Clearwater temple had a few perks that put it above Crossroad temple. For one, the baths were actually deep enough to submerge Elia’s and Rye’s entire body in. Mahdi had also given her a discount on pedecud, and the local attendant wasn’t even as overtly mind-ready as the other one, though maybe a part of that was lost in hand-to-thought translation. The temple grounds were far more expansive as well, and the only dregs that milled about were soaking in the overgrown algae-ridden pools. She tended to avoid those, if for no other reason than that even the attendant had given up on cleaning them.
Close proximity to dregs was not something she would ever feel comfortable with, not after having been stuck in the maze for so long with the murderous type. The dregs in Loften were more talkative than the ones outside, but most of them still couldn’t string words and meaning together. Most of them didn’t appear to know where they were, or that they were at all. Everybody treated them as if they were set dressing, or not there entirely.
After a while, she had learned not to throw them suspicious glances. She still didn’t turn her backs to them. Who knew what could trigger these ones into a murderous frenzy.
But yes, perks. One of the pools could be heated at request. It wasn’t a bubbling hot tub, but it certainly beat tepid water or a cold spring stream. Karla, Cesare, and Mouggen were happily enjoying a good soak, while Nali was in a room further back, enjoying a good ol’ massage.
“Come on, miss Elia, drop that towel and come in,” Karla said. “The water won’t bite.”
Elia adjusted her towel and fixed her with a glare. “No. Sitting on the edge is just fine. My feet are wet, see?”
“Is the water too hot for you?” Karla clapped her hands and looked around. “Attendant! A few degrees colder, if you would.”
The only answer they got was Nali’s distant moan, giving precisely zero doubt over what kind of massage she had ordered. Elia focused intensely on a nearby mosaic, trying to decipher whether the god depicted there was wrangling sea serpents for fun or if that too was some stupid sex metaphor.
“It’s not the water that’s hot, methinks.” Elia slapped a hand over her mouth. “RYE! Dammit, it’s not that it’s…" She gesutured to Mouggen. "Why does he get to wear a mask, but I’m not allowed to go in with a towel?”
He sat utterly motionless at the opposite end of the pool, wearing nothing but his golden mustachioed mask. It didn’t distract nearly enough from his angular chin, or the rest of his body. The guy was ripped.
Because he’s got a good reason to hide his face, mayhaps. Yours is just that you’re a prude. Now, stop staring like an oaf, you have to be more subtle if you want to check him out or make a compliment.
“I wasn’t… I’m not a prude!”
“Well, you are making this more difficult than it has to be.” Mouggen said. “Afraid we’ll see all your purple, prude?”
“Prude,” Karla echoed.
Prude.
“I guess you could hop in with your towel,” Cesare said, looking innocent as day.
“Goddamn Europeans.” With a grumble, she hopped in the water. Within seconds, she bobbed back to the surface like a life jacket. She continued fixing everyone with glares as Karla tried to push her down again and again. “I’m not a prude, I’m just very [Buoyant].”
To be specific, Rye was the one with the [Buoyant] boon. It was just that apparently some boons transferred between them, and some didn't. Or it was a sign of the ongoing merging process.
“Bad boon?” Mouggen asked. “Glad I don’t have to deal with those.”
“Yeah,” Cesare said, “though water sucks for mine as well. It makes the [Floomph] dissolve like cotton.”
He pulled off his wig, then a pair of false eyebrows. Elia did a double take, as did Rye, Karla and Cesare. With his two stubby horns no longer obscured by hair he looked less like a goat-lizard man and more like a demon, the mythical kind.
Cesare didn’t seem bothered by their stares, as he happily munched on some pedecud at the side.
“Thish shtuff ishn’t sho bad,” he said looking at Mouggen. “Bit of garum, some friendly company, and we’d be set.”
Mouggen didn’t make to answer. In that moment, Karla had decided that the best way to keep her friend in the water was to push her under real hard. This worked for all but two seconds, before the boon adjusted for her additional weight and popped her up with considerable velocity, headbutting Karla with a dull clonk.
