Old Memories Resurface (6)
I followed her gaze up to the spire of the royal palace. Against the dark night sky, the lofty tower stood proud, its central terrace gaping open like the maw of some ominous beast—black and deep. That must be around Elua's bedroom...
"Go back, Bertrand... If Her Majesty sees you like this, she'll..."
"That's why I came at night. To meet you in secret. No other way to contact you without coming myself. I'm not going inside."
Brione chewed her nail for a moment, then spoke up.
"You think the de-aging is magic, so you came to me, right?"
"Yeah. I looked into it everywhere, and that's the conclusion. Seems like magic."
"Alright, then here's the plan. Her Majesty can't see you like this. You might end up locked in her bedroom. So do this."
Brione told me and Idi to head to the Whifferd Hotel. Just drop her name, and they'd handle everything.
"Wait there. I'll come tomorrow morning."
"Hm... And then suddenly show up with the guards to drag me to Elua? No funny business, right?"
"Bertrand... Even as a kid, you can wield the Holy Sword's power just by gripping the hilt."
She had a point. The Holy Sword wasn't just for stabbing and slashing. What made it terrifying was that simply placing my hand on the hilt unleashed immense power. Right now, I could reach back from the saddle, grab it, and summon lightning from the heavens. That's why even Aterugar feared my shrunken self and didn't dare underestimate me. That's how I could come straight to the palace like this. Otherwise, who'd walk into the lion's den on their own?
Still, bringing Idi was to eliminate even the slim chance of trouble if I couldn't reach the sword and my reduced strength left me vulnerable.
"Fine, we'll wait at the hotel. Hurry up—I hate being inconvenienced."
I could've gone back to the inn with Brione, but with Idi here, that felt off, and crashing at the Whifferd for a night sounded better. Timing was awkward for a round trip anyway, and free luxury beats nothing.
"Got it. Don't worry. I'll be quick. And do we have to get separate rooms?"
"That's not your business. Keep the guards quiet."
"No worries. See you in the morning."
With our deal set, I turned the Hell Horse around. Crossing the plains, I glanced back—under the torchlight of the drawbridge gate, Brione stood watching us go.
"This might be the most luxurious day of my life..."
Idi gushed in awe as we entered the Whifferd Hotel lobby. Even past midnight, it glowed bright, staffed by more than a few night workers. The doormen didn't bat an eye at the Hell Horse—this was the capital's top hotel, drawing every race and species, complete with rooms for black mages. Black magic power polluted surroundings, so they had a deal with the church: saintesses dispatched regularly for holy purification. At our inn, a wash in Holy Sword-infused water lasted over a week—no need for Celereja to bother.
Dropping Brione's name at the ornate front desk smoothed everything. Turns out she was a VIP. Fitting for an arrogant mage who loved luxury.
The clerk assumed we were siblings—or young mom and kid—and booked one room without question. No need for separate anyway, and honestly, my tiny body made everything inconvenient; sticking with Idi felt right. Plus, playtime perks at bedtime.
A dedicated attendant led us up. Nice touch, but the eight-story building had no elevator. Non-dwarf ones always crashed, and dwarves hoarded their tech. So we climbed endless stairs to the room.
As expected, pure luxury: vast bed and marble table in a gallery of art and sculptures; beyond a gold-leaf partition, a marble bathtub.
"Hehe... This is insane..."
Idi flopped on the bed, tested the tub, grinning like a fool.
Soon, staff entered, heading to the tub's window. A pulley on the sill hauled boiled water from the ground-floor pump in buckets. Heavy loads meant grunting men teams pulling ropes. Tough gig... One dwarf buddy like Ukun would've fixed that.
"Hehe... Bertrand... Let's bathe..."
Staff gone, Idi stripped me bare and dragged me to the tub.
"I can wash myself."
"Stay still... Big sis'll scrub every inch..."
She plunked me in, splashing water, lathering my hair roughly. Then stood me up, scouring my body with firm hands. Like an older sister bathing the baby—no spark of arousal, pure drudgery. Her thorough grip worked foam into my groin and balls without stirring me. Just wanted it over, so I let her.
She twisted me front-back, sat-stood, rinsed clean, then toweled me bone-dry. From the bag, she pulled Marim's clothes, dressing me like a doll.
"Aww... So pretty... Bath makes you all rosy..."
Idi pinched my cheeks, beaming.
"Now... Sis washes up... Be good and play..."
She set a dragon figurine on my lap, hummed slowly, and vanished behind the partition. Splash sounds soon followed. I grabbed the carving—Ammugar and Orkog's work, intricately detailed, fun to fiddle with.
"Raaargh! The ultimate red dragon hatchling roared! Red dragons are super strong, strongest ever! Beat gods and demons! But lost to legendary hero Bertrand!"
I played happily till Idi finished.
That night, Idi and I tumbled in the single bed, wrapped tight. She unbuttoned, feeding me fresh milk aplenty; I returned with mine. Body small, but no limits—perfect.
Under dim light, sweat-glistened Idi grinned dopily.
"Hehe... Bertrand... What if... we don't undo the spell? Live like this...?"
"Why?"
"You're cute... I'll take care... Wash you, feed you, milk you like today..."
"Don't be ridiculous, milk cow. More milk."
"Here... Still leaking... Hehe..."
Her udders never ran dry—endless supply all night.
True to word, Brione arrived early morning. As she knocked, I suckled at Idi's lap; she stroked between my legs furiously.
"Bertrand!"
"Wha—whoa! Hold on!"
We scrambled apart, dressing hastily.
"Eek... Soaked through, it's obvious..."
Idi clutched her drenched chest, flustered. I tossed her my cloak, opened the door.
Brione stared down blankly, then snapped to.
"Oh, sorry. It's you. Hard to get used to."
"Come in. Alone?"
"Obviously."
Entering, she eyed Idi—cloaked, flushed, sweating bullets.
"H-hi... Brione..."
"Why the cloak indoors?"
"C-cold..."
"What? Idiot. Sweating buckets."
Brione's jab cowed Idi; she hunched, burrowing in the cloak. I tugged Brione's sleeve, pulling her to the table opposite me—perched atop a chair, I set the black orb down.
"Listen up while I explain. So, where it went wrong..."
But Brione wasn't listening. Lips tight, eyes wide, staring through me.
"You hearing this?"
"Uh-huh..."
"Hey."
"Huh? Oh, why, Bertrand? Sorry."
She coughed, averting eyes.
"Kid you is... just so weird..."
"Not the time, tsk."
I cleared my throat, recapping: Lurtjog's gruesome treasure chest and black orb in Aterugar's nest. Gripped it, slept, woke a child. Bits from Kosa and Ammugar.
Brione's brow furrowed deep.
"What do you think? Can you fix it? Clan demons said Mideronde made it."
"Mideronde...?"
She snatched the orb, twisting to read runes, letting out a faint groan.
"Really Mideronde...!? No way..."