Chapter 5 : Tall Clouds

Chapter 5

Riverstead

The growing darkness and looming snowbanks on either side of the road didn’t hinder Stefi from finding her home. Lansius followed Stefi as she headed down a row of similarly sized buildings. As they stepped up to the door, they saw that the lock had been smashed open.

Lansius nervously turned to Stefi, waiting for her response. Stefi drew her sword, gave a confident nod to Lansius, and cautiously pushed the door inward.

The creaking of the frozen hinges heralded their entry, but no challenge came from inside. Stefi went in, and Lansius followed, drawing his knife.

The house wasn’t large and was only modestly furnished, so they could easily see that nobody was inside. They checked the kitchen and the wet area but found nothing. Stefi dropped her bag and motioned upstairs. She ran up the flight of stairs and disappeared from view.

Lansius heard a door being flung open and then another. But then, there was only silence. Slowly, the knife in his hand felt insignificant. He stopped hesitating and went for the stairs, but the sounds of footsteps stopped him.

Stefi appeared from upstairs with an unlit candle. “All clear,” she said with a faint smile.

“Anything lost?” he asked while sheathing his knife. It took two tries, as his hand was unusually tense.

“I’ll worry about it later when I have time,” she responded.

There were clear signs of looting or burglary inside, but there was nothing they could do about it. As darkness fell, Stefi placed a candle on the wooden table and began unwrapping a small pouch that contained a flint, a metal object, and small pieces of wood from the previous night’s fire. She grabbed the flint and struck it against the iron, directing the sparks onto the pieces of wood. After several attempts, an ember glowed red, and she carefully used it to light the candle.

Lansius found a wooden plank lying on the floor, lifted it, and placed it into the corresponding iron bracket to secure the door.

“Come, let’s head upstairs,” she called, holding the lit candle in her hand.

The narrow wooden stairs creaked almost with every step. Upstairs, they were greeted by two doors.

“That’s my late master’s room,” Stefi said, nodding to one of the doors. “You’d better not enter.”

“I see. So where do you sleep?”

“My bed is beside hers,” Stefi said vaguely as she led him toward the other door.

Lansius followed her inside to see a tidy study. “Umm, so where will I sleep?”

“Here.” She lightly stomped on the wooden floor.

“At least it won’t be cold,” he responded, fully expecting to sleep on the floor.

“No, I haven’t pulled out the bed,” she clarified.

“Oh . . .” he remarked shyly.

That made her giggle. “Lans, you’re my charge. I won’t let you suffer.”

The room was dusty and damp, so they did what they could with a broom and cleaning rags. Stefi found a dry rushlight on the cabinet and lit it up. Afterward, she went inside her room and dragged a bed out.

“You sure you can do it alone?” Lansius asked in between the screeching noises.

But with only a few tries, she managed to get the oaken bed frame out.

Out of curiosity, Lansius tried to move it.

Oof, this is heavy . . .

The bed refused to budge.

She chuckled. “Better do it together.”

The two moved the bed into the study without an issue. Afterward, they returned downstairs only to realize that all the firewood was gone.

Lansius wanted to give it another look, but Stefi said, “Wait here.” She lifted the wood plank on the door and headed outside. He followed and spotted her just as she entered an empty-looking neighbor’s house.

Did she just barge into her neighbor’s house?

He glanced around nervously, feeling like an amateurish thief’s accomplice. Fortunately, Stefi returned quickly with two sizeable objects in each hand. She handed one to Lansius as she walked by, and the two hurriedly returned to their place.

“What are we going to do with these chairs?” Lansius asked her as they barred the door once more.

“They belonged to the jerk. He used to piss from his window at night, right onto my fence,” she explained, lifting the chair and heading into the kitchen.

“What?” Lansius couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“After my master passed away,” she began, “this neighbor kept bothering me . . . One time, he even waggled his privates when I walked home.”

Lansius was taken aback. “You let that go unpunished?”

She sighed. “I can’t do anything. If I cause an incident, I might lose the house.”

“How come?”

“It’s a long story, Lans,” she said, clearly not intending to elaborate.

After a brief pause, Lansius asked, “So, do you have a mallet?”

His question made her smile. Stefi didn’t have a mallet, but she did have a small, rusty axe. Despite its bluntness, they quickly turned the chairs into firewood. Now, the wood burned brightly.

Stefi put the clean snow she had gathered into the cauldron and let it boil. Meanwhile, Lansius removed his coat and watched as Stefi arranged what they had left on the table.

“Lans, there’s only gruel until I can get something from the market tomorrow.”

“Let me pay for the food.”

“Better save your coins. You might need better clothes,” she said, pouring the grains into the cauldron.

“Ah . . . you think so?” He realized that all his clothes were shabby.

