Damp odors

Three weeks later.

I woke up covered in sweat—warm, heavy, pressing down on me. Some reeds drew their shadows over the body of my tent, their silhouettes swaying in the mild wind. Breathing demanded effort, yet the discomfort didn't bother me enough to stand and face the world outside.

Whatever manner of excitement I'd previously felt at the idea of this journey had faded over the course of these days, spilling out like water in a cracked vase. Only the unwashed dirt at the bottom remained.

"Cory, take care of the fishing," Betta said from beyond the cloth separating us. "And don't take too long to get up or I'm dragging you by the ears."

Perhaps it would be worth being dragged out, if only to spend a few more minutes here, inside this asphyxiating oven that was still less tiresome than the burden of pretending.

…

"Hey, Rasbora! Good morning," I beamed right after getting out of my tent.

She waved back without turning away from her task. I headed for the pack where we kept the nets, making a conscious effort not to drag my feet on the way. At least I'd get some alone time by the river, provided Oscar didn't suddenly pop up now of all times.

Fortunately, it all went smoothly and I was allowed to sulk on my own without anyone asking questions. I caught a few carps and a pyke, and by the time I returned it no longer felt like I was hauling a cart with every step I took—now it was only a boulder.

"We're going to stop by a town this evening," Betta said during breakfast. "We'll buy some supplies, take a bath and stay the night, but we leave first thing next morning." She glared at me.

I get it. No "side quests".

A bit naive of her to assume I had the energy for them, anyway.

She also glanced at Rasbora, who was too focused on her roasted carp to notice. Our timid companion didn't strike me as the type to get into compromises about helping random strangers, so I wouldn't worry about her.

Breakfast finished, we packed our stuff and mounted back on our rides. The rest of the day passed without remark, sun beating over us like we owed it money and the mosquitoes swarming as if coming to collect—all part of the seasonal experience.

ᗢ⫘⫘⫘⫘𖦹⫘⫘⫘⫘♡

The town came into sight several hours later, by the time the heat started to become bearable. Built in the center of the lake like a giant wooden raft, this had to be Crystalpond's Floater. Unlike the bluish, greenish or even brownish sources of water we'd passed by on our way here, the lake shone a bright yellow, reflecting the sun in a way that hurt the eyes—and it smelled like one would expect from a liquid of such color, if not worse.

Why call it "Crystalpond" then? Divines know.

First thing we did before even approaching was change out of our Paladin armors and instead put on something more 'humble'. Betta's orders. She said getting recognized would only slow us down, so we swapped our smooth yet light carapace armors for breezy linen clothes.

We hired a boatowner to ferry us and our buffalos to the town. Once we arrived, the swaying and bobbing of the wooden tables under my feet made it clear where the Floater part of the name came from. Here the smell struck even harder than at the coast, in no small part due to the large amount of cattle and guardbeasts—mainly sheep and wolves—packed in cages like pickles in a jar. The poor things.

We were supposed to be getting a bath, but I worried we'd leave with a worse odor than what we came with. Rasbora winced all the way, and even Betta frowned more than her usual amount as we traversed the cramped streets. After asking for directions, she guided our rides to the cleanest—or better put, least dirty—stable, and paid the keeper double the amount he requested while ordering him to give our buffalos triple the quality of the care they normally provided.

Next we arrived at the supposed best bathhouse in town. My warranted worries about the quality of the water were proven wrong as I got a glimpse at the river that flowed into the lake, to which the bathhouse connected. The water from upstream ran quite clean, meaning the town was to blame for the putrid state of the lake. Great.

Betta paid for all three of us, probably out of impatience more than generosity. I was fine with it since I couldn't remember where I'd put my pouch.

Almost everything inside the bathrooms was made out of wood: walls, floor, ceiling and even the pools. It must have taken a monumental amount of maintenance to prevent mold from further rotting the room.

After some scrubbing and clearing at the showers, I went to sink in one of the pools, closed my eyes and let my worries… gather at the bottom, where at least they'd be less bothersome than floating around my head. The water was mildly cold, a temperature one could expect from the river at this time of day. Kinda refreshing, actually.

"He's so cool," I heard someone whisper. He probably meant one of the bigger guys around. Carpenters certainly knew how to build themselves.

"Go on, talk to him," another voice said.

"No. Why me? You go."

"No, you."

"Let's leave it to luck then." The voice then began to… sing? "The giant moth's wings wave in the sky."

"Such big wings, look at them fly."

"How big? How big? Let's check their size."

"Get yours out, three, two, now."

I realized those were children's voices.

"Fly scat! Best two out of three then?"

"No way. You lost. Now go ask him."

"Tch. Fine."

Naked steps came my way. They really were talking about me, huh.

"Excuse me, Sir Paladin, can we talk? Pleeease?"

How did they know I'm a Paladin?

Regardless, people rarely approached one without a favor in mind.