Charis furtively looked in both directions along the trail. Dusk closing in, she can’t see far, although for that same reason there would be few travellers in any case.
She stared down at her dead travelling companion and contemplated how she would honour her promise. She couldn’t think, she didn’t know. She pulled his backpack from him. As the backpack came free, she lost her nerve and ran like the thief her actions proved her to be.
Charis ran from her dead companion, and most importantly ran from her promise to the Goddess of the Dead. She trampled the flowering plants, the same ones, which recently hid her, leaving a furrow behind her in the field even city folk could easily follow. Looking back at her clear trail, she stumbled, the roll of the land giving way and given her haste, no chance to think or act. Charis crash-landed heavily into one of many depressions amongst the rolling foothills. A convenient after dusk sanctuary away from the trail.
She rolled on her back, his backpack, her stuff flung from her, when caught by the surprise. The dark upon her, she willed for the sunlight to push through, the blinking lights above her in the night sky a reminder another day would dawn, and no more. She reached for his backpack, the closest so she didn’t have to move and retrieved some stale bread and cheese. She ate sparingly, nibbling at the food like a hunted animal.
Charis took a swig from his water canteen as well and under the cover of darkness, exhausted, she closed her eyes and gave in to sleep. Her sleep though was restless, awakened by noises in the night, or by the guilt tight around her throat from taking advantage of her recent companion’s misfortune or her failure to honour her promise to the Goddess of the Dead.
+++
On the western side of the depression, the rising eastern sun caresses her exposed flesh to wake her gently at the first light of dawn. Her breast is pain-free. Charis unwinds the binding cloth and finds the silver circle by touch; it has moved closer to her nipple and deeper into her breast. As the sun shines on her breast, she feels the silver circle move, the wriggling sensation unsettling. She binds the cloth around her chest again and packs up, relieved the silver circle has painlessly settled again.
Looking over the edge of the depression, she clearly observes the trail in both directions. She also notes her trail through the field of flowers, leading directly to her and shudders. Charis imagines Halius and his sweet face telling her, careless, so careless with a shake of his head. Fortunately, there are no travellers within view, so she has time.
Leaving her companion’s backpack behind in case someone recognises it, she heaves her sack over her shoulder and begins another day. She felt numb. Going through the motions, still trying to escape her failures of the past few days, wondering when the Lord Baron would find her and drag her back.
As she climbs out of her hidden camp in the depression, she considers the main trail again. The trail veers away to avoid a spur running from the nearby mountain range. She concludes it does this to allow wagons an easier way to travel and decides to continue across the fields towards the spur, not only would she save some time, but she would also avoid any travellers and their questions she reasons.
Charis couldn’t do much about the field of flowers, except try to take advantage of any gaps or poor growing spots. When the field ended, the uneven ground of the foothills which tumbled up into the mountains proved difficult and time-consuming to hike over. She cut across a game trail, probably from mountain goats and with great relief followed it.
The game trail eventually led further into the mountain range so she had to return to the rough ground, trying to locate the trail proper again, the one that would take her south. This takes longer than she thought, and at the end of a long hard day, uncertainty gnaws at her hope. As Charis prepares a modest camp for another night, she catches the flickering of several distant lights. She notes the direction of the lights by drawing a rough line in the dirt, so she knows the right direction to travel in the morning. Cheese and bread again and then sleep. Her nightmares return.
+++
Following the direction marker of the previous night, she eventually came across a road of dirt. This then led her to a village, easily larger than her own at the foot of the Keep. She knows, as a male, she is very young to be travelling by herself, yet travel weary she doesn’t have a choice and needs to rest a night or possibly two in a comfortable bed. She enters the modest Plough and Willow Inn before midday and thankfully is the only guest in the common room.
The Innkeeper is friendly enough; casting a welcoming smile as she approaches. Probably well practiced she thought although she hoped it was sincere. How does one really know upon first seeing someone? Halius certainly duped and murdered. Her happy companion was confident the stranger wouldn’t hurt him, and he still paid for the meeting with his life. Easy death seemed to follow her to claim any companion travelling with her.