“You need to look the part, like the captain’s scribe earlier. Let’s visit some second-hand shops tomorrow.”

The image of a long blue tunic came to Lansius’s mind. “But don’t I need to report in the morning?”

“Ah, it’s fine. You can show up later. It’s not like the captain would send a runner to inform them about you.”

Lansius nodded. He knew he wasn’t important enough to warrant that kind of treatment. Without things to worry about, he started to unwind. The comfort of the home felt luxurious after a prolonged stay in barns and tents.

He looked around and couldn’t help but compare this place to his home in Bellandia. Almost every feature in this house looked better. Even in a lower-class area, the house had a sturdy construction and a separate living space. This way, the soot and stench from the kitchen area stayed below.

The cauldron made noises as it boiled. Stefi diligently stirred and added her last chunk of cheese, followed by a portion of salted meat from a waxed linen wrap. “It’s almost ready.”

Lansius picked up a bowl from his bag while Stefi grabbed one from the cupboard. The meal was a humble one, but the mood was uplifting. They had been sleeping rough for months, so the prospect of spending the night on proper beds was overwhelming.

As they ate, a curiosity dawned on Lansius. “Stefi, is it all right in the city for unmarried men and women to spend the night in a house together?”

“Of course not. If they’re caught, they’ll be forced to marry . . .” Her voice trailed off as she slowly realized what it was all about. “Oh, shit. We’ve been together for so long that I forgot about that.”

Lansius exhaled deeply. Although they were technically still on a campaign, they were now stationed inside a city, which meant they could get in trouble with the parish laws. He had only recently learned about the restrictive and unreasonable rules that governed medieval society, such as the sumptuary laws that dictated what clothing, colors, fur, and jewelry were permissible based on a person’s social status.

Worse still were the laws imposed on unmarried couples. If a man and woman were found alone together without a chaperone, the parish would levy a fine. If they were caught touching, the fine would be even heftier. If they spent a significant amount of time together, it could be deemed as adultery, a criminal act with its own punishment. In addition, the fines had to be paid when the woman got married, which served as a form of public shaming.

I knew it. Something felt off with just the two of us.

“J-just keep this a secret,” she whispered. “Nobody needs to know, and no one will be the wiser.”

He nodded. It wasn’t like he could find another place to stay with the sun already setting. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow. It’s getting late. We should get some rest.”

Stefi took a deep breath and sipped her drink. “I’ll help you out. There must be something I can sell around this house.”

“Sell?” Lansius furrowed his brow. “No, I think I have enough to pay for rent.”

“But you also need a new tunic for work,” she reminded him.

Lansius smiled, appreciating her good intentions. “We’ll figure something out tomorrow. Oh, go ahead and clean your room. I’ll make sure the fire goes out.”

“Right, I still need to do that. Good night then, Lans.” She took her cup and went upstairs.

Lansius, left alone with his thoughts, couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if they were caught and forced to marry. Although he couldn’t remember his exact age, he felt that he was older than twenty. Meanwhile, based on her story, Stefi was nearing twenty as well. Both were considered old enough to marry.

But would that work out? Hah, probably not . . .

The smoldering of the fireplace interrupted his daydream. He approached the fireplace and knelt to light the candle from an ember. Afterward, he went upstairs to the study. Once inside, he realized he had the entire room to himself.

The newfound privacy relieved him like no other, but fatigue from days of walking and camping crept in quickly. He forced himself to arrange his bag and coat. Afterward, he blew out the wax candle, slipped into the bed, and pulled the blanket up.

Today had been full of new experiences for him. He had finally reached Riverstead and now looked forward to a new job. The feeling that he might just pull this off and help his family financially put his mind at ease.

The only thing nagging him was that he must find another place to stay the next day, and that might ruin him financially. The temptation to seek shelter in one of the vacant homes loomed large, but the risk of accusations of looting or theft was too great to ignore.

Oh, I’ll worry about that tomorrow!

Leaving aside his worries, Lansius finally found peace and drifted into sleep.

...

Lansius awoke to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling, gradually recalling that he was sleeping in Stefi’s house. As the events of the previous night flooded back into his mind, he took a deep breath, pushed his blanket aside, and rose to his feet.

The room was dark and cold, but a sliver of weak orange light streamed in through a slit in the window. Picking up his bag without bothering to change his clothes, Lansius quietly left his room. The house was silent, and Stefi’s door remained closed. He carefully descended the nearly pitch-black staircase, feeling his way down and listening to the creaking of the wooden steps beneath his weight.

Reaching the bottom without a mishap, Lansius headed to the kitchen. There, he noticed more light seeping through the cracks of the door and front window. He approached the fireplace, where he had hung his old, worn shoes and socks. The lingering heat from the fireplace overnight had dried them out, freeing them from the previous day’s mud.

