It only took a minute or so to get over the west bridge and turn up the wooden steps into the porch of my families cabin. Even just the sight of the front door sends soothing signals through my unsettled mind. Margo's hands still gently rest on my shoulders while Mrs. Bennett opens the door for us.
The entrance area is rife with dried mud from the rainy days recently. The culprit being several pairs of Mama's work boots set out on the shoe rack to dry but her travel pair are currently gone. My own sets of shoes sit nearby but they don't really fit me anymore. I've been growing quite a lot these last couple years.
Margo and Mrs. Bennett lead me into the entrance area and help me remove my gambeson and boots. Margo's skilled hands making short work of the buckles on the padded armor. All too familiar with its structure as she had been the one to make the set herself. The [Seamstress] class is quite versatile. Allowing one to not only create standard clothes but also types of padded and leather armors. Which makes her a perfect fit for Mrs. Bennett who can make plate armor as well as weapons. Allowing them to work together on several things. I think they get bonuses for doing that as well.
Margo stops and gasps as she peels the gambeson open. Eyes wide while staring at the inner right side where the blue fabric is almost entirely stained a dark red. Mrs. Bennett grimaced and kneels down to take a look as well. Her fingers search around the fabric until she finds the hole made by the round that went through me. As well as where it exited.
Both of them looking up to me for an answer and being met with nothing but the heavy fatigue set into my face. Which just makes them look more worried. Because who wouldn't in their position?
Mrs. Bennett rests a hand on my shoulder. "Auguste said there was cursed items in that bag he had. What were they? What did they look like?"
The corners of my mouth tilt down into a frown. "Flash pipes. Three of them." I answer quietly and plainly, not seeing any reason to lie even if Thorpe wants to save it for the meeting. "Not the one that hit me but others he found in their camp before we left. He said he needed them for evidence."
Margo furrows her brows, not seeming to understand what we are talking about as she glances at her wife. But Mrs. Bennetts hard stare and the way her nose wrinkles says that she knows all too well. The blacksmith giving a low growl. "Bandits…"
I do little else except nod to confirm her suspicion.
Margo covers her mouth with her hand from the shock. Her eyes wide with fright as she clutches onto Mrs. Bennett for support. "Out here in Camden? I didn't think any existed out here..."
Mrs. Bennett squeezes her wife's hand and sighs. "There are a couple but they are closer to the Alder region border and rarely do much raiding out this way." She would assure her other half before glancing back to me. "And those clans don't have access to weapons like that. Which means the ones you ran into out there aren't local."
My lips purse, honestly surprised at how spot on she is. The blacksmith clearly has some history with the clans. But I suppose I've never really thought about where Mrs. Bennett came from. I know she showed up when I was pretty young but I didn't speak to her for the first time until I was 7.
Giving a shake of my head to her in response while I slipped myself the rest of the way out of my gambeson. Margo realizing that she had frozen up, folding the padded armor neatly before placing it on the floor and helps me with my boots. Feeling the familiar cool wood floor on my bare feet already does wonders for my mood. Giving me enough resolve to shift my attention back to Mrs. Bennet and dig up what I remember. "They were from past the Red Line and deeper south. It was a band of 13 or 14...I can't remember exactly. But they escaped up north after their clan was wiped out by the Urka."
Mrs. Bennet grimaces even more than she had before, giving a deep sigh and standing up to place her hands on her hips. "Figures. It's always because of some Urka power play scattering them like rats. But for them to come up this far…" The woman narrows her eyes. "Where are they now?"
My face scrunches up a bit. "The ones we ran into are all dead." I answer plainly. "Thorpe killed most of them. Two were killed by monsters. And the last one…I…" The next few words catch in my throat as my mind flashes back to the dagger in my hands plunging into the bandits chest.
Margo seemed to catch on what I had trouble saying. The gentle woman pulling me into a tight hug, her hand rubbing my upper back. "You did what you had to in order to come home safely."
