Book Two - Chapter Twenty-Six

Middlewood was not supposed to be a large town. Lusya’s map had it marked as a tiny speck, and, though it had ultimately not made it onto her planned route, she had found nothing noteworthy about while looking into the area. It was also not, she was sure, meant to be a ghost town. Yet there wasn’t much better a descriptor.

There was no one walking in the road. No one tending the nearby fields. It was evening, yet none of the homes glowed with flame. Perhaps poverty could have explained that, but there were no voices to be heard drifting out, no lingering scents of dinner. Lusya’s senses confirmed the town was all but abandoned.

“All but,” because there were still mortals here. Six of them, to be exact, not including Ander. That didn’t even qualify as a village. Or any kind of settlement, for that matter. It could well have been a single family. There were no bodies to be seen either, and every building was perfectly intact. Well, some of them did have damaged facades or dented doors, but that seemed to be simple wear and tear, not intentional damage.

“There’s nobody here,” Ander said, frowning. He kept looking back and forth, as if he might find someone hiding behind a corner.

She nodded. “That is obvious.”

“It’s creepy,” he said. “Isn’t it?”

“I am not sure I have ever found anything ‘creepy,’” she said. “But it is strange.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really? Not one thing?”

“Not that I can recall,” she said. She wasn’t even sure she understood what the sentiment was. It was something akin to minor fear or disgust, but it often seemed quite nebulous.

He gave a skeptical hum but did not question her. “I used to find you creepy, you know.”

“Is that so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Not now though. It was hard to keep thinking of you that way after seeing how you spoil Ariya.”

Lusya cocked her head and blinked. “I spoil her?”

He raised an eyebrow. “She barely does anything, but all she has to do is make puppy eyes to get you to do something. The girl’s a saint for how little she takes advantage.”

“I see,” she said. “I do refuse her at times, and I have never seen much need to task her with any responsibilities.”

Ander shrugged. “If it works for you, then fine. I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” He scratched at his head. “Oh, I don’t mean to say that’s the only reason, though. You still scare me sometimes, but you’ve got plenty of good points. Even some cute points.”

“I appreciate your praise,” she said. “My opinion of you has also improved through our travels.”

It was almost a shame he would one day throw that away by becoming a Sacred Knight. Although, the world might well have been destroyed before then.

“Good to hear it,” he said with a grin.

She looked around. “It does seem we may have to adjust our plans here.”

With only six people in town, their original intention of staying the night may no longer have been viable. There was no guarantee any of the six was the innkeeper or anyone else willing or able to accommodate them. For that matter, the six may not even have been residents of the village. They could have been travelers, squatters, or even bandits.

Ander nodded with a grimace. “I’d like to see if we can find anyone still here. Is that okay with you?”

She nodded. “We were planning to stop for the night here anyway, so we are not losing time.”

“Maybe we still can,” he said. “I wouldn’t feel great about sleeping in someone’s abandoned house, but the inn would be fine.”

She blinked. “Why would you object if it is abandoned?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “It just feels wrong. Like I’m capitalizing on their misfortune.”

“I see.” She did not agree, nor could she comprehend the underlying sentiment, but she did understand what he was saying, and it was quite typical reasoning of him.

“Speaking of the inn, it seems like a good first place to check,” he said. “I’m guessing that’s it over there.”

He drove the carriage toward the building in question. A sign out front indicated it was indeed the town’s inn, named, “The Rolling Barrel.” Lusya’s senses also confirmed that the six mortals still present in the town were inside. They were not making any noise. None audible through the walls, at least. And there still was no light emanating from within. There were shutters closed over the windows, however, so it was possible what light there was was being covered up.

“Doesn’t look promising,” Ander said, frowning.

“It remains the best option,” she said.

She was not going to reveal that she knew there were people inside. Short of the likes of the Paladins, even a powerful motomancer’s honed sense for Malice had a much higher detection threshold than Lusya’s inherent ability. They would almost certainly not have sensed all six and may not have noticed anything at all. Ander had not asked about the extent of her senses since the demon encounter, but that was no reason to give a new opportunity for suspicion to rise.

He nodded, pulled the carriage over to the empty stable by the side, tied up the horses, and got out. She followed him to the inn door. He walked with an awkward gait. It was not quite limping, but the steps he took with his bound, injured leg were light and quick to minimize its strain, giving it a halting, lopsided quality. He reached for the handle to open it, then suddenly hesitated.