Grateful for dry footwear, he pulled out a chair and sat down to put on his socks. While the wealthy could afford longer socks or hose , Lansius made do with short ones. The cheap wool was itchy, but it was better than the discomfort of rubbing against hard soles.

After putting on his socks and shoes, he thought to start a fire. Noticing that Stefi had left the fire-starting kit on the table, Lansius picked up one of the charred pieces of wood from the previous day and began to strike the stone and metal together to produce sparks.

Despite a couple of unsuccessful attempts, he persisted, considering this a valuable opportunity to practice his fire-making skills.

***

Stefi

The owner of the house yawned as she descended the stairs, an off-white mantle draped over her head and shoulders. Her face was pale from the cold, her eyes unfocused, and even her lips lacked their usual pinkness. Strangely, a good night’s sleep seemed to have left her even drowsier.

She did not even notice the crackling fire at first and was caught off guard by the warmth and light from the fireplace.

“Morning,” Lansius greeted her.

“Lans, you made a fire?” she asked, surprise in her voice.

“Well, you taught me properly. Turns out it’s not that hard when it’s dry,” Lansius replied, rather proud of himself.

Stefi chuckled, wanting to commend him but feeling too shy to do so. She approached the fireplace and knelt, basking in its warmth. Gradually, her pale face regained some of its healthy color.

Lansius offered Stefi a cup. Without needing to ask, she took it and drank slowly, aware that drinking too fast could provoke a cough since her throat was dry. After months stranded in winter, it had become routine to drink watered wine to keep warm. Soon, more redness returned to her face, especially her lips and cheeks.

“How’s the weather?” she asked.

“Windy, with a bit of snow,” he answered lightly.

She took another sip. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Not yet. I was thinking of waiting for you first.”

She nodded, rose slowly, and approached the cupboard to find her small bag of grain and cheese. “How’s your stomach?”

“Ready for some gruel,” Lansius joked, as it was the only thing they had at the moment.

Stefi snorted and turned apologetic. “I’ll cook stew tonight. I should be able to get something from the field kitchen.”

“I’m not sure it’s necessary,” Lansius said in a serious tone.

Stefi looked at him, puzzled, and Lansius explained, “I’m going to rent a place tonight. Somewhere close, if possible.”

“Ah,” she muttered, clearly understanding his reasoning.

Her face turned a bit sad. Lansius, ever perceptive, noticed and asked, “You’re good with that, right?”

“What? Oh, sure. I’m just thinking that I’m going to eat alone again,” Stefi admitted, revealing more than she wanted.

Now, Lansius glanced to the side, seeming perplexed before suddenly asking, “Is it possible that you want me to stay?”

Stefi furrowed her brows. “Well, I enjoy your company, but alas, you cannot. Someone will see and start a ruckus.”

“They’d do that, even after a siege?” he asked, plainly doubtful.

She shrugged and said, “After a war like this, people are bored and eager for something to talk about.”

Yesterday, they had seen several houses lit, proof that many had remained throughout the siege. Riverstead was populous enough, and many of its residents were affluent craftsmen and tradesmen. A siege alone would not drive them all away.

“Better not risk it then. I don’t want the situation to become like Bellandia.” He let out a deep breath. Noticing Stefi’s questioning gaze, he explained, “That was how it started there too. People spread all kinds of rumors about me.”

Hearing that he understood, Stefi seemed more at ease and mused, “My knight master would’ve liked you.”

“Isolte, was it?” Lansius tried to recall her late master’s name. “Why do you think she’d like me?”

Stefi’s face softened, and she stifled a laugh as she remembered Isolte’s eccentricity. “She was always unpredictable. A contradiction, even.” Finishing her drink, she set the wooden cup down on the table. “On one hand, she often joked about me marrying a rich man's son. On the other, she warned me not to, because men were not to be trusted.”

Lansius snorted. “That’s a bit confusing.”

“Indeed,” she said. Then, prompted by the mix of wine and an empty stomach, she asked, “Then how about you, Lans? Are you to be trusted?”

Their eyes met.

He was about to answer, but she rose abruptly, startling him. “Better not answer that,” she said, as if thinking aloud. “And it’s not like I could afford it . . .”

“What do you mean?” Lansius asked.

“Even if I wanted to, the only thing I have is Horsie, and I don’t intend to give her as a dowry.”

The thought of Horsie as a dowry amused Lansius, and he burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, giving him a sharp look.

“No, it’s just . . . Horsie as a dowry,” he said between laughs, unable to come up with a better explanation.

She misunderstood his reaction and stared at him with annoyance, making him flinch.

Not wanting her to think poorly of him, Lansius quickly explained, “I mean, in my . . . homeland, it’s the men who pay the dowry!”

His explanation caught Stefi off guard. Her annoyance gave way to curiosity. “How much is this dowry?”