Speaking to the Inn Keeper, Charis doesn’t need to pretend; she freely admits to becoming lost trying a short cut to the main trail. With a kindly manner, he explains the main trail sharply curves away from the mountain range and this village is still way north, so she still has some leagues south to travel to find it. He welcomes her to the village of Bearwatch and explains the road she followed into the village has a dead-end and only existed to enable the cartage of farmer’s produce to market and no more. She thanked the Innkeeper for his kindness and left for her room and rest.
+++
The next day started with a bath and breakfast. The bathhouse is a one-person affair, small and private, just what she needed. It costs four coppers for cold water and twelve coppers for hot water. She takes cold water. Breakfast consists of two fried eggs on a bread trencher, with an aging apple and mug of apple cider for the princely sum of sixteen coppers.
Charis allowed herself to be happy, the food grand and the apple meant much more to her now. Halius and her would bump shoulders while taking bites from their apples as they took a break from hunting. The red fruit was a staple for Halius and her during their hunting and camping trips, when neither had a care in the world and when two companions could simply enjoy each other’s company. She suffered a pang of sadness with each bite she took although some healing occurred, as she remembered some of the happier times as well.
Her happy memories were abruptly interrupted when a girl of some sort pulled out the chair opposite hers, smiled at her and without invitation sat. Her clothes a plain cut, yet extremely colourful, reds, oranges, and yellows. Her face painted! Charis never saw a face painted before, including the Lady Baroness, who if anyone, could afford the excess. Was this girl richer than a Baroness?
“When you need to pretend to be a boy, you need to be sure the bathhouse doesn’t have any peek a boo hole,” she said, her voice light with mischief.
She started talking before Charis could recover enough to ask her to leave. Desperate now, all she could think and will were simple phases like, please be friendly, please be a friend even, her journey complicated enough. The moment after, Charis realised her travelling companions die when with her. What did this girl say just then?
“You would do better to be a girl and change the colour of your hair. The colour is unusual. I don’t think I have seen the like in the city so it must be rare. I assume your hair was long once. If you never used colours before then we can add some colour to your lips and perhaps your eyes. Not enough to have every man appreciating you, just enough when they do, they don’t realise it is the old you.”
Charis speechless, what did this mean, a veiled threat of some kind, what would this girl want for her silence? Her voice light, her tone, friendly? Listen, be calm she convinced herself, think!
“Why would you want to give advice to a stranger or help a stranger for that matter?” Charis couldn’t think of more to ask and to ask anything it needed to be quick and to the point to get a question in.
“I am from the city and travelled away from it now for two months with an entertainment troupe. The troupe was supposed to make gold out here. The further we travelled the fewer and fewer coins we collected. So now we have broken up to make our own way back. Seeing you pay for a bath and breakfast, I thought you may be able to spare some coins for a streetwise and loyal companion?”
Charis pushed her half-finished mug of cider to her new friend. Not out of friendship merely to delay, time to think. It didn’t work, the girl upended the mug in one go, so she also pushed the apple her way, while Charis finished her eggs before she needed to sacrifice them as well and thought some more.
“You rented a room, didn’t you? Perhaps we could discuss this some more there?” she offered, then tilted her head and smiled.
Not knowing anything else to do, Charis led her new friend to her room. As they turned the corner around the bar that headed into the hallway to their room, she heard a disturbance in the main room of the Inn. Her new friend pushed past her walking briskly.
“Would they be friends of yours?” Charis asked cheekily.
“Maybe, let me say I am not prepared to talk to them right now. Quickly, to your room please.”
Charis recognised slight desperation in her voice and hurried on to her room. Her friend immediately considered where she could hide.
After some heartbeats a knock on the door, Charis answered. She deliberately allowed the large man an unobstructed view inside her rented room.
“You see a girl, dress of many colours, can’t stop talking?” he rumbled.
“As you can see sir, I am alone in this room. What has she done, is there a reward for finding her?” Charis replied. She didn’t try to disguise her voice as many lads in the Keep sounded just like her.
“Not a sir and no reward, were looking by ourselves.”
He turned away as he spoke. Charis secured the door and waited until the footfalls faded to indicate the large man’s leaving, now beyond the hallway at least.
“It’s clear.”
Her new friend squeezed herself from out under the modest bed. To ensure her friend’s hiding place couldn’t be seen Charis tested the view from the door and the large man’s height being greater finally convinced her he wouldn’t be returning.