Mrs. Bennett nodded in agreement, a sad tinge to her tone now. "And good riddance to them. But I won't ask anymore of you. I'm sure Auguste will fill us all in later. For now we need to get you cleaned up and into bed missy. You'll need your rest for when your mama gets back with that posh inspector bloke." Her expression turning a bit apologetic as she scratches her cheek a bit awkwardly. "If I know Yara, once she hears about all this she ain't liable to let you leave the house til your hair turns grey. And poor Auguste is gonna get an earful."
Margo gives a wry smile and nods. "Wouldn't be surprised. And she was already stressed out as is."
I can feel my stomach churn and my face paling a bit. "Oh…"
I hadn't actually thought about how mama would react to hearing what I went through on a trip that I begged her to be on.
A trip that Thorpe told her for weeks was very necessary for my training...
The corners of my mouth curve down and I swallow hard. "She's gonna kill him…"
Mrs. Bennett and Margo can't help but giggle at my response before the blacksmith nods solemnly. "Aye. May he rest in peace…old bastard." She jests, cracking a grin down at me while opening the door on the right that leads into the den. "Now come along love. I can hear your pillows singing your name."
After letting out a long sigh I break away from Margo and enter into the house proper. Enjoying the comforting sight of the well furnished lounge room around the fireplace before we turn down the hall. "Just...please make sure she doesn't actually hurt him. We've gone through enough..."
Margo gives me a gentle pat on the back while the two lead me down to the washroom. "It was just a joke dear. She would never do that. He will be just fine." She assures with a pleasant confidant smile. Which she definitely should be since she's known mama longer than I've been alive.
But my exhausted mind just can't seem to accept it. And I fear for my mentors safety…
But I try my best to relax. Mrs. Bennett heads into the kitchen while Margo takes me to the washroom to warm up a bath, helping me wash the dirt and dried blood from my hair before she leaves me to scrub myself down in the tub.
The warm soapy water melting away the last of the tension in my muscles that had desperately clung on since we left the forests. And even though the wounds I sustained are gone I can still feel a faint cold pressure where they once were. As if the ghosts of them still lingered.
Getting the rest of the dirt off was a bit of a chore but after a good few minutes of working myself over with a sponge I finally feel clean again.
My legs tremble as I leave the tub. The muscles in my body now relaxed and enduring the soreness left behind as if I'd just gotten out of a hard days labor. But I suppose I kind of did. It just spanned over a couple weeks instead of an afternoon.
Margo left me a change of undergarments and my usual nightgown. Shakily walking over to grab them and passing the tall mirror leaned up against the washroom wall. The reflection catching my attention, causing me to stop and shift myself back in front of it.
It's been awhile since I've looked at myself. And I mean really LOOKED and not just a cursory glance. It's shocking to see how much I've changed in almost 3 years.
I'm going to be 13 in a couple weeks and it shows. I've definitely gotten taller but not nearly as much as Leo had. I was already fearing I'd never be as tall as Mama and it looks like I might be right. I supposed I'll have to settle for Papas more average height.
My body has been filling out not just in distribution but also with quite a lot of muscle I've been building up. The easily defined lines of them across my arms and torso a testament to the training I've put into them. They don't exactly look very 'ladylike' but Mama is pretty built herself so they don't bother me. I actually think I like them.
But even more striking are the new scars that have collected. Especially the new ones that have been from wounds far worse than I've ever had before. Healers Draught does wonders on the internals but surface wounds are still quite noticeable. Maybe not as pronounced as a natural scar would be but certainly very apparent.
My fingers finding the odd circular divut on my right hip where the flintlock hit. Tracing along the root-like ridges that flare out from around the indent. The scar where the round exited is slightly more pronounced. More like a tear than a clear puncture.
I have a few new ones on my face as well to no one's surprise. With the beating I took I'd be worried if there wasn't any. The most notable is the one on my right brow and the other on the right of my upper lip. Giving me more of a fierce appearance that 'makes me smile a little.
