5. Chapter 5 #2
It was another easy day of traveling, fortunately, with nary a cloud in the sky.
The light breeze made Milo shiver, but being early spring, it wasn’t a surprise the air could be a bit nippy.
Traveling ever northward probably was part of it, too, the temperature gradually dropping as they gained elevation.
He found, though, that putting the fur-lined cloak over his knees and the hat on kept him much warmer.
The hat was especially lovely as it had a nice, wide brim and sheltered his eyes from the strong sun. Rowan really had done good shopping.
By evening, they’d reached the city of Bearfell.
Milo was incredibly glad because the sun had started setting a good half hour ago, which meant it had grown noticeably cooler.
He wanted inside, where there was a soft bed and a hot man to cuddle.
Bearfell Bridge was a major landmark along the northern highway and also an indication that they were the majority of the way through their travels.
It was well known in Ascos for being the only bridge you could use to cross the Windley River, a major northern river stretching from sea to sea.
The bridge was, by necessity, massive to be able to cross that huge body of water.
Milo had never been this far north before, so he took in the sight of the expansive bridge with interest, the ferocious current sweeping beneath.
As the cart rolled onto the bridge, he saw a lot of automatic repair spells along the stone, and a weather ward, along with a few other spells he couldn’t decipher just passing by.
The assortment made sense for a bridge this important.
Bearfell Bridge was also surrounded by the city of Bearfell, with buildings on either side of the river.
It was also the place they’d be stopping for the night.
Struggling against the strong breeze, using the last dregs of sunlight, Milo consulted his map of the area and frowned.
“Hey, Rowan? I know we’re stopping here for the night, but you’ve also mentioned we might have to stop just past Duskwall.
But shouldn’t we be able to reach Gravegarde tomorrow?
You said four days at least from Goldguard to Gravegarde, maybe five, but we’ve made really good time, so wouldn’t tomorrow be the last day? ”
Rowan shook his head, speaking up to be heard over the rushing water below. “The map is not the territory.”
“Meaning?”
“The terrain gets very steep and rocky after we pass Bearfell. It’s all mountain from this point forward.”
“Ohhh, so we’re going to be gaining elevation all day, which will slow us down.”
“Yes. Also, the road sometimes washes out, slowing us down even more.”
“That makes a lot more sense. Is there anything we need to grab, or do, before we take on that last leg?”
Rowan looked thoughtful. “Can you put a lightening spell on the whole cart?”
“Sure. Oh, I see, that’ll help our poor draft horse to not be straining all day.
I see your master plan. I’ll do it tonight so I don’t forget in the morning.
” And he absolutely would forget. Watching Rowan wander around their room this morning, stark naked and not even bashful, had thrown every thought Milo might have had straight out the window.
All he’d been capable of was staring and drooling.
“Will we need to worry about bandits? We’ve been fine so far this trip.
” Rowan had said bandits tended to not bother him, and he hadn’t lied, as the only people they’d encountered on the highway were merchants.
Rowan made a face while nodding. “Unfortunately. More bandits tend to be around Duskwall.”
“I wonder why?”
“Hard to make a living up there, since Bearfell is the last major area until Gravegarde. Most turn to thieving just to get by.”
Which made a lot of sense. Although if Milo was in a place that was so hard to live in, he’d just move, not try to make it work. Unless Rowan lived there. Then he would abso-fucking-lutely make it work.
Milo wasn’t at all interested in suggesting where to stop for the night.
Rowan obviously knew this area of the world far better than he did.
He followed along as Rowan took them straight over the remainder of the bridge, stayed on the main road through the city, then directed him off the main road and two over.
After hitching his warhorse to a post, Rowan confidently stepped up onto the wide wooden porch of a cute-looking hostel painted a bright blue.
Milo stayed planted with the horses and the cart while Rowan went in and got a room for them.
Or at least, that was his initial plan.
From the open door, Milo heard a woman’s voice, somewhat creaky with age, insist she had two rooms, and they didn’t need to share. Rowan tried to explain he only wanted one, but she kept insisting it was fine, she had two rooms.
Grumbling, Milo climbed off the cart’s bench and strode inside. Like hell would he sleep separately from his boyfriend. He only paused inside the doorway long enough to blink and let his eyes adjust before zeroing in on the problem.
The owner seemed like a nice lady. Her sleeves were rolled up, apron dirty from all the cooking and cleaning, with deep wrinkles around her blue eyes and mouth. She had to be Ethel’s age, easily. She was frowning up at Rowan as if baffled about why she was getting resistance to her offer.
Rowan, for his part, seemed equally vexed at this tiny, grandmother-shaped roadblock.
The sight of his socially awkward gigantic boyfriend standing there, at a loss on how to handle this stubborn old lady, was funny as hell. Milo had to bite his lip before he exposed himself by laughing.
Well, it was fine. Milo knew how to charm old ladies. He was an old hand at it, even.
“Hi, hi,” he greeted, swooping in to stand right next to Rowan. “Let me explain. The one-bed trope, you know it? Good, good. Today you have one bed. Okay? I need you to only have one bed.”
At his suggestive wink, a slow smile spread over her aged face, her eyes shifting back to Rowan, then to Milo again. “Why didn’t you just say so, dearie? I’m sad to inform you there’s only one room left.”
“That’s the spirit! I am, of course, absolutely crushed and resigned to spooning my boyfriend all night.”
She giggled, then winked back.
Yup, they were going to get along just fine.
She handed Rowan a key, and he followed Milo back out, as they had to bring the horses around to the back, where the stables were. When Milo grabbed the draft horse’s reins, though, Rowan paused him with a light touch against his arm.
“How did you do that?”
“What, convince her we only needed one bed? I don’t know what to tell you. Charm? Direct communication?”
“Well.” A pleased smile played around Rowan’s mouth again. “You are good at both.”
“Aww, what a nice compliment!”
Rowan bent at the waist before placing a light kiss on his mouth, voice deep as always but softer, somehow. “Don’t let it go to your head, little mage.”