"Sometimes it's the kindness of strangers that can help us rebuild trust. A simple gesture, a genuine smile, or a listening ear can remind us that there is still goodness in the world and that we are not alone in our struggles."

  - Journal of a Theban warrior on the eve of the Battle of Leuctra

  Aina slept.

  She was exhausted beyond measure, but the bed was soft and warm, so she slept. The day gave way to night, and still she slept. The blankets were a cocoon around her, nurturing her, and giving her a much needed respite. Aina was blissful in her comfort, and her mind was able to properly rest from the horror of loss from the past few days and the torture of the preceding weeks.

  For once, she didn’t startle awake despite the room still being unfamiliar. The handle of the seax was still in hand but it was a loose grip that was more a soothing sense of safety than a fearful clutch for protection. She pried herself carefully from the tempting embrace of her warm bedding and sat up. The fireplace in the corner hearth had been well banked and burned down into hot coals that would flare back into life with scant effort, the dull heat permeating the room enough to keep the cold at bay, but not enough for her nightshirt alone to keep her warm.

  Her bladder suddenly made itself known, and she realized she didn’t know where the jacks were. She climbed out of the bed and looked around. A pile of folded clothes were on a chair next to the door, the same that the nursemaid had sat in the day before. Aina ignored those when she spotted a curtain-covered alcove in the corner. Within she found a lidded chamberpot and a water basin on a table.

  After her necessary ablutions, she washed her hands and face in a frigid basin of water and made her way back out into the room. Aina approached the folded clothes with trepidation. Was the archmage going to dress her up in womanly clothes now? What manner of service would he expect of her? How long would it take for her to steal men’s clothes and sneak away from this thrice-cursed town?

  Aina pulled up the folded tunic, which was dyed a dark gray. The fabric was richer than anything she’d ever owned, sturdy yet comfortable. As she lifted it, a smaller bundle fell to the floor. She stooped to pick it up, only to realize it was a new cloth binding for her chest - soft and long, and well suited to the job. Confused, she picked up a pair of trousers, which revealed a pile of hunter’s leathers beneath.

  The archmage had provided her… men’s clothing?

  A wash of relief swept through her. She dressed herself swiftly. The pants were well tailored to someone her size, but were still loose and baggy about the thighs in the way nobles often wore. She tucked her tunic into the trousers, and tied them about her waist. A yellowish-green tabard embroidered with a web-like pattern went overtop, followed by the olive-green dyed leather overcoat belted by a long green belt. An equally green scarf went about her neck and fur-lined boots that laced up to her knees completed her outfit.

  Aina used a comb she found on the chest of drawers next to the chair, and was even provided a length of green ribbon to tie her long blond hair into a low ponytail common amongst men. After strapping her seaxes into place on her waist, she regarded herself as best she could without a reflection in a pond to look at.

  She felt like a fraud. Aina was no noble, but she was dressed as one - or at least as a rich merchant’s daughter… son. Rich merchant’s son. Yet at the same time, the clothes were obviously meant for hunting. They were warm enough for a winter hunt, loose enough to move well in, and tight enough to allow a sword baldric across the chest, or a quiver strapped to the back. It was a fortune in clothing - a fortune she hadn’t earned.

  For no reason at all besides he wanted to, the archmage had saved her life and given her food, shelter, and fine clothing. Aina didn’t trust it. She couldn’t. It was just too good to be true.

  The door to the room creaked open, and an old woman tottered in.

  “Ah, good, you’re awake, child. You can call me Granny. I see you’ve dressed, and it seems I sized you right. I’ve a knack for it. It ain’t a proper Forging, but i’ve got Odin’s eye when it comes to sizes. Although I reckon this is the first time I’ve met a young lass wants to dress like a lad. Can’t say I can blame you,” said Granny as she eased herself onto the chair where Aina’s clothes had been piled. “Now, they asked me to help you as my husband was a hunter and I know a bit. If you sign slow at me, I’ll understand you decent enough, I figure. It’s been a few years since he passed on, but my mind’s still sharp.”

  “Why?” signed Aina, and motioned to the clothes she wore.

  “Why what, child? Why the clothes? Why did the archmage rescue you?”

  Aina nodded. “Both.”

  “The clothes are simple. Yours were rags that nearly fell off you when the maids bathed you. The Stormlord bade new clothes be made for you. Now, why did he rescue you? That’s a real question, and one I’ve not got a good answer.”

  “What does he want with me?” she signed, getting at the root of her fears. She dared ask the old lady because she was a servant, and because she was old. Aina suspected she might be like one of her village elders who had decided age gave license to speak freely.

  The old woman gave her a shrewd look. “You do go straight to it, don’t you? I wouldn’t worry too deeply - he’s not the sort who likes young girls, thank Frigg. Heck, they’re saying he charmed a serving woman into his bed just last night, and she was no giggling lassy. Rumor has it he likes his bed warm, but I doubt that’s your fate.”

  “What else are they saying about him, then?”

