The Egg Of Immorality Ch 08

A community filled with beautiful warrior women? Artesia fits right in.

To start at the beginning of The Egg of Immorality, find chapter 1

here

. To start the Thirst for Power series fresh, please look for

Enchanted

. Thank you for reading and please look up my profile page if you have any questions, concerns, or wish to reach out to me.

"Your home is nice," Artesia said after shutting the door behind her.

"Thank you," Bronetta said. "They are nearly all the same. Simple, but that is all we need."

Artesia noted the single chair in the room and pair of chests against the wall. Bronetta had a worn rug woven from some plant fibers in the center of the floor and, for decorations, she had wooden pegs on the wall that held two simple and straight short swords, an unstrung bow, and spear. An open archway led into the other room and through it she could see a bed and some more chests.

"I eat in the market or with the Archon most days," Bronetta said while untying her scabbard and hanging it from a peg in the wall near the displays that held her other weapons. "My cook fire is outside, we passed it on the way in."

Artesia glanced at the door she'd just shut. "You have no stove? What if the weather turns bad?"

She shook her head. "No. The weather here is wonderful. We may not always have sunshine, but it only rains at night."

Artesia stared at her. She didn't believe Bronetta but she couldn't come up with a way to say as much without offending her.

Bronetta continued unaware of Artesia's struggle. "We have bakers that have ovens and such. We live simple lives here, but it is a paradise for us. Everyone has a job and we meet the needs of others. It has worked for... for many years."

Artesia noted her pause but didn't bring it up. She nodded to the weapons on the wall, eager to put her mind to something she could more easily understand. Bronetta had another short sword at her hip in a scabbard. "You're well armed. Do you face invaders or monsters?"

"Not in quite some time," Bronetta said. "We had some trouble with some monsters a while back. They harassed us for some time until our hunters tracked them back to their village. We marched on them and left them bloodied and aware that we would not tolerate any more violence from them. They've left us alone ever since."

"Monsters?" Artesia asked. "Most monsters aren't so willing to compromise."

Bronetta smiled. "Well, they look monstrous enough. They stand almost half as tall again as your gladiator friends and have the heads of hounds. Fur to match, though their bodies resemble that of a woman... or a man, since they treat their women little better than slaves forced to tend their homes and nothing else."

"You disapprove?" Artesia noted.

Bronetta all but spat on the floor. "I call them monsters because of this more than because of how they look. Look at us, here, in Mygela! Look at the prosperity and peace we have. We fight like demons when we have to, but we know happiness and peace and equality among us."

"It does sound nice," Artesia noted. "I've traveled to many places and seen many ways of life. I won't deny that what you're saying seems much improved."

Bronetta smiled at her. "A strong woman such as yourself would be welcome here, I think."

Artesia glanced away and asked, "Would you prefer me to sleep in this room?"

Bronetta frowned. "What? No, there's no bed here."

"There's only one bed and it's yours," Artesia noted.

"We will share," Bronetta said.

Artesia stared at her.

"It is how we do things. Newcomers always share with citizens until a decision is made. You learn our ways and there are no misunderstandings... at least none large enough to cause a problem."

Artesia remained at a loss. "Um... I don't... I'll sleep on the floor. I'm accustomed to sleeping on the ground, it's fine."

Bronetta frowned. "Would you prefer someone else to host you?"

"It's not... look, I'm just... I like my privacy."

"Ah, yes. Privacy... that is the right of a citizen," Bronetta said. "And to earn that right you must prove to us we can trust you and that you bring value to us."

Artesia let out an unhappy breath. "Right... value," she muttered. She glanced at the door to the house and considered making a break for it. John had told her to go along with things though. He had plans for this place. A mission or a quest or somesuch that he'd been commanded to do. Magic and mystery... why did life have to be so complicated?

She nodded. "All right. But..."

"But what?"

"Nothing," Artesia mumbled. "I'm just... I prefer to sleep alone, so this is awkward for me."

"That is fair. There is room enough for both of us," Bronetta said. "It grows late and I wake early for morning calisthenics and training. We should go to bed now."

She cast about for any other excuse she could make but nothing came to mind. Artesia nodded. "All right. Lead the way."

Bronetta stepped into the bedroom and lit a sconce in the wall. Artesia followed her and looked around, confirming that it was as spartan as the other room in Bronetta's house. She was surprised to see a armor rack in the corner though. A hard-boiled leather cuirass, helm, skirt, gauntlets, and greaves adorned the rack. A round shield with a notch in the top to rest a spear or sword hung on the wall beside it.

"You approve?" Bronetta asked.

"I do," Artesia admitted. "I prefer heavier armor myself, but that's expensive and requires special training."

"Very true. We have no easy access to new iron, so we make do with what we have. Our arrows are tipped with a special stone we get from the bottom of the lake. It is very hard and holds an edge as sharp as a razor. In fact, we make razors from it for personal use."

"Personal use? Oh, you mean..."

"Shaving," Bronetta said. "Did you not notice them in the baths?"

Artesia shook her head. "No... I... I stood watch while Lord John and the others bathed."

"Oh I see... so you haven't had a chance to freshen up yourself?"

"No."

Bronetta nodded. "Such is the life of a soldier. We must put the safety and needs of others ahead of our own."

Artesia shrugged. "I prefer a little more privacy. As I said, I... I'm like that."

"Shy?"

Artesia blushed.

