A New People
“And it will just be the four of you, milady?”
Ismeld nodded. “Indeed.”
The moon elf with teal hair and lavender skin scrutinized the four of them, and Sloane schooled her face to not react when the woman seemed to be assessing them. Then, as if coming to a conclusion she nodded.
“We are delighted by your patronage, Lady d’Argin,” the woman said politely. “It will be fifteen small silver each for our more… restricted baths.”
Sloane watched as Maud winced, but Ismeld took it in stride and easily proffered the requested amount.
Their teal-haired escort glided through the ornate corridors of the bathhouse with an easy grace, leading the group through the maze-like interior. Sloane and the others followed her, passing a plethora of different areas. The first one was an expansive bath area that surprisingly housed both men and women, socializing and enjoying the warm waters together.
Sloane, intrigued by the sight, couldn't help but lean in towards Gisele, whispering, “They have baths where men and women are together?”
The knight nodded, explaining, “That area is intended for the general public. The rest are separate.”
“Gotcha,” Sloane murmured, continuing to take in the unique atmosphere of the place. “And everyone is naked in the baths, right? That's what I see?”
At that, Ismeld turned her head with a quizzical raise of her eyebrow. “Of course. Is it not the same where you are from?”
Sloane shrugged nonchalantly. “In some places, maybe? Saunas and hot springs are popular, but public bathhouses aren't really mainstream anymore. Mostly they're seen as a recreational luxury, I think. I've never been to one, though. The closest I've come is using the communal showers back in college. I just didn't want to assume and cause a scene.”
Gisele let out a soft, amused huff at her candidness. “You'll be fine, Sloane.”
With a roll of her eyes, Sloane continued to follow their escort. They were led to a pair of adjoining changing rooms. Sloane and Ismeld were shown into one clearly meant for higher status patrons.
As Sloane was in the middle of undressing, Ismeld called out that she would be with the others. Sloane acknowledged the blonde without looking and continued taking off her dress and everything else.
Shrugging to herself, Sloane neatly folded her clothes and placed them in a small cubby built into the wall, alongside the provided linen towel. She examined it, frowning slightly at the rough texture. It wasn't as plush or soft as what she was accustomed to.
I wonder how absorbent this is…
Clad solely in her own skin and a pair of functional sandals, Sloane emerged from the changing room and stepped into the sprawling bath chamber reserved for the use of noblewomen. The cool air danced across her bare skin and sent a shiver coursing down her spine. The tantalizing promise of warm waters beckoned invitingly, casting an ethereal glow across the room.
The bathhouse had a tranquil elegance, with its gleaming marble and intricate mosaics. Yet, as Sloane moved further into the space, she became aware of a shift in the atmosphere. A pair of women lounging at one side of the pool paused their conversation to cast appraising looks her way. The unabashed scrutiny was something Sloane hadn't expected, and it unsettled her somewhat.
Then she realized.
They have towels on? Was I supposed to wear mine?
She glanced around seeing a few women sitting along the wall with towels around their waist, but topless. However, everyone had the towels wrapped around their torso as they walked around.
Shit.
Shit. Shit.
A strong sense of embarrassment filled her, but she did her best to push it down. In for a penny, in for a pound. Own it, Sloane.
Before she could fully dismiss the feeling, she noticed the moon elf attendant from before watching her. The teal-haired woman's eyes had widened slightly, and she was looking at Sloane with an intensity that could only be described as scrutiny.
There was a hint of surprise in the elf's gaze, and perhaps even a touch of admiration.
Damn straight, I know I look good, but holy shit… Maybe not stare so openly.
The combined effect of the attention, though not overtly hostile, was disconcerting, and despite her best efforts to the contrary, she could feel a strange self-consciousness beginning to creep up on her. It was as if her skin was suddenly under a spotlight, each and every imperfection highlighted.
She shook her head subtly, trying to clear the sudden flurry of unease.
This wasn't like her; she was confident in her body, and she knew how to handle attention.