Rather than wait for him to make up his mind, she simply grabbed the door and pulled it open. The moment the door moved, there was a sudden series of surprised shouts from within, followed by the sounds of shuffling and clattering.

There were six mortals within, as she had sensed. By the looks of it four humans—three adults and a child—a tiransa, and what seemed to be a child half-breed. The child’s skin was a paler gray than a tiransa’s usually was, and—looking at other indicators of age like facial structure—they seemed a bit small for a tiransa child their age.

They were all standing, loosely assembled around a round table. The two human women and the two children had backed away a bit, the children hiding behind the women. The human and tiransa man were right beside the table. They did not move a muscle as they glared at Lusya. Several chairs were knocked over, there was a bowl on the ground, having spilled whatever was in it, and a few mugs on the table were in a similar state.

It seemed her entrance had startled them.

“Are you one of them?” the tiransa man asked. He was short for one of them. She would have guessed less than nine feet tall, maybe even closer to eight.

“One of who?” she asked.

“Those brigands,” one of the women asked. “The ones causing so much trouble.”

“We’re not,” Ander said as he entered behind Lusya. He held up his hands to signal they meant no harm. “We’re just travelers passing through.”

The tiransa man scanned both of them with his eyes, then sighed and slowly sat back down. He had no chair, sitting on a cushion on the ground instead. He was still tall enough that that put him at a convenient height.

“All right, I’ll buy that,” he said. “We’re a little jumpy here. Never know when they might show up.”

“We understand,” Ander said.

“Come on in,” the tiransa man, gesturing broadly across the room. “Close the door and take a seat. I don’t have any workers anymore, but I can fix you up with a bowl of warm stew if it’s just the two of you.”

“It is appreciated,” Lusya said.

She took a seat at another table nearby, with Ander sitting down across from her. The room was dimly lit by a single oil lamp, lending the room a faint orange glow with long, dark shadows that consumed the light at the edges of the room.

After another moment of staring with wary expressions, the other mortals seemed to calm down and reclaimed their seats. They ate and drank in silence. Though they cast occasional glances at Lusya and Ander, they did not seem frightened. The tiransa man stood and headed to the kitchen once everyone had settled.

“At least the lighting’s nice,” Ander said. He chuckled. “A little more and it would even be romantic.”

She nodded. “Indeed.”

“I was half expecting ‘why?’ or something like that,” he said with a smirk.

“I am aware of what romance is, and some of its common trappings,” she said.

He pursed his lips and nodded, then grinned again. “So, do you have a special someone of your own?”

“I assume you are referring specifically to a romantic partner?”

He nodded.

“I do not,” she said.

“Have you?”

“I am inclined to say no,” she said. “I have been attracted to people, been pursued sexually and romantically, and entertained certain advances, but I have never been in what could reasonably be considered a romantic relationship.”

“That’s a shame,” he said. “At least it sounds like you’re not completely hogging your beauty.”

That was a curious expression. She knew what it meant, as similar proclamations popped up in literature, but it had always seemed strange. She could not share her looks with others. Letting them see did not at all seem analogous.

“And you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m in pretty much the same boat.”

“That is unusual for a nobleman your age.”

He shrugged. “I’m only the third son, and I’m joining the Sacred Knights, which complicates things. I’m sure my family will start nagging me about it eventually, but there’s not as much of a hurry for me to get married and pump out heirs.”

“I see,” she said.

Joining the Sacred Knights did interfere with noble succession to some degree. The organization itself had no direct rules on the matter. It did, however, bar members from taking part in wars among countries without permission. There was also little choice given to Knights on where they would be posted or where assignments would take them. Higher rank members could have some input, but even they may have found themselves crossing the continent for some task or another.

These factors all conflicted with the duties of the nobility, so those of various countries had taken it upon themselves to resolve the issue. In some places this was done by the king or equivalent ruler, in others it was on a per-family basis. Sometimes there were no codified rules at all, the current head of the family deciding according to their whims.

She did not know what rules affected Ander’s family. Based on other things he had said, he had not been disowned. The third son did not have a large inheritance to worry about anyway. Of course, it was possible his official status hadn’t changed at all. The practical concerns of missions moving him around would still have complicated his marriage status, after all.

The tiransa man emerged from the kitchen, carrying two bowls, a carafe of water dangling from one finger, and two mugs hugged to his body. It was interesting watching tiransa carry human sized objects. He held the bowls in a claw-like grip by the tips of three fingers due to the size of his hands. He arranged the articles on the table and turned to leave.

