Liam ran both hands over his cheeks, feeling the even fuzz of beard stubble there. At the ripe old age of four and a half, Liam was a grown adult, complete with elf ears, stubble and muscles. A prodigious growth spurt made possible by daily meditations and infusing his body with life magic at every opportunity.
And now he was bored.
The body refinement process had been, for lack of better word, a hobby. One that had occupied every second of his short life, and now that it was complete he felt lost. Like a necromancer on a desert island, a baker in a blacksmithy, or a priest in a whorehouse.
Wait, there are no chastity tenants in the fulminonimbus… Magi are encouraged to sleep around, and women are incentivised via patronages to have magical children.
“Ah, this is a long trip…” Said Liam, earning an immediate groan from Owen.
“Don’t you start with that nonsense again! I don’t care how old you look, I’ll still– erm, –wallop the first clown who starts asking ‘are we there yet’!” Snapped the older paladin, stuttering halfway through his threat as he redirected it away from the warrior-prophet of his God.
Velena glanced at Liam, then to Karnak, her lips twisting into a louder smile with every passing second. All three burst out laughing, knowing ‘Grandpa Owen’ wasn’t capable of ‘walloping’ any of them.
“I’ve heard you grunting after dinner. You can hardly leave a wallop in the woods!” Cried Velena.
That got some chuckles out of the knights sitting in the back of the wagon. Their laughter got the crates of supplies shaking. A crate-cophony that left Owen open mouthed in mock surprise.
“I’ll have you know I shit just fine! It’s these road rations, hard bread really bricks things up down there. Just you wait,” He said, waggling his finger, “Once you get old and gray like me you’ll be happy to only grunt a little after meals.” Retorted Owen, his disgusting confession quickly turning laughter into gagging.
“By Taloc, the last thing I ever wanted to know about was your asshole old man!” Shouted Velena, closing her eyes and shaking her head in a full bodied cringe.
“I wonder if I could fix that…” Muttered Liam, rubbing his fingers together.
His action was –very understandably– misunderstood by the paladins.
“Oi! None of that! I like women! Young pretty women! Don’t you even start lookin at me like that!” Cried Owen, clenching his cheeks.
“Oh, no. Nononono! Not like that!” Said Liam, frowning at the misunderstanding.
“Oh no? Please sir, why don’t you elaborate on how you were going to fix the old man? He’s not a cat- urg-....” Velena tried to say.
Her joke soured, and she realized it, a half second too late.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Like swallowing a tall glass of spoiled milk. Queasy, yet you didn’t immediately vomit. Instead you choked it down, only for the fluid to curdle for a few hours before making its way up and out of your stomach. Slaves were often sterilized, they were chattel, animals, a good rancher was required to manage his herd, So gelding them was standard practice, under certain conditions.
But the slaves were free now. Old sayings became dark when you had trained alongside those gelded felinids. Or when you knew their names.
“Shit I–” Began Velena, glancing at Karnak.
“He wasn’t gelded.” Interrupted Liam. “No one gelds a werewolf.”
No one spoke after that, everyone shifting uncomfortably as the wagon traversed the crystal road. Today they were the second wagon, and the lead wagon was full of magi who hadn’t heard their shenanigans.
“Ahem, what I meant-” Said Liam, breaking the silence, “was that I have finished my own bodybuilding and am eager to test the limits of the life affinity.”
“Body, building? Did… Is that what Thorne did?” Asked Owen, his eyes narrowing.
Liam sat up, straightening his spine. He hadn’t considered reanimating corpses. But, he’d used life affinity to remodel the wagon wheel, that was dead tissue. Then there was the time he’d remodeled Sirin’s face, closing her wounds after death. Could he reanimate a corpse?
I don’t know how to create a vessel like the cores she used. Hmm, I might be able to substitute a staff, but more magic is infinitely more useful than a single knight.
Liam shelved the thought, not wanting to address it directly.
“Uhm, Owen. Look at my own body, I shaped my body to suit my needs. I’ve finished that task,” Liam pulled back his sleeve and flexed, displaying an impressive biceps. “So now I have nothing to meditate on. No project to apply my thoughts against and use as a whetstone to sharpen my intellect. Which is unacceptable. When we arrive in Greenwood I expect a nation’s worth of sterilized felinids. If I want to help them, then I will need to apply myself here and now. Just as you paladins have applied yourselves in building the road.”
“You are a lot bigger…” Said Velena, folding one arm around her waist and squeezing a bit, just enough to lift her bosom.
Oh what the hell. I’m not a plastic surgeon! Wait, they wouldn’t be fake tits if I– NO! No no no! We are not becoming the Lightning Lord of boob enhancements! Oh no… Liam glanced back at the knights, and practically red their minds.
Don’t you dare ask about dick enlargements! He thought.
“Ahem, I have no intentions of altering anyone beyond what Taloc has already given you.” Liam said quickly. “I was only thinking that maybe I could bring the color back to Owen’s hair! Small things! Nothing that would, uhm, make your armor too tight.”
“That’s a shame.” Muttered Velena, biting her lower lip to pout at the rejection.
Liam ignored her, not wanting to devolve into a back and forth of snarky quips. He kept his eyes on Owen, not letting the man escape his offer. The elder paladin kept his eyes forward, watching the road, never looking to either side. Deliberately ignoring the question. A frown spread across Liam’s face. The old fart was giving him the cold shoulder!
“It is a yes or no question Owen. If you don’t give me an answer… I’ll just take that as a yes.” Said Liam, extending a hand towards Owen.
“My lord.” Said Owen, speaking slowly, without a trace of mirth. “Gray hair comes with age, as does a failing body. I’ve married, had children, and grandchildren, and lived my life to the fullest. But only because I knew my time on this earth would end. That sense of urgency, of knowing I was a mortal man who could die in a battle at any moment, was what gave me the courage to find my wife and propose. Did you know I’ve already carved my own headstone? Thaddeus even promised me a grave within the catacombs of Khereshetal. Yet here you are, offering a new body to an old man. What would my wife think? If she were still alive to see me return home.”