Riding in a coach was, generally, a luxury of the wealthy insofar as Davy knew. However, it appeared that transport by wagon was not only common in this world, but also cheap. A sixpence (or the equivalent) paid the fare from Flanders to Cramlin, and the journey would not take a few days as Seamus estimated, but merely six hours. The duo would be able to make it to Cramlin, indulge in a tour of the town, enjoy fine cuisine, and then retire comfortably inside an inn before days end. All of this was made possible by the draconic beasts that pulled the carriages.
"This is certainly a convenient mode of travel, but I still see room for improvement." Davy attempted to make small talk.
"Ain't no way there's gonna be a better way to travel," Seamus replied, "these ground dragons are the best thing since the windmill...er...wait," Seamus managed to confuse himself, "which came first?"
"I think my answer would confuse you more."
"I suppose there are windmills in this world. I wonder why they haven't progressed further?"
The bullwhacker—or dragonwhacker—informed the passengers that they would arrive at Cramlin within an hour. Davy had tried keeping himself entertained by conversing with Seamus, but his range of interests were narrow, and they never arrived anywhere meaningful. Although he wanted to know more about Seamus, something about his guise told him it was not appropriate to pry. Nevertheless, on occasion, Seamus would depart with a fragment of his past. Davy learned that, for example, Seamus was twenty-two years old, had no family, and hated nobles. What a blessing it was that Davy vehemently denied his nobility, though he truly was not one.
Despite traveling for hours, the sun had not set correspondingly. He asked Seamus how many hours passed in a day, which he assured him was twenty-four, just like their world, but what he had not accounted for was their heading; the carriage was so fast that, by heading west, they were almost gaining time on the sun. It would be like watching the sunset before climbing up on a tower to watch it again. Astronomical knowledge like this was relatively new for Davy's time. It took until the renaissance for a proper model of astronomy to be developed. The classical theories like those of the Greeks were at best, convoluted, and at worst nonsensical. Ironically, or rather despite popular belief, it was early Christian astronomers like Jean Buridán that predicted the existence of inertia and that the movement of planets occurred without an immaterial force.
Davy initially thought his scientific aspirations would be shattered by his other-worldly circumstances, but after his encounter with the whore-assassin, —as Seamus dubbed her retrospectively— his imagination exploded, making his own world look boring by comparison. Still though, he never felt further from God in his life. He had returned from death, traveled back through time, and used his agonizing memories to cheat fate. The novelty of recent events was inexplicable. Was it divine intervention? Why would God allow him to die before raising him again? Why would he allow such evil to thrive? The shadows which threatened to devour him before death were not holy, that he knew for sure. Thus, the one question remained: if God is not behind his return, then who is?
With nothing else to consider, all he could do was make it count. After all, he had saved himself and Seamus from certain death and defeated a powerful enemy, though he wondered how she compared to others of this world. She and Seamus were equally matched, so he had no reference point by which to draw a conclusion.
"Seamus, how powerful was that woman really?"
"ain't never faced an opponent like that." Seamus shivered as he recalled, "talent like that is damn rare...she woulda slaughtered the entire garrison like it were nothin'. Hell, they mighta needed Reinhard for that one."
If a guy like Seamus could go toe to toe with that woman, then Davy was incredibly fortunate to be acquainted with him, though that meant there was still something Seamus was hiding. How does someone become that skilled?
"Reinhard?" Davy did not recognize that name.
"Strongest man there is. Anywhere," Seamus continued, "he's one of them Astrea's, and I'm pretty sure his daddy lives in Flanders now that I think about it."
"I'm going to assume that, since you haven't lost your mind, we must be quite safe." Davy quipped sarcastically.
"Oh yeah, he's drunker than skunk. He ain't got time for us."
Davy had never heard that word before, "A 'skunk'?"
"What?" Seamus absentmindedly replied.
Davy gave up on trying to coax the meaning of that word. He thought Seamus was a bit strange, hypocritical as that was.
