After rinsing his head, the moment Yorgos entered the steam room, he instinctively backed away due to the immense heat.
While bathing cultures exist in the southern inland sea as well, the preferred temperature in their warm homeland isn’t too intense. Their way is to leisurely expose the body to comfortable steam for a long time, gradually letting the warmth seep in.
However, in this rural area with an imperial flair, hotter steam is favored, making it far too hot for him.
Adventurers from the Sword Friends Association, with towels wrapped around their waists, shuffled in one by one. The prime spots near the wood stove were given to a golden-haired individual and their friend, and as a newcomer, Yorgos too was kindly offered a nearby position. For him, this kindness was more trouble than anything.
“Hmm… It’s a bit warm,” one commented.
“Eh!?”
A peculiar statement came from someone barely covered by a towel around their waist – oddly alluring – though in reality, quite ordinary. How could they possibly want it even hotter?
The reason is that this person hails from the northern region. Even among the empire’s steam bath enthusiasts, those from the far east or polar regions love the heat even more. As one poem puts it, “drink the poison before the nectar for an even sweeter taste” – this level of heat is simply incomprehensible to those from the mild south.
“A, I’m good,” said the man.
“Please, do go ahead.”
“Ah~ This is nice~”
Amazingly, some people agreed with him. Yorgos glanced over in surprise and noticed adventurers of sub-human races with high heat tolerance, or those from the countryside yearning for their local heat.
“Then, I shall proceed.”
Saying this, the mage added water to a rock heated to hellish temperatures atop the wood stove, increasing the steam and adding fuel to intensify the fire. Dense white, creamy steam rose, and a burning heat assaulted the respiratory system. It was so hot that, without the robust nasal passages of a giant ogre accustomed to battling dust and heat, one might believe their mucous membranes would melt.
Despite this, the blond individual seemed comfortable, casually running his fingers through his hair while enveloped in the steam. Even those who preferred it slightly cooler merely thought, “It’s a bit too hot, so I’ll move closer to the entrance,” easily enduring the oppressive heat.
Thinking he might catch on fire, the young ogre chose to endure, unable to refuse the kindness of his superior. It felt better than a direct hit from a fire cannon or tactical/strategic magic.
“Ah, this is perfect… the fatigue of travel mixed with sweat is leaving my body. The Western territories are rather far from the imperial capital, aren’t they?”
“Indeed, my friend. By the way, I nearly forgot to ask earlier: why have you come all the way to this backwater of Enderede?”
“Don’t call my hometown a backwater, please,” someone laughed and protested, only for another to reply with a jest about it being a bumpkin countryside, sparking loud laughter. The ogre, imagining the grandeur of urban cities with difficulty and already affected by the heat, struggled to respond.
“Though I am ashamed to admit, I’m still a listener in training. My master sent me out on various inspections with the decree: as long as I stay within my family’s domain, I won’t be permitted the title ‘Doctor of Theses.'”
A “Doctor of Theses” refers to someone who has passed the upgrading exam solely through magecraft theory theses. Though it doesn’t necessarily disregard practical skills – the Mage Academy is a place of magecraft theory research, where the benchmark is proof of precise and efficient magecraft, and the final evaluation is the thesis’ finish – one can indeed rise to the rank of researcher solely through a thesis that passes the professors’ strict peer review.
However, what this individual aims for is the title of Engineer Mage. A critical pillar of the empire’s meticulous infrastructure, often referred to as its blessed child, and the pinnacle of the practice field.
His master, it seems, is someone who believes in the sportsmanship of practical experience, pondering deeply about the essence of magecraft. Despite judging the apprentice’s skills to be sufficient, the master has mandated inspections due to a lack of practical experience, refusing the title of formal mage until satisfied.
“So, I’ve been traveling for about a year now, and finally ended up here as a finishing touch… Engineer Mages are always in short supply, desperately sought after everywhere.”
“I see, so send this guy to practice in every dilapidated frontier.”
“That’s right, my friend. Tomorrow, I also plan to pay a visit to the Mage Academy’s outpost and arrange some connections with the administrative department.”
“Eh? There’s an outpost here!?” the blond individual, surprised, received a nod accompanied by a wry smile from the magic user with the damp-looking black hair.
“Well, the outpost here is a bit… ‘quirky’… Many peculiar people gather there… so it’s understandable you haven’t heard of it. But test subjects are easier to recruit in the countryside. You know why?”
Upon hearing ‘test subjects,’ a local rat goblin adventurer chimed in with recognition, stating rumors of a dream-like place where one could receive free treatments along with money. However, the results of these treatments weren’t guaranteed, and complaints were strictly prohibited – a horrifying but intriguing tale.