“Fluffing, god fluffing fluff, dammit Karla.” Elia coughed and spluttered, dragging herself back to the banks while the boys laughed.
You know, the Wolf was right in one thing: You do vaguely remind me of grumpy cat.
“Shaddup.” Elia grumbled. “Remind me again why we have to bathe butt-naked?”
Cesare shrugged. “Sorry. Rules say so.”
It’s a bathhouse. Watching you walk around everywhere with armor on is giving me the squiks.
Elia nodded. The attendant was going all out for them, offering massages, heating baths, preparing weird herbal ointments and rooms suspiciously close together. The least she was expected to do was follow the rules. For him it was all but agreed that they were a group. As for Elia, she’d have preferred the Rapunzel suite thirty feet above it all.
“Alright.” The muscled Mouggen clapped his hands together. “We are here for a purpose. Questions, answers, propositions–”
Cesare wiggled an eye, laughing when Elia made a rather rude gesture.
“–and overall carousing is what we’re here for. To see what we’re dealing with,–”
I can see exactly what I’m dealing with.
“Shush,“ Elia hissed under her breath. “He’ll hear you.”
He will not – ah… Elia, you’re acting awfully jealous.”
“–first of all, I propose introductions.” Mouggen continued. “I–“
“Am not! That’s you trying to project.”
Oh? Then why do I feel our face turning flush? Is that potential for R-O-M-A-N-C-E I spot?”
“No!”
“– am Mouggen. I am a warrior and a priest of the sunlight shore, practiced in all blades and polearms–”
Heh. Look at you deny it, but I can see it. You fancy him, and you haven’t even seen his face. But don’t worry, we can pretend you had your eyes on him first. I’ll even let you make the first move. You should thank me, with a body like mine you’re practically guaranteed to woo any–
“I am NOT interested!” Elia jabbed her spoon in the cud and took a spiteful bite. Everybody was staring at her and she glared back before capitulating with a huff. “Sorry, go on. It was very interesting.”
Mouggen gave her an indecipherable look. Stupid mask. Stupid Rye. Stupid knee jerk reactions.
“As I was saying, I come from across the Ferrish Sea. I am on the search for… something, something very important to me, but… but I seem to have forgotten it after, well… Undeath, you understand, is a heavy burden, and I was shunned when the mark–”
Hey, do you think he’ll keep the mask on during sex?
Elia took not snapping her spoon in half as fulfilling her daily quota of restraint.
“Excuse me for a second.” She moved out of the pool and into what used to be a public toilet. There, she found a clear basin of water to stare absolute murder into.
*Gong*
“What the heck is your problem, Rye?”
Problem?
“I don’t want to be horny, but you just can’t seem to stop yourself. It’s bleeding over and it is so infuriating that I have to feel even a tenth of it when it’s not coming from me.”
I-I didn’t have that in mind… initially. I just wanted to tease you a bit.
“No. Not about this. I am not interested in any way, shape, position, or context. Call me a virgin, a prude, or ace, but this is my line, Rye. You don’t try to force my sex life and I won’t bother you in yours.”
But–
“Disco. Rooster.”
B-but I’ll never have the chance to talk back in any way outside of this kind of context. In all things but romance you are my better. Out there you’ve always got one up on me, you’re always more experienced, more knowledgeable, always a step ahead, looking into the distance while my face is glued to the sole of my sandals. I’m a prima, I’m supposed to lead, but how can I if I can barely get pulled along by you? Do you have any idea how… how frustrated I am?
“I… no. I guess I don’t.” Elia stared into the basin. “Just cut down on it, please. The more you talk the more you remind me that I’m a person.”
They stared at their reflection for an awkward while.
Elia, I am so sorry. You were hurting and I… frick, I should have known, should have felt it. I’m sorry. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here and I’ll do my best not to judge.