#
Cramlin was far more modest than Flanders, being only a medium sized town without any large walls or towers; despite this, it was far more beautiful by comparison. In fact, Davy could not make heads or tails about whether what he witnessed was real. Outside the carriage lay a vast and remarkably lush open plain, highlighting the spectacularly vibrant blue sky. Majestic mountain ranges painted the horizon like a nice backdrop; Mount Cordor was the tallest in the range. He'd never seen weather so tranquil and so gorgeous in his life; it was positively picturesque. The Lifaus highway, which they took, carved all the way through Lugunica, connecting all the major towns and cities including Cramlin, meaning they could follow through to the capitol the next day.
Rather than an imposing gate and towering city walls, a humble fence marked the entrance to the town. Not a single guard stood to vet travelers. Davy assumed they must be deep within the heartland of Lugunica; the lack of foreigners and frequent trade indicated a low crime rate.
Upon closer inspection, the town seemed strangely familiar. Tall windmills, large open fields of wheat and other crops, grazing animals; they all reminded him of home, especially from the mediaeval period. Even the grass was a darker, milder green than what they saw on the highway.
"Citizens of Cramlin likely live more modest lives growing crops and raising animals, Davy surmised, "Far less overbearing and chaotic than Flanders, and, I hope, less perilous."
Seamus slipped the driver a tip as they got off the wagon, which left them a few blocks away from an inn. The cobblestone street was far less crowded than Flanders, and it seemed like less demi-humans populated the streets, so Davy thought that most of the ones in Flanders were traders. As they walked, Davy took the opportunity to inquire about these 'beast men'.
"Are those 'beast-men' very common in Lugunica?"
"I don't like the furry ones. Something ain't right about a man with cat ears," Seamus replied curtly, eyes forward.
There was nothing to analyse about Seamus's words; he simply understood it as a principle. Davy had nothing to argue; there was something wrong about a man with cat ears. Indeed, one of his Quaker friends once even remarked: 'I tell thee what, Humphry, thou art the most quibbling hand at a dispute I ever met with in my life.' But here, he was persuaded immediately.
Dawn was approaching, but they still had a little under two hours to kill; even so, Seamus suggested they had straight to the inn to eat and rest so they could get a head start tomorrow.
The inn, despite its impoverished exterior, was impeccable. Nothing about the décor or furniture was particularly luxurious, but the place was practically spotless.
"Cleanliness must be a simple matter with the application of magic," he thought bitterly.
They both entered their room and found everything splendid. Their beds were in order, and a pleasant though mysterious aroma emanated from a pre-lit candle. Although Davy wished to sink into the mattress and hasten to sleep, the consequences of their arduous journey begged their attention. His clothes were still filthy with mud, and he had not bathed in a week. Davy felt embarrassed to ask about matters of hygiene, especially since the people of Lugunica seemed to be in perfect health and emitted virtually no body odor.
"On the matter of—"
"Yeah, I getcha." Seamus smiled, "time to get cleaned up."
Seamus led him out of the room and down a long corridor. At the end of the corridor were two doors, one blue and one red. Davy stood still waiting for something to happen, unsure of what Seamus expected from him.
"It's the blue one son..." He cracked a smile, "Y'ain't from around here, that's for sure."
Davy was reticent to defend himself regarding the matter; Seamus would not shame him for his ignorance. In fact, he had guided him thus far without asking too many questions about his origins. Seamus seemed to trust Davy after the incident in Flanders, so he though to return the favor. Thus, he followed him through the blue door. The door led into a bathhouse with several separate rooms, each with an individual bath. Seamus motioned towards one of the rooms for Davy to go into. He was still committed to trusting Seamus, so he went in without saying anything.
Leaving his clothes by the door, he stepped into the water and by its warmth was immediately overcome with pleasure. The heat and steam gorged his senses, making him feel dizzy. Already exhausted from days of traveling without proper rest, he dosed off, taking in the experience.
