Chapter 182: Chapter 180: Boots

“Come on, Korra’leigh, dancing is fun,” Idleaf claimed. The spirit held my hands and tried to drag me to the dance floor. Sober or not, even in my tipsy state, with Deckard’s lessons under my belt and the not-so-good dancers swaying on the dance floor to the rhythms of the music, I was reluctant to go. Strangely enough, I still wasn’t losing it.

I mean, my scruples. No matter how hampered I was, I still held on to my wits, hence my reluctance to show my flair for dancing.

Though, why that was so, baffled me. I had surely drunk more booze than the last time, yet the world didn’t spin around me, and the ground was still solid beneath my feet. My new boots, perhaps? Was it the secret of the city guards, the reason they seemed to withstand so much liquor? Some kind of hidden enchantment on them? Poison resistance?

A closer inspection, where I squatted down and examined the boots that made my feet uncomfortable, confined, sweaty - should I be worried about an athlete’s foot? - revealed nothing, except most of the guys and gals here were wearing the same type of footwear. A trendy brand, it seemed. Or, more likely, they got them assigned from Trueglow as I did. Was the woman around here somewhere?

What about the cooks? I needed to have a glass with the cooks to ensure they knew I was here and didn’t piss in my food. Guys at the bar told me that was what they were doing when someone screwed with them.

“Oh, they’re playing that song...I like that one; come on, Korra’leigh,” Idleaf whined urgently. She really wanted to shake a leg to that one, and that left me dumbfounded. In the short time I had spent at the bar, a few hours knocking back drink after drink, she already had a favorite piece, while I had no idea what they were even playing. Damn! 

This time I let her drag me onto the dance floor, knowing that the favorite song was something special and she would be bummed if I didn’t go. It was about sharing your delight in the piece with another than dancing itself. Yet to add to my amazement, Idleaf immediately started moving to the beat of the song and, to top it all off, with the dance steps of the couples moving around us.

‘How the hell was she doing that?!’ She made it all look so easy.

A hint of jealousy struck my heart. Talent was hard to beat.

“....shooting stars....,” she sang the lyrics with the singer, and when she saw me standing there stiff as a board, she grabbed my hands again. In the next moment, my world spun, and I found myself dancing while Idleaf took the lead. The way she was able to move gracefully with her four-legged bulky lower body was astonishing and took me off guard. So much so that in order to not look so lame next to her, I activated [Ride of Ancestors]. Not that I was banking on any of the beasts in my ancestry being dance masters. I didn’t even know of one among my human forebears. What I was hoping for was to gain the predatory grace with which I moved through the grass in Fallen’s Cry and fought the Horned Rabbits.

It worked like a charm; along with the steps Deckard taught me, I was able to keep up with Idleaf without looking like a duck among swans. 

Well, she was right. It was fun.

And the night went on, more songs danced, more people wanting to talk to the Guardian of the World Tree and Idleaf herself, more shots drunk, too. The boots were becoming increasingly annoying to have on my feet, and the issue of my self-awareness of my doings despite the amount of alcohol flowing through my veins was still outstanding.

I blamed my much higher Intelligence and Wisdom, mostly. Sure, I was thirteen levels stronger than the last time I was here, a few skills tiered up, which brought my Constitution up by twenty points since then. But could those ‘few’ points, raising the potential of my constitution, have made such a difference when I had a hundred, to begin with? Hence my belief that it had more to do with that mind and memory potential opening stats. That or it could have been all the shit put together. [Perfect Equilibrium] tiered up since the last time I was here, and so did [Spatial Domain]. My skill set in general saw big changes. For all I knew, [Behemoth] could have had a hand in it, allowing me to digest the alcohol more efficiently. Although in that case, I wasn’t so sure. Instead of helping me metabolize the alcohol, the skill might have as well been pumping a bigger amount of it into my bloodstream.

Either way, not knowing the answer to that bothered me, like the seam in my boot that scratched my little toe with every step. Seriously, who made those shoes? It was so annoying. But to be honest, I found having them on my feet more and more restrictive the longer I wear them. As much as I hated to admit it, I loved the freedom barefoot offered, feeling the ground with my feet and the wind blowing between my toes as I ran through the grass. It was kind of sad that only having the shoes on - and the alcohol running through my bloodstream - made me realize that.

“W-what are you doing, Korra?” a husky woman’s voice came from above me. At first, I cocked my ears as if that would help; then, I lifted my head up to her. It was Harper who towered over me, kind of blurry and with questions in her four eyes. A good questions, actually. What was I doing? Why was I sitting on the dance floor and...ah. “I wanted to feel the wind between my toes.”