All of them appear to be cleanly healed. Even if the Draught has issues with sealing skin back together properly. But atleast they're better looking than the oldest one on me.
The scar on the middle of my upper abdomen. A warped indentation, like a crack, left behind by the horned wolves spine. Easily one that healed over in the worst ways. It used to bother me to look at it. The memory terrorizing me constantly. But it doesn't do much at all anymore.
I don't think it's just because I know the current me could have probably killed it pretty easily. But also that it's a reminder that against all odds, I survived to see it. Even if it didn't heal right and looks pretty ugly. I don't mind it.
After staring at all the new scars I finally lock eyes with myself in the mirror. Noticing the dark bags that have set in through exhaustion and stress. Making me appear much older than I should. Which I am hoping will clear up with some relaxation time and plenty of bed rest.
A sudden knock at the door shocks me out of my self reflection. Margo's voice speaking through the wood. "Liore dear, are you alright in there? Do you need some help?"
I take a deep breath, letting my heart calm down. "No, I'm alright. Thank you. I'll be out in a moment."
"Okay dear. Phillipa heated up a light stew for you. I hope that's okay."
I clear my throat while getting myself dressed in my undergarments before tossing on the nightgown. "That sounds nice. Thank you so much." I wasn't exactly hungry but stew sounds too good to pass up. Might help with the whole relaxing thing.
After getting myself dressed I step out into the hall and join the two women in the kitchen. A small clay bowl settled before one of the chairs on the tall dining table. Steam rising from a thin broth with floating bits of vegetables and thin slices of steak. Never as good as when Gordon makes it fresh but it does the work. He makes 100s of the dried blocks of stew a week for the whole village and a few other things on request if you pay him. Mama always asks him for tarts and pies which he loves making.
Mrs. Bennett awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. "Usually I leave Margo to handle heating the meals up. My fat fingers might have made it worse than usual."
Margo frowns and lightly slaps the burly redhead on the forearm. "Oh hush, you just throw it in boiling water and stir. Easy peasy. Only effects the flavor a bit with that much labor."
The stew, despite being weakened by the intervention of another class, is still far and beyond better than the bland jackelope that still haunts me. And if Teovar hadn't been cooking for us the last few days of the trip back I'm sure Thorpe and I'd be much worse for wear.
I enjoy the stew while talking casually to the two. Getting an idea as to what happened while we were gone. Which to my relief wasn't much. The village [Guard]'s did have a brief issue with a small group of Vulkars trying to make off with one of our cattle. But they made short work of them.
Things have been rather quiet all things considered. Only becoming a bit more hectic early today when the inspector suddenly showed up on foot with his guards and looking absolutely furious.
Apparently the inspector blamed our road for his carriage collapsing but one of the Mercs guarding him blamed the man's excessive luggage. We couldn't really refute him, we've been desperate for an inspection for years so Mama let him air out his frustrations on her. Of course he insisted she go and get his things, so she did just that. Why he decided to go with is apparently because he doesn't trust anyone to handle them properly without his supervision.
I have never met this man and already want to kick him in the shins. But he's an inspector of the Grand Kingdom. Possibly lower nobility. So if we piss him off he'll likely just take it out on us.
No one is happy about it but we need him to help get the fields cured. Especially now that we know it's been sabotaged deliberately. But I am going to let Thorpe explain that.
After finishing my stew Mrs. Bennett and Margo guide me to my bedroom and leave me to rest. Both of them saying they'll check up on Thorpe next and make sure he isn't straining himself when he's supposed to be resting.
Once they're gone I make no effort to stay standing. Seeing my sword in its sheathe laying at the foot of my bed where Mrs. Bennett laid it.
My bed is nothing special. Not overly soft or luxurious. It's average for your standard farm girl. But the moment I slide beneath the covers it's as if it had transformed into the softest bed in the world.
And the moment my head hits the pillow I lose any semblance of strength I had left.
Out like a light.