This was a different world, with different rules, and even now, she was still adjusting.
Casting a look of mild defiance at the two women, she maintained her stride and walked toward the inviting warmth of the bath waters. The contrast between the cool air and the steamy waters seemed to intensify the anticipation, making the bath seem all the more inviting.
It was clear to her that while the physical journey into this bathhouse had been straightforward, the cultural journey was something she was still navigating.
Gisele, Ismeld, and Maud had been engaged in a quiet conversation at the edge of the bath. At the sight of Sloane’s confident entrance, they turned around in unison. Gisele and Ismeld’s eyes widened in surprise, their cheeks slowly tinting a shade of pink, while Maud promptly burst into a fit of laughter.
Feeling a blush creep up her own cheeks, Sloane watched as Gisele groaned and rounded on Ismeld. “Why didn't you explain it to her, Issy?”
“I thought she knew!” Ismeld defended herself, her face matching the bright red of her hair.
Gisele rolled her eyes, pressing her palm to her face in exasperation.
Meanwhile, Ismeld hurriedly tried to explain to Sloane, her words tripping over each other. “It is customary to wear the towel around you while you are walking around and take it off before entering the baths or sitting down if that is what you desire, or leaving it on your waist if not.”
Feeling the blush intensify, Sloane took a deep breath, looking down at her naked form.
Then, with a surge of determination, she plastered a smile on her face and spread her arms wide. “I'm proud of what I've got. You've all got the same parts, and now you've all gotten an eyeful, let's do this.”
A raucous cackle echoed behind her.
Turning around, Sloane saw an elderly raithe woman strolling towards her. “You tell them! When you have a body like that, you flaunt it!”
The woman's infectious laughter swept over Sloane, who couldn't help but join in. She gave the woman an awkward but grateful nod.
“You’re one of those terrans I keep hearing about. Nice to see that your people also have those of more refined lineages. Keep at it my dear,” the old raithe commented.
As the woman passed by, she landed a swift smack on Sloane's rear, eliciting a surprised shriek from her followed by her hands covering her ass.
At that, Ismeld's face turned an even darker shade of red, if that was even possible, while Gisele burst into a fit of laughter.
Now with an overwhelming urge to be anywhere but on display, Sloane quickly strode toward the bath. Maud was beside herself, tears of laughter streaming down her face as she metaphorically died.
The bathhouse, which had been filled with quiet whispers and the gentle hum of relaxed conversation, was suddenly infused with an infectious energy.
Even the women who had been openly appraising her were now giggling, their attention deflected by the bold raithe woman.
Sloane's unexpected grand entrance may have been a deviation from the established norms, but it certainly broke the ice as Gisele and Maud teased her as they joined her. Even Ismeld’s stoic persona finally cracked as she chuckled softly.
It transformed Sloane’s first bathhouse experience from an awkward spectacle into a moment of friendship.
With a satisfied sigh, she sunk into the warm water, allowing the heat to seep into her muscles and wash away the embarrassment, leaving only the light-hearted amusement of the moment behind.
In the calming warmth of the bath, the four women let their bodies relax. It was Maud who broke the silence first, turning to Sloane with a curious expression. “How did you maintain your hair back on Earth?”
Sloane's eyes widened.
She launched into an explanation of the myriad products she had to use–everything from shampoos and conditioners to mousses and various treatments. She elaborated on the routines and procedures, the countless bottles crowding her bathroom, the time and patience needed to keep her curly locks looking fabulous and the struggle she had helping Gwyn get used to doing the same.
Maud listened, her eyes round with amazement. In turn, she started discussing what she used, mentioning a particular type of oil from the islands back home in Blightwych.
When Sloane heard the description, her eyes lit up. “Coconuts! Coconut oil is so good for your hair, I need to get some.”
Maud informed her that the oil was quite expensive this far from the islands, but the benefits made the cost worthwhile.
Sloane readily agreed.
