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A Soldier's Life - 261 - Bread, Bath and Beyond

Added 2024-09-12 00:06:35 +0000 UTC

Chapter 261: Bread, Bath and Beyond

As we wandered the streets in the daylight, we took in the fascinating sights. I saw something I never thought was possible: a fat elf. It was almost unfathomable to me to see. There were a number of slightly pudgy elves, but this merchant, selling an array of bread, had a gut that would make Santa proud. I couldn’t resist and stopped at his street stall.

The smell of his fresh bread was wonderful, and maybe he partook of his own wares too much. Maveith bought six long loaves with nuts and cheese baked into the top. I shook my head as Maveith paid the exorbitant sum of six silver for the bread.

I chastised him for his weakness. “Maveith, you really need to keep the ring on.” Instead of responding with his mouth full, he handed me a loaf. I was tempted and tried the still-warm bread. The crunchy exterior was rich, sweet, and savory. The fluffy interior nearly melted in your mouth. This was definitely not normal flour.

“What is this made of?” I asked as I took another bite quickly. This was closer to a dessert than a bread.

The fat elf winked at me, “It is my personal secret mix of three different flours and my family's yeast. But the real secret is basting the loaves with goat butter when they are close to finished to give it the crunchy shell.” The baker then went into a ten-minute talk on the intricacies of his craft. It went way over my head, but we listened while we ate our loaves. I guessed that when you had centuries to master a craft, even something as simple as baking, you made it as complex as possible to challenge yourself. I couldn’t argue with the end product.

At Maveith’s insistence, I purchased and stored a dozen loaves in my dimensional space so they would remain fresh. The overweight elf didn’t look overly surprised at my use of a dimensional space and even kindly directed us to a bathhouse.

The bathhouse was not as ornate as its Telhian counterpart, and it cost two silver coins for each of us. I had accumulated a lot of filthy clothes in my dimensional space, and it was time for a reckoning. Unfortunately for the elven bath attendants, they would be dealing with my fouled laundry. I didn’t include the clothes that were soaked in blood and paid extra for a double wash.

Although many elves in the city were dressed in thin fabrics that left little to the imagination, open nudity appeared taboo in the Elven culture. The bathrooms were private, and we didn't see any other patrons. Large individual brass tubs were heated with scented water, and we were able to remove the screens between two of these tubs. Still, the elven attendants seemed to shy away from looking at our naked bodies. I sighed as I sunk into the scented water, Maveith following directly after in his tub.

Even though the tubs seemed large, Maveith’s knees still jutted high over the rim, and his hips were snug, making it difficult for him to scrub himself. The water was laced with a fragrant oil that absorbed into your skin. Smelling like fragrant flowers was not ideal for trackers and hunters like Maveith and me, but it was a welcome vanity after being among sailors for a week.

I shared some mouthwash with Maveith and trimmed my hair and black beard. I was growing accustomed to having a beard, but grooming it and shaving my cheeks was a chore with the straight razor. When our clothes were returned clean and dry, we left the bathhouse but left a sizable tip for the workers who would have to scrub our filth from the copper tubs.

Maveith was studying his fingernails and sniffing his hand as we walked the city, “I can see why you are always talking about getting clean. I can’t remember the last time my hands didn’t smell. Even my fingernails are clean.” He held out his left hand for me to inspect, but I batted it away, unsure if he was serious.

We circled the city just to explore a little and to satisfy my Hound training. Walking the walls perimeter was too suspicious but seemingly wandering the streets shouldn’t draw more attention than we already were. We were being watched; I didn’t know if it was because Maveith was a curiosity. We did find the Sanco’s portal stone, so we returned to the Adventurer’s Hall.

I went to collect Ginger. The stable hand had gotten me a large, worn, dark brown leather saddle for her, and it was hanging in her stall. Upon inspection, I found it to be of fine quality and well worth the gold coins I had given her to procure it. The saddle blanket was new, dark gray, and very soft to prevent chafing.

A large delivery of hay and grain was nearby, and I assumed it was what I had ordered. It was of also of the highest quality and something I wouldn’t have expected to receive in the Empire. I confirmed no one was around before moving it all to my dimensional space.

As I saddled Ginger, I found the stable hand had already adjusted the cinches for Ginger for my size, and the process went quickly. I just needed to lengthen the reins a notch and set the stirrup length. Ginger was patient throughout, and maybe she was looking forward to carrying me around again as long as I paid her apple tax.

Maveith nodded appreciatively, “Ginger looks good.” He walked over and rubbed her neck as she preened a little in her new saddle and tack.

“Let’s head to the portal before the stable hand returns.” I left two silver coins for her excellent work. I had discovered tipping was not unusual in Esenhem, but it was not expected. I mostly wanted to leave before she returned and inquired where all the grain and hay went.

As we walked toward the upper city, Maveith still drew a lot of stares. He was a minor celebrity, with children rushing into the street to catch a glimpse of him as he passed. For all of Maveith’s humility, he wasn’t fazed by the attention and waved to the elven children who returned it. When we reached the gates of a walled-in courtyard, four elven guards halted us until we announced ourselves. They did a cursory inspection of what we were carrying, checked our guild medallions against their log, and then allowed us inside.

An array of individuals and carts was milling about the courtyard. Ginger yanked on the reins briefly as she wanted to go meet a large white stallion on the far side. Her warhorse training caused her to calm down after I gave her reins a single pull.