“It’s… some day, I will. It’s not like I have anything I can be embarrassed about anymore. And I understand why you want to put yourself out there. You’re effin’ hot, Rye, even if the ring makes you purple.” She cupped her hands to wash her face. “I’ll try not to be so pushy, give you some time to gather experience outside. But we really should think about staying asleep while the other is fronting more often. Give each other some breathing room, you grok me?”
Mhm, I grok you. Sorry. I didn’t think you’d hate being teased that much. Did someone hurt you?
“The world did. God did! What kind of good guy gives a little girl… reincarnates someone just to make her suffer some more?” Elia sighed. “I shouldn’t say that, I can feel your discomfort. I get it, you’ve got more than one god which means statistically at least one of them is a decent person.”
I was more worried about getting smited into the ground.
“Hah, yeah, then there’s those kinds. For now, let’s get back.”
Right. I did set this up so we could learn more about everyone.
She entered the room with everybody else in it and sat down without much of a fuss. She hadn’t missed much it seemed, Mouggen was still trying to puzzle a coherent narrative from bits and pieces of memory together.
“… and that is how I learned to swim in armor. I think. Maybe.”
There were an odd few seconds of silence. Cesare gave a much-needed push. “Tell them what you’re about in this life.”
Mouggen nodded. “In this life, until I rediscover my purpose, I praise the sun unconditionally and furthermore I have devoted myself to being the protector of humble miss Nali.”
Another silence followed.
That’s all? Seriously?
“Alright, that’s one from us,” Cesare said in between bites. “Now, one of you.”
Elia nodded to Karla. She hurriedly scrambled up into a polite stance.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“I am…” she looked to Elia with a questioning gaze. Right, Elia wasn’t the only one with secrets. Then again, she didn’t know the context for Karla’s ones at all. She gave her an encouraging nod. “I am Karla, princess of the maroon pact and chosen undead, soon to be savior of Loften and the world.”
This time, the silence was less awkward, more bracing for a storm.
“You’re a princess?” Cesare asked. “From the marooned pact? The hedonists and blood cultists?”
I knew she was from a cult. I haven’t heard of a god of blood before though. Maybe Wroti, but she’s more wrath and revenge.
“I said that, didn’t I?” Karla’s bravado evaporated like a drop on hot rocks. “M-more importantly, I have been chosen to bear a great fate. The balance of the world is askew! And together, with the power of folded metal, beneficial boons, and friendship, we can–“
“Sorry, what’s the marooned pact?” Elia asked.
“They’re a group with vested interests in the ruins of our old capital.” Cesare shrugged. “Much like any heap of undead in the city. They’re somewhere out in the old, old temple districts, ones abandoned or forgotten by the gods.”
“They are a danger. They bleed people dry for their sickly spells. They don’t throw their gauntlet into the ring because they think they can watch from the sidelines and then clean up the winner. They reach for immortality in sickly ways, counter to the old path, counter to the undead path, counter to how it was intended.” Mouggen’s hand twitched. Elia had the graciousness not to interpret it as grabbing for a sword that wasn’t there. “Your kind goes against the cycle of the grail–”
“Watch it, bud.” Elia said in between mouthfuls of pedecud. “I’ll stab you.”
“Well, technically they are at war with the old faith,” Cesare said, holding his hands up placatingly. “Their taste in decorations is dreadfully macabre, but they know their music and how to party.”
“They have massacred millions of dregs for nothing!” Water splashed Mouggen stood up, towering over Karla. “And she’s their princess. We ought to bag her up and ship her back in pieces before she turns into another monster, like that aunt of hers, or her moth–.”
He stopped, looked down at Elia, who was defiantly trying to stare past his perfect pecs. He blinked at where the spoon embedded three inches deep into his solar plexus. There was an awkward moment where both of them looked surprised. Then, it all happened very fast.
Mouggen collapsed, though only on his knees. Cesare yelled something as he hauled the man out of the water. Karla just stared at it all through a lens of shock.
He wasn’t going to die, was he?
“H-he walked into it,” Elia said.
ELIA, THIS IS NOT HOW YOU MAKE FRIENDS!