  “Well, he’s supposedly from another realm, not our world. Showed up a scant week ago, bare-ass naked. He slew a hundred bandits to rescue the young Jarl and Lady Solveig from certain doom. Then he fought off an army in one of the inner villages. Rumor had it he bedded a half-dozen maids while in the village, too, but I doubt his appetites are that large. Few men are good for more than a few minutes with just one woman. Then he chased off another army just the other night, after he rescued you.”

  “So he’s what, some sort of wandering hero?”

  Granny shook her head. “Be careful making simple guesses like that, especially when it comes to archmages. The Stormlord has taken on the duty of the villagers from that village, when he could have easily foisted them off. He took you in, too. But archmages are strange. There’s a half-dozen in the kingdom before he arrived, and they’ve all got weird quirks to go along with terrifying amounts of power.”

  Aina took a moment to digest that information. “What do I do now?”

  “Well, now I take you down to the kitchens to get some food in you. You’re still recovering from your illness, and you’re all skin and bones. I’ll fatten you up and get you back on your feet, don’t you worry. I expect your sponsor will wake at dawn and wish to speak with you, so everything else will be handled then.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Breakfast in the morning was a modest affair in the mostly empty hall of the manor. The Jarl had not risen, and Lady Solveig was still secluded to her rooms in mourning. A spattering of House Guards were seated around the slow-burning hearths, while Taliesin, Viggo, Runolf and a few of his own varingjar were clustered around their own table to one side. A scant handful of sleepy servants scurried about with trays of fresh bread and cold meat leftovers from the previous evening’s meal before vanishing into the warmer kitchens.

  “I’m tellin’ ya, lads, after the bar fight I charmed her right into my bed, quick as you please,” bragged on of the varingjar in hushed tones down at the opposite end of the table from where Taliesin sat with Viggo and Runolf. The man made exaggerated gestures with his hands to ostensibly demonstrate the curvy figure of a woman.

  “That big, Bjorn? Really?” asked a man to Bjorn’s right.

  “Absolutely! She’d hit ‘er own face iffen she jumped, every time!” said Bjorn slightly louder.

  “Curves like you say, she’d rival Asny for sure.” Several of the other men scoffed, while others chuckled.

  “Like Bjorn could ever win Asny Ship-Chest, or any woman like her,” came another jab from the men.

  “Hey, I’m right popular with the ladies, and I’ll make a great husband. Heck, I’m just about havin’ to fight ‘em off with a stick since I got that extra goat,” Bjorn looked slightly affronted.

  This brought a louder laugh. Taliesin turned to Runolf and raised an eyebrow. Runolf, for his part, reddened slightly when he realized his new liege could hear the ribald conversation at the end of the table. He cleared his throat and said, “They’re talking about Asny Ship-Chest… on account of her… ahem… generous bounty.”

  Taliesin chuckled and returned to his food. Runolf turned to the table.

  “Bjorn, leave off your tall tales and tell the Stormlord the story of your billy goat.”

  Bjorn looked ready to argue the truth of his anecdote only momentarily, before plucking right up at being the center of attention with his story. He was full of bravado in a way most common in teenagers and young warriors, though he fit firmly into the latter.

  “I can do that,” he said with a cocky grin. “So roundabout three, mebbe four years ago, I was at my father’s farm. I’d just joined Runolf, so I’d been in town more then I’d been helpin’ my da, and my da needed an extra pair of hands with the spring shearin’ of the sheep. Now, I’d bought meself an old billy goat and two does, on the hopes that the billy goat would help me start a proper herd.

  “But then the durn billy goat won’t take one look at those two does. It was the durndest thing. I ain’t never seen a goat turn up its nose when a doe is in season - heck, the ornery bastards will rut with a fencepost if it smells right. But that bastard, he just ain’t interested. I’d put all my earnin’s into that bastard, and he weren’t willin’ to put his willy to work!”

  Everyone at the table chuckled, even though, barring Viggo and Taliesin, they’d all heard the tale probably a dozen times already.

  “So, I left the goats with my da, and went to soldierin’. I figured, heck, if I can’t even get a durn billy goat to rut with a doe in season, mebbe I weren’t cut out for herdin’ work. So anyways, my da needed some help with shearin’, so I head on back for a few days. We get to workin’, and everything goes ‘bout as you’d expect. I looked in on my goats, and they’re doin’ fine. The does are lookin’ plump, and that damned billy goat was doin’ fine, too.”

  “Then, my last mornin’, I head out to the barn to spread some hay and fetch water, and I I heard it. It’s goats bleatin’ like nobody’s business, loud ‘nuff to wake the dead! I rush into the barn, and I was so happy to see two goats, ruttin’ up a storm! That ol’ billy goat finally got his willy to work!”