Most of the people here were elves dressed in a variety of styles. A few humans huddled together around a large cart that so I assumed they were merchants. There was a lone halfling sitting atop an isolated cart, struggling to stay awake. Maveith interrupted my people-watching, “Where is the portal?” he asked in Telhian.

A dwarf, or maybe a large halfling, huffed nearby and was clearly irritated. He clearly needed to vent. He spoke Elvish as he ranted. “Elves don’t use portals, friend goliath. Look at the stones. There is a teleportation spell form anchor embedded there. Elves don’t have enough good displacement mages to make a portal network possible. Had to wait six days for this transport, and then they only gave me a day’s warning to get ready!”

A blond elf woman in drab grey clothes nearby felt the need to join the conversation. Her pale blue eyes sparkling, “I hear the elven mages succeed most of the time. Always the risk the mage sends the group too far—or too high.” The elf was practically laughing at making the dwarf uncomfortable.

I noted two city guards standing just a few feet from the elven woman and quickly deduced she was our mage. “And how proficient are you with your teleportation magic, master mage?” I used the elven honorifics for someone of a higher station than me, even though this was not a formal occasion.

She smiled and tapped her chin in thought as the dwarf made to disappear into the crowd, realizing he had insulted the elf who was sending us to Artiria. “Hmm, this will be my ninety-seventh sending from Sanco to Artiria. I have only failed twice.”

“The odds are pretty good then,” I replied respectfully in Elvish with a smile, sensing she was teasing us.

“Here, I thought you would be more fun to tease, adventurer—my two failed attempts were during my centering training. Only one pig was killed, but that was a decade ago.” She walked up to Ginger, her guards following, and stroked Ginger’s neck appreciatively. “Are you the adventurers Guildmaster Theodas bartered passage for?” She asked conversationally.

“Is there more than one goliath in Sanco?” I asked, being a bit cheeky.

The elven mage was not embarrassed. “I suppose not,” she said in broken Telhian. I think she was trying to demonstrate she knew of our origins.

I was not concerned yet and kept speaking Elvish. “What is different from using a portal stone as compared to teleportation?”

As with anyone proud of their work, the elf gave a lengthy explanation. “A portal creates a gate between two points. It costs a lot of aether to keep open, but it is much safer than teleportation magic since both points are linked. The issue is it requires a displacement mage at each end of the gate with sufficient aether to keep the gate open. I lock on to an anchor stone I am familiar with and will shift everything inside the spell form to that anchor stone, hundreds of miles. If I hit my target, the air around the spell form in Artiria will be pushed away instantly, causing a booming sound. If anyone is inside the target area when I teleport us, they will likely be killed.”

I nodded, “Impressive. Sounds like an easy way to assassinate someone.”

“Perhaps. However, defenses against teleporting are simple, and if there is too much mass to displace on the other end, I will get a massive backlash and risk burning my channels. Also, the teleporting mage must be intimately familiar with the destination and needs to include themselves in the teleport. The disgruntled dwarf mentioned that there are not many displacement mages in Esenhem—the magic affinity is rare in elves, and many of my specialty have killed themselves during a relocation.”

She finished with Ginger and stepped back, “A fine warhorse. I need to finish my preparations. After the stories I heard about you, I thought you would be—different.” I didn’t have a chance to ask what stories she had heard about me as her guards shielded her as she prepared.

Maveith had moved off to talk to the halfling on the wagon, and I mounted Ginger to walk her a little and feel out my new saddle. Before I knew it, one of the elven guards asked everyone to move inside the spell form. Another guard barked as he walked the perimeter, “If you want to get there in one piece, make sure all your body parts are inside the outer circle!”

The golden-haired elf mage remained in the center of the formation with four guards keeping people at a distance while she worked. I had enough experience now to be able to feel the aether saturating the metal spell form we were standing on. I could feel the aether coming from deep in the earth, not from the mage. Just as I was puzzling it out that she was tapping into a ley line, the air had a strong scent of ozone, and there was brief darkness before the sky and surrounding walls shifted.

Lazy clouds moved above us, and the sun had jumped to a new location in the sky. The courtyard walls were much higher and made of a darker stone. Large trees extended high in the sky, reminding me of the hearth tree in Caelora. The trees were not alone as stone structures challenged some of the trees for dominance in the skyline.

The ozone scent dissipated, and the familiar scent of salt air replaced it. We had moved four hundred miles across Esenhem, all the way to the opposite coast. The mage returned to my side as the others started moving toward guards dressed in off-yellow uniforms. As she moved past me, she said, “I will see you in the morning, adventurer. I am your ride to Gramney.”

Before Maveith and I could move for the exit ourselves, a tall man in plate armor approached us. The armor was polished, but there was almost no sound as he moved. His confident gait, chiseled jaw, and hard eyes told me he had seen his share of combat. Maveith moved to my side, sensing a confrontation. I think I could see the top of a guild medallion hanging around his neck.

He gave me something like a salute, his sword arm touching his opposite shoulder in deference. “Eryk Marko and Maveith Stoneskin. I am Knight-Banner Codrin Lucusta of the Duchy of Manch. I am here to escort you to the Adventurer’s Hall.”

“Why do we need an escort?” I asked, somewhat concerned.

“The Artiria Guildmaster would like to speak with you and has rooms ready for you. I will accompany you to Gramney in the morning to make sure you deliver your message,” the warrior stated flatly. There was clearly more going on here than I was privy to. I looked up to Maveith, who shrugged. The others who had come with us had almost cleared the courtyard now. Not wanting to create a scene, I followed Cordin out of the courtyard.