Chapter 83: Chapter 77

The porch beckoned us inside once we led the horses to the stable inside the large enclosure of Sigmouth inn. The stable wasn’t as large as the one in the Hesroeder mansion, but it had enough guards in place to prevent petty filches from getting their necks broken by horse kicks. That would be a painful way to die, one devoid of regrets, because it would be quick and easy.

The ground floor was largely vacant, with occasional couches interrupting the empty setting randomly. Tables lined before the couches, decked with sprawled books that were probably left as such by the travelers who didn’t understand most of the content. Pages fluttered in the chilly winds of the winter that had people dressed in much-needed robes, though tattered and frayed.

A few of the occupied stools were moved closer to the open windows on the left, overlooking the city. Not many travelers indulged in boisterous conversations, and the silence was quaint. The three women close to the windows glanced at us for a while before resuming their furtive glances beyond the frame, and puffing out smoke thanks to, what I presumed, cigarettes.

The stairs lined the right side, similar to the restaurant, but these appeared in a much better shape. Even the wood-like railing glistened in the lambent glow of the mana lamps attached to the walls. Garlan leaned against the counter, seeping in the details of the inn, before turning to the man with an eyepatch and a scar that poked out of the black patch and ran along his cheek. Sure, this was how receptionists were supposed to look.

Bottles of ale decorated the rack behind him, most empty and cracked. His stool was worn out, and it creaked as he got up and walked to the drawer that was meant for cash. Probably. I wouldn’t be surprised if he removed a cutlass from it.

“Garcha?!” he asked in his raucous voice. There was no effort to hide the annoyance in his voice either.

“Two rooms for a night, boss,” Garlan leisurely placed twenty shins on the counter, separating us. “Twenty shins is most you will get.”

“Ragged rooms are your only choice, then. Decrepit walls, rolling mice, unkempt sheets, and a dirty bed that was ravaged by men and women of the wild.”

“How much for better ones?” Garlan raised his eye in question.

“Fifty for each. Got some good money this week, so I can go down to forty. Nothing below that. Stuff into murky beds if you don’t want to pay.”

Garlan glanced at my lady, who nodded, pulling her cowl closer and fished out three coins of twenty shins each. She handed them to me, and I placed them on the counter above Garlan’s coin, the eyepatch eyeing my gloved hands with suspicion. There was a cutlass on his waist, too imposing for common folks, but I doubted any came to this inn since SIgmouth inn was exclusively reserved for travelers.

“You want me to light the lamps?”

“No,” Garlan waved his hand. “We are stronger than you.”

He handed two keys with a snicker and wiped his drool that had started dripping to the counter now, and I watched his mouth devoid of teeth with much interest.

How did he eat bread, anyway?

Garlan recoiled almost immediately, watching the man clean the counter with a shabby cloth that had unwashed soot for far too long. And stink real bad. I meant it because I was forced to cover my lady’s nose and pull her toward the stairs. My bread lad cursed under his breath and followed us through the wide stairway. He was on the first floor, so he handed us the key and stumbled through the creaking corridor.

“I am seriously starting to doubt our plans, Rudolf. The first one landed us in such peril. Wilderness would have been a better choice than this grimy place,” Garlan said.

“The room might be better, bread lad. Keep hopes. My lady paid for you, didn’t she?”

His head turned to my lady immediately, and he half-genuflected, his knee much hesitant to touch the grimy flooring underneath his boots. “This noble one’s heart is filled with utmost gratitude, lady Letitia.”

“Servant, mutt,” my lady corrected him and continued climbing the stairs. Garlan patted my shoulder and slipped out of the corridor as fast as possible. Only one wall entailed the doors to the room, while the wall on the left held mana lamps. This meant the rooms were large enough because the edifice appeared huge from the outside.

I followed my lady and glanced at the key before trying the keyhole of room 203. It clicked open, though only after the key had added a few more kinks to its already curved stature.

“Doesn’t smell bad, mongrel,” my lady said as soon as the door opened.

I nodded and held her arm before she could walk inside. “Let me, my lady,” I said and entered the dark foyer before I channelized my mana and touched the lamp beside me. The room was clean enough, with a bed positioned at the apex and a balcony that opened to the railings beyond. It was hard to believe that a grimy flooring on the outside led to such an ostentatious room.

I continued lighting the lamps attached to the four walls and opened the bathroom door that didn’t particularly look bad either. I saw my lady collapse on the bed with her shoes, though they dangled beyond the boundary.

“Shoes, my lady,” I sighed and ambled to her after dropping my bag on the floor.

“I’m exhausted, mongrel,” she buried her head inside the soft cushion and lay down prostrate. Removing her shoes proved harder, for she playfully shook her legs whenever my hands tried to reach them. After some giggles, she finally acquiesced and sat up, letting me untie her lace before tossing her shoes away.

“Are you having a bath, my lady?” I asked as she held her chin in thought.

“Are you washing our clothes?”

“Yes,” I nodded and settled on the ground. She pulled me up and forced me to sit beside her. “I’ll dry them with my spells, or carrying them is going to be a hassle.”

“Then I’ll have one,” she wrapped her arms around my neck. “But I need some mana first, so let me hug you for a while.”

“Well, you can’t get mana by hugging another human or undead, my lady. Further, you never asked for permission before, so what’s with this sudden change?”

“I am telling you and not requesting,” she pulled away and jumped off the bed that was too large for her legs to reach the polished flooring. “There’s a difference between the two.”