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Gisele and Ismeld watched their exchange with amusement twinkling in their eyes. Sloane rolled hers, playfully retorting, “You wouldn't understand. It's hard work keeping these curls looking on fleek.”
At this, Gisele snorted. “I have no idea what ‘on fleek’ means, but I've seen your hair since you arrived. I do not envy it. The slightest hint of rain and your hair turns into a frizzy mess.”
Sloane gasped, feigning offense. “You take that back!”
In response, Gisele playfully splashed her, the warm water making Sloane hiss slightly.
Once they settled back into the soothing embrace of the bath, Sloane closed her eyes, choosing to simply enjoy the moment.
Upon opening them again, she noticed Ismeld watching Gisele with a certain... intensity. Sloane smiled softly, but when Ismeld caught her glance, the blonde’s cheeks blossomed into a fiery blush, and she quickly averted her gaze.
Keeping her thoughts to herself, Sloane once again closed her eyes, letting the tranquil ambiance of the bathhouse wash over her.
Eventually, they all rose from the bath, each woman feeling rejuvenated. They dressed and bid their farewells to the moon elf woman, stepping out into the afternoon sunlight as a relaxed, happy group.
As they began their walk back, Ismeld dropped back to walk beside Sloane. “Not. A. Word,” she warned with a hiss.
With a teasing grin, Sloane replied, “Your secret's safe with me, my friend.”
Ismeld paused for a moment, meeting Sloane's gaze. After a moment, she nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”
“Have you–”
“No. Not a word to me either,” she snapped.
Oh. It’s like that.
Accepting the boundary, Sloane agreed. “Alright, Ismeld. Just know, that path is one filled with loneliness.”
Ismeld sighed. “I’ve made it this far.”
With a final nod, the high elf woman moved forward to join Gisele, engaging her in light conversation.
Watching them, Sloane felt a sad smile curve on her face.
You poor woman.
Maud turned and waved Sloane forward, holding her arm out to hook hers into Sloane’s. The shorter redhead looked up at her. “I’m glad we did this.”
Sloane looked between them and realized that she was as well. Relaxing, bonding, sharing laughs… It had been a good day. A good respite from all of life’s struggles, and she knew those would keep her up in her nightmares later that night. But for now… she felt… just a bit more… hopeful.
She smiled down at the woman holding her arm. “Me too.”
✦ ✦ ✦
After their rejuvenating visit to the bathhouse, Sloane and her companions returned to the inn, their bodies relaxed and their spirits lifted. Located in the heart of the bustling city, the inn was the perfect place to serve as their base for the time they’d be in Thirdghyll and give them an opportunity to search the city while maintaining her… status.
As they walked into the inn's lobby, their laughter echoed off the timber walls, a welcome respite from the worries that had been plaguing them.
But as Sloane looked up, she noticed two familiar figures waiting for them–Ernald and Deryk.
Her brow furrowed as she took in their stern and tense expressions that were decidedly out of place in the inn's warm, inviting atmosphere.
Her step slowed as she approached them. “What's wrong?” she asked, her voice taking on a hint of concern.
Deryk exchanged a glance with Ernald, whose frown deepened. “Nothing yet, but we're still looking. As of now, there have been some concerning rumors we've learned regarding terrans in the city, but none thus far have matched with Gwyneth's description.”
Sloane felt a tight knot forming in her stomach.
She glanced around the bustling inn, her eyes scanning over the patrons, none of whom seemed to be paying them any mind. In a low voice, she asked, “And the people you were searching for?”
Deryk shook his head. “Nothing yet, but we're still trying to… contact them. The two of us will continue. We'll be here for several weeks yet.”
Sloane's eyes flicked to the stern expression on Ernald's face, but she found herself comforted by Deryk's reassuring words. She gave him a small nod, the knot in her stomach slowly beginning to unravel.
It’s still early. It would have been nice to have a lead, but we haven’t been here long. That was too much to hope for I guess.
Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned to see Gisele, whose reassuring smile brought her some comfort. “He's right. We have time, and they've just started,” the woman said gently. “Come on, let's go change, and then we can relax. Tomorrow is a new day.”