“He was gonna fold Karla like a pretzel!” she cried, not quite believing in her own words. “Frick, I didn’t think he’d… he should’ve just… fuck!”
A bed of wool materialized under Mouggen’s body, melting away as it absorbed the wetness before being replaced by another layer. “Slow breaths, big guy, slow breaths. Hey, how far is it to the next bowl?”
“Ummm, It’s up the stairs, quite a bit.” Karla to her credit was quick at snapping out of it, already trying to carry the emergency cloud stretcher and man on top of it. She touched him and immediately flinched as if burned. “OW! W-what was that?”
“I think his mask is magical. Of course, he never did trust me enough to tell what exactly it did.” Cesare grimaced. “Something something, banishes the foul, something, something, sunlight.”
Karla looked moderately hurt. It only served to double her fervor to help him up.
“But he’s not gonna die, is he?” Elia asked, half sure that Rye was bleeding in hard. “Right? I, it was just a tiny spoon.”
“I won’t blame you. He’s got tenacity, but you’ve got a boon. Boon beets stats nine times out of ten,” the pink man said, prestidigitating a single ball of wyckwax from nowhere. “Though Mouggen definitely might blame you. He’s too straight-laced, too stubborn. You hit him right in the honor there, downing him with a single spooning strike. You’re a woman too.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” she asked. How could she be affronted, worried about herself when he was spasming out on the ground? The solar plexus was a bundle of nerves, Elia knew it was like stabbing someone in the kidneys.
“He is of the opinion that women shouldn’t bear arms and armor, that they shouldn’t fight. It’s cultural, I’m sure.”
“I can fight, though.”
“Oh yes, he’ll have a fun time coming to terms with that.” Cesare swore as his ball of wyckwax ran dry. “Well, this is all I can do. We probably couldn’t carry him if we all tried together. Has anybody got a healing boon or know some adulations?”
“I-I can manipulate blood,” Karla muttered. “Not very fine, though. I’d pop him like a balloon.”
He looked to Elia, who shook her head, then froze. “The bathroom has a bowl of respite.”
They pulled the large man through, Cesare and Elia roughly splashing his head in the bowl water. After a moment, Mouggen twitched, then rose back with a surprised cough. His eyes wandered across every face without lingering.
“I didn’t die.” He stated it as a fact.
“Karla helped you up,” Cesare said, pointing to the girl. Red welts like second degree burns were slowly receding as she held her arms in the water.
He turned to Elia. “And you stabbed me with… a spoon?”
“Haha, well, I’m a bit jumpy when it comes to threats.” She was silent until Rye ribbed her. “Ow – and I’m sorry for stabbing you.”
“Was that a boon?”
“Yeah, common one, two essences.”
He chuckled, dismissively. “Of course it was. Shame you couldn’t have done the same with a real sword.”
“Is that a challenge?”
“No, a bet.” He shakily stood up again. “I demand to duel with you, later.”
“Oh.” Elia blinked. This was… good? Maybe not if he was going to use the duel as an excuse to skewer her back.
“I-I’m confused, are we all friends now?” Karla asked as tears flooded her eyes. “B-because I really feel like crying.”
----------------------------------------
Everyone was sitting in a circle for the second time today, a fact they all held against each other. The pedecud was cold. A dreg shuffled by outside, mumbling about bread crumbs, and no one said a word. At least Nali had returned from her massage with a happy grin on her face.
“And where were you all this time?”
“Enjoying the services of this baths divine attendant.”
“I thought you were a monk, devoid of earthly desires.”
“Amitabha, I was overcome by curiosity.”
“Uh-huh.” Elia turned to her sniveling friend. “C’mon Karla, stop sniffling. It wasn’t your fault.”
“But if I’d just been born someone else, a not-princess of the stupid not-maroon pact, then this all wouldn’t have happe-heeend…”
Elia didn’t know what to say or do. She was already awkwardly holding her hand. Was a hug the next logical escalation? Would she feel better being pat on the back? Rubbed?
“Rye, swap,” she said and quite forcefully slammed her mental driver’s seat all the way to the back.
