Alistair walks off, while Clyde picks himself off the ground.

The sun begins to set on the horizon, and the estate is aglow with reddish-orange hues. As Clyde picks himself off the ground, Alistair walks off haughtily.

Aithne stands and claps for Clyde. “Amazing! You are more than I expected, Clyde, to push Alistair so” She calls over her shoulder,“Meri, go fetch him some clothes.”

Meri curtly replies, “Madam, we do not have any clothes that would fit such a vagrant.”

Exuding fiery contempt, Aithne turns to Meri. “Then go to my late husband’s wardrobe and take clothes from there. Surely he won’t mind.”

Meri bows low. “Yes, m'lady.”

Aithne sighs. “Airi, go draw him a bath and make sure he is clean from head to toe.”

Airi curtsies and gestures to the manor. “Clyde, follow me.”

Clyde follows closely behind Airi as the events of his summoning replay in his mind. For what purpose was he brought here? Now that he’s a slave of Aithne, what does that mean for his future? Was he Aithne’s only slave, or…

Clyde steps to Airi’s side and looks over at her as they walk. “Airi, are you a slave, too?”

“No. I serve the lady out of my own volition.”

“I see…” Clyde realizes that Airi, and Meri for that matter, must be around his age. “How long have you served Aithne, then?”

“Since I was a child.”

Something catches Clyde’s eye and stops him dead in his tracks. It is a lavish portrait of a couple.

Aithne smiles gently with a cheerful radiance. Her body is draped in a gown that seems to match well with the suit of the man standing beside her. That man, standing proud in noble garb… Looked strikingly similar to Clyde.

What is this…?

He points to the man in the portrait. “Airi, who is that in the painting?”

Airi replies matter-of-factly, “That is the late Lord Raine.”

Clyde nods slowly, studying his doppelgänger for a moment before being shooed along by Airi down the corridor. The two walk to the bath in awkward silence, and Airi leaves Clyde to disrobe.

“Finally… A moment to process.” Clyde undresses, and takes in the luxurious nature of the bath. The ceiling was vaulted, with ornate blue mosaic tiles patterned along the floor and walls. The setting rays of the sun shone through the windows at the top of the walls, and dazzled across the medicinal waters of the large bath pool. Excited to relax and soak, Clyde tests the water with his foot.

“ACK! It’s freezing!”

As if on cue, Airi walks in holding a fiery stone. She and Clyde make direct eye contact.

She looks down.

“Hmph… So small.” Airi shakes her head disapprovingly.

Clyde flushes beet-red and quickly covers himself. “IT’S JUST COLD! THEY SHRINK!”

Airi looks at Clyde and smirks. “Don’t worry- your secret's safe with me.”

She bends down over the furnace and places the stone inside to heat up the water. As she said an incantation to light the flame, Miri comes in with handsome clothes, and sets them down respectfully on a nearby bench.

She then turns to Clyde, scowls, and turns on her heel to exit the bath.

Airi, getting ready to leave, tells Clyde, “Please don’t need anything else,” and walks out.

Clyde sits in the bath, sinking in as the water finally warms up. He thinks about home and the luxuries he no longer has access to: a shower, cars- even the hot pads he used for his sore body.

Then his mind lingers on his family. Do they know I’m gone? They’d be heartbroken… Will I ever see them again?...

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Clyde jumps, a bit startled from the booming voice, but relaxes at the sight of Hayden. “Yeah, sure. The more the merrier.”

Hayden enters the bath, making the water level rise and overflow out onto the blue tiles beside the tub. “You know that was quite impressive today. I haven’t seen too many people give Alistair a run for his money in sparring.”

Clyde scratches his head.“Nah, I got my ass kicked. Thoroughly.” The image of his dangling leg resurfaces, but he instantly shakes them out with some water to the face.

A hearty laugh bellows from Hayden’s chest. “He is a swordsman in his prime, with knowledge, skill, and experience. You are still young, lacking in experience. You have much to learn yet.”

“Thanks for the pep talk. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Not at all- shoot.” Hayden leans back in the water, resting his hands behind his head.

“Your healing was amazing,” Clyde slaps his leg, “Being able to reattach my leg… It’s crazy to think about. But my question is, what is the limit of healing?”