Ismeld stepped to her other side and nodded. “We will look around the market and get some lunch at a restaurant tomorrow. You’re a traveling baroness. It will not be out of place for you to want to explore the central district, and even ask around for other terrans. We can use that to get a feel for how things are around here while Deryk and Ernald work. You have other things you need to accomplish, too. Let them do what they’re good at.”
Sloane managed a small smile, feeling the stress of the situation slowly ebbing away.
“Got it.” She turned back to Ernald. “Thanks, you two. Will you be here for dinner?”
Ernald and Deryk shared a look before the two men nodded.
With her friends around her and the promise of a fresh start the next day, she felt the energy return to her step. They moved toward their rooms, leaving the men to their work. Even as concerns clouded their return to the inn, Sloane found a silver lining in how committed they were in helping her, and to ease her mind.
Tomorrow is a new day.
✦ ✦ ✦
Count Sylvain Kayser turned around as a knock resounded on the door of the chamber. He looked at one of the guards and nodded. The raithe hurried to see who would interrupt them. With a scrapping and creaking sound, he opened the heavy iron door to show one of the three leaders of the city guard, Captain Lars who entered promptly.
The Count of Thirdghyll prided himself on his strategic utilization of resources, especially those who pledged loyalty to him. Captain Lars, in his view, was a crucial asset to be deployed effectively.
Above all, Lars's unwavering loyalty was a virtue Sylvain cherished.
In stark contrast to Sylvain's unblemished lineage and exquisite features, Lars bore the rough-hewn countenance of a warrior. However, Sylvain, never one to tolerate incompetence, recognized Lars’s value. While the Loreni's dark purple skin was marred by scars and toned by muscle, a fitting testament to his occupation, it was his carefully cultivated intelligence that enabled him to address complex situations without guidance.
A valuable trait indeed.
Sylvain had nurtured this trait diligently throughout the man’s life. He had been the patron that facilitated the young man's induction into the City Guard, and his subsequent rise to the position of captain.
This made him an irreplaceable asset to the shrewd Count.
The Captain walked forward and bowed deeply with the appropriate amount of respect to his benefactor. Sylvain nodded his head, allowing the man to straighten. “My Lord, I have received word that another one of those… terrans has arrived in the city. A woman.”
A smile formed on Count Kayser’s lips. “Intriguing. Do tell more.”
“She is currently staying in an inn in the central district and is escorted by six knights from an Order based within Blightwych,” Lars reported.
“The terran travels with an escort?”
Sylvain took no notice of the commotion stirring in the room behind him, keeping his gaze fixed on Lars.
“Yes, My Lord. That is what they reported at the gate. Also, she later provided Patents of Nobility to Captain Jorin, establishing her as a baroness. A House Reinhart.”
The notion of a terran baroness so swiftly after their arrival in the kingdom was intriguing, if somewhat puzzling. Sylvain thoughtfully drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. “How did this information come to you?"
“Captain Jorin verified the authenticity, My Lord. You could contest them, of course, but they are not from Westaren. Evidently, one of the knights has the authority from the Crown of Blightwych to acknowledge nobility and establish a patent for a House that would be recognized within that nation,” the Captain explained.
A Blightwych baroness would be troublesome. However, not insurmountable.
“From guards who were called to an incident near the inn. As it happens, the thoroughness of Captain Jorin's investigations yielded this gem.”
“And what of this incident?”
“Apparently, it was a small mishap during their training. The terran alarmed a few townsfolk with an alchemical trick, nothing more. No damage was noted, so they let her go. I do not know more as yet. The full report hasn't come through.”
“This information could be of use. You said the terran's location is known?” Sylvain sought confirmation, undeterred by a sudden sound from an adjacent chamber.
Unfazed, Lars continued, “Yes, My Lord. There's more though. One of your retainers extended an invitation to the knights when in Vilstaf for your upcoming ball. They seemed keen on attending.”