“Sure sounds like a troublesome one.”
“Troublesome indeed, rather frightful.”
The magic user let out a concerned sigh, seated unusually close to a friend who appeared weary. Unbeknownst to the commotion around him, the magic user shockingly leaned their head onto the friend’s shoulder. Though their once comparable height now saw the latter surpassing the former, their expression was one of great calmness and contentment.
Seemingly unaware of the slight stir around him, the blond comforted his anxious friend by gently patting. It seemed the friend had long been exceptionally favored by his mentor, usually assigned a substantial amount of tasks, often leaning on him like this when on the brink of collapse.
This behavior persisted even as maturity approached, and perhaps with the added expectation of his abilities and the difficulty of assigned tasks, it became even stronger.
To his one true friend, the magic user, who was sweet like honey, there were few trustworthy shoulders to lean on. After the start of the gender shift, the number of people drawn to his sweet charm had multiplied, but, as it seems, real friendship remained elusive.
Driven by curiosity, he was once exposed to the cruel innocence of youth. Now, he approached with a gentleness fit for a gentleman or a noblewoman. This evolution in behavior was commendable, yet it signified merely a shift in the focus of interest. The shallow desires discernible in their eyes, the veiled thoughts of connection, background, and future prospects – such things were unbearable for someone who had endured peculiar stares since childhood.
Consequently, over these past few years, having become an adventurer, his friend must’ve struggled in silence, unable to express weakness. Messages from a distant companion came only through occasional letters, and his carefree parents resided in the North beyond snow-covered lands. His master, though kind, remained a mentor, reluctant to share non-magic-related troubles due to his busy schedule with other apprentices and bureaucratic responsibilities.
Perhaps this was the moment when all his held-back stress finally dissipated. The elegant mage slumped, entirely letting go to his friend.
At the very least, I must contribute to this town’s infrastructure improvement and submit a practice report – only then can I rise to become a researcher…
“Ah, you’ve been assigned another tough task.”
“Exactly, don’t you think so? Living here makes it clear – this place is rather rough. There are too many areas where dedicated Engineer Mages haven’t reached. It seems that the required number is sorely insufficient.”
When Yorgos wandered around town on a sightseeing trip, indulging as a newcomer, the mage had not neglected observing the city. The pavement on the main streets had parts missing, and the foundation in some places was giving way, creating an unstable and bumpy road for carriages. In the alleys, dirt patches were common, and the pathways outside the gates quickly became mud puddles in the rain. It was an embarrassing state considering the place’s status as a provincial capital, even with its frontier location.
Still, the dispatch and distribution of Mages are officially decided by the parliament of the Threefold Empire, considering the imperial family’s will, influential lords’ preferences, the council’s judgment, and local petitions; a single lord’s control is limited.
Even if they are the prestigious Barons of the Frontier, associated with Baden.
Naturally, those who entered the Mage Academy with support from their landlords often returned to work in their home provinces, but in financially challenging frontiers like this, the numbers are sparse. And depending on the wishes and talents of the supported individuals, their fields of expertise can vary, making it incredibly difficult to secure enough Engineer Mages.
The Baron has toiled diligently, ensuring water supply systems were operational, roads not in disarray, and city walls properly repaired and renovated in case of emergency.
Yet, it’s evident that resources are stretched thin, focusing merely on the essentials. Unfortunately, even the Engineer Mage struggles with magical limits, unable to spare much energy beyond maintaining the core infrastructure. Managing and restoring the vast underground water systems is an achievement in itself, far beyond the reach of most ordinary mages.
Handing such a task to mere local “mages” is unwise, and even employing human hands comes at a cost, proving quite challenging.
Maintaining law and order through patrols, preparing for military expeditions, dealing with unofficial forces beyond the reach of local lords, coordinating with local landowners – these responsibilities make it difficult to allocate budgets to urban improvement, especially with the added pressure of representing the Western nations.
Thus, this is the current decrepit state of the city – an invaluable opportunity for the Engineer Mage to showcase their skills and conduct experiments.
“Ah, how troubling, I have no idea what they’ll have me do…”
“Quite the hassle, my friend… If there’s anything within my power, please do let me know.”
“Anything… huh?”
Casually reaching out to the hand caressing his cheek, the mage chuckled faintly. Being an adult now, one doesn’t casually offer such unconditional support…
Lacing their fingers and stroking their palm with a thumb, the mage continued, “However, if it’s within what’s allowed…”
“Since I have to visit various places for work, I might as well appoint you all as my exclusive guards…”
“That’s good, we’ll take it at a special price.”