“So, what is your real story?” Charis asked plain and simple.
“I am the knife girl.”
At Charis’ shrug of shoulders, she explained further.
“I am tied to a circle, it is spun, and knives are thrown at me.”
To illustrate, as she explained, her new friend untied or unbuttoned some of her clothing to show numerous knife cuts, some old, some only recent and still healing.
“I trained since I joined the troupe as the knife thrower, as an apprentice to Mastor the Magnificent. The aged, near-blind old git said he would retire at the last Town, then he didn’t, and I knew it would only be a matter of time when one of his throws hit the wrong mark.”
As her new friend pointed out her numerous wounds, Charis stared memorised at her near naked body. While with Halius, only when they survived the stream did they glimpse any, well flesh, never had she witnessed someone freely unclothe themselves before another as this girl did.
“What, what is your name?” asked Charis, the pitch of her voice a little high.
Her new friend noticed Charis’ inquisitive examination of her naked flesh. She assisted by allowing all her already loose clothes to drop to the floor. Charis quickly averted her eyes and then turned the rest of her body away, shocked.
“My name is Otonia.”
Then Charis felt a hand on the side of her face gently turning it back to towards Otonia’s naked body and mischievous smile. Charis cast her eyes downwards to avoid staring and managed to view the top curves of Otonia’s plentiful breasts. Embarrassed Charis found Otonia’s eyes by accident instead, almond-shaped and light pale green they captivated her. Never standing this close to any woman before and naked as well Charis couldn’t make sense of the situation or resist her curiosity.
“I know of women that admired women more than men, so I don’t mind being subject to your gaze or attention if that is the price I need to pay,” Otonia murmured. Her glossy lips turned up at their edges and a small playful laugh escaped.
Charis stammered; she wasn’t sure of anything, much less this. Halius and she were friends and nothing more. He noble, she common, anything more forbidden. There were many other reasons of course, although mainly she considered him an older brother and she was certain he always considered her a younger sister, when he lived of course. She sensed a mumbling in her thoughts now, this woman, this girl’s openness threw her into a panic of sorts. Why would this stranger reveal herself like this? Did she want Charis to look? Could Charis look?
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“I don’t think that will be needed,” Charis stammered, “I just haven’t seen another person naked before. I don’t have a sister, have never known my mother and just haven’t.” Charis aware she stumbled over her words; so much naked flesh though, this situation was so far from familiar and yet her heart betrayed her, beating rapidly and Charis refused to consider why.
Otonia hugged Charis and pressed a long passionate kiss upon her lips. Otonia’s ample breasts crushing into Charis’ enveloping them, Charis thankful for the cloth boundary separation. Seeing flesh of another one thing, touching though?
“I don’t know either, just wanted to give it a try, so, sorry for startling you. Does this mean I can stay here?” Otonia asked, finishing with wide happy smile.
Charis, while shocked, enjoyed Otonia’s attentions, still they were simple discovery feelings. She didn’t know of passionate love, while a friendship for Charis was rare and unique, her last true friend now dead. Any sort of attachment if it were to happen, would be far into the future she thought, not a few heartbeats after meeting someone new, she made that mistake with her last travelling companion. Charis did smile inwardly as she remembered the occasional stray thought and admiration of Halius’ body, she knew any deeper relationship forbidden though, and they valued their true friendship more.
“I thought I could play the boy part and you could return to be a girl, with the changes I suggested when we first met? My problem is I only ran with the clothes on my back,” she smiled as she eyed them on the floor, “so I will need some of your boy clothes.”
“I am not saying no as I carry a spare set. The problem is that your breasts are, well, ample? Is that the right word? They will need to be severely bound, and you will probably need to fatten up just below them to complete the illusion. It will all fail of course the moment you are caught in the rain.”
“Can we at least try? As a boy, I would draw less attention from my former friends and give me a chance to start over elsewhere. They would recognise my breasts I would think.”
She smiles down at them, a gentle sway while self-admiring.
Charis discovered binding another woman’s breasts easier, than her own. Otonia required more assistance with her disguise. They used some of Otonia’s discarded clothes to build a pillow for her lower chest and belly region and tied it into place with Charis’ bindings. Removing Charis’ bindings became an awkward undertaking as she shielded her exposed breasts with one arm; in the end, Otonia witnessed Charis’ nakedness at least briefly in that area. The silver circle under Charis’ nipple was barely visible and if Otonia noticed it, she didn’t say anything before Charis’ shirt fell back into place to conceal it once again.