“The what? Wind? Here?”

“Um-hmm,” I hummed and continued to remove my boots and socks. Throwing the damn things away crossed my mind for a second before self-preservation kicked in. Trueglow might be here somewhere. That woman sure as hell wouldn’t take kindly to me messing around with the stuff she gave me. 

“Fuck yeah!” I rejoiced as I freed my feet, wiggling my toes in joy. It felt so good, so liberating.

Looking down at me, Harper chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief. “Does it actually feel that good?”

Grinning back, I jumped to my feet and waved my removed footwear in front of her face. “You should try it, too.”

“And you’re lucky yours don’t smell like mine,” she barked, implying that she would have punched me otherwise, and shooed me away. At least she tried. I didn’t let her. Dancing around her, with my feet free once more, I sort of...taunted her. Deep down, I knew that by doing so, I was asking to be actually hit, but in my current drunken state, I couldn’t hold myself back the way I should. Here and there, I brushed against her with my wings, then again with my tail, only to wave my boots in her face. “Go on, take them off too.”

“Am I telling you: you don’t want me to do that?!”

That made me stop and cock my head. “You’re not washing your feet?”

She rolled her eyes, annoyed. “It’s not about my feet. It’s about my boots.”

“Yeah, I meant to ask why you’re all wearing your assigned boots?” It was something that had been bothering me ever since I looked around at the city guards’ feet in the tavern. “Why don’t you wear something more comfortable or nicer?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because these are my only shoes.” Obviously.

“Oh,” Harper breathed as understanding crossed her face. “Well, these are my best.”

“Seriously?” I eyed the boots I was holding by the laces. There was nothing special about them. Ordinary army boots. “No knee-high boots? Wellingtons, Chelsea, Heels, Pumps?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shit! I said a little too much. “Just any other shoes that would be more suitable for the tavern.” My alcohol-addled brain didn’t even try to cover up my blunder.

“If that’s what you’re looking for, I think you’re in the wrong part of the city. Locals go to taverns to have fun, not to flaunt their wealth.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I protested, but I couldn’t find the right words. Me aside, was it honestly such a problem for ordinary people here to dress more decently when they went out for fun?

“I honestly don’t know what’s bothering you about these,” she gestured to the boots in my hands. “Quality materials, excellent workmanship, some enchantments. Sure, they could have put in an extra anti-odor one. After all, one spends the whole day in them, from morning through training and whatever they throw at us until the evening. But for being the shoes assigned to everyone, they’re the best I’ve ever had.”

That was sad to hear.

“You,” she gritted her teeth and threw herself at me. Guess my expression gave my pity away. Anyway, I ducked, dodged, and veered away from her efforts to grab me and give me a piece of her mind while I enjoyed the freedom of my feet way too much. I blamed the booze.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Meneur interrupted my fun. Usually, he didn’t curse, but when he drank, now and then, a cuss word would slip out. Naughty boy! Could you still say that about a man, a bull in his fifties?

Harper stopped too, looked at his feet - hooves to be exact - and frowned. “Are you going to tell me to take my shoes off, too?”

“That’s what this is about? And I thought you guys had a blow-up or something...”

“Come on, Meneur. Tell her how freeing it is.”

“Not having shoes?”

“Please keep that shit to yourself.” 

“Yeah! It is, isn’t it?” I ignored Harper’s pleas.

“They don’t make shoes for me.”

Oh, hooves. “Horseshoes, then?”

He scowled. “Tell that to a taurus warrior, and he’d cut you in two.”

“Noted,” I said as seriously as I was able in my state with a slight nod. The reason why that would piss them off escaped me, though - as well as the sense to let it go. “Why?”

“Because the horseshoe is for the horses, Korra. We are not fucking animals or beasts. We can take care of our hooves.”

I wanted to argue that horses, cows, and other hoofed animals in the wild were also able to take care of their hooves and that the cause of the suffering of the domesticated ones was people who locked them in pens, but despite my intoxication, this time I figured it was better to keep my mouth shut like Harper. 

“I did see a taurus with something similar on its hooves, though. Centaurs too,” pointed out Freyde. The quarter gnome surprised me. I didn’t see him coming at all. On the other hand, I wasn’t exactly trying to keep an eye on my surroundings. Instead, I was using my domain as an anchor to keep the world from swirling around me.

“Squad Four back together,” I shouted gleefully as my brain took an unexpected turn. “Wait, where’s Idleaf?”