When he awoke, he was no longer in the water. Somehow, he had been taken to his room, and right on the bed in front of him was Seamus, putting on a sock.
"Did you—," Davy almost raised his voice.
"No!" he shouted, "and yer lucky son cause a smokin' hot maid came in and picked ye 'up and carried ya here," he complained bitterly, "she even washed your clothes."
"How pathetic I am that a woman took pity on me," he said aloud to himself.
Seamus glared at him like he was looking at the dumbest guy in the world.
"Son..." he sighed, "A woman that age shouldn't be lookin' at kid like..."
"...?"
"Go to sleep."
Public displays of affection were not encouraged back home, so his contact with women was limited, though he always felt like they were staring at him for a reason he was unaware of. Additionally, he was not familiar to this world's values yet, so he thought of the maid's actions as mere courtesy. Finishing his thought, he tucked himself into bed and fell asleep immediately.
Davy woke up feeling completely refreshed. After having bathed, eaten decent food, and rested in a comfortable bed, his physical condition had been restored. Finding his clothes completely cleaned, ironed, and laid out on his bed for him was a pleasant surprise, if not slightly unsettling.
"I assume the maid came while we slept and folded my clothes. This world's hospitality is quintessential."
Seamus yawned as he sat up from his bed. After glancing at Davy's sharp outfit on the bed, he seemed even more annoyed than last night.
"This fuckin' kid I swear..."
"Good morning to you too..." Davy responded dejectedly.
Seamus muttered and rolled his eyes. "Likewise, stud..."
"Must be one of Seamus's strange dialectical jargon."
Seamus's accent and odd speech pattern made him difficult to fully understand sometimes, but he could still grasp at the essence of what he meant. He had mostly gotten use to his syntax, but his odd vocabulary would require memorization.
After getting dressed, they left the inn and met the morning sky.
"No clouds to shield us from the sun, but we shall travel by covered wagon, yes?
"Yeah, we'll see..." Seamus seemed hesitant, provoking Davy to ask him about his worry from yesterday.
"You seemed irritated yesterday?
Seamus's closed his eyes and nodded his head sideways.
"Is everything alright?" Davy asked with concern.
"Uh...yeah—well...," he paused, contemplating, "just got a bad feeling is all."
Davy thought it prudent to rent a wagon of their own since it seemed like Seamus was anxious about involving strangers in their business. The fee was significant, but it beat potentially putting innocents in harm's way.
The wagon was smaller than the one they rode into Cramlin on, but they could travel much faster without all the weight, even with just one beast pulling it. After packing their possessions, which amounted only to Seamus's backpack, they set off for the capitol.
"We really have nothing to our names, do we?
Seamus sighed before replying, "It's all on us now. We ain't getting' help as we are."
Now that their destination was within their grasp, Davy began seriously considering what they would do for a living. Seamus was capable of physical labor, and Davy had a genius wit, but one was a potentially wanted criminal, and the other was technically still a child—notwithstanding the fact he was from another world.
All Davy really wanted to do was increase his understanding of the world, but the world he inhabited lacked any understanding of science. Their magic actually worked, and it was inexplicable, so they had no need to pursue crude means of increasing productivity. Davy would have to start a brand-new enlightenment in another world.
"Those with no magical ability stand to gain the most. After all, it has helped lift many out of poverty."
"The only problem now is finding someone willing to fund my experiments."
Seamus was sat at the front seat of the wagon holding the reins, and he could peek through the wagon cover to see Davy.
Seamus yawned. "It's gonna feel like a long drive 'cause we're so close."
He reflected on Seamus's words. The time for them to begin their new lives had come, but he was still clueless about everything. After witnessing magic firsthand, as well as his unholy return from death, he began to wonder if God was playing a cruel joke on him. He knew that the Bible condemned sorcery. So why would the people of this world practice it with no guilt or punishment? Nothing Davy could bring to the world would be met with curiosity or awe. Even his impressive display of intellect in Flanders would not be understood or appreciated by anyone; after all, men can conjure fireballs from their fingers, so what's a giant explosion to them?
