Amelia Thornheart Chapter 145: Hotsprings I

With demigods and dragons in mind, the rest of the training session was a bit of a blur for Alia. Once she returned to the material realm, her wonderful, perceptive girlfriend must have recognised sothing was distracting her, for she soon ended the training session and sent the others away.

“What is it?” Serena asked once they were alone.

“Mmm.” It was all Alia could co up with. How in the hell, or Hells, was she ant to bring up her troubling thoughts? It was one thing to joke about being a demigod, but to state it as an absolute, logically deduced fact? As difficult as it might be, she knew she would have to tell Serena everything; it was just a matter of finding the right words.

“Need to tell you sothing,” Alia said, biting her lip, “but I need to think about how to word it.”

“Oh?” Serena raised an eyebrow. “You, of all people, being cautious of words?” The demon folded her arms and frowned. “Who are you and what did you do with my Lia?” Without waiting for an answer, she reached forward and flicked Alia’s forehead. “I’m hungry,” the demon said. “You have sothing planned, don’t you?”

“I booked us a place,” Alia said, rubbing her head. She checked her pocketwatch, panicking briefly at the ti before realising her watch, having been in the Shimr, had experienced twice the ti. After carefully resetting it, the pair of them cleaned up and rode one of the great steam lifts to Ishaq’s upper tier.

“Just around here…” Alia said, resisting the urge to drag Serena by the hand. She rounded a corner and spotted their destination. “Here we are! This is the place.”

And what a place it was—a grand restaurant, built at the base of one of Ishaq’s largest shale trees. The tree had been cultivated carefully for more than a century, with each outcropping’s growth controlled to create large, flat, petal-shaped dining platforms. From the crystal jewellery and silken clothes, it was clear that the average clientele of this establishnt was beyond the average Ishaqian citizen. Perhaps half were native Arakian, while the remainder were tourists, with small, stubby Cerulean horns being the most common sight.

A waiter led them to the highest platform. The man looked like he might have wanted to say sothing about their casual clothing, but was biting his tongue. After he left, Alia gave Serena a look and said, “Maybe we should have dressed up.”

“I think I’m suitably dressed for the occasion,” Serena said innocently, gesturing to her everyday, easy-to-move-in outfit. She picked up a nu and began reading.

“And the sword?”

“As I said. Suitably dressed.” Serena flicked her gaze to Alia, her lip curling. “Who knows when I’m going to be attacked again. Ishaq, or rather, its council, have already insulted once.” The demon's voice beca quiet, and she muttered, “I hope they insult again.”

“What was that?”

“Mmm?” Serena’s eyes widened in the picture of innocence. “I was just saying that I’m entitled to carry a weapon wherever I please, as an Officer and a Speaker. If that makes soone uncomfortable, then they’ll have to deal with it themselves.” The demon tapped the handle of her sword. “And I was thinking that I’m surprised you managed to book what I suspect is one of the finest locations in Ishaq. Who would have thought that Lia Liona would have so much sway?”

“Lia Liona may have had to na-drop a few of her acquaintances,” Alia replied. “I’m not sure which one they feared more, Sayyid Bastet, or the Hellfire Captain.” Giving Serena a wink, she added, “Who knew the reason you maintain such a fearso reputation was to ensure such preferential treatnt in restaurants?”

Her girlfriend rolled her eyes. “My preferential treatnt stems from my stellar service and recognition by Greatlord Oshiro and my communion with Narean.”

“Is that what you say before or after you stab them full of holes?”

“I’ll stab you full of holes in a minute, Miss Liona.”

Alia giggled, feeling her concerns and worries slip away. Whether Serena knew it or not, she was Alia’s rock. It wasn’t so much that Alia depended on her, but rather their relationship was so frictionless and so concrete that it helped ground Alia’s worries whenever they threatened to get out of control.

They began with a small serving of warak enab—a plate of stuffed grape leaves, filled with amberfig rice. The tightly-wrapped food seed to be designed to be eaten as fingerfood, but Serena stubbornly refused to use anything but a knife and fork.