“With the minstrels, singing,” Harper pointed to the group, not so far from us. The spirit stood between three men and two women, uplifting their songs with her ethereal voice. And truthfully, her singing was beautiful.

“They weren’t horseshoes,” argued Meneur, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. “Hoofsleats, that’s what it’s called. You’d better remember that.”

“Take it easy, man,” Freyde said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I was just saying what I saw. What were you talking about, anyway? I don’t suppose it was horseshoes.”

“Freedom for your feet,” I yelled before anyone else could say anything else. To punctuate my words, I waved my boots I was still holding by the laces and wiggled my toes.

“Is she serious?” He asked Harper somewhat doubtfully.

“I’m afraid so. She’s nagging me to take mine off.”

“Traiana’s tits, don’t,” the appalled Bookkeeper warned her against daring to do so.

To my surprise, the Baker gal was not offended. “That’s what I was trying to tell her.”

“A-are you guys serious? Sule-sle-surely it can’t be that bad?” A little tangle of the tongue as [Eleaden Standard Language] was starting to crash. System error. Too much alcohol in my bloodstream for the skill to handle.

“I meant to ask before,” said Meneur, eyeing my shoes. “Whose are those?”

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“Mine.” 

“Yours,” he marveled, glancing at my legs. “I thought you walked barefoot?”

“That was because I didn’t have any before,” I said, the sadness of it seeping into my voice. Those were dark times. All that was in the past, though. “I was assigned my gear. D-do you want to see it?!”

“Not really,” Harper growled, uninterested in what she and every city guard likely had. 

“Then why aren’t they on your feet?” Freyde pointed to the boots dangling from my hands. I grinned. That was an excellent question.

“Because it’s annoying to wear them. So uncomfortable, confining, restrictive. It’s much better this way; to feel the ground beneath your feet, the breeze between your toes.”

“Breeze between your toes?” Freyde paused at my romantic musings about bare feet.

Harper smirked. “That’s what I asked.”

As snide as their remarks were, I didn’t let those two ruin my mood. “You won’t know until you try. Tell them, Meneur.”

Our squad mage raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid I can’t be of much help. I have hooves.”

Toes, hooves, did it matter? “Isn’t it great to feel the soil beneath them and the breeze? The freedom?”

“Quite a lot of terrans actually don’t get why humans wear shoes.” Not the words of support from the fellow barefoot walker I was hoping to hear. Intriguing nonetheless. 

“What the heck is so weird about that?”

“There are quite a few terrans who wear them,” Freyde added to Harper’s query.

Meneur shrugged. “Ask them. I just know it’s natural for terrans not to wear them, and most don’t. You tell me why humans cover their feet. A lot of your kids are running barefoot in the streets.”

“That’s because most parents can’t afford to buy them a new pair every year. Kids grow up too fast,” Harper explained, her voice cracking over her childhood memories. If I had to guess, shoes were one of the things her peers teased her for, I mean those bitches she sometimes talked about.

“Protection,” Freyde said and went on to name more specifics, “against cold, hot roads in summer, abrasion, and rough terrain in general, grime.”

“Hmm...” I hummed, squinting my eyes at him. “Grime? Harper said her feet stink from her shoes.”

“That’s...” He looked at the Baker, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “...An entirely different matter.”

“What?!” She barked at the quarter-gnome. “Do your feet smell like roses when you take your shoes off at night, pointy ears?”

“No,” he admitted. “...but there are tools that will keep your shoes and feet odor-free no matter how long you wear them.”

“Are there?” Dumb question, I know. My alcohol-addled brain figured it out the moment the quarter-gnome looked at me like I was an idiot. The magical tools here in Eleaden, or at least in Sahal, have managed to make life easier in many ways. From the mbath and the mwipe to the magic toothbrush. That was the tool I was aiming to get next.

I was tired of brushing my teeth with just my finger, a habit I had picked up in my slavery. Dungreen didn’t exactly care about the hygiene of his slaves; he had no reason to when most of them didn’t last past the first mutation anyway. That aside, despite the inadequate brushing abilities of my finger, I managed to keep all my teeth from rotting away. Much to the credit of my regeneration.

So...what were we talking about? I know it wasn’t about toothbrushes.

“Yeah, there are tools like that,” Harper snorted at the quarter-gnome. “They’ll just cost you more than a bottle of Dragon Fart. I forgot you’re a rich brat.”

Freyde gritted his teeth. “I told you my grandmother cut me off when I joined the city guards.”

“Poor you, pointy ears. So I guess she took back everything you bought with her money, right?”

“Ah, shoe deodorizers,” I cried when I finally remembered the issue of smelly shoes.

