Chapter 11: Chapter 10 – Cultural Dissonance

“When you’re on a journey, don’t set sight for your destination and think how much further you need to go. Enjoy each step as you take it instead, and before you know it, you will find yourself arriving at your destination.” - Yulissia Adrariel, Elven Bard and Traveller, known for having roamed every nation in the world.

Cal was up early the next morning - her constitution had not required as much sleep as most do - and was busy as she maintained her weapons ever since the sun rose over the horizon. Her halberd was lovingly cleaned and polished, and looked as if it had never been used before instead of a weapon that had bathed in blood for decades. She also checked the machetes she had used during the journey so far, cleaned the blades from any filth that lingered, and resharpened the one that had a small section dulled from use.

 

On principle she also spread out the pack of throwing darts she always carried around in case they came in handy - useless against large monsters in most instances, but far, far more useful when used against human opponents -, the set of fifty darts were crafted out of good steel imported from the continent, each shaped like a barbed spearhead with a ring on the blunt end, to which a silken strip of fabric was attached, which allowed for ease of retrieval after she used the dart.

 

She was still busy as she inspected those when a knock sounded on the door of her room in the village’s sole tavern.

 

“Come on in, It’s not locked.” She said.

 

The door opened, and Cal’s attention was drawn by the sudden embarrassed squeal that came from the doorway. She turned to look towards the door to see that Fredegund looked at her somewhat askance, while Dairrp was half hidden behind her bulk, his hands covered his eyes, as a rosy blush spread along his yellow-tinted cheeks.

 

“Is something the matter?” Cal asked, their reaction odd to her.

 

“Ye might want to put something on first, girl.” Fredegund commented in a deadpan manner. “Might be a wee bit too much stimulation for young males like Dairrp here.”

 

“Oh. Right. One moment.” Cal had been topless the entire time she maintained her weapons, since otherwise the oils might have dirtied the clothing, and she had not felt the desire to do extra laundry work. She calmly wiped her hands clean on a cloth before she pulled out a tunic from her pendant and put it on. “I keep forgetting that you mainlanders are much more… shy about your bodies than back home.”

 

Fredegund arched an eyebrow at that comment. The eyeful she got showed a slender body that was extremely fit, her toned muscles clearly showed beneath the alabaster skin, while the reds and blues of blood vessels were visible in some areas. A web of faded scar tissue criss-crossed all over her upper body, though Fredegund felt a bit of pity at the half-elven woman for her near complete lack of… blessings on a certain area. More worrisome to her, however, were the multitude of open wounds she saw the other woman sport, left open and unbandaged, and seemed untreated. “What do you mean? And… are those wounds fine left alone like that? I have some good poultice for wounds if you need.”

 

“It’s the norm to bathe together where I’m from. Men, women, young and old, rich and poor. Communal baths were the norm back home. Even among the royalty it’s common for the Emperor to bathe together with his ministers and his harem at the same time in the same bath. Nobody really cared much for one another’s bodies when you’ve seen them naked that often, you know?” Cal replied. “And I’m a blood mage. These will heal themselves in a few days, and gone without a trace in another month or so.”

 

“Oh, right, you can look now.” She added to the young goblin who still covered his eyes with a throaty chuckle. “Not that I would have minded before anyway.”

 

Dairrp blushed until he turned red like a tomato with her last comment.

 

“So what’s up?” Cal asked.

 

“Several parties from Jonkver arrived this morn, so we’d have to trouble you to show them the other carcasses as proof.” Replied the dwarf woman. “You could also hitch a ride back there with them if you want.”

 

“Sounds good to me. I assume you still have work to do here then.”

 

“Yeah, it's gonna take another day at least to fill up the reservoir, and he still has four more houses and barns to build.”

 

“This would be farewell then. A pleasure meeting you, Fredegund and Dairrp.”

 

“Pleasure is ours, girl. Been a wacky day, but one I ain’t gonna complain about.” Replied Fredegund, Dairrp beside her nodded repeatedly in affirmation.

 

“I might have to visit your homeland one day, if they have more good food like you treated us to.” Added the young goblin.

 

“And visit the local bathhouses too I assume, hmm?” Cal teased, as she laughed along with Fredegund as the young goblin blushed red like a tomato once again.

 

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Cal nodded in approval when she spotted the party of mercenaries that came to handle the creature situation. Twenty-five of them, at least ten of which were mages by her best estimate, plenty to handle the reported five Sickle-Fiends. The leader of the party, a young human woman with likely some goblin ancestry in her based on her unusually yellowish skin tone and sharper-than-expected teeth, separated from the group when she noticed Cal approach.

 

“Hail, Traveller. I heard you’re the one that handled our renegade monster issue.” Said the woman.

 

“These should account for three.” Cal replied, as she dropped the three carcasses she had stored for the other woman to inspect. “You’ll find the remains of the other two piled by the village square. We kinda made use of them for the celebration yesterday.”

 

“Already saw that. Didn’t even know these things were edible to be honest. I assume you’ll be keeping these three?”

 

“Ideally, yes. I did hunt them myself.”

 

“That’s fine, will just need your signature on my report then. If you happen to head to Jonkver next, showing the carcasses at the local guild would be appreciated too.”

 

“I do happen to be heading that way, so, sure, can do that.”

 

“Thanks, that’s much appreciated. I’m Jocelyn Redfeather, just call me Joyce.”

 

“Redfeather? Any relation to a Goblin named Rowena Redfeather?”

 

“That’s my Great-grandaunt, why?”

 

“Just thinking it’s a small world, my father once told me he partied with your great-grandaunt when he was living in this area.” Cal explained. “Celeysria Ambervale, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Oh! So you’re Great-Uncle Cal’s daughter? Your name sounded almost the same as his. Never met him, but grandma used to tell stories of him and great-grandaunt when I was young.”

 

“Calais Edrunviel was my father, yes. I’m surprised to meet the descendant of an acquaintance so soon - or maybe not, he did say he had lived basically all over Western Alcidea.”

 

“That’s how it is with you long-lived races, I guess. For me that name was more part of old tales my grandma told us about her aunt when I was but a toddler.”

 

“When are you departing?”

 

“In an hour or so at most. Are you coming along?”

 

“Might as well, would be less boring on the way with someone to talk to.”

 

Cal had mostly chatted with Joyce during the the trip to Jonkver to pass the time in the end.

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Note: Yes, Cal's father's first name is pronounced identically as the first two sylabbles of her name, just different spelling, so to speak.

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