"You're not supposed to age that much together like that! At most, in like vials! Are you insane?" Ethel yells, still wiping her face clean with the towel Thorpe gave us.
I've already used it several times, but my eyes and nose still feel tingly. It's like when I'd get sick during harvest season when I was younger. But several times worse.
"That's how Gilder gave them to me! And he told me specifically never to open them until they're ready to be used." The old man yells back.
"GILDER IS AN ASSHOLE! Why would you trust him?!" She rebukes, tossing the towel aside and groaning loudly. Her eyes are still red and splotchy. "By God, man. You're only supposed to age it at MOST 10 years. I can't even imagine what that shit would do to you."
I clear my throat, the soreness finally subsiding. "Well, it'll definitely heal a stab to the heart if you're quick enough."
The armored woman looks down at me, incredulous and concerned in equal measure, before glancing back up to Thorpe. "What the fuck is she talking about?!"
Thorpe, who looks just as messed up as we do, grunts in response. "It's complicated. Don't worry about it. Do you want a swig or not? This shit will glue your arm back on."
Ethel stares at Thorpe as if he suddenly grew a second head.
His response is simply raising a brow at her and wiggling the bottle of horrible miracle liquid.
Her expression goes from disgusted to frustrated to pensive in only a few seconds. Finally ending in her gritting her teeth and sighing. "Give me a god damn spoon."
Thorpe gives her a sage nod and fetches a wooden spoon from his kitchen. Pouring out a teaspoon of the bubbling red sludge that he hands to her. "Do…you want something to bite on?"
Ethel looks a bit pale as she stares at the drop of angry-looking liquid. A cold sweat is building up on her forehead. She glances back up at Thorpe, and it looks like she's about to refuse. But I step forward and tap on her gauntlet.
She glances down at me with furrowed brows, and I give her a very pointed look. Nodding my head slowly.
The armored woman groans as she returns her attention to Old Guard, taking the spoon from him gently. "I'll take one…"
Thorpe grabs a thick cloth that he folds up and hands to her. The [Knight] grabs it in her free hand while she continues to stare at the contents of the spoon as if it's about to jump at her.
Thorpe and I watch as Ethel seems to contemplate her life choices for a good minute or so before she finally takes a deep breath and swipes the spoon in and out of her mouth as quickly as possible.
Almost immediately, her face turns slightly green, and her cheeks inflate as she drops the spoon. Slapping a hand over her mouth to keep it shut. Keeling over against the dining table as her body shudders, rattling her armor. Her gauntleted hand holds a death grip on the edge of the table. And after a few groans, it seems she manages to swallow it all back down.
Ethel gasps, "BY GOD! That was foul!" She yells out.
Thorpe grimaces. "You might wanna…"
The [Knights] face quickly becomes very intense and red. A vein protruding on her forehead. Her body lurches over again as her hand shakily brings the folded cloth up into her mouth. Shaking like a leaf and barely making only the slightest pain-filled squeak.
Thorpe and I stand awkwardly to the side, watching the armored woman fight through the agonizing pain of likely years of bodily wear and tear get repaired in the most excruciating way possible.
Or at least that's what I think is going on…
Ethel kneels on the floor for several uncomfortably quiet minutes. But with one last gasp, her pale complexion returns. Raising her head with wide eyes as she searches around. Looking a bit lost for a moment. Her face is wet with tears, sweat, and drool that now soaks the cloth in her teeth.
After a few seconds, she stands up quickly. Removing the towel from her mouth, she uses it to wipe the sweat that has built up all over her face.
Thorpe raises a brow at her. "How do you feel?"
Ser Ethel takes another few seconds to respond as she wipes herself off. "I haven't felt that much pain since I gave birth to my sons." She answers a bit hoarsely, her eyes still seeming to search the room as if shes in danger.
The old man nods curtly. "Yeah. It sucks really badly. I cry every time." He admits it without a hint of regret. "Pissed myself a couple of times too…"
I wrinkle my nose at that and shake my head. "I blacked out the first two times…"
Ser Ethel narrows her eyes at Old Guard. "You gave this to a CHILD?"
He raises his hands defensively. "Hey! If you knew how prone she is to having her ribs broken, you would give it to her, too!"
My lips form a thin line at that. But I can't refute it…
My poor ribs are like a magnet for damage.
Thorpe lowers his hands and gestures to the [Knight]. "But how do you FEEL?"
Ser Ethel sets the cloth down on the table; her expression is pensive. She stretches out her arms and rolls her shoulders. Lifting and stretching out her legs. Even giving a few hops and crouches as far as she can go.
I'm shocked at how easily she moves in full plate armor. I thought it would be a lot more rigid, but the segmented joints of the armor are a lot smoother than I expected.
A small smile forms across the [Knight's] face as she continues to move and stretch her body around. "I feel overwhelmingly good." She answers, looking very surprised herself. "My joints are smooth and no aches to be found. I feel brand new!" The woman laughs heartily. "How long will it last, though?"
The old man crosses his arms and smiles. "Well, depending on your age, I'd say a couple of months before the wear and tear starts creeping back in. Can't run from aging forever, sadly." He answers calmly. "For me, it doesn't take but a couple of weeks before the aching is back."
Ser Ethel nods her understanding. "Either way, this will be a big boost to my capabilities for a while. You have my greatest thanks, Mr. Thorpe." She says, extending an arm to him that he gladly takes, grabbing onto her forearm as they shake.
Old Guard gestures to the two little glass bottles he brought out. "You can still take the tinctures. The first sip was just courtesy." He chuckles, giving her a smirk.
The [Knight] seems to blush somewhat as she realizes. "That…is very generous. Thank you." She reaches into one of the pouches on her belt and produces a small stack of silver. The little rectangular money pieces have 10 dashes on each of them. She counts out 5 and hands them to him. "An extra for all the grumbling I did."