“I can tolerate nes and his skewers, in his ho as his guest,” Serena said, neatly slicing a mouthful away. “But here, in public?” She placed the food in her mouth, politely chewing and swallowing soundlessly. “There is only so much I am willing to do. More than twenty years of Samino etiquette will not be undone by a short stay in Ishaq, even if…” The demon trailed off, finishing another mouthful. “Even if the food is exceptional.”

Alia shrugged, delicately picking up one of the wrapped bundles and taking a small bite. “When in Ro,” she said. Swallowing, she looked up to see Serena looking surprised. “What is it?” she asked.

“Where did you learn that idiom?” Serena questioned.

“Ah,” Alia said, nodding, realising she’d used another idiom from her world. “That’s right. I guess over here it would be sothing like, ‘When in Ishaq, do as the Ishaqians do.’”

“When in Ro,” Serena said, without missing a beat, “do as the Romans do.” She gave a small nod, adding, “We know of the ancient Roman Empire. The Humonic Testant talks of it. Haven’t you read it?”

“I’ve skimd it,” Alia admitted, tilting her head. “It’s quite… dry.”

“So saint you are.”

Alia kicked her girlfriend under the table.

“I only asked where you learned it,” Serena continued, “because it would an the idiom persisted in both realms. Although I suppose the aning behind it isn’t rare or unique.”

It felt strange to hear Serena talk of sothing so solidly linked to Alia’s old world so casually, but it made sense. The Biblical stories of Ro and Christ ford just as much of the Demon Church’s Holy Text as they did the Human Church. In a comforting way, it was reassuring to have that link to her original world.

With those thoughts in mind, the next dish arrived. The waiter dramatically flipped it onto a platter, presenting what was called a maqluba, an upside-down layered rice dish, served alongside yoghurt and herbs.

“I wonder what historical docunts the human nations have about the old world?” Alia mused, picking at the al. “How do they view this world in relation to it? Do they know humanity is still thriving back there?”

“Anathor has always said that realm-travel there wasn’t possible,” Serena said. “That’s in line with what I was told growing up, when my sisters and I were tutored on the history of humanity. They ca here as colonists more than two thousand years ago. They ca, and they couldn’t go back. If the human nations know of what thod was used, they’ve kept it quite secret.”

“More than two thousand years ago,” Alia echoed. “Sothing doesn’t add up.”

“What do you an?”

“It’s weird,” she said, tapping the table. “If they did co around two thousand years ago, then why are they the sa level as demonkind?”

“Level?” Serena asked with a frown.

“Technologically speaking,” Alia clarified. “In my world, two thousand years ago isn’t far off our first industrial revolution. They would have had firearms, even if they were simple. Tos’ said demonkind wasn’t producing industrial amounts of steel when the Long Discordancy happened, and the human caravans arrived a thousand years before that. Before Cascadia was ford, humanity should have been exploring this solar system.”

“Those capabilities you’ve talked about, they run on electricity, don’t they?” Serena asked. When Alia nodded, she continued, “I don’t think the thinking machines you’ve described are possible here.”

“But there are plenty of advanced inventions that don’t require electricity,” Alia countered. “Steam engines. Skyscrapers. Trains. Maybe… Maybe you were building them, but the Long Discordancy destroyed them all?”

“Tos was right. The old kingdoms didn’t have the capacity to make enough steel,” Serena said, shaking her head. “We lost a lot when the Malignant Darkness encroached upon our lands, and we live in the shadow of its heritage every day, but we didn’t lose everything. We have records of what life was like before. We’ve rediscovered ruins of the old cities, and there isn’t any sign of the levels of industry you’re thinking of. If I rember my history, there was ntion of so kind of tribulation facing the initial human colonists. Perhaps that delayed their technological progress.”

“Tribulation? I’ll ask Tos,” Alia said. “He has loads of old history books. I bet he would know.” She leaned forward, feeling herself getting excited. “I feel like it’s all connected, don’t you? The Long Discordancy, the old world of humanity, the reason why realm-travel isn’t possible anymore. Why was it cut off from aether, anyway? Isn’t it all so…” Alia let her voice drop into a dramatic whisper. “...Mysterious?”

