Chapter 5

Strange Ways

“Duke Godwind proved that you do not need Light to win a war; we are too dependent on it."

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. XI

Noah sat up slowly, leaning against the slightly cool frame of the bed behind him, pulling up a pillow to ease the burden on his back. He was finally left alone, after good three hours of back and forth between the trio, giving him the opportunity to properly examine the room. It was rather small and felt somewhat stuffy. The sole source of light was a candle burning to his right, flat and straight as there was no point of entry for the wind.

The floor beneath was wooden, though hardly decorative; he could visibly see splinters sticking out like needles even in the dark, wondering just how many had accidentally died by pricking themselves, letting the wound become infected, and bidding the last farewell to the world shortly after. There was little for him to explore with his eyes, and he didn't want to move overtly just yet as to not irritate the wounds. Though shallow, he had nothing but the faith in this world's doctors to keep him healthy as he'd left even his antibiotics buried in the woods.

As he suspected, he was stripped naked and examined from head to toe; had he left anything on himself, it would have long since been confiscated. This way, at least he appears less threatening.

He sighed deeply and ran his hand across his face, tapping himself awake. He was in – that was all that mattered. And, to his joy, it appeared as though they had no intention of starving him to death as there was a small pot of water by the bed alongside a cup of some form of broth. Noah was hardly a picky eater, but he wasn’t yet hungry as he’d eaten shortly before his shenanigans.

With little else to do inside the room, he once again reexamined his position: he was in, yes, but certain variables still went awry from what he had been hoping. Though he couldn’t be certain of the woman’s position in the hierarchy, she was someone important – the part which he’d wanted to avoid. By his estimates, what he had done shouldn’t have called for so much attention, but he must have miscalculated somewhere – which wasn’t that strange, considering he knew next to nothing about either this world or this city.

For the time being, the best thing for him would be to stay put and play along with whatever they design for him. He's being provided a temporary respite from all the basic worries, which should net him enough time to think of a way to escape. While he had mapped the road down here roughly, he wasn't overly confident in being able to find the exit during the first try, so he'd have to wait and see whether they take him out again. In addition, the security around this place was luckily quite lax, as he'd only seen a couple of guards on the upper floors, and they hardly seemed alert.

Nonetheless, with no tools, no map, no nothing, really, he wasn’t confident. Besides, it was too risky yet, and there was no need for him to be rash. Just as he was about to actually close his eyes to fall asleep, the doors to the room creaked open, and a woman walked through.

**

Olivia stepped into the Dacent’s chambers as silently as she could, cursing the creaky, old doors on her way in. Her eyes quickly veered to the corner and, to her relief, he was already awake – she hadn’t become the culprit. His eyes quickly found hers, the look in them startling her somewhat; they were of deep, blue shade with a tinge of red in them – the tinge of madness she’d seen in the Lost Ones. Beneath that gaze, she almost felt naked, as though he was piercing through all her defenses and seeing the core of who she was.

Shuddering silently, she straightened her back and put on a smile as she walked over, carrying with her a bottle of her most prized wine – Ice-lotus Wine, imported all the way from the South-eastern Shores – and two extremely precious glasses, settling them down onto the table while she sat onto the stool.

The man never took his eyes off of her, but, to her surprise, she missed in them something she saw in virtually every other man she’d meet – lust. It appeared as though the man was entirely disinterested in her as a woman, and was merely curious as to who she was and what she was doing here.

“… hello.” She said in a melodic tone, smiling. “Do you understand anything?”

“…” the man remained silent, his frown deepening.

"… you really don't." Olivia exclaimed in faint joy, quickly suppressing it. "Don't worry. As soon as you get better, I'll have Dacent slowly teach you the language. It is not hard, from what other foreigners told us – among the easiest on the Ethernon Peninsula." she continued, all the while slowly and carefully uncapping the bottle of wine and pouring each a few sips. "You really are an Outlander, aren't you? I wonder… where do you come from? The first one came from the far South, the second from East, and the last from the South-west. Perhaps you're from the mysterious north?" she carefully handed him the glass, indicating and miming with her fingers to the best of her abilities while also taking a sip. The man eyed the glass and the ice-blue liquid in it, sniffing it a few times before taking a sip as well. "Do you like it?" she asked and, as though the man could actually understand her, he shrugged and put the glass down.

Olivia’s eyebrows twitched ever-so-slightly, as this was the first time she’d seen anyone having such a disinterested reaction to the Ice-lotus wine. Without admitting it out loud, her pride took a slight hit on this day.