Bronetta laughed. "It is no concern, Artesia! Feel honored and welcome here. Yes, by our laws I must be with you, but I will give you privacy for such things. Here, use this."

Artesia watched as Bronetta opened a chest and retrieved a bowl and a pitcher from it. She placed the bowl on the floor and poured some water from the pitcher into it. Next she retrieved a smaller box and handed it to Artesia.

Inside the box was a clean folded washcloth, a brick of soap, and a knife that had a handle made of bone and a blade that was flat, straight, and looked like it was made of black glass. It glistened in the light from the sconce almost as though it was wet.

Artesia picked the razor up and turned it over to study it. She tested the blade and her eyes went wide as she felt the keen edge against her calloused fingers. She nodded. "This is stone, not glass?"

Bronetta grinned. "It looks like glass, doesn't it? We're not sure, honestly," she admitted. "It can be melted, but it won't take a shape very well. It crumbles too easily. We've learned to break and cut it into the shapes we need."

Artesia looked at bowl of water Bronetta now held out to her and then at the box in her hands. She nodded. "All right, um, where can I do this?"

"Here," Bronetta said.

Artesia hesitated while Bronetta set the bowl on top of the chest she'd taken it out of. She opened the other chest, revealing some clothing folded inside. Bronetta unbuckled her belt, rolled it up, and placed it inside. She slipped her dress off her shoulder and pulled it down her body and stepped out of it. She picked it up and rolled it into a bundle and placed it on the floor beside the chest. Bronetta knelt down and removed one sandal and then the other and placed them in front of the chest. She stood, shut the chest and turned to face the stunned woman.

Artesia stared at her, lips parted and eyes wide. She'd seen her in the baths earlier but this was different. She was closer and they were alone. It was private... almost intimate. Bronetta had benefited from recent use of one of the razors, it seemed. Her legs were hairless and the tuft of dark hair at her loins was trimmed into a small patch that offered no concealment. Her skin was smooth save for the occasional long-healed scar.

"Be at ease, Artesia. I stand here defenseless and unarmed. At your mercy," Bronetta said. "Now tend to your needs. I'll be in the other room until you are finished."

Artesia managed to nod and turned to watch her as she exited the bedroom. There was no door in the archway between rooms but Bronetta moved out of her line of sight so she wasn't sure what she was doing. Sitting down? Relaxing? Arming herself with the weapons she kept out there?

She shook her head. Why would she lull her into complacency only to betray her moments later? Artesia let out a huff of air and set the box down next to the bowl of water. She hesitated a moment longer, glanced at the open doorway, and then finally worked at the buckles of her belt. The work of disarming and disrobing took on an urgency, making her work quicker and quicker. She kept sparing glances at the doorway, worried that Bronetta might be spying on her. She stripped off her brigandine jacket and then pulled off the jerkin beneath it.

She caught the scent of her undershirt and it made her nose wrinkle. How long had it been since she'd washed it? Longer than she'd washed herself, but they'd been traveling and she had no time and no privacy. Not since they'd left Hawk Hollow behind after killing the dragon and taking Arika into their midst. Weeks.

Artesia swallowed and realized she had no spare shirt to wear. It was back in the carriage. She'd been too focused on being ready to protect John and the others. Much as Bronetta had said, she put herself last so that the others would be safe.

She shook her head and pulled the soiled shirt off. She stared down at herself. She was fit and strong, but she didn't look as strong as Bronetta. What was she called, the Praetorian? She looked like a living statue carved from flesh colored rock. Artesia was strong, stronger even than Roxanne and Helleen, but her body was smooth and curved in such a way to make her look soft. Soft and... well, there was a reason she wore layers and heavy armor. The last time someone had seen her too closely it had taken the edge of her knife to convince him he wasn't interested in her. In truth, he'd never be interested in another woman after what she did to him.

Artesia shook the thoughts from her head and reached for the cloth and soap. Not all of the stink came from her shirt. She worked quickly, scrubbing herself raw while checking to be sure Bronetta wasn't spying on her.

What would she think if she saw her? Broad shoulders, narrow waist, wide hips, and a smooth belly and body? Not to mention the breasts she'd been cursed with that she had to crush under her armor. She'd think her just another cow too soft to wield a sword. Her only purpose would be for pleasure. And she'd only think that until--

"Are you all right in there?" Bronetta called. "Are you finished already? I didn't hear any water splashing."

"No!" Artesia yelped. "I mean, yes, I'm all right. No, I'm not finished. I... I've been on the road a while, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, I understand," Bronetta said. "We are warriors, you and I, but there comes a time when it's nice to feel something soft instead of something hard."

Artesia blushed. "I... perhaps," she admitted. She looked at the razor and then lifted her arm. It had been a very long time since she'd done that. A very long time since she'd given any thought to such things. And seeing how Bronetta had shaved and shaped her pubic hair... how she let herself be one display shamelessly to a complete stranger like that...

"This might take a bit," she called out to the Praetorian.

"Take your time," Bronetta said. "And please, if you need anything, let me know."

Artesia blushed again. "Thank you... I'm... I'm fine."

"Yes," Bronetta agreed. "You most definitely are."

On an unrelated note - I get the occasional email from a reader asking for a response on this, this, or the other thing. I'm excited to respond and talk... and then I realize they sent the email through Literotica anonymously. If you don't give me an email address to respond to, I can't respond to you! Then we're both disappointed. Don't disappoint us.