Serena didn’t reply imdiately. Instead, she smiled and used her fork to dig a perfect mouthful from the maqluba. Once she was finished, she opened her mouth and said, “The pirates and the infamous Blackhorn. The Crimson Reapers and their disgraced leader, Murakami Takeyoshi. Charles Hornford and the Andalus Fortress. Councillor Nasr and the black crystal. Rhaknam and the arcwhales.” Serena flourished her fork. “To , all that feels connected, so believe , I know how you feel. Although I suspect my mysteries are a little more… provincial than your realm-spanning intrigue.”

Alia humd, placing a finger under her chin. “Don’t forget the Needles of Nai, older than any records. Or the Arakian pyramids and the Dectus Lines. Maybe it’s all connected.” Alia stretched her arms wide, almost knocking a pitcher of water over. “One long chain of events. Two sides of the sa coin. Maybe—” Alia paused, seeing Serena look at her with kind eyes. “What?” she asked.

“You’ve cheered up,” her girlfriend answered. “I can tell. You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

Alia scrunched her nose up. “I think I was worrying about nothing. Well, I was worrying about big things, but I’ve realised that big things only feel big if you keep worrying about them, so I’ve decided not to worry, and now it doesn’t seem like a big deal.” She finished her word salad and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Serena echoed. “Sounds like exactly the kind of thing you would say before telling our waiter is the Empress in disguise.”

Alia lovingly kicked her girlfriend under the table. She even inflated her cheeks a bit and threw in a quick pout for good asure. “I’m banning you,” she said.

“Banning ?” Serena raised an eyebrow, an amused twinkle in her eye. “From what?”

“From overreacting when I tell you.”

“Now I’m really worried.”

“Don’t do that, or it’ll beco a big deal.”

Serena laughed. “I’ve been around you long enough to know that the smallest ‘not a big deal’ thing from you is often sothing world-shattering to others, and the breadth and depth of your shenanigans ans I cannot rule anything out. But…” Serena smiled, tapping the table slowly. “I’ll wait until you're ready. Choose your words carefully, Lia.”

“Until then,” Alia replied, reaching out and ringing the waiter’s bell. “I’m in the mood to relax a little, and we don’t have any obligations until the end of the week, do we? In that case…” She perused the nu, settling on what was perhaps the singular most expensive item. “One of these, please,” she said, showing the waiter the item on the nu.

The man blinked twice, looked as if he wanted to say sothing, then looked at Serena before adjusting his posture and nodding. “Yes, Miss Liona. Would you like it prepared hot or cold?”

“Hmm. Both.”

“Both?”

“I’ll order two,” Alia clarified.

“...Yes, Miss Liona.” The waiter turned, nodding to Serena. “Speaker Halen,” he said politely before leaving them. Alia was left with a demon that was looking at her with a sly, amused expression.

“I can’t believe you,” Serena said.

“What?”

“Don’t think that I don’t know what you ordered,” Serena said. “The waiter probably would have refused if you weren’t with .”

“You’re not complaining?”

“Why would I?” Serena intoned.

“Considering what happened last ti.” Alia shrugged. “I still rember when I held your horns between my—” She was cut off as her shin was kicked. “You’ve gone red,” Alia said, smirking at the fine blossom spreading across Serena’s cheeks.

“Shut up, idiot.”

“Shutting up,” Alia said quickly as the waiter reappeared, placing down a series of glasses, followed by two bottles. One, steaming, and the other in an ice bucket. From the steaming bottle, a rich, tantalising fragrance filled the space. Spices floated and glistened in the pale red liquid.

It wouldn’t be a problem, would it?

They’d drunk far, far more in Kenhoro.

Two bottles would just be enough to settle their nerves.

After all, how strong could the famous Southern relik loqua be?

“Seven Hells,” Serena mumbled, exiting the restaurant. Her girlfriend took a deep breath, steadying herself on Alia’s shoulder. “What did they put in that? I don’t rember red being that strong.”

“I feel like I want to run!” Alia chirped, stretching her arms. The stifling Ishaqian heat, abated only slightly by the southerly wind, now felt like a warm hug. She felt happy, a full-bodied confidence bubbling up within her. She turned, looking at Serena.

It took perhaps every ounce of her willpower not to kiss her girlfriend right there and then. Sohow, with Serena’s hair slightly tussled, with a few errant strands falling in front of her face, and her cheeks reddened from the heat and the drink, the Hellfire Captain was even more sensationally attractive than ever before.