**

Noah put down the glass of strange, wine-like drink; there was so much sugar in it, though, that he suspected frequent drinkers of it were all mountains with dying pancreas. The taste was hardly to his liking, but he suppressed his negative reaction to a mere shrug. Yet, even that seemed to be a bit too much as the woman sitting next to him appeared genuinely hurt.

By actually observing her rather than just listening to her voice and noticing the tonal shift when others spoke to her, Noah’s worries were beyond confirmed – he easily suspected that she was at least Nobility, if not even Royalty. There were a few dead giveaways, such as the upkeep of her appearance – which left even him stunned for a moment – the extravagant clothes she was sporting, and the little bits and pieces of body language that she was desperately trying to hide – such as always looking slightly down at him when talking; legs crossed to the side, not pointing at him; the ever-so-slightly cold and distant tone of the voice; the lithe and graceful movements of her hands… I’m in deep shit.

There was a specific reason he caught the eye of someone like her – and it was not because he ran out of the woods, screaming. It appears it has more to do with who he actually is, be it that there’s something different in his appearance, his body, or perhaps even the fact that he can’t speak their language. This part worried him the most – he inspired interest for reasons entirely unrelated to his current situation, and not knowing those reasons made him feel extremely uncomfortable.

Another thing that surprised him was that the woman never took her eyes off of him – something no Noblewoman from Earth, regardless of the historic period, would do – especially when in contact with essentially a commoner. This meant that either he was completely and utterly wrong about his assumptions, or that she's a free spirit; there was also the possibility that the entire structure and code of the so-called High-browed was completely different from the one on Earth, which he was desperately hoping was not the case.

Nonetheless, he figured it was about time he started building rapport with her, for better or worse. He slowly pointed at his dressed wounds and bowed his head slightly, forcing a faint smile – she replied with a much wider and brighter one, nodding fervently as though he was a pup who just learned a ‘shake my hand’ trick. Interesting, he grinned inwardly; he hardly cared he was being treated as a child, but more so cared about the fact that she was quite easy to read. It should be possible to weasel my way into it…

**

Olivia was currently rejoicing, having just witnessed the man express his gratitude for dressing up his wounds. Though a little gesture that usually goes unnoticed or outright ignored, within the context, it served to further validate her belief and the choice to keep the man a secret. Just as she was about to start chatting again, to familiarize him with hearing the language, the man suddenly shuffled to the side and picked up the glass, pointing at it and speaking – naturally in a completely different language that Olivia couldn’t understand. So he’s not from any of the previous places…

“—glass?” Olivia quizzed, wondering whether the man was asking her what it was called.

“… g-glass?” though it was rough and coarse, it was a start.

“Yes, glass!” Oliva nodded, smiling brightly. The man then pointed at her and tilted his head slightly sideways, as though acting out a question mark.

“Ah, me? Olivia. My name is Olivia.” She replied, somewhat taken aback by the gesture as no one had dared to point at her like that since she was a child.

“… Olivia.”

"Yes. Olivia." The man then slowly started pointing at other things in the room – from the walls to few minutes spent trying to indicate to her to tell him the material of the walls, table, floor, bed, doors, ceiling… little by little, he seemed to be absorbing most of it at a rather rapid pace, so much so that Olivia found it somewhat terrifying.

“… Noah.” The man suddenly pointed at himself, offering an introduction. Wait… he actually managed to form a concise word from simply knowing a few other ones?

“Noah? Your name is Noah?” she asked in wonder.

“Hm, Noah.” The man nodded. He then suddenly put his hands beneath his head and leaned them against the pillow. “Ah, you want to sleep?”

“… sleep? Hm, sleep.”

"Tired?" Olivia quizzed, trying her best to act out a tired expression which earned her a somewhat pitying grin from the man, causing her cheeks to blush. "S-sorry. Yes, you must be tired. I'll leave you to it then. Please excuse me." She got off the stool and gave a nod of courtesy to the man, trying her best to hide both the shameful and the exciting expressions that were trying to swell into her eyes and her face.

Quickly turning around, she left the room and walked out into the corridor, leaning against the wooden doors right after, calming her beating heart. She had just now realized what she had actually done – walked into a man's room all on her own and sat by his bed, talking. He may be an Outlander, but he was nonetheless still a man – should her Father learn, she would be sent to the Light's Wall to repent for at least a month.

Nonetheless, she hardly cared to confess her sins since the very sinful act she committed led her to understand that the man lying inside the room behind her back was anything but ordinary. He seemed to be scarily clever, which entirely contradicted his appearance as she wholly believed he was a brute soldier who only knew how to swing weapons around. However, no brute should be able to pick up on the languages so quickly and so effortlessly. It might really be possible, she thought, her lips stretching into a wide smile as she began walking down the corridor. Can you do it, Noah? Can you become the guiding star to my dreams?