17 Stay Together

Breightbale bustled full of activity. Street performers hawked at street corners and stalls set up shop at open squares. People buzzed at hotspots, trading for limited edition products. Some food carts heckled bypassing pedestrians for a skewer of grilled meat, sandwiches, or noodles and soup.

Most definitely, Breightbale had the freshest air of life in its city. The City Lord, Duke Fur Dinand, let business sort itself by the quality of goods and the choice of customers. He was influenced by tribes in the far East who competed constantly in controlled matches.

Usually, no outright corruption broke out because Duke Fur Dinand himself, or the people he governed, took it in their own hands to deal with perpetrators of the law. It was easy to deter uppity nobles and merchants when the citizens eyed their shops like starved piranhas.

It didn't mean thievery, kidnapping, or murder decreased. Rather, it depended more on if someone was caught or offended the wrong people. As it stood now in Breightbale, none of the long-established merchants dared to shortchange their quality or supplies and none of their buyers caused enough of a loss or problem to worry about.

In the end, any person could profit if they were skilled and social enough. That's all Ann and Brittney heard about Breightbale, anyway. Ann didn't particularly want to come, but John insisted becoming an "Idol" was the most lucrative. Brittney agreed since she wanted to see what Ann looked like after John's suggested makeover.

"Are you sure it's the best thing we can do?" Ann asked.

"You're a freeloading Apostle who doesn't believe in her own God. Of course we have to do it! How else can I become powerful and start bestowing miracles on Derob!" John exclaimed.

"...You aren't the type of person who does good for others, little sh*t. You better power me up when we get enough followers."

"Okay! I promise!" John confirmed, but Ann remained skeptical.

Ann stayed impatient since she didn't get to perform in Reincart with all the uproar caused by the big shots. Both women were disgruntled that they lost a large part of their savings purchasing new clothing and finding a place to stay.

"Are you sure you want to stay here, Ann?" Brittney asked.

"If I keep moving, something big will happen regardless. I'm tired of traveling and roughing it out in trees. I'm tired of eating dried food and drinking diluted beer. I'm tired of not making money! I'm tired of John whining about getting more followers! I'm tired of life pushing me around! I'm going to face my problems and live my own way!"

As Ann shouted, some people looked at her funny. She sheepishly waved her hand and spurned her horse on.

"If we joined the Church—"

"No! I hate organized religion! They remind me that I'm the Apostle to a God I utterly loathe and despise and hate and want to die!!!"

More people began staring at Ann.

"You don't have to be so loud, Ann. I'm your friend, so lighten up."

Brittney winked at Ann and poked her stomach.

"Ouch! Stop doing that!"

"Come on… I know you like it whenever I touch you!~"

"..."

The two found residence at the Husky Lodges. It was a quaint place not too far from the main marketplace or the city barracks. Husky Lodges had a solid reputation for great service, rooms, food, and safety. They even had free public bathing! But…

"What do you mean that you don't have two rooms open!"

Ann glared at the receptionist, who had a scar from his left cheek to his glabella. His bald head shined in Brittney's eyes every time he bent forward to point at Ann.

"Look, Missy. We're a perfectly ordinary establishment and have valued customers already reserving rooms. YOU can't force YOUR way in here and demand me to make accommodations. YOU can only have ONE room and that's final," the man snorted.

Ann growled at him and seethed. She knew she shouldn't make a scene but the man was being unreasonable. He gave them one option of private single rooms, which cost much more than the standard double room reservations. Their pockets couldn't fork over the money and this place was the most legitimate out of all the cheap and sketchy businesses in the Breightbale. It was already too dark and they were too tired to defend themselves.

"Ann…" Brittney pulled her arm. "We should go."

Ann shook in anger. Then she took a deep breath and calmed down.

"You know, Missy…" the receptionist said with a smile. "If you're short on coin, I can cut you a deal."

Ann burned him with a withering stare.

"Hey! Don't give me that look! I'm not cheating you, if that's what you think. I just want you to do me a favor and I'll pay for your stay indefinitely."

Brittney looked perplexed.

"What favor?"

"It's easy. Promise me you'll go to our public bath every day."

"Motherf*cker, you just want to look at our bodies!" Ann yelled.

The receptionist chuckled.

"It's not for me. If I was caught looking in the public bath without my wife, she'd bite my dick off. Trust me, it'll benefit you as much as it benefits me. Tell you what, I'll even pay for the costs to stable your horses!"

Ann huffed angrily but Brittney kept trying to calm her down.

"It isn't that big of a deal. Don't you hate getting dirty too? Also, we can save a lot by not having to pay."

"I can't believe I'm hearing that from you, a Priestess!"

"I do believe in John," Brittney giggled.

In truth, Brittney wanted to bathe with Ann. She always was too nervous to get in together. She fantasized scrubbing Ann's back and…

"Tch. Typical. Now you became perverted too."

"Eh?" Brittney snapped out of her imagination and stopped subconsciously giggling and breathing. Her face was flush.

"I'm not doing this because I want to, Brittney," Ann said. "But I will do it for us.

Ann blushed and looked away from Brittney.

"I take that as a yes! Here's the key to your room. It's the third door to the left of the stairs on the third floor. I know it's late, so you don't have to bathe today. Just don't make too much noise during your stay."

The receptionist winked and then moved to deposit their lodging fees for the night.

"...Bastard."

"Aw… come on, Ann. Don't worry about him. Let's go."

Brittney pulled Ann away from the desk and up the stairs. Honesty, their bags were killing them.

John looked at the scene, interested at what was going.

"Interesting…"

He wrote some words in his book.

"Oh, f*ck me. I have to write lyrics for their first performance! Ah!!! Idols were so popular here before! Why can't I remember their songs, but I can remember their three measurements!"

John pulled his hair and began to think of something. Songs weren't that hard to make, right?