"Why can't anyone appreciate what I do? Not my father or my mother acknowledge me."
Even my schoolteachers think me an imbecile!"
The angst boiling up inside him had nowhere to go, and now the one thing keeping him sane—his belief in the divine—was shattered; now he believed in nothing and hated everything. He was quite certain that whatever brought him back from death was not God—or maybe it was, and maybe God was truly an amalgamation of shadows and all-consuming darkness.
"I've known it all this time, but I've been fooling myself."
#
After six straight hours of travel, the sky was now dark, and fighting off fatigue became increasingly difficult. He appreciated that Davy was behaving himself well in the back of the wagon, but the lack of company was not helping him stay awake. Focusing on holding his eyelids open required conscious effort, but they were so close to the capitol; it would not make sense to stop now.
"Just a bit more to g—,"
Two projectiles came flying from ahead of him, catching the front wheels and causing the whole wagon to flip forward. The sudden change in velocity sent him flying forward into the dirt fifteen meters away. He felt his shoulder dislocate.
The pain was unbearable, but he managed to pick himself up with great difficulty, and, coming to his feet, he realised his ankle was sprained as well. He was still exhausted, but he had just enough energy to glance at the wagon.
"Hang in there, kid, I'm coming."
He began limping towards the wagon, which had crashed into a tree, but the sight of a dark figure looming over the wagon stopped him in his tracks. Its silhouette was unmistakable.
"Only one person this side of Lugunica got an ass like that."
#
The bill comes due, or at least that's what they said back home; but he was not sure what he was paying for. Davy felt like his mind and body were in two separate places, and the nausea was the body trying to reconcile the discrepancy.
As his cross-eyed vision coalesced back into something comprehensible, he could just make out a Rubenesque silhouette standing in front of him, just outside the wagon.
"Haaa...aaa...mmm"
The woman's breath was slow, yet audible. Her abdomen visibly moved, like bellows pushing air in and out. This was not the labored breathing of intense exercise; it was something entirely different.
"Haaaa...haaaa...aaaa."
Davy eyes slowly drifted to her face. Her eyes were wide, displaying the whites clearly. Her cheeks were unbelievably sanguine, and he could almost see her breath condensing into a subtle fog as it meant the wintry night air. Her identity was unmistakable, but he felt like she was after something other than his life now.
"I see you have survived your injuries...heh heh," he chuckled nervously and averted his eyes.
His joke was ignored. She seemed to be captivated by him, and the lecherous expression intensified as she drew closer, her hips swaying suggestively. Davy tried to keep his own self under control.
"P-perhaps we can discuss matters over—"
Her breathing became faster and faster the closer she got, and before he could try and reason with her, she leapt on top of him, smothering his face in her ample chest. He struggled, but she pinned his arms down and straddled on top of his waist.
"S-stop...haaaaa...moving...!" she moaned the words between her intense breaths, smiling lustfully at him.
Davy simply sat there helpless as the whore-assassin straddled on top of him.
"Not the worst way to die." he thought begrudgingly.
Right before she exposed herself and took Davy's innocence, a small object doinked her right on the side of her head. She gritted her teeth and peeked out of the wagon; her face still impassioned but also visibly pissed.
She was so quick that he barely felt the pressure of her weight disappear. Rising to his feet, he witnessed Seamus standing a few meters away holding his shoulder and leaning onto his left foot.
"Gonna take more than that, bitch," Seamus muttered strenuously.
"YOU'RE GETTING IN THE WAY OF OUR REUNION!" she wailed like a banshee before dashing towards him, unsheathing a wicked blade from her cloak.