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“Your clothes are in the bag,” I said before untying her hair. “And your body lotion too. You can skip the hair for today. I washed it in the morning.”

“In my sleep?”

“You were awake, my lady. Just drowsy.”

“Not that I would mind if you touch me,” she raised my eye at me. “For now, I would do all the touching until you succumb to my grown-up body. I doubt you’d be able to resist for long, though. A couple of years is mere fleeting seconds for you, after all.”

I sighed and pushed her toward the bathroom softly. She didn’t lock the door, and I cast [Ward] around our room before ambling to the balcony beyond lit by the lousy moon. The city had quieted down over the past hour, and even carriages had started disappearing from the streets. However, the night activities were vibrant and gleaming, and I heard shouts from a distance. Probably a district like the central plaza from the capital.

The wind was cold, so I used [Warmth] spell instead of walking inside for a cloak that would not help much. A few shadows scuttled through the streets below. I idled away my time, watching the occasional commuters swarming through the streets below.

“Mongrel,” my lady called out, leaning against the open door leading to the balcony. She was done much faster than I had expected. “Why are you out in the cold?”

“Surveying our surroundings, my lady,” I walked back inside and pulled one-half of the wooden balcony door, gesturing for her to bring the second. She was leaning against it, so she slipped sideways and helped me out. When I turned around after latching the door, she deftly kissed my lips before pulling away with a smile that reached her ears.

“My reward for the arduous journey, mongrel.”

I ruffled her hair and picked up her sprawled clothes that needed washing.

“I always tell you to wash your–” I turned around, and she wrapped her hands around me before kissing me again. I pulled away immediately, but she removed her clothes from my hands and pulled me closer.

“Don’t shy away, mongrel,” she said, biting my lips. “You like it, don’t you?”

“I don’t, my lady,” I said, but my body said otherwise. Damned manhood that didn’t know where its priorities lay.

“Then, why can I feel you against me?” her face was beet red, and I pulled my body away from her just as fast.

“I’m s­–“

She held her finger over my mouth before rushing back to the bed. “I need my clothes tomorrow, so get going.”

I couldn’t suppress the smile as I thought about her embarrassed expression. She usually acted boldly, but I suppose there are things even a villainess cannot stomach without getting abased. When I returned after a chilly shower, she was fast asleep under the sheets after succumbing to the weariness of the day.

I settled down on a high-backed wooden chair and wrapped myself with a cloak. It was probably around midnight already, and how I wished to have clocks at moments like these. Sleep came naturally to me, even if I was latching on a branch, partly because I was never worried about dying. I should have been, though, because long past midnight, I heard the lock of the door click open, thought blithely. My [Ward] helped me sense the sound, without which I would have woken up only after a few stabs. This meant they were skilled thieves, arsonists, or whatever else they called themselves.

I yawned as the silhouette entered the room, and my erect posture scared him more than the fire gleaming in my hands.

“How can I help you, mortal?” I asked, and the sound of a sword sliding past the scabbard greeted me. Not that I blamed the silhouette, a man now, but even the undead appreciate the courtesy. Wasn’t it the basis of all conversations?

He wasn’t the eyepatch guy, but they were here probably for my gloves. Why­­-- was the question I needed to answer; nevertheless, I had to wait until I had broken the digits of the man. I reasoned that they were perverted bastards who intended to sniff my gloves, but the queasy feeling in my stomach forced me to wipe that option off the gazillion others.

“Pardon for my intrusion,” I said for him as he ambled closer and slashed my neck in a single movement. The sword penetrated my neck, and my [Blood Forge] hardened the blood gushing out, which immediately stopped the whizzing blade, forcing the man to retreat. I had been careful enough to freeze the unwanted blood so that I wouldn’t stain my shirt, but alas, this bastard had torn my collar.

I glanced at my lady, who was sleeping soundly, and then at the masked assassin before forging a sword mimicking his own with my blood.

He charged, followed by a [First Step] right in front of me, and disappeared toward my lady. My [First Step] followed, multiple ones at that, and I had instantly teleported beside my lady before he had dashed halfway across the room. He stopped short and raised his sword at me, sparks sizzling around his body, and I deflected the bow with ease, my blood sword muffling the sound, which was the prime reason why I preferred [Blood Forge]. The clattering sound of metal had become annoying after a few thousand years. 

I kicked him, squared across his abdomen, and covered my lady’s face with the sheet as the man got back up. A few glares and a strong bolt of lightning followed, and the room lighted up instantly thanks to the mana lamps that somehow never failed to absorb lightning mana even from a distance. I couldn’t kill the man yet, for I needed an answer, but having men at my tailcoat during this mission wasn’t going to sit well with our client.

The silhouette took two steps back, the sword still pointing at me.

“Can we talk first?” I asked with a sigh because this was becoming a wasteful battle. As much as I preferred slaughter, my priorities were straight, but the man didn’t share the sentiment.

He used another [First Step] and almost disappeared when I cast [Dispel], rendering his spell useless. I procured sharp ice shards before him and pierced his every vital point, freezing the blood gushing out of his body immediately. Abstract art or not, I wasn’t ready to pay the cleaning price if they asked any.

The muffled shrieks failed to wake my lady, and I cut his head with a single sweep of my blood sword before more pitiful wails could echo in the room. His frozen head bounced around the room before settling down at the corner, as I used [Freeze] on his body that was lying limp. Not a single drop of blood had dipped to the flooring, and I was someway proud of my marksmanship.

This was perfect manslaughter if it wasn’t for the hired assassin.

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