Hayden draws the corners of his lips down and nods, impressed. “That’s a good question. To be clear, I cannot regrow limbs, but I can reattach severed limbs within 7 minutes. After that, limbs will be healed naturally, but at an accelerated rate. If I was there when Aithne received her injury, it wouldn’t have even left a scar.” Hayden slicks his golden hair back with a wet hand, perhaps hiding his disappointment.

“I’ve heard stories of lizards and dragon-kin being able to regrow limbs with healing magic after the 7 minutes, but that’s most likely due to their innate healing abilities.”

“What about resurrect?”

Hayden meets Clyde’s eyes with his own. “It’s the same thing with resurrect, but dreadfully worse. After the seven minutes, resurrect will still heal the body, but it becomes a husk- a soulless body. It will have no knowledge, ability to speak, or anything that even hints at the spark of life. Moreover, it’s a crime to do such a resurrection.”

Clyde folds his hands under his chin. “It sounds like the resurrected person becomes brain dead, maybe due to lack of oxygen.”

Hayden clears his ear with his pinky. “Pardon? Brain dead? Oxygen? What?”

Clyde exhales deeply, wondering where to begin. “So, oxygen is in the air we breathe. It’s the reason why candles slowly die when covered. The candle feeds on oxygen, so when covered, it uses up all the oxygen until it snuffs itself out. The air is still around the candle, but the chemical reaction can't happen to keep the flame alive. The same is true for when we breathe. Our blood carries the oxygen throughout our bodies, allowing similar chemical reactions to take place.”

Hayden stares intently at Clyde, soaking in every word to follow along. “Now, what does that have to do with your brain then?”

Clyde shrugs. “It’s simple- like the flame of a candle, when the brain is deprived of oxygen, it dies. And the brain contains our ego. Thus, why a husk results after the seven minutes.” Clyde pauses for a moment, digesting what he just said.

“It might be possible to extend resurrect past 7 minutes with CPR.”

“CPR?”

Clyde nods. “By compressing the heart, and giving someone breaths, it’s possible to keep oxygen rich blood flowing through the body, preventing the brain from dying.”

Hayden’s eyes widen. “An interesting hypothesis, Clyde. Though, the law is clear- under no circumstances can someone resurrect after 7 minutes.”

“Why is it such a crime to resurrect someone after 7 minutes?”

“As I said before, the resurrected would become a husk. It is at that point that necromancy has been performed, which greatly dishonors the dead.”

Hayden finishes washing himself and steps out of the bath, leaving less than half of the bath water remaining. “I’ll be leaving first then. I would take your time and enjoy your bath for a little longer- it will aid the healing of your body!”

Clyde rolls his eyes. “Will do, I love soaking!” Even in a puddle.

Clyde sinks back in the water, remembering his first LARP death. He was given only a short sword, and tasked to kill a goblin in the forest. But in the forest, he was quickly outnumbered by a horde of goblins, as it was a trap set up for novice solo players. Instead of running away, though, he stood and fought, killing the majority of goblin players. Yet even then, he was slain and forced to make another character.

How many characters did I kill by being reckless? He looks down at his leg, where it was severed. “...Not even a scar.”

Ughh! I don’t want to die! I'll have to be extremely careful and smart in this world. If it’s even 1/100 as dangerous as the LARP I played, I might be screwed.

After a while, Clyde gets pruny and leaves the bath to get dressed. He admired the soft, finely tailored shirt, but found it difficult to put on. It had buttons, that string would tie around, but Clyde’s lacing job was less than desirable. Admitting defeat to the shirt, he pulls on the trousers and leaves the bath.

Upon entering the hallway, he saw Aithne standing against the wall, wearing only a tight, thin black nightgown.

Clyde’s eyes raced up and down the curves of her body, which flowed in the shape of an hourglass.

Aithne approaches Clyde, pressing herself onto him and resting her head on his chest. Her perfume tickles his nose, making Clyde blush. She smells like roses and the sun.

Wrapping her arms around Clyde, Aithne looks up at him and makes eye contact. Then, it hits: the overpowering smell of alcohol washes over him.

Aithne breathes, “come with me.” She grabs Clyde’s hand and leads him down the hall, to her master bedroom.