They added a shirt and trousers and with the sandals, Otonia owned, her change was completed.
After some inspection, Charis kicked off her leather shoes and asked Otonia to try them for fit. They were a bit tight though workable and Charis took Otonia’s sandals.
Charis shook her head. “I will need to go out for a while as you can’t travel for days let alone half a morning in poor fitting shoes. We still need a knife to cut your hair, if you are still serious about this disguise.”
Otonia gave Charis another hug, confirmation enough.
“Kick my shoes back and unbind your breasts, it will be easier than your tummy binding and I will need it for my own disguise until I return,” Charis suggested.
Once off, Otonia didn’t hand her binding to Charis, instead, asking her to lift her shirt. With a great deal of care and attention, she bound up Charis’ breasts. Charis was certain Otonia touched her more than necessary with an adjustment here and a tuck there and frozen due to the intimacy, she didn’t comment. Once disguised again, she left with mixed emotions about seeing Otonia again upon her return.
Charis found a well-worn knife of excellent quality at the village blacksmith. She bargained him for the knife walking away paying him only five silver coins, as she impressed him with her knowledge of blacksmithing. The Blacksmith and his smithy didn’t remind her of her father though, which surprised her, as both he and his Smithy were very different from home, so it made the purchasing easier for her without the complication of forsaken memories.
Shoes or boots were more difficult to find until she asked the Innkeeper who suggested she visit the local hunter. Charis located him, a burly man for a hunter with some age on him. Fortunately, the animals he killed also provided him with leather and he was long practised at turning the leather into all sorts of useful items.
Returning the Inn, the smell of stew caught her, so she ordered a bowl, and bread and took it, along with a spoon to her room. At the end of the bar, she slowed to make sure no one immediately followed and then walked as silently as possible to the door to her room and listened.
At the three knocks, Otonia opened the door and Charis slid into the room. Otonia then quickly closed the door behind her.
Charis noticed Otonia’s busy entwining hands and placed hers upon them. Otonia glanced up and hugged her.
“I worried you wouldn’t return. Silly I know.” Otonia took a deep breath.
“Stop biting your lip it is close to bleeding I think, I am here, I have returned, and I have gifts. So, all is well,” Charis said and feeling brave or perhaps foolhardy or more like kindly she cupped her hands briefly upon Otonia’s cheeks.
Otonia nodded and with reluctance, released Charis from her hug.
Charis opened her newly purchased backpack and showed Otonia the boots; they came up to her knees and the fit, comfortable. Charis also showed her the knife and demonstrated how it fit into a side sleeve of the boot. Next, some cheese to complement the stew and bread from the Inn. She placed a second backpack beside her relatively empty sack.
“Thank you, I knew you were kind the moment I saw you bathing, well perhaps the time after when you were eating.”
Otonia blushed pink, as did Charis thinking about being naked in the bath.
After dinner in the room, Charis became distracted, as Otonia’s breasts and cleavage were freely on display. Otonia did not bother to tie up the shirt she wore.
“You certain about your hair?” asked Charis.
Otonia nodded and Charis began cutting.
Charis cut as best she could, holding the light brown hair as she cut and placing it on a cloth, to minimise the mess. She tried to shape it, Otonia’s head being round helped although with her ears being flat Charis didn’t cut the hair around them, she let lengths fall over them. Otonia’s haircut looked like someone placed a bowl on her head and just cut everything poking out.
When finished, Charis reached into her backpack and showed Otonia her last surprise, a broad brimmed travelling hat. The hat was ample to cover up a poor haircut and shadow most of her face if the light and angles were right.
That earnt Charis a hug, with their faces close, a moment passed between them and then was gone. Sleeping in the bed together was awkward both emotionally and physically, given the moment and Otonia’s need to sleep naked on a very narrow bed. The only positive, shared body heat kept them warm overnight.
+++
They woke the next day and Charis deliberately tried to avoid glimpsing at Otonia which proved difficult, as they assisted each other into their disguises. Once set Charis wondered how they were getting Otonia into the main room of the Inn with a minimum of fuss and notice.