“Why not go all out and exploit it fully on official funds?”
The comment drew envy from other adventurers: “Let us partake too!” The mage demurely agreed, adding if Erich’s hands were insufficient, they wouldn’t hesitate to ask.
Then, a sudden thought struck him:
Wasn’t the ogre companion alarmingly quiet?
Looking over, he noticed a terrible pallor.
“Ow, Yorgos!? Are you alright!?”
“He’s turning black!? What’s going on!?”
“Who knows? This is my first encounter with an ogre! Hurry, carry him out!”
“Does anyone have access to the cold bath and water!”
“It’s not just warm, it’s scorching!”
“Oi, use a towel! Or find someone with padded paws!”
Everyone, unnoticed by the silent ambiance and his excessively polite endurance, had failed until now. Fully overheated, the massive ogre was swiftly borne aloft and transferred to the bathhouse courtyard – his colossal weight and heated metallic skin radiating intense heat.
Afterward, everyone silently swore:
Perhaps we shouldn’t take this guy’s claims about his condition at face value…
…
The ogre gradually came to, realizing he was gazing up at the blue sky.
“There, there, you’re awake!”
And in front of him, the familiar figure they had come to know during their travels – stunningly handsome.
“Ah! Quickly! Mr… Must be heavy for you!”
“There’s no need for worry; it was my fault to subject you to such heat. Do you feel any strange sensations in your body?”
Uh… Checking his body, nothing particular seemed amiss. His legs were soaking in an icy bucket, one each, while damp cold towels rested on his groin, underarms, neck, and forehead – measures to cool the major veins and lower his temperature.
The golden-haired adventurer provided instructions, and the mage contributed ice, quickly bringing the ogre out of heatstroke within half an hour.
Partially his innate resilience, but such measures were truly remarkable, Yorgos thought. While familiar with basic first aid for wounds, he marveled at how well-traveled his companions were to know even heat stroke responses.
“Do you have any headaches or nausea? Do you feel lightheaded or still warm?”
“Umm, I feel entirely better!”
“Good. Still, please take this. Slowly, plenty of sips.”
He awkwardly bowed his head to accept the offered lemon-infused water, grateful for the mage’s care. It was deliciously cold – cooled with ice, truly a luxury fit for the nobility.
Taking a sip, a sudden wave of embarrassment swept over him.
After allowing such an important person to care for him, borrowing the soft knees as a pillow, and even having towels wrapped around intimate areas regardless of being the same gender, a rush of shame bubbled up. His face went red again, and dizziness threatened.
If only he had a dagger, he’d wish to apologize properly by falling on his sword, yet he obediently drank the water as commanded. The cooling water felt wonderful against his parched throat and tongue, adding guilt to his overwhelming shame.
“Aah, you’re going on as usual.”
The mage, seemingly without a care, turned towards the courtyard, holding back the wind-tossed hair. The bathhouse there featured a courtyard for light exercise between baths.
In the thinly grassed space below, adventurers wrestled together, seemingly celebrating Yorgos’ recovery and continuing their bare-handed combat training.
A hulking figure attempted to avenge some embarrassing past revelation by grappling with a human adversary. Others paired up with similarly built opponents, avoiding punches that, clad in armor on the battlefield, would only damage the hands.
“Woah!?”
The blond adventurer swiftly felled an impressive human figure grappling nearby. With a quick maneuver, a hand slipped into the armpit, and both collapsed, likely crushed dangerously if armored.
With a final move reminiscent of a mortal blow, a hand strike hovered close by – positioning that could easily reach a chink in the armor to pierce the heart.
“How’s that? Not bad, right? Next!”
“Alright, let me atcha!”
With a roar, the small goblin man bravely charged, eager to challenge him.
Truly an energetic and yet peaceful scene.
“How about it? Think you’ll manage?”
The ogre came back to the present at the mage’s words, hesitated – blushing as if caught under his motherly gaze – and finally nodded.
…
[Note: Ogres, males especially, tend to endure, perhaps due to their servitude-oriented consciousness, but there is a clear limit.]
Engaging in wresting in the courtyard’s exercise space isn’t peculiar to adventurers; even ordinary folks may sometimes challenge others there for casual duels.
Taking advantage of a three-day holiday, updates continue each day.
Though it’s late, enjoy this as accompaniment to the last day of vacation.
The empire’s bathhouses resemble those of ancient Rome. For more details, see “Thermae Romae.”
Perhaps I should compile a list of references.
The moment of reunion with an approaching close friend and childhood companion approaches…