That question made Lansius pause for a moment before muttering, “Mm, probably more than three years of pay.”

Stefi’s eyes widened as she tried to picture the sum and realized it must be enormous. Educated men were paid far more than common footmen or lowly squires like herself.

“How about it, suddenly interested?” Lansius joked, if only to ease the awkwardness between them.

Stefi snorted, and the two laughed it off, both aware that they were still unsure of each other. Even so, the moment left its mark.

To a masterless squire like Stefi, an educated man who would even pay the dowry was no small thing. Yet past experience left her wary of taking advantage of someone as innocent as Lansius.

Rather than continue down that line of talk, Stefi drew a deep breath and said, “All this talk about marriage so early in the morning. Maybe we’re still too drunk. How about a morning training session to clear our heads?”

He had not expected that. “We don’t have sparring swords, and yours isn’t dull.”

Stefi grinned mischievously and said, “Sooner or later, you’ll need to practice against a real sword. Today is as good a day as any.”

“Remember, we need to stop by the shop and buy some clothes,” Lansius said, trying to change the subject.

Stefi kept her gaze on him, still weighing what they could use for sparring.

Lansius quickly added, “Maybe buy some breakfast too? I’ll treat.”

She blinked, and her eyes softened a little. “Mm . . . bribery, huh? I doubt you have the money, but I know just the place.”

“All right, let’s go then. I’m hungry,” Lansius said, a hint of urgency in his voice.

Stefi could tell what he was doing, but decided to let him off the hook. “Let me change my clothes first,” she replied.

Lansius relaxed at once, clearly relieved.

***

Lansius

For over three thousand years, Riverstead had been a silent witness to the rise and fall of numerous kingdoms and all three Imperiums. This ancient city, having been resurrected multiple times from the ruins, was strategically nestled among three rivers that flowed toward the Great River.

Despite the rivers’ presence, the surrounding land wasn’t blessed with fertility, but rather with mineral wealth that had been mined since ancient times. As a result, generations of craftsmen had made their livelihoods here.

With access to the Great River, Riverstead maintained direct trade links with the Far East kingdoms and also served as a crucial trade hub for the northern provinces of the Imperium. Through the city, goods, particularly from the industrious province of Midlandia, flowed northward and eastward.

The city streets were paved with gray cobblestones, and the vastness of Riverstead was apparent, boasting hundreds, if not thousands, of buildings, including several multi-story structures. Lansius found it fascinating that some of the buildings bore architectural resemblances to ancient Greek or Roman styles.

This morning, Lansius accompanied Stefi to the bustling market area, where they encountered open stalls teeming with people. Even in a city scarred by war, people needed to eat, and stall owners always found a way to make ends meet.

Stefi chatted with some of the stall owners who eyed Lansius and made comments about him. She either shrugged or waved them off, then returned with a wooden plate filled with various foods. One particular dish caught Lansius’s attention—a yellowish-white, layered square.

Lansius took his knife, rubbed it on his inner clothes, and tried to get a taste, but he couldn’t manage it. The food was slippery.

Seeing him struggle, Stefi used her spoon and thumb to pinch off a piece of the lasagna and fed it to Lansius. Once he tasted it, he found it to be similar to lasagna, with layers of pasta-like dough, and salt and cheese, but without tomato sauce.

Pretty good. I wonder if they have macaroni or spaghetti.

As the two ate standing in the street, the city slowly began to stir. The market was still recovering from the war, but those stalls that were open were crowded.

“Fortune favors the brave,” Stefi remarked, noticing where Lansius was looking.

Lansius nodded and commented, so casually, “Profit makes the world go round.”

“So, you’ve heard the lore about the Ancients, huh?” she asked.

“What lore?” Lansius was intrigued.

Stefi furrowed her brow. “The round world?”

“You know the world is round?” Lansius asked, surprised, seeking confirmation.

She looked at him quizzically. “It’s a children’s story. Everyone knows that the Ancients transformed into dragons and soared around the world, outpacing the sun in a race. I suppose you foreigners don’t have that tale.”

Lansius shook his head. “Marc never mentioned it, and I’ve never heard a bard sing that song.”

Stefi chuckled. “It’s a children’s story; bards don’t usually sing those. Try asking a wet nurse next time.”

“Wet nurse? What’s that?” He was certain of his vocabulary, but nothing came to mind.

Stefi just laughed it off. “Come on, we still have things to do. Finding you a new tunic is a priority.”

With that, she led him deeper into the market, where shops lined both sides of the bustling streets. As they browsed the cheaper stores, excitement stirred in Lansius. New clothes were one thing, but if fortune favored him, he might even get to peek inside a weapons or equipment shop. He could not afford any of it yet, but that did little to dull his interest.

***

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