“Excuse me,” Ander said. “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly happened here? Where did everyone go? We didn’t see any sign of a struggle, but…”

“Last I saw, they were all alive and kicking,” the man said. “If that’s what you’re getting at. We haven’t been attacked yet. I don’t know if it’s just luck or what. But when word started getting around about bandits who fought like Sacred Knights, people started to get scared. A few left. Then a few more, and so on, until it was just us.

“The name’s Namyid, by the way. Over there’s my wife, Annetta, and our daughter Renada. The others can introduce themselves if they want. The six of us are the only ones still in town.”

Namyid waved at his table, too vaguely to tell who he was referring to. One of the women—the one who had not spoken earlier—and the half-tiransa child raised their hands to wave, however, identifying themselves. Annetta had blonde hair and green eyes. Renada seemed to have inherited the latter, a rarity among tiransa.

“I wonder if it is luck that you have not been attacked, or some kind of plan,” Lusya said. “We are less than two days from their headquarters. In a hurry, one might be able to travel the distance in just over half a day.”

Namyid shrugged. “Who knows. We heard about their little base too, but no one was ever brave enough to go check it out.”

“How did you hear about it and the attacks, then?” Ander asked.

“From people running away from them,” Namyid replied. “Folks from villages or caravans that had been attacked would come through, warning us about them. Some of them had seen the base too.”

Ander sighed. “So many people getting hurt, and it’s taking this long for the kingdom to respond?”

“Can’t blame ‘em too much,” Namyid said with a shrug. “Most of those people left pretty quickly, but they might not have known how to get the information to anyone who could do anything about it. And, frankly, some of them probably didn’t make it.”

“Even if they did, it would have taken quite some time to spread the information when traveling on foot,” Lusya said. “And they may well have decided or been forced to stop somewhere with little access to the authorities, such as another rural village.”

“I know,” Ander said. “It’s still frustrating seeing how slow things can move sometimes. Even the Sacred Knights haven’t done anything yet…” He smiled at Namyid. “I’m impressed that you’ve stuck around still. Aren’t you scared?”

“Of course we are,” the human man said. He raised his voice to be heard from the other table, though perhaps more than was necessary. “But this is our home. My Pa lived here his whole life, and his, and his before him. I’m not leaving it just ‘cause I’m scared. If they want me gone, they’re gonna have to come here and make me leave.”

“That’s how we all feel, more or less,” the other woman said.

“I’m Bartel,” the man said. He pointed in turn to the remaining human woman and child. “The wife’s Ytka, and our son’s Semo.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ander said. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. Sorry for being so rude. I’m Ander.”

“Lusya.”

Bartel nodded. “Yeah, nice to meet ‘cha.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” Namyid said. “We don’t have much, but you can stay the night if you want. Don’t worry about paying, either. Not much for me to spend it on these days.”

“We couldn’t possibly do that,” Ander said. “We wouldn’t want to be an extra burden on you. We’ll finish our meal and go. And I will pay you. There will come a time when you can use it again. I promise.”

“Suit yourselves,” Namyid replied, shrugging.

Lusya would have been fine sleeping at the inn for the night. She did not see how that would have burdened the man, and she doubted she would have cared if she did. But she did not feel strongly enough about it to argue the issue. There was one more thing, though.

“Do you know anything about the bandits that might be helpful?” she asked.

Namyid shook his head. “Probably nothing you don’t already know, if you’ve heard about them. They fight like Sacred Knights, have a base close by, and roam this area of Ostia killing and taking prisoners to sell.”

“I see,” she said.

She returned to eating, and Namyid returned to his seat. She cocked her head, blinking twice.

“I do wonder why this village is untouched,” she said.

“It is odd,” Ander said. “Restraint never seemed to be in their vocabulary before.” He hummed in thought as he chewed a chunk of meat from his stew. “Could it be they wanted this town to act as a sort of…hub? A place for information to be spread out of?”

She nodded. “That seems plausible. It does not seem to have worked as intended.”

He scowled. “Were they trying to send some kind of warning or challenge?”

“I can think of little other reason for this hypothesis to make sense.”

“That’s…idiotic. Maybe they could take the local armies if there’s enough of them, but the Sacred Knights would crush them if that happened.”

“It is foolish,” she said. “That does not mean it is not the intention.”

He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. All we can really do is guess, though.”

“Indeed.”

He clapped his hands to signal the end of that topic. “So, back to what we were talking about earlier. What’s your type?”

She assumed he meant her type of romantic or sexual partner. He could have stood to be less vague.