Count Kayser contemplated this news, a cunning glint in his eyes. “Indeed, we can make use of this. It provides an opportunity for us to meet this terran baroness. I am curious about her and what she might know. There could be something advantageous in there.”
“That was my thought as well, My Lord.”
Count Kayser's appreciative nod acknowledged his subordinate's agreement. “Indeed. Stay vigilant and gather as much information as you can. This will certainly assist–”
A slam of hands on a table echoed through the chamber nestled deep within the bowels of his castle's dungeon, disrupting his instruction. Sylvain swung around in annoyance.
“My sincerest apologies, My Lord,” a voice offered meekly.
Suppressing a sigh of exasperation, Sylvain retorted, “Patience, Kynthia, is the essence of cunning. Let's proceed regardless.” He shifted his gaze back to Captain Lars. “You know what I require. Bring me the information that I need before the ball.”
Lars gave a curt nod. “Yes, My Lord. Wishing you a good day, My Lord.” With that, he swiftly exited, and the guard followed him just outside of the door, leaving Sylvain alone with his interrogator and the terran woman.
The room now quiet, Sylvain redirected his attention to the terran who was chained to the table and looking down. Sylvain's approach, while poised and calm, filled the chamber with an intimidating aura.
“We can make this easy,” Sylvain started, his tone shrewd and firm. “Cooperate, and your lot will improve. You could be moved from the dungeons to more… sensible accommodations.”
He looked down at the woman, noting how she held a similar complexion to the sun elves but with the proportions of a telv, but with those round ears that the terrans had. Their people were curious in their similarities.
Another world, or worlds rather, filled with people so similar and yet so different. What are the gods playing at by bringing them here?
The woman’s response was a blend of defiance and desperation. “I've told your people, I don't know anything about this... magic. I'm just a researcher. We came here seeking help after arriving, I don’t know anything about what is going on. And then your people threw us into prison. We did nothing wrong!”
His laugh filled the chamber, a sound that combined amusement and skepticism. “Your feigned ignorance, my dear, does not convince me. Especially considering what the other terrans have already given us.” His gaze momentarily fell on a collection of multicolored spheres resting on a nearby table.
His eyes, back on the terran, held a level of intensity that conveyed his determination. “These spheres, how are they connected to the terran's abilities? Three of your people demonstrated magic. What are you hiding?”
“I swear, I don't know!” she cried, the panic clear in her voice. “My world–”
Suddenly, she broke into a fit of violent coughing. Sylvain gestured towards Kynthia, signaling her to provide the woman with some water. The terran shot a defiant scowl at the interrogator but eventually accepted the water.
“When was the last time she had a meal?” Sylvain questioned Kynthia, whose indifferent shrug suggested it was some bells ago.
“Ensure she receives food,” he ordered calmly.
His interrogator dipped her head respectfully.
He would need to be sure she followed the letter and spirit of what he ordered. It appeared she had too much… freedom in how she interacted with the terrans. The first… incident was telling in that regard.
“Jonathan,” the terran’s voice was tremulous, shaking him from his thoughts. “What did you do to him?”
Sylvain’s response was nonchalant. “He has divulged all he could and has been relocated accordingly.”
Fear flashed across the woman’s face, to which Sylvain let out a rueful chuckle. “No, he has not been killed. We are merely utilizing his skills more productively.”
As she began to raise her voice, Sylvain silenced her abruptly. “Oh, I perceive you are more perturbed about your friend than yourself,” Sylvain conjectured, a thoughtful frown tracing his features. “A noble gesture, indeed. However, let me assure you, the man’s return hinges upon your cooperation. If you persist in this obfuscation, the hospitality you've experienced so far will seem like luxury compared to what is to come.”
At this, the woman’s breath hitched as she tried desperately to conceal her escalating fear. Seeing this, Sylvain seized the moment to drive his point home.
“Understand this,” he leaned closer, his voice icy, “I am determined to unravel the secrets of your terran magic, one way or another.”