After thinking through several possible ideas, the simplest was deemed the best. They were two lads leaving the Inn together, both with their backpacks and a wave goodbye to the Innkeeper. Charis caught a wry return smile from the Innkeeper, no one else seem to mark their leaving as anything important. Not many occupied the common room mid-morning, although several more than on her first day.
Otonia’s friends were still searching for her without finding her. They discovered this when they passed Charis and Otonia without note.
“We need to find a third to travel with us and now is the time to start seeking as more gather,” Otonia stated
“Why three and why gather?”
“Oh Charis, sometimes your country ways are so obvious. Three and Seven are the lucky numbers of the Gods, everyone knows that!” she stated with an abundance of obviousness. “And as if you didn’t know, this is Birth Season. All the potential acolytes, apprentices, and students will be clinging on to their letters of recommendation and heading to the city.”
She remembered Halius talking about letters, also the apprentice magician mentioning something similar on the road. Probably the parchment where she found his name was such a letter and now, having thought some more, certainly. She wasn’t really listening to him, still trying to come to grips with running away from her home and much else. His face still occasionally visited her dreams, surprisingly never in a nightmare though; witnessing the death of your best friend claimed that macabre privilege.
“How about we split up and find someone each, there aren’t many, this village being so small so we should be done in no time and then we can leave,” Otonia said.
“I would much prefer we stay together as it would be awkward if we both found a potential travelling companion and then have to dismiss one. They could hold a grudge and we would gain another enemy,” Charis replied.
Everyone in a village was a Blacksmith’s friend as most livelihoods depended on sound tools and the repair of them. Her father though never took advantage of the relationship, he always charged a fair price for a fair day’s toil, and he gathered friends rather than enemies or jealousies all his life. A lesson Charis would never forget.
“Maybe some of your country ways are wise.” Otonia laughed after she gently grabbed Charis’ shoulder in playful fun.
The morning passed by surprisingly fast as they stalked the western road and the eastern road alternately into the village. Deciding no point in checking the southern road as it led to the city, so those heading south would already be teamed up for the journey ahead.
They were camped under an apple tree, now less a couple of apples, on the west road. Otonia caught a slight sadness in Charis’ eyes and didn’t ask why or press for an explanation as she was certain they had plenty of time together ahead of them to develop that level of trust. A single figure strolled down the centre of the road, heading towards the village completely unarmed unless you considered the flute he played, a weapon. Keen to greet him, Otonia jumped to her feet excited. As quickly, she lost her feet, tumbling down to land on Charis. A bearable indignity as she ended up in Charis’ lap, Charis grappling her waist and forcing them both to roll about.
“Laugh with me, now,” Charis whispered.
The traveller expected a greeting and half waved until he noticed the two boys were playing some sort of game under the shade of the apple tree, so he returned to playing his flute and continued towards the village.
“Otonia, I don’t know that man I only know of that type of man,” she whispered.
Otonia stared back at her, being the one speechless for a change for several reasons, yet the foremost one was the fact their faces were close enough she could feel Charis’ breathing upon her lips.
“Have you noticed my silver circle at a certain location on my body?” Charis asked.
“Yes,” she replied shyly. “It fascinated me as I felt it when applying your wrap. Thankful you were helping me, I thought you would tell me about it when you were ready. Is it really silver?”
“Yes. The silver circle blends with my flesh. It’s the best description I have sorry. The man I obtained this circle from wore a similar item, although in his ear lobe. The flute playing traveller wore an exact duplicate item of the man I obtained my circle from, and that man murdered my best friend in cold blood, without a second thought.”
Charis couldn’t pretend any longer and burst into tears. Spotting the bronze loop again, a trigger, too much to endure, the memory of that day rushing back to drown her, the hollowness after loss, the agony from unending pain and the guilt of her survival. Different to the Keep, no one questioning her or her actions, her memories surfacing, honest open and raw. The release came upon her suddenly, without warning, everything seeking to escape, and she couldn’t hold it any longer, including remorse not shared. A deep grief held inside ever since it happened, a deep solid rock like grief weighing her down. Those at the Keep refused to understand how much she loved Halius, they were brother and sister, inseparable, or so she thought. Somehow, this strange girl beside her would be the one to discover the reasons behind her soul traumatizing grief because she was there. She was there when evil walked across Charis’ path once again and triggered a memory she thought well buried.