“I do not believe I have one,” she said. She could not identify any particular commonality that had attracted her to others before.

He chuckled. “Does that mean I’d have a shot?”

“You are attractive,” she said. “However, I cannot risk a pregnancy at the moment.”

He blushed. “I was joking, and not necessarily talking about sex…but thanks?”

“I suspected,” she said. “You are welcome.”

She took a mouthful of stew, while Ander stared at her, seeming to expect something.

“Are you not going to turn the question back on me?” he asked at last.

“Which one?”

“Well, both, I guess,” he said.

She cocked her head and blinked. “I believe I already know at least part of the answers to both.”

“Really?” he asked, grinning and raising an eyebrow. “Well then, what’s part of my type?”

“Large breasts.”

Ander had chosen to take a bite of meat as she answered. He suddenly coughed, putting one hand over his mouth and holding up one finger on the other to tell her to wait. After a moment of struggling, he managed to swallow.

“It shouldn’t surprise me by now, but you really aren’t shy about this stuff,” he said.

“I am aware they are above average,” she said. “It makes finding a good fit on clothing that has not been tailored for me rather difficult.”

His eyes dipped to them for a split second before he tore them away. “I can imagine. And, well, I won’t lie, you’re right.”

“Is there more to it?” she asked.

He blushed and took a bite of stew, which he chewed with unusual vigor, all the while refusing to make eye contact.

She cocked her head and blinked twice.

He sighed. “It’s short girls. Not super short, but a little on the small side.”

“I see,” she said. “It seems I fit your preferences quite well. Much of your behavior is now easier to understand.”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face. “This is so awkward…” He sighed. “I think that’s enough about that. What about the second question?”

“I believe you would agree to have sex if I offered,” she said. “It is obvious you find me attractive, even if we had not just established that I am your ‘type,’ and you regularly expound on my beauty.”

His brow furrowed. “I do not…” He paused for a moment. “Oh, I guess I do.” His expression softened into a nervous smile, and he scratched the back of his head. “I didn’t realize I was doing that so much.”

She could believe that. She did not think Ander was stupid, but there were moments when he did not leverage his intelligence. Many of them, in fact.

“You really have no problems talking about this stuff,” he said. He chuckled. “To the point I almost think it’s a front.”

“I was not aware we were discussing anything taboo,” she replied.

He pursed his lips. “Maybe not taboo, but most people would be at least a little embarrassed to talk about this stuff so frankly. And the sex is at least…impolite to discuss in public.”

“I see,” she said. “I assure you, it is no act. The nudity taboo is not the only one I have not internalized.”

He sighed. “I guess so.” His eyes widened, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

She blinked. “I am uncertain what you are confused about.”

“The nudity thing,” he said. “What do you mean you haven’t internalized it?”

She cocked her head and blinked twice. “I mean I do not personally care about it. I thought I had made that clear.”

“No, you said you didn’t care if I looked,” he said, with an emphatic gesture at himself. “Not that I thought that had anything to do with me, specifically, but I thought it was some kind of ‘You’ve already seen everything, so I don’t care,’ kind of thing. Are you saying you don’t care if anyone sees?”

She nodded. His misunderstanding was an understandable mistake for one looking through the lens of societal norms. “That is correct. However, I do not dislike clothing, and the existence of the taboo means it would be inconvenient to go without most of the time.”

“There’s no way that’s true,” he said, shaking his head.

“You are aware that I do not lie,” she said.

He scowled. “Well, maybe you finally figured out how to tell a joke. I refuse to believe you would be fine walking down a city street butt naked.” He blushed and looked down. “Great, now I can’t stop picturing it.”

“I am not joking,” she said. “I would have no objections to such a situation. It is others’ objections that would inconvenience me.”

He pursed his lips, hesitating, then smirked. “Prove it, then. Take it all off, right here.”

“We are in public,” she said. “I have explained why I do not do that in these circumstances.”

He glanced at the other table and lowered his voice. “It’s six people who we’ll never see again, and who can’t do anything about it. If they get upset, I’ll take responsibility and handle it.”

She considered his challenge and reasoning for a moment. His disbelief was no great inconvenience to her. It was not an inconvenience at all, in this instance. Yet she disliked it. She could not think of any good reason for that sentiment, but it was there.

“Very well,” she said.

“What?”

She pushed out her chair and stood.

Ander’s eyes widened. “You’re not really gonna…”

She unfastened her cloak and shrugged it off, then began unbuttoning her blouse. Namyid at the other table looked at her, but it did not seem he had realized what she was doing yet. She continued unbuttoning.