  “It was then I noticed that the billy goat is blacker than sin, but my billy goat is white with a few brown spots. I look around, and sure ‘nuff, my billy is sittin’ in the corner, calm as anythin’, just chewin’ his cud. Then, the new billy finishes his business, and rushes over to the other doe. Now, I’m not one to be upset about a bit of good fortune, and iffen the gods want to smile on me for a mite, I’m not gonna argue. But that said, I had no idea whose billy goat was ruttin’ my does!”

  The table laughed, and Bjorn looked pleased that his story was going over so well. “So I go around to all the neighbors. But ain’t no one missin’ a billy goat. I go into the village, and ain’t no missin’ goats there, neither. I reckon I talked to just ‘bout everyone in town, and no one is missing a goat. So I get back to work with Runolf, and next time I head over to my da’s farm, I see that both the does are quick and gonna kid. So I did the only thing I could think of to do about the new billy goat!”

  Bjorn paused for effect. “I decided to keep him, and me and my da made that old, worthless billy goat into a nice stew!”

  Taliesin laughed at the story’s conclusion. The men started to stand to head to their duties and start the day.

  “Bjorn, you’re the only goat herder I’ve ever met who’s more successful off the farm than on it!” said one of the men as they shuffled away.

  “The young lass is here,” whispered Viggo to Taliesin. The hall was almost completely empty now, save for Taliesin, Viggo, Runolf and the girl.

  Taliesin looked up as Aina walked over, dressed in olive green hunting leathers. She looked much better than she had even the day before when she first woke from her healing. The clothes suited her, although they didn’t mask her gender nearly as well as her rags had. Cleaned up and in proper fitting clothes, she gave off more of an androgynous appearance rather than a masculine one. Aina stalked forward with a feline grace that was nearly uncanny.

  “She’s got a strong Motion Forging if I don’t miss my guess,” observed Runolf. “She’d make a hell of a scout.”

  “She’s got a second Forging,” replied Taliesin absently.

  “Hmm,” Runolf rumbled with obvious professional interest. Aina came to stand in front of the table then, and sketched a rough bow to Taliesin.

  “Have you eaten?” asked Taliesin.

  “Granny made sure I was fed this morning.” signed Aina, and Taliesin translated it aloud for the benefit of Runolf and Viggo.

  “Is that the old woman who can sign Hunter Speak?” asked Viggo.

  Aina nodded.

  “What are your plans now?” asked Taliesin.

  Aina looked confused. “Did you not… have a plan for me?”

  Taliesin smiled in amusement. “I did not, in fact, have some grand master plan when I saved you. I saw the magic from your Forgings from where you were laying in the snow, which is how I found you. I’ve seen far too many deaths in my life to so callously toss aside any life that I can spare.”

  “So you saved me… because you could?”

  “Exactly that. I have no further demands of you. You are free to leave. You are also free to stay. I am in need of people with talent, and you have reached your second Forging. You have talent.”

  Aina looked both shocked and conflicted. The girl’s emotions played across her face, even flashing anger for a moment. A thin scar from frostbite still lined the edge of her chin, but it was pale and barely visible. Finally, Aina lifted her hands to sign once more.

  “I hate this town. Everyone here has been cruel, and my mother died from a plague she got here. She’d still be alive if we’d never come.” The girl looked surprised at herself for saying so much.

  “I understand. I’ve lost many loved ones in my life. Both my parents when I was not much older than you, then later a wife and son. Each loss is terrible, and I cannot fault you for your feelings. Do not torture yourself with ‘what-ifs’ and ‘maybe-I-should-haves’. Mourn her as the good, filial daughter you are, and live your life. She would have wanted you to move forward. That said, I do not plan to stay in this town past the winter. If you’re interested in joining my cause, we will move on as soon as we can travel.”

  “I have nowhere to go,” confessed the girl, who looked embarrassed to say it. “What would you have me do?”

  “Your second Forging, what is it?” asked Taliesin.

  Once more, the girl looked conflicted. After several long minutes, she shook her head. She looked saddened, but defiant, as if expecting the worst now that she’d denied him an answer.

  “Forgings aren’t typically kept secret, milord. They’re bragged about, more often,” said Viggo in distaste.

  “Ah, but this isn’t about the Forgings, is it?” asked Taliesin rhetorically. “It’s about trust, and Aina’s trust has been sorely abused. So how best to restore something that we had no hand in losing?”

  “Let her stay for a while,” suggested Runolf. “She can come train with me and the boys, and maybe come with us around town for a few weeks. She wants to leave town, but it's the dead of winter. A few weeks of a warm bed and good food will do her good, and she can see what we’re about.”

  “That’s sound advice,” said Taliesin. He turned to Aina. “Does that suit you?”

  The girl gave a half-hearted shrug not out of place from any teenager, but then she followed it up with a firm nod.

  “Excellent. Then you can go with Runolf and his men. They’re in the training yard this morning. We’ll proceed from there.”

  Discord Server.

  www.patreon.com/jpkoenig.

  3 chapters ahead, Fated ($5) is 5 chapters ahead, and Defiant ($10) is 12 chapters ahead.