Saying the words freely, telling her new friend of her deep loss, Charis relived moment after horrific moment. With the telling, the sharing, Charis found a release of sorts, with the kind person beside her who was full of listening and Charis was certain she heard her. When Charis finished, the breeze through the leaves of the apple tree shading them still rustled and the sun still shone down yet within Charis the suffocating anguish she struggled against since Halius’ death found flight freeing her of a modicum of her remorse and guilt.
Otonia was at a loss, not knowing how to help and therefore worried about her new friend. So, she resorted to her go to action. She gave Charis a near strangling hug and whispered encouraging heartfelt words. Otonia couldn’t understand what Charis cried about or knew what the words meant to her. All she knew, Charis, her new friend chose her to confess an incredible pain too and she would support her through it as best she could and tell her everything would work out given time. She couldn’t be sure how long it would take or if Charis would completely heal, only Otonia would be with her to help.
Otonia held onto Charis until she was done with the telling and then to her surprise Charis gently pushed her away. Unbeknown to Otonia, Charis reached a conclusion proven by the past, she couldn’t befriend anyone, as those who accompanied her, died.
“We need to follow him, although keeping our distance as we need to know what he is doing here. Once we know where he is going then I need you to leave me. It won’t be safe for you,” said Charis while wiping tears from her cheeks.
“You don’t get rid of me so easily.” Otonia pouted in defiance. She didn’t accept Charis’ plan after what Charis had shared with her. Otonia reasoned such a shared trauma should draw Charis to her as much as she was drawn to Charis so any talk about going their own way was unacceptable.
“Otonia,” Charis stared directly into her eyes, “all who have known me have died, and you have heard my story. I don’t want you, my new and only friend to share this same fate.”
Charis realised the count of deaths in her company currently stood at two, two too many and she didn’t want a third, the number three being favoured by the gods according to her friend.
Otonia slowly nodded, taken aback somewhat. Charis determined to do this alone and Otonia didn’t think she could turn Charis from her purpose; still she wasn’t prepared to abandon her new friend so easily and quickly. She wouldn’t make it known to her is all.
“When you tell me I will go,” Otonia answered sombrely.
It didn’t take them long to find him as they heard him first, singing a tall tale in the Inn. Not his flute this time, playing an instrument by stroking his fingers across its strings allowing his lips free for the words of his song. A crowd gathered in the Inn around him! As they drew closer, recognition awoke in them both, a prodigious master of his art entertained their ears, an honour to hear him play. They heard him play before, although where? Never mind he played again, especially for them, and they would need to rush forward and be at his side to fully enjoy his amazing performance!
Charis recognised this type of surrender from before when in the forest, stupefied at her friend doing something he would never usually do and then she submitted to it as well. The memory of it caused her to stop dead in her tracks hunched over before it took full hold. She never made it up the few steps to the doors of the Inn because her eyes were firmly looking down. In her dream of resistance, she couldn’t prevent Otonia from opening the door and entering the Inn. She could only, with effort, save herself. Would she be watching another of her companions falling? Would her past repeat? Another like Halius, innocent and dead. The memory of this sadness bore down upon her soul yet sharing her past with Otonia permitted acceptance without being overwhelmed. Charis straightened.
Charis knew about this lure, the bitter taste only a few days old and therefore still fresh. The same delusional moments before the murder of her true friend in cold blood and without a second thought. She wondered if the music he played was part of the allure, the enticement, so she stuck her fingers in her ears and approached the Inn again. It made no difference to the urge to join him in his entertainment and trust him as a friend. She stepped back while her mind allowed her to, each step back easier as the attraction faded in strength and appeal. Should she join Otonia, maybe she could talk to her, convince her to leave, and prevent Otonia from being the third.
She decided she needed to watch the traveller and be far enough away not to fall completely in thrall of his presence. She needed to stop him and save Otonia, she needed to find out how a young girl could achieve such a thing and ensure Otonia and her lived afterwards.
She furtively glanced around to see if any observed her unusual behaviour. The street was utterly clear and devoid of others, surely the entire village didn’t cram into the Inn?
Now what?