Though the expeditionary party managed to descend the mountain before the night deepened, the village they had chosen to stop in was empty. It seemed all its inhabitants had migrated south a long time ago. After poking around the broken-down fences and decrepit homes, they patched up some of the cottages that were in relatively better condition.
In no time at all, the Temple Knights set up makeshift lodgings by covering the dilapidated roofs with leather sacks and adding planks to the walls. The mages cleared rats and spiders from a barn to feed and water the horses. Riftan and his men mended the battered fences and lit fires around the camp, keeping an eye out for possible monster attacks.
“Is all this really necessary for one night?” Ruth grumbled as he drew a temporary barrier rune around the fences.
Brushing off the thick snowflakes that clung to his face, Riftan glowered at the sorcerer. “If you don’t want tonight to be your last, do as you’re told.”
“There are nineteen other high mages here! Why must it be me?”
Hebaron was sipping wine further down from them, resting against the fence.
“You’ll have to take that up with your uncle,” he said, smirking. “The mages of the Tower act like they don’t hear us when we talk to them. Whose fault do you think that would be?”
Ruth winced and pressed his lips together. He meekly resumed etching the rune on the ground. However, he soon broke his silence as the wind picked up speed and the snow began to pour.
“Good grief!” he said, yanking at his hair. “What kind of torment is this?”
After wailing at the dark sky, he whipped his head toward Riftan as if suddenly recalling something.
“Come to think of it, Lady Calypse received her earth rune. She most certainly would have studied all sorts of barriers at the Mage Tower. We could finish this in no time if we asked her ladysh—”
“Ruth Serbel.” Staring into the dark forest, Riftan took a swig from his flask. His voice was soft as he said, “Is it your wish to die?”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t agree, but I thought I’d ask.”
“I let you keep the serpend’s magic stone, so shut your trap and get to work.”
With that, Riftan picked up a torch mounted by the fence and set off to patrol their defense line. He trudged through the dark, inspecting the ground up to the canopy for any signs of monsters. Hebaron sauntered up behind him and swung an arm around his shoulders.
“Commander,” he said in a hushed voice, “we found a cottage in not-so-bad condition near the camp. I had Garrow tidy it up.”
Riftan stopped in his tracks. Hebaron stroked his shaggy beard, which was starting to sprout from his cheeks after several days of no grooming.
“I’ll make sure to keep prying eyes away,” he said in a conspiratorial tone.
“If you have time for such nonsense, use it to search the area more thoroughly.”
Riftan shoved Hebaron’s arm away and resumed his patrol. However, his thoughts now scattered, he found he could not register anything. He cursed silently and raked back his hair. Hebaron continued to grate his nerves as he trailed him at a languid pace.
“I only do this because it pains my heart to see you bound, Commander. This situation is too cruel for a man who faithfully waited for his wife for three years.”
The damn bastard…
He cursed Hebaron in his head and willed himself to turn around. He feared he would snatch her up and drag her away with him if he did not.
Shaking off the fierce temptation, he retreated into the cottage farthest from the one she had entered and settled in front of the brazier. A junior knight promptly came to attend to him. Waving away the lad’s attempt to help him remove his armor, Riftan asked for ale instead. He usually abstained from drinking during a campaign, but with his self-restraint stretched as taut as it was, he did not think he could get through the night in a sober state of mind.
When the junior knight brought him a tankard, he gulped down the cold liquor until he felt woozy and swiped his mouth with his sleeve. He had hoped it would dull her scent and taste from his mind, but the recollections only became sharper.
He tossed firewood into the flames and anxiously rubbed his forehead. A memory rose, unbidden, in his mind. It was the one where he was caressing her as they huddled in front of a fireplace one snowy night.
He vividly recalled the feel of her naked body, slick with sweat. She sat in his lap as he traced his fingers along her smooth waist, back, shoulders, and round hips. The sensations were burned in his mind: the way her curls draped over him like a cotton blanket, her soft breasts, rosy nipples, and even the delicate texture of the hair between her legs.
His lower abdomen tightened in hopeless longing. With a desperate groan, he leaped to his feet, startling the junior knight who had just walked in bearing a plate of food.
“Are you leaving, Commander?”
“I’m going to patrol the perimeter again,” Riftan replied curtly.
He strode out of the cottage without his coat, straight into the snowstorm raging outside. He welcomed the stabbing cold against the fire searing his skin. He stood in the snow, staring at the dimly lit cottage. Even just knowing she was near made him feel as if he were being burned alive.
All this time, he had fought to keep his thoughts from straying to her. Even the simple memory of her smile was torment enough. He thought of her cheerful voice, infuriating stubbornness, and reckless behavior that, more often than not, drove him to the brink of madness.
It was better not to feel anything at all. Yet, whenever he tried to smother his emotions, she always managed to shake his resolve with no effort at all. It frustrated him to no end.
Will I be able to contain myself until this expedition is over?
…
He scrubbed his face again and paced near the cottages. What reason was there for him to reject Hebaron’s suggestion? Maximilian was his wife, and he no longer wished to be separated from her. He wanted to hold her tight, to kiss her to his heart’s content. He wanted to make love until they were both exhausted. He wanted to fall asleep with her under the sheets, lulled by her voice, and be greeted by her face in the morning.
But he knew giving in to his desires would completely break his willpower. Even now, he could barely contain the urge to whisk her back to Anatol. He stared at her cottage in a kind of silent penance before trudging away.
***
The expeditionary party continued north along the Rongel Mountains, which separated Balto from Livadon. They suffered two further monster encounters along the way. However, thanks to the combined might of the Remdragon and Temple Knights, there were no grave injuries. They eventually reached the northern plain on the other side of the mountain valley.
A strange sense of awe filled Maxi as she gazed over the vast, glistening snowfield. She felt as if she were standing on a blank parchment made for giants.
Kuahel Leon swept his eyes across the barren silver ridge.
“The Pamela Plateau lies on the other side of this plain.”