“”The what?"" the two humans spat at me. Well, one human and one...mostly human.

“You know, the anti-stink shoe thing.”

“The nonshoeodor?” Freyde asked.

And Harper was no less confused. “What about it?”

“Is that the name of the tool?” Strange name. Not that shoe deodorizer was any better. 

“Yeah, expensive as fuck. The reason most common folk do without it,” the Baker shot a deadly glare at Freyde. “You just wash your feet in the evening, and that’s it.”

“So why wear them at all? You might as well wash the grime off them. Come on, try the freedom,” I urged her, and after wiggling my toes, I did a few dance steps. “It’s so wonderful.”

“Seriously, guys, why do humans wear shoes? I don’t think your feet are much more sensitive than those of a canine or feline terrans?” Meneur asked, ignoring me making my point about the freedom of the feet. Rude, but he made a good point.

“I don’t know, man. You just seem to me more suited to walking barefoot than humans.”

Harper nodded, for once, agreeing with her fellow squadmate. “The pointy ears is right. Our feet would freeze off in the winter.” 

Did gnomes wear shoes? Just a thought.

“Not every terran is adapted to winter, either,” our squad mage pointed out. “Their feet would freeze just like yours.”

“Then...”

“Well, in my experience,” I cut Harper off, giving her an apologetic look while I was chortling like a fool under the spell of booze. “When I go full beast, my feet are more sensitive than human ones. Tougher, I guess, but more sensitive.”

I paused, Sage so far wagging in glee behind my ass, falling motionless. Actually, I should have kept my mouth shut in the first place. The way those three looked at me gave me goosebumps, like I was something bizarre, a freak. Which, to be fair, I was. “I’m a half beast, though. Not half terran,” I added in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“Shifters! Do you know any?” Freyde asked suddenly, realizing that they might hold the answer to their little query, completely ignoring my input. I was what they called a shifter, or so I thought. Trueglow took me for one. Anyway, the shifter thing was a matter entirely of the original point I was trying to make.

“Forget the shifters, guys. Freedom to the feet. Give it a try. Meneur?” I threw a glance at the taurus, looking to him for backup. Sadly, there was no other terran in the tavern I could have asked to second my claim. It was no wonder, though. This place was frequented mainly by city guards, and our squad mage was the first terran among them. There was simply no one but him to convince those two to give freedom’s feet a shot...

“Korra’leigh!” Idleaf sang my name as she appeared next to me, so happy I could have sworn her eyes were shining. “This place is wonderful. Oh, you took your shoes off. It’s better that way, isn’t it?”

My eyes lit up, figuratively speaking. “It is. I was just telling the others to try it too.” Would they refuse the World Tree when she tells them to take off their shoes? I didn’t think so.

“Oh, oh, yes, and then we can dance like that together,” she said brightly, immediately loving my idea. Then when she looked at the two, and I saw their resistance breaking under her pleading gaze, I mentally beat myself up for not thinking of Idleaf sooner.

“Fine, fine,” Harper gave in first. “...but I warned you.”

“Why not,” Freyde shrugged, and as she did, he set about removing his shoes. Well, he made them disappear into his outfit-spatial ring, making the whole thing a little unsatisfying, considering how much work it gave me to convince them. Not Harper, though. To make her point, she took her boots off and waved them under my nose.

She didn’t lie. Something died in them.

“Happy, now?” grinned the Baker, a little uncomfortable, stamping her bare feet on the dance floor. Although she didn’t harass me for long, and after the first whiff of that foul stench, she made her footwear disappear just like the quarter-gnome, I struggled not to throw up.

“What now?” Freyde asked, testing the floor with his bare feet.

“Now we dance,” Idleaf declared, strode over to them, grabbed their hands, and proceeded to dance to the rhythm of the music.

“Let’s go too, big guy,” I asked Meneur to dance after I had curbed the urge to barf up the contents of my stomach. It would have been rather unpleasant to leave something like that on the ground now that we were all barefoot. “First barefoot squad ever,” I enthused, delighted, enjoying the freedom.

“I think there was once a group like that in the Empire,” Freyde remarked but failed to dampen my spirits. For him to manage that, I’d have to sober up.

“Then, the first barefoot squad in Castiana. Can you feel the freedom? The wind between your toes.”

Harper growled. “I feel something. But I think it’s a spit I stepped on.” 

Nah, she just didn’t want to admit there was something to it. I saw it in her eyes. She was enjoying herself, and so were the others.

“Freedom to the feet!”

Little did I know that this was the beginning of the crisis that local shoemakers would have to face.

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