“I can’t look at you,” Alia said, turning her head away. “You’re too good-looking.”

“Idiot,” was the only response.

Ishaq’s evening was just beginning, with the sun dipping low, throwing long shadows across the streets. Aetherlights were turned on, illuminating the market sellers as they swapped their dayti wares in preparation for the upcoming nightlife requirents: alcohol and snacks. Alia considered buying more, but it felt wrong to spoil the rich warmth of the relik loqua with cheaper alcohol.

“This is nice,” Alia said.

“What?”

“This. Walking. With you.” Alia fell in with Serena, linking their arms. “Don’t worry,” she said in a quiet voice. “The local won walk together all the ti. It’s normal here. No one’s going to get in a tizzy over two won linking arms.”

“They do more than link arms here,” Serena muttered.

It took a mont for Alia to realise what her girlfriend was talking about. ‘Confidently shaless’ was how Serena described Nefertari’s casual nightti activities with Ihra, the Bastet family friend and advertiser of the red aetherlight district’s adult entertainnt establishnt, Madam Sakina’s. While Alia found Nefertari’s admission wonderfully brazen, it was clear Serena struggled to parse the knowledge through her Samino upbringing, with its heavier focus on propriety and subtleness.

“Should I stop?” Alia asked, gently pulling Serena closer.

“Do as you please,” Serena said after a few seconds.

Alia grinned. “You’re anable today.”

The demon clicked her tongue. “Well, I have drunk an entire bottle of loqua.” Serena glanced at Alia, asking, “Do you know where you’re going?”

“Mmm!” Alia nodded. “It’s an hour outside the city, up in the mountains.”

“Lead the way.”

And so they began their slow walk to the hot springs. Perhaps it was because the loqua had given them outward confidence, or sothing in their presence had changed, but the local rchants didn’t jump in their way, advertising their wares to the foreign Eastern ladies. It was as if, for the evening at least, Ishaq had accepted their presence.

That wasn’t to say their walk wasn’t interrupted. It was, yet that interruption wasn’t provoked by Alia or Serena. They were only witnesses to a silken blur of silver grey blitzing across the street in front of them. A feline figure, with a freshly caught fish in its mouth, chased by an angry-looking Ishaqian waving a broom.

“Was that… Romulus?” Serena mused, watching the demon vanish down an alleyway, a string of Hakian curses flowing from his mouth every bit as colourful as the arcwhale kites littering the sky.

“I think so,” Alia said, grinning. “I guess I’m not the only one getting up to no good.”

“If only your shenanigans amounted to rely stealing fish from a fishmonger.”

“What was that?” Alia poked her side with an elbow.

“Nothing.” Serena reached out and ruffled her hair. Her hand lingered for a mont, running Alia’s hair through her fingers. Her hand then dropped, her fingers tracing Alia’s ear. Serena’s gaze dropped to her lips before returning to her eyes.

“Can I help you?” Alia teased.

Serena rolled her eyes, turning away. “I can’t look at you,” she said. Then, after a pause, she added in a quiet voice, “You’re too beautiful.” She coughed in her hand and pulled Alia along. “Let’s go. We’ll be late for your booking.”

I should feed her a bottle of loqua more often, Alia thought, skipping along. Although perhaps turning Serena into a loqua-in-complints-out machine wasn’t the best path their relationship could take.

They left the urban limits of the city and took a mountain path to the hot springs. It was well-maintained, with frequent benches and shining bronze water fountains, an indicator of Ishaq’s developing wealth. The tropical wilderness was cut back, and every few hundred tres, there was a large sign with a printed graphic of a striped animal boasting two tails and a thick pair of horns. It was a warning, evidently written for tourists, given that the instructions were written in Imperial first and Hakian second.

“Shawa attacks are rare,” Alia read. “They avoid urban areas and will only approach Ishaqian territory when hungry or lost. They stalk their prey, only attacking when they think they cannot be seen. Should you spot one, keep looking at it. Make yourself appear large and do not run or make a sudden movent, as this will trigger its hunting instincts.” Alia looked again at the painted image. If the figure of a demon next to it was proportional, a fully grown shawa would reach her shoulders.