Seamus barely parried her strike with his hatchet. He was operating with one functional arm, and his balance was unsteady. The assassin's strikes seemed off as well. Her emotional state was affecting her ability to fight.
Davy could only look on in despair. There was nothing he could do.
Seamus was struggling to stand, and the woman's brutal strikes were wearing him down. He was fighting just to survive, the dance-like cadence that defined his art was nowhere to be seen.
"Why am I so useless!? He will die because of me! She was after me, not him!"
He caught Seamus's eyes from the distance; he had given up. In the next moment, he pulled his hatchet up to block, but she was faster. Her blade sliced cleanly through his abdomen, sending him to the ground in a puddle of his own blood.
"This is it. I have killed him. It was me."
The assassin immediately shifted her gaze back towards Davy. She licked her lips and sauntered over towards him; however, something caught her attention.
"NOW WHAT!" the assassin screamed.
Off in the distance, a red-haired man soared towards them on dragonback. His eyes looked so pitiful, but something about them made Davy want to cheer him on like he was watching a tragic hero.
The red-haired stranger dismounted his dragon and unsheathed his sword, revealing a simple but elegant silver blade with a black handle. Its beauty was not like the ornate décor lining cathedral walls, but, rather, its monochrome color scheme and conservative design complemented the man wielding it. He was a modest man with a modest weapon, but something about that was incredibly charming to Davy.
"By order of the Deputy Commander of the Royal Knights, Heinkel Astrea, you're under arrest, Elsa Granhiert."
An Astrea? she replied, looking slightly unsettled.
Davy never imagined seeing even a modicum of fear in those eyes, and yet she was clearly intimidated by him.
"Well, I'd rather just kill you and save the trouble of dragging you back, so let's do that instead."
Elsa grinded her teeth together, "So be it..."
The moment she let her head down, Heinkel lunged towards her with his sword, missing her neck by an inch. The woman lost her footing and stumbled before returning to a guarding stance. Her breaths were quick and shallow, and droplets of sweat shined off on her face.
"She—Elsa did not display any sign of exhaustion the last time we met. Something is different."
Heinkel's relentless attacks eventually broke her guard, weakening her enough for him to land a kick to her abdomen that sent her reeling back. Davy now had a clear view of Elsa. Blood seeped from multiple points on her body.
"Her regeneration must have reached a limit!'
"She can be killed...but," Davy glanced over at Seamus; he was still holding onto life, gripping his wound with what little strength he had left.
"He has to be quick."
Heinkel finally caught an opening and landed a decisive blow, completely severing her right arm, sending her blade flying off into the air. She screamed in agony, a feeling she was probably experiencing for the first time. As she sat on her knees and clutched her shoulder, she looked up at Heinkel in agony, who was standing above her.
"Thanks for softening her up," Heinkel said, looking at Seamus, "I'll make this quick."
Before he could turn back to face Elsa, she reached for a spare blade hidden under her cloak.
"NO!" Davy shouted as he knocked Heinkel onto the ground.
Heinkel wiped the dust out his eyes and stood up. Elsa had finally stopped moving for good.
"Holy shit kid...," Heinkel sighed, "You saved my lif—whoa whoa WHOA HEY KID!" Heinkel's eyes flew wide open with panic.
Davy had lost the strength to scream; he was losing too much blood. Accepting his fate, he entered the moribund trance that preceded his last death. His eyes were already glassed over and lifeless.
"That man looks so sad—nay, he looks pitiful."
"But there is something which begs me to cheer him on; to not give up."
"He can still do good. There is the potential for unlimited good in him."
"He can be saved, redeemed. He can be forgiven. Better that I lose my life for him."
Heinkel's hands shook relentlessly as he tried to dress Davy's wound. Tears welled from his eyes.
"Come on son don't give up!" Heinkel whispered to himself, shallow breaths escaping his breath "Someone needs you, I-I..."
"What does he know about me?"
"Nobody needs me, nobody will miss me."
Davy closed his eyes and welcomed the embrace of death, but it never came.