Rye blinked. She answered most of her questions by pulling Karla closer and enveloping her in a hug. Body contact was the key apparently. It was nice for most people and didn’t incite knee jerk reaction violence in them. Yet another thing learned for Elia.
“Shhh,” Rye shushed her as a body pillow of clouds formed next to her.
She gave a thankful smile to Cesare and a more strained one to Mouggen. Somewhat regrettably, she concluded that they still needed them. If they had to rely on only themselves and Karla, she didn’t see a quick and easy march through Loften being any more feasible than slaying a god. Thankfully, Elia talked less and less about that heretical dream. Even if she had been any easier to work with, something in the chemistry here was going to need massive ironing out.
“So,” she began, “not the best of first impressions. I’ll be the first to say that Elia overstepped her bounds–”
I apologized!
“–but not without undue provocation. Now, Karla was so nice as to tell you all the truth and nothing but the truth, regardless of consequence.”
Mouggen was still looking stony as a brick wall when she leveled her gaze at him. His gaze lowered ever so slightly. Good. She was in full-on unyielding Da’-mode and still split on whether she’d need to isolate and ostracize him, or if he could be redeemed. Trust and reputation were so hard to build up and so easy to tear down. A scandal, a rumor, friends betrayed, played against one another…
She shivered. What was she thinking? Elia’s viciousness was bleeding through, definitely.
“I understand, I understand. We’ll follow suite, isn’t that right Moug?” He slapped him hard on the back, shaking his hand in pain as if he’d slapped hot coals. “And if it turns out we can’t work together, we can always go our separate ways. The city’s big enough for the five of us, at least.”
Rye nodded for him to go on.
“Now, introductions. I am Cesare. Call me Cess for short. I’m a lover of many things, people, cuisine, but mostly arts, music, and poetry. I have a boon for manipulating sound and my [Floomph]-clouds that’ll convince anyone to hop right into bed.” He winked and smiled and somehow, his terrible japes lifted the spirit of the room a scooch. “Moug and Nali were already traveling when I joined them. We get along like a flea and a dog.”
“He hits it quite right,” Mouggen said. “His mouth knows words. I wish he knew fewer and used them even less.”
“Amitabha, they will kill each other one day,” Nali said.
Elia snorted in Rye’s mindspace.
“And you?”, she asked the monk. “What’s with you?”
“I am Nali,” she said. “I am on a search to rid myself of karma, so I may yet reenter the cycle of reincarnation.”
“Oh. Pleasant.” Karma was probably another one of those outsider words. “And how is that going for you?”
“Quite, quite poorly.” Nali sighed a wistful sigh. “I am stuck here in this dreadful realm of endless rebirth. When the Buddha said ‘pain is certain, suffering is optional’, I believe he hadn’t yet dreamt of this place.”
Rye nodded without understanding. “What’s a Buddha?"
Wait, you have monks, but you don’t have a Buddha? Is that just a translation error?
“Let me explain one of our secrets, one that might knock you out of your loincloths.” Cesare leaned back, waiting for anticipation to grow. “Nali is an outsider.”
Nobody ooh’d or aah’d. But Karla at least found enough strength to untangle herself from Rye’s embrace.
“You’re lucky this one didn’t fall in the hands of the Rhuna then. Did you happen to find her wandering the city shortly after her arrival?”
He nodded gravely. “Yes. Outsiders are rarer these days, but two or three trickle through every decade. To row back a bit, there’s a war going on over the scraps of the city. The old faithful under the Rhuna are fighting a three-way war against the 41st legion of Quintus, the knights of Avon under their leader with the same name, and whatever beasts the witches send everyone’s way.”
“Outsiders are a bit of an anomaly, as in they always without fail cause some sort of great upheaval in the structure of the city. Case in point: Two of the largest factions, the maroon pact, and the old faithful, are headed by outsiders and each are said to have power rivaling a god.”
Rye gasped. “And the gods allow them their reign of terror?”