“Looks cute,” Alia said. She tapped the sign and looked at Serena. “It’s Rommy’s grandfather!” She burst out laughing at her own joke, earning a well-deserved eye roll from Serena.

“At least your reading is more developed than your humour,” the demon said.

“Mmm!” Alia humd her agreent. After a bit more than half a year in the Known World, she’d beco fluent in reading and writing Imperial faster than she’d expected. She’d heard that the best way to learn a language was to surround yourself with it, but hadn’t been aware of just how well it worked until coming here.

They continued walking, passing nurous demons heading back towards Ishaq. Most of them bore the stubby horns of Centralis, but there were a few Easterners amongst them, although none seed to recognise Serena. In their passing comnts, they spoke of the hot springs, only increasing the anticipation that Alia felt.

The pair of them stopped just before their destination. Not from exhaustion, but for the view. Alia couldn’t help but let out a low whistle.

“Now that’s a sight,” she said. “It’s worth coming up here for that alone.”

The tiered city of Ishaq, built like a great wedding cake that was thrust into the Salaban mountain range, stood as a monunt to the South. Perhaps it was how the evening sun and warm moonlight of the Red Moon played with the city’s sandstone, but it seed to shine golden for them, glistening as hundreds, if not thousands, of colourful kites danced in mid-sky. Dozens of small ships labouriously sailed to and from the many docks littering Ishaq’s sections. With her enhanced eyesight, she could make out the sailors prepping their fishing nets, so lighting lanterns on hooks for a night of nightfishing.

“The Golden City,” Serena said suddenly. When Alia questioned her, she explained that Ishaq was Hakian for gold. “nes talked about fields of golden wheat bestowing the city its nasake, but looking at it now…” Serena trailed off, taking a breath. “I can see why so people would choose to live here.”

“Starting to co around, are you?” Alia asked. “Reckon you could live here?”

“No,” ca the curt answer, “but I wouldn’t mind visiting in the future. For all its faults…” Serena took one last look at the city before turning her back to it and continuing up the mountain path. “It has its charms.”

“Well,” Alia said, catching up just as the hot spring buildings ca into view. “If the rest of the Empire’s cities are half as interesting as Ishaq, then I have a wonderful adventure ahead of !” She bounced ahead just as they were approached by a Hakian attendant, with bronze skin and elegant horns reminiscent of Nefertari’s. It was the sa woman Alia had shalessly hounded into the ergency booking. That was yesterday, and now the demon seed to have recovered and wore an easy, strategic smile.

“Miss Liona,” the woman said, turning and bowing to Serena. “Speaker Halen. It is an honour to host an Eastern Speaker. The South thanks you for your family’s patronage and your service in the recent conflict.” The demon bowed again before asking, “Would you please follow ?”

They followed the woman through the building, through corridors covered in vibrant frescos and geotric patterns. Attendants passed by, carrying towels and jugs of fragrant liquid. The woman stopped at a door. Turning, she asked, “Is this the first ti you’ve attended a Southern hammam?”

“Yes,” Serena answered, “but I am familiar with the bathhouses of Nai.”

The woman nodded. “We have made the entire east wing available.” She tapped the door, saying, “Through here are the changing rooms. You will find our traditional bathing wraps, pestemals. Once dressed, we encourage you to spend ti in the steam room to open your pores and acclimate to the heat before entering the bath. We have a whole range of attendants skilled in scrubbing, massaging, hair washing, and henna, should you call upon them. However…” The woman glanced at Alia montarily. “Your maid assured that she would handle all of that, and you would desire the utmost privacy. Is that right?”

If the sharp intake of Serena’s breath wasn’t enough to clue Alia that she was in for a wonderful night, the crimson glare and subtle lip bite confird it.

“My maid was right,” Serena replied. “I prefer privacy. Do not be alard when we erect privacy wards in the area. As an Imperial Officer and Speaker, I must take these precautions. I trust you understand?”

“Of course, Speaker Halen.” The demon bowed. “We shall not disturb you. There is a calling rope you can pull to alert us if you need anything.”

“Perfect,” Serena said, a mysterious tone layered into her voice.

She turned and looked at Alia, her lip curling.

“Perfect,” she said again.

Alia could only giggle nervously.