Thorpe takes the money and simply pockets it. Then grabs the bottle to fill each of the little tinctures with Draught. Finishing off by capping them and handing them over to her before he folds his arms again, leaning against his table.
Ethel takes them graciously. Then her eyes glance down at me. That radiant smile she gave me the first time I saw her returns as she leans down towards me. "Liore dear, could you do me a little mission and run these out to Steppan for me? He should be out in the field with Lord Felix and your mother." She asks pleasantly, holding the tinctures out to me.
I raise my brow at her, a little confused. But I reach for them all the same. "Sure, I gue-"
"You do not get to order her around."
Both she and I flinch as the air changes in the room. Our attention is drawn towards Thorpe. His mood has heel turned into that same expression he had when he was dealing with the Bandits. Glaring at the armored woman quite fiercely.
Ser Ethel swallows, taking the tinctures back as she stands up straight. "Right. Apologies. That was silly of me. I shall get out of your hair." She moves to the door instead, but suddenly her path is blocked by a flash of good light that forms into Thorpe's spear as he holds it over with his right hand.
"Why the rush…you obviously wanted to talk to me privately. So let's talk…" He states plainly, his eyes burning holes into the side of the [Knights] head.
The woman's nervousness fades as she takes on a more serious expression. "I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Thorpe. And I don't much appreciate being threatened." She answers, glaring right back through the corners of her eyes.
I am watching in stunned silence at this sudden change of tone. My palms are becoming quite sweaty. I wonder if I should say something. But I think the tension in the room is getting way too thick for little-ole-me to cut.
Thorpe's jaw clenches, the bridge of his nose wrinkling. "And I don't much like being kept in the dark about something that endangers my home." He rebuts with a tinge of venom. "I don't know what spooked you lot on your way up here, but if it's enough of a problem to suspect that a village of [Farmers] might be a threat to you, then I for damn sure want to know about it."
The armored woman flinches, and her expression loses some of its steel. Looks like Old Guard hit the nail on the head.
Ethel is quiet, her hands clenching hard enough to make the leather of her gauntlets creak from the pressure. Her eyes shift back down to the blade of Thorpe's spear as if she's studying it. A long exhale escapes from her nose as she finally returns her attention to Thorpe. "You are right…I came to you to talk. I wanted to judge whether or not you were trustworthy. The Lord and Steppan don't think you are, even after confirming your class. But I had a gut feeling about you."
Thorpe grunts. "Figures. They saw my level and got spooked. Can't say I blame them. I'm not on the census for this village, so there's no record of me being here." He admits honestly. "The simple answer is that I didn't want to be bothered."
Ethel nods. "I can understand that. I've met several people above 10, and many of them hide that fact due to the scrutiny as well." The [Knight] lets out another hard sigh. "I'm sorry for the secrecy, but what we've experienced on this investigation has been beyond unpleasant."
The old man's face relaxes somewhat as he finally raises the spear out of Ethel's path, resting it against his shoulder. This, thankfully, allows me to relax the extreme tension that has been paralyzing me for the last couple of minutes.
Old Guard still has an intensely serious expression on his face. "What the hell is going on?"
Ethel stares at Thorpe for a long moment, biting her lip slightly. "Bear with me…I have one question. And then I will explain everything."
The old man grimaces, and his hand tightens on his spear.
The [Knight] pales a bit at the look he gives her. "Just a simple one." She promises, clearing her throat. "I've only met one other person with a spear like that. Do you happen to know her?"
Thorpe's face goes from quiet fury to confusion in quick order. His brow raises high. "Judging by your dialect, you're from the Capital region. So I can only assume you are talking about Lorna?"
Ethel seems to relax quite a bit at that, a small smile playing across her lips. "So you do know Dame Gahveire."
The old man stands up straight and sighs. "Yes. I served with Lorna. She and I became captains at the same time when we were given spears from the Wall's armory. Why?"
The armored woman's smile becomes a bit mischievous. "What is the ONE thing that can make her smile?"
Thorpe immediately scoffs so hard it looks like a sneeze. "When someone fucken threatens her…"
Ethel actually giggles at that, and her body fully relaxes as she backs away from the door. "Then I trust you."
But then her expression becomes deeply serious again, giving us both a hard stare. "The brigands from Llanercost are much more organized than anyone thinks. And we have information that one of the Villages might be housing them."
It feels like the air just escaped from the room. A cold chill runs down my back. "You mean…that one of the Villages might be...working WITH them?"
Ethel nods solemnly at me. "We don't have confirmation of it yet, but it was from a strong enough source to take seriously."
My teeth grit in frustration, trying to make sense of it. The idea that one of the villages would actually house the people who are RAIDING their neighbors is just too horrible to believe.
Old Guard looks equally put off by this information. That quiet fury has returned to his features. "What happened to the carriage?"
Ethel grimaces at the question. "That's where things get more complicated and why we have been so on edge since we arrived."
Both Thorpe and I exchange a glance before focusing fully on the woman.
She folds her arms over her cuirass. "The last of Steppan and I's men are the 8 you've seen outside. But 6 other Mercs were assigned to us by the Barony as well before we left."
Thorpe's eyes begin to widen as it seems he's caught on early, but I haven't. What does she mean by the last of her men?
Ethel's expression shifts to a deep disgust. "We were ambushed about an hour down your road. [Force Mine] spells that detonated under the carriage and the wagons we brought. Killed the horses. And then arrows rained down on us from the trees on either side."
Her teeth are gritting so hard I fear they might crack. The utter fury in her eyes is unmistakable. All the while, Thorpe and I have been stunned back into silence.
"And then the mercenaries the Barony assigned to us…turned on us."