Cesare shrugged. “Not many left after Worga declared the eternal war and marched with every last immortal soldier beyond our borders, never to be heard of again.” He made a face without much reverence. “Very few bothered to stay behind and protect the people, the mortals, and the lesser gods. Like that Hall-guy, a real upstanding knight that one. He slowed the encroaching rot of tar by at least three hundred years with his constant vigil.”
Rye felt Karla stiffen up in her arms. She herself was still reeling from the implications.
“S-so, if the gods are all gone, who rules? Who makes the laws, who enforces them? Who keeps the dark forest at bay from overgrowing civilization and – oh my god no one does!” It was a might-makes-right situation ten times worse than even the greatest depravities of the age of magi. At least then the mage lords had to show some reverence to the gods, pay some homage and sacrifice. Now? Now, everything was fair game.
All she had to assure her as she stumbled over realization after realization was a single of Cessare’s raised false eyebrows.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked.
“I… woke up just recently.” Rye reached for some cud. A full mouth was such a good excuse not to talk any more.
“I get it, I won’t pry. Moug might, but he’s learned his lesson I think.” He elbowed his companion, who managed to send him a withering glare even from behind his mask. “Anyways… Moug and I agreed to stay away from all those big fish, and we’re making sure Nali does too. She arrived recently, a week ago tops. We found her trying to talk philosophy with a fish-ogre.”
Nali bowed sadly. “He was receptive to my arguments, but I fear we could never reach a full understanding.”
“…yes, and you professed a profound lack of knowledge on anything, as well as a disinterest in ever holding souls.”
“Amitabha, I have forsaken all worldly possessions.” She bowed again, this time deeper. “Souls are currency. Shards are… more ambivalent.”
Cesare scrutinized her for a brief moment, but, finding nothing, leaned back with a sigh. “Well, there you have it. An overzealous warrior, a renowned entertainer, and a monk of some far-off land. That’s our motley crew.”
Now it was Rye’s turn to bear her secrets.
“Ummm, so, where to start… So, I’m technically two people. One’s me, Rye, and one’s Elia.” Her hand did a little autonomous wave. Then, it booped her nose and squished her cheek. “Yesh. That’s Elia. We’re… well, we arrived in Loften some months ago. We had a little run in with a bunch of bad things – undead, goop knights, Rhuna, you name it. Elia is the brawn, she knows how to stab and cut. I’m currently learning magic – conjuration, specifically. The non illegal – the, uh, cold kind. And we kind of need to find a way to separate or we’ll both die pretty soon… –ish? Yes, that’s that. Oh, and we just got our fourth greater soul and we’re gonna have a rare boon soon. A rare!”
A collective eight eyebrows had been steadily rising as she babbled on.
“You fought Rhuna and lived?”
“A rare boon? Well go on then, show it.”
“You’re DYING!?”
“W-well, it might be best if I just show you,” she said, then whispered to the side. “Elia, you did trade in all our bone shards for blue ones, right?”
Not yet. We should come out to exactly eight, if that's what you were thinking.
“Question: Since you got your fourth greater soul, did you already survive your divine tribulation?”
“Divine what now?” Rye asked.
Survived!?
That turned half the looks in the room from intrigued stares to awkward exchanged glances. The two men surged backwards, like spiders hissing away from the fire. Karla tried to pull herself away, but only managed to pull Rye with her, making increasingly high pitched noises of distress.
“What’s a heavenly tribulation?”
“Punishment? Challenge? Reward?” Cesare laughed nervously. “Who knows? Just know the gods don’t like for everyone to become de-facto immortal. Especially not undead, oh no siree. You’re just on the first step though, they can’t kill you without an equal chance at a reward. Law of sacrifice.”
“You might want to be near water when it happens,” Mouggen commented. “It will help for the cleanup, at the very least.”
“The clean-up!?” Now that they were saying it, she was feeling a pressure building in her chest.
Her heart rate skyrocketed. Every beat was a drum on her being. Elia had a bad fever once. She felt the exact same way moments before vomiting her being out.
“Oh nooooo!”