“Stop!” Ander exclaimed as she got the third button undone. “I believe you, so please, do not strip!”

Lusya cocked her head and blinked. This had been his idea.

The two families stared. After several seconds of silence, they burst into raucous laughter. She did not know how much of the conversation they had overheard, so it was difficult to tell what they found humorous.

Lusya fixed her clothes and sat back down.

“Don’t know if that was on purpose, but thanks you two,” Bartel said. “We needed a good laugh.”

Ander blushed and nodded. “Yeah, no problem.”

The families went back to eating, now talking in hushed tones to each other.

“To be honest, I mostly believed you before I gave you that challenge,” Ander said. “I was half-joking. I really didn’t think you’d do it, even if you were telling the truth.”

“I wanted to resolve the misunderstanding,” she said.

“I can see that,” he said. He chuckled. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to do that on the road.”

“We do not know when we may encounter other travelers, who they may be, or to what extent we may need to interact with them,” she said. “However, I could be persuaded to remove my clothing at night for camp.”

Ander blushed brighter. “I was joking.”

“I am aware.”

His eyes narrowed, then he laughed. “So, you have figured out how to tell jokes.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “Although nothing I said was false.”

Ander sighed and returned to his meal. She began eating again as well.

There was a moment of silence as they ate. She could almost see tension draining out of Ander.

“I noticed you were almost done with Dancing Tigers,” he said at last.

She nodded. She had initially slowed her reading to minimize how much she would have to retread with Ariya, but at a certain point, she had decided she had already read too much for that to be convenient, and finishing it would make little difference.

“You’ve gotta be past the big battle scene, right?”

“There are many big battle scenes. The book is primarily about fighting.”

“You know what I’m talking about. The one on the mountain?”

She nodded. “Indeed.”

“So, what did you think?”

They spent the rest of the meal talking. When Ander ran out of questions about the novel, he moved on to other topics. They discussed the places they had been, their preferred places to set up camp, their choices of clothing and hair styling, and more.

It was a new experience. Nobody had ever been so insistent on engaging her in small talk before. Ariya spoke quite a bit, but Lusya did not consider many of their conversations discussions. Intelligent as she was for her age, Ariya was still a child. She often asked simple questions Lusya could answer in a couple words, spoke nonsense, or went on rambling tangents that required little input from Lusya.

Father had also spoken with her, as had other demons, but they had never been persistent about it. Small talk was not usually something Lusya cared for, but, with nothing else to do while she ate, she supposed it was fine.

Soon enough, they finished their meals. Ander bid the mortals farewell and handed the tiransa man a couple silver coins. Much more than their meal was worth, to be sure. After that, they left and started down the road again.

“We really need to put a stop to these bandits,” Ander said.

“That is the plan,” Lusya replied.

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. Do you have a plan on how to do that?”

“I will kill them,” she said.

“That’s not really a plan,” he said. “Are you going to use that big fire attack?”

“Unlikely.”

Though Miudofay’s flames did not burn Ariya, that property could be unreliable when the wielder did not know with certainty that what they wished to save was present. At least, according to Father. She had never had an opportunity to test that herself, and she did not know how he had found out. It was possible it was simply instinctive knowledge that she had not received, since it was not her Blade.

“I guess that would be risky,” he said, scratching his head. “What will you do, then?”

“I doubt their strength will necessitate a complex plan,” she said. “And if it did, it would be difficult to formulate one without having seen their fortifications.”

He nodded. “I guess you’ve got a point there. We’ll just have to get there first.”

“That is correct,” she said.

She stared down the road, head tilted slightly, as several mortals entered her detection radius. Six of them. None of them were as powerful as Gisala, but they were comparable to lower ranked Sacred Knights.

“What is it?” Ander asked. “Is it another demon?”

“No,” she said. “Bandits. They are stronger than most.”

He clicked his tongue. “I was hoping it would be smooth sailing until we reached the base. But maybe this works out. If these are the elites, we can take them out now and only worry about the leader.”

“Perhaps,” she said. “But there is no ‘we.’ You are still injured.”

“I’m not sitting it out,” he said. “I’ll stick to providing backup for you, okay? I won’t do anything too dangerous.”

She considered that a moment. There was little she could do to stop him. It would likely be better to go along with his suggestion than risk him doing something foolish without warning.

“Very well. You may support me. They are directly ahead. Bring us to them.”