#
Davy never quite understood how a place like heaven could be. Now, however, he was certain that no such place existed.
Awakening from sleep was in no way like the wrenching agony of returning from death. Aside from opening his eyes, the feeling of having his soul wrested from his body and returned to a different man with the same name was entirely unique.
The fleeting insouciance of the waking morning soothed his conscience. Scanning the room, he saw to his left, diffuse silk white curtains adorning a lancet window. The sunlight reflecting off the curtains was almost blinding, but its tranquility mesmerised him. The gothic window design felt familiar, but the interior decoration did not.
The moulding and most other parts of the trim were painted pearl white. No complex wallpaper or pattern decorated the walls. Despite the unfamiliar architecture, he felt at home. Just enough of the old-world had lived on to make it both familiar and mystifying.
Removing himself from the sheets, he placed his immaculately clean feet onto the floor, feeling the softness of the carpet. He stretched his arms and crept up to the window to revel in sun, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Within a matter of seconds, though, heavy footsteps trod upon the floor below and snapped him out of his bliss.
Memories of their battle with Elsa finally came back to him. His friend nearly bleeding to death, saving Heinkel from a sneak attack, and finally waking up in what could only be a aristocrat's mansion.
"It's quite possible more than a day has passed since that ordeal; after all, I feel better rested than I should."
The footsteps became louder.
"I assume they're here for me, but assuming anything in this world has gotten me in trouble before."
The pearl white door crept open, and a wrinkled face peered through the crack. Still resting against the wall by the window, Davy granted the visitor permission to enter.
"Pardon me." the man bowed, revealing his medium length white ponytail.
"I woke before you arrived. There is no need to worry about a reprobate such as myself." Davy responded wondering if he came off as humorous or pathetic.
The man picked his head back up and straightened out his posture. Everything about his appearance and stance exuded nobility. However, his wisened gaze and manner of speech indicated a man of great humility.
Davy was still leaning against the window with his arms crossed; a rather casual if not inappropriate position for someone his age to be in the presence of such highness. Still though, he did not hasten to make the stranger feel respected. Something about the old man told him his excellence did not need appraisal.
"Are you well?" the old man asked, making direct eye contact.
"Yes. In fact, I feel replenished."
His body was in the healthiest state it had ever been. Every minor twinge or ache that persisted in his joints and muscles had escaped him; even permanent injuries he had received as a child were restored. It was like his body had been put before God for repairs. Every imperfection and asymmetry from birth till now had been rectified. He even stood an inch and a half taller.
Despite the splendid state of his body, the state of his dear friend plagued his mind.
"My friend with the red —"
Seamus's hair would have been called red back home, but men with truly red hair existed here. He had saved such a man.
"My orange haired friend, is he well?"
"He is recovering in a room downstairs. He is probably waking up as we speak."
The old man seemed almost impatient in his answer, like he had something extremely important to say.
"Forgive me, but what is your name?"
The old man's eyes flew open, and he apologised profusely.
"I am Wilhelm Van Astrea."
Their met eyes for a moment.
"Davy," he muttered.
Neither he nor his name meant anything to anyone.
"Davy, on behalf of the Astrea family, I give you my unbridled gratitude."
With that, Davy confirmed his unconscious suspicion. The circumstantial evidence indicated that Heinkel Astrea was this man's relative.
"My son lives because of you, and I could never be more indebted."
"For this, anything within the power of the Astrea family is granted to you."
Such an opportunity would excite the monetary ambitions of any man, but Davy did not desire wealth, at least not that kind of wealth. He still needed to understand exactly what his circumstances were at present and going forward. However, it was clear now that the future held something much greater than he could ever have imagined.
"To begin, I should like to catch my bearings, but I accept your gracious offer." Davy declared confidently, smiling as his azure eyes gleamed in the sunlight.
Wilhelm nodded and shut his eyes.
"Very well, honored guest."