My father did not send me.”

“I beg pardon, my lady?” He tensed.

“My father did not send me. I came of my own accord, and against his wishes, I might add.”

He could feel a bead of nervous sweat on his brow. “I…,” he began, the words formless in his mouth just as they were in his head.

“There is no need to worry, my lord, he knows perfectly well where I’ve gone off to. This little excursion of mine is purely for mine own interest. You see, being barred within the confines of a manor, even one as grand as mine own father’s, is like to drive a young woman mad, myself most of all. What was I to do, then, when I heard that there was to be another Lake Lord? A war hero of giant stature who appeared as war incarnate on the battlefield, with the muscles of an ox and twice the strength. And a mage, to boot! One of such immeasurable ability that even the Vigilants had taken interest in him! Why, how could I not come to see such an interesting figure?”

There was a coldness in her look, as if she was judging every detail she saw of him. The result, he was sure, was that she cared little for what she saw.

“Have I impressed?” he asked. Her callous gaze gave answer.

He wanted to strike her, to see her flung halfway across the room. He could not accept it. That she came here, to his own lands–acquired and built from the work of his own efforts and the efforts of his followers–and dared to look upon him with those disappointed eyes…

From the side Alden felt a tug and looked down to see Amice, her hand pulling slightly against his sleeve such that Aelfwynn could not see the action. Hold back, the pull implied. This is no time for making enemies. “Do you intend to stay the night, my lady? If so, my lord would be happy to provide a meal in your honor, as well as lodging for you and your men.”

The Count’s daughter sneered. “I thank you for the offer, but no. I came to see, and I’ve seen, and I came to deliver a message, which has been delivered.” Your father’s message, or a different one, Alden wondered. “Besides,” Aelfwynn continued, “I am a fickle eater, as my chef can attest. And, from what I’ve gathered, I do not believe any meal you could provide would be up to my standards.”

“Is that so,” Alden said, seething. “I apologize if that is your impression of us, my lady. Perhaps, if you were to visit us again, you would allow us to provide for you? I am certain you will not be disappointed.”

Aelfwynn gave a smirk.

“Perhaps,” was all that she said as she passed Alden by, her guards following behind and looking eager for violence.

When they were gone he heard someone fall onto one of the church’s benches. Uhtric. Pale, or as pale as his sun-tanned skin would allow, his face had aged a decade since he’d last seen the man.

“I ain’t made for this, milord,” he said, wiping sweat away with a rough movement that accentuated his words. Where Aelfwynn had grace and poise, Uhtric had the brutish mannerisms of a farmer and soldier both. That he was neither any longer had done little in the way of diminishing his habits.

“I’ve no more experience in these matters than you,” Alden said. “And it is proving… challenging.”

“Piss and shit, milord,” Uhtric said. He flushed as he realized what he said. “Apologies, milord. But it’s nonsense. Experience or not, you were made for this. Made to lead. Made to rule.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Uhtric, but I myself am not so certain. I do not have the training or the knowledge a nobleman does. Nor do I have the patience. And they’ll know, just as Aelfwynn did.”

Uhtric shrugged. “Got a week to learn, I suppose. I seen you change more than that in a week. Think you’ll do fine, milord.”

Alden smiled, then the church doors opened with a creek, their dark painted wood releasing a flood of blinding midday light. Within its white luster were a pair of shadowy figures. As they approached and his eyes adjusted to the light he saw the newly familiar faces of Aelfwynn and her man-at-arms.

“Lady Aelfwynn? Has something occurred?” Alden asked.

“No, no. I have merely forgotten something, for which I apologize. But, you see, given that the ball is next week, and since I am returning home with haste, I wondered if you might like to join me, my lord? With my father’s ship there would be no fear of lateness on your part if you were to join me. And, even if we are late, I’m certain my father would have no choice but to forgive us.”

“I thank you for the offer,” Alden said. Then, feeling the familiarly subtle pull on his sleeve, looked back to Amice, who nodded. Go, the nod meant. He wanted to refuse. Would have, if not for Amice’s peculiar look, as if she knew something of great import that he did not. “And I would love to join you, my lady. Are you able to afford some time for me to prepare?”

Aelfwynn smiled. “Of course! It is sudden after all, isn’t it? That said, please do be sure to hurry. My captain is quite the impatient man, and if we dally too long the trip will be soured by his mood.”

“Certainly, my lady.” When Aelfwynn was gone again and the church doors closed tight he turned to Amice. “Explain.”