Vol.5, Ch. 1, P.1
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Waters babbling. Waters roaring.
Over and again, splashes dashed and sprinkled in rhythm, spreading like wings, falling like rain, glittering in the sun. Waters and lights in dance and play—such a beauty it was to see.
But more a beauty still to my eyes was something else: that is, the very thews and sinews that broke those waters… and the twain Men to whom they belonged. What vigours, what strengths were on display as they swum—nay, glode across the shimmering blue. Hither and thither they went, straining against the waters and each other alike, for in training they were, whetting their bodies and minds both. Such efforts they made, such earnestness, such action… One would know utter awe, to behold them as I did.
Swimming for betterment is not so strange. Ideal it be, even, as ever it disciplines all the muscles in measures perfect and equal, and withal tempers even the heart and lungs. Of course, not without waters can there be swimming, and so many be those left too high and dry to enjoy its boons. But, not so here at Hensen. Anear this home of mine spans wide a lake for good fishing, good swimming, and—yes, indeed—good training.
Quite chill to swim it was today, but for those two? Not at all; they seemed more in their element than the very fishes, even. Why, Herr Rolf had said it himself, that “brisk waters whet the wits better,” or something like that. Yes, yes, milder temperatures make for more productive training; that, too, he knew. Nay; it was rather that the good Herr wished just as much to harden and maintain that sharp mind of his. But, pray mistake him not for some snooty blatherer: this was a strictness made and meant only for himself, and ever in his training did it show in his very eyes.
And then there was Herr Sig swimming close behind him. This Man, too, had all his spirits afire today—more so than I had thought was in him, it shames me to say. Yes, indeed, wild and free though he may be, this Herr baulked not the tedium that is daily training. How fascinating… but not so much a surprise, I must suppose, for as a stream has its source, so must the strength in so powerful a fighter as he.
Speaking of fascinations, it seemed he had swum not once before his coming to Hensen. It was only after word had reached his ears of Herr Rolf’s lakeside regimen that the interest was sparked in him at last.
‘…Swimmin’, eh…?’ he had said earlier today. ‘…All right, then. Giz a bit o’ this fun, why not…!’
Ah, yes, very well do I remember it: Herr Sig, making his first strokes upon this lake. Such a thunderous scene it was when he thrashed about like a fish with a mad itch. But after some simple instruction from Herr Rolf, he very soon found his bearings and was off swimming in a minute’s time.
Lingering on that thought, I close-watched Herr Sig as he swum. Like an angry beast he seemed, one stampeding after a catch in the waters, his teeth gnashing bright, his limbs splashing wild. Yes; a stunning mess, his form, if I must be frank, so rough and so wasteful in its technique. But, I suppose that was just to his liking; his own brand of swimming it was, so to speak, and that was well enough, for with such speed did he swim that I could scarce believe him a fresh novice. In proof, there he was: almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Herr Rolf himself and never letting up his pace.
Before long, the twain Men returned to the banks and stepped out of the waters. A full circuit of this wide lake they had made, and it showed: their breaths were harsh, their faces were red, and as they drew nearer my way, more and more their taxed muscles gleamed sharp and solid in the sun, seizing my eyes and not letting go.
Herr Rolf’s was an enormity of a body, stout and broad like a mighty tree. Yes; a deep-grown tree of old, standing erect above all the world, yet in whose shade any flora or fauna would be glad to gather, within whose sphere both safety and comfort could be found. His muscles, however, were like the faces of ageless mountains, or perhaps more like iron and steel moulded into flesh, as in beholding them, the sheer girth of a greatsword sprang immediate to my mind.
And if Herr Rolf should be a greatsword, then Herr Sig was as a dirk: taut and sharp was every contour of his body, edge-like, fang-like, claw-like. Looking at it was as staring down a weapon ready and pointed, or a tiger prowling from shaded thickets of bamboo. I ought know, for once upon a past expedition had I spotted just the thing. And as closer came Herr Sig, I could but fancy that tiger full-returned, what with the Man’s sinews pulsing in ripples and stripes, as though at any moment he might pounce upon me.
“Monika.”
Yet, shared between them was one thing: their scars. The old wounds and grim marks all made such a riddle of art upon their persons, like a mural of bygone battles, enmarbling their very presence to a marvel above the mundane. And then there were their muscles, looking like splendid ridges upon the horizon—nay, like bulges. Big and beautiful bulges, bedight with veins like mighty rivers coursing over mountains. These Men… how flirtatious their aura, how enticing their sight; words were failing me the more I bathed in their regard.
“Monika?”
Since olden days have no few artisans and thinkers derived lovesomeness from the naked form. Small wonder, that: the two Herren’s bodies were as jewels fresh-cut. And also like jewels, in them seemed aflame the wild shimmer of life itself. Studying them more and more, I could but feel a notion tickling me from down deep, at how proud, how precious, how perfect the trained and moulded body could be. It was all enough to leave my own breath asteam.
The Men’s muscularity—as ever they held my eyes in their solid embrace would they perk and pulsate. And being so drenched and asweat, that was a titillating sight, indeed. There: a fluster surfacing upon each of their skins, producing complexions ruddy and delicate like cherry petals in peak season. A dalliance at once innocent, and at another, most sumptuous to see… that now was mere sight proving inadequate. My fingers, my hands; how they tingled now to touch the marvels for themselves.
“Hey! Listen, would you!”
Ah, how lusty,, how lubricious their bodies. Never before had I known such luxury, to behold sculptures of such scandal—a treat coming in two, no less, one for each of my naked eye to enjoy. Lo: up and down, up and down the Men heave, warriors winded and weary from long rigours… Mayhaps too winded they were. Mayhaps too weary. Yes, grave may be their situation; aid may be needed. Worry not, then, my Men. The remedy-hands of Monika are here to serve, her every finger ready to feel out your every discomfort.
“Guheh hehehe…”
“M-Monika!?”
“Oh… Why, my dear Fräulein. Whatever is the matter?”
Before I knew it, I found standing there beside me the Fräulein Lise herself. Such an earnest soul she was, ever considering me an elder sister of sorts, despite her higher station. Myself? Why, it was my full mind to reciprocate; being her senior in age, always did I bear myself with dignity worthy of emulation. Yes, for true, fighters we were, and battles hard and bloody were our livelihoods, but that scarce meant our womanhoods in turn ought be any blunted. Subtlety, sense, sophistication—all these the young Fräulein must study, but with hers truly ever by her side, she need never look far for a model lady.
“I, er… I ought ask you the same,” said she.
“Oh?” I answered. “Why ought you, if I may?” But on and on the Fräulein squinted at me. Her brows knitted; puzzlement clouded her eyes. I had no guess as to why; mayhaps her labours of late had worn out her nerves. An unsavoury thought—I must needs aid her more close from here on.
“Lise,” called Herr Rolf, now brazen anear. “Come for a swim yourself?”
“G-get dressed already, you!” commanded the Fräulein, who, ill-braving the sight of the Herr, turned away swift and pointed him to his attire as it laid in the sun.
A common thing it is to swim unclad or almost so, just as the fishes do. But here were the two Herren safe-covered at the loins, for true, and so I had not the foggiest as to the Fräulein’s shyness. Mayhaps the manful sight was yet a bit much for the maiden. Ah, how adorable of her.
“And be quick about it,” the Fräulein further pressed. “We can’t have Master Torry and them sipping tea all day!”
Indeed, today found us hosts to guests of eminence. No less than six moons had passed since the battle at Tallien’s borders and the defence of Balasthea; amongst many others, a fruit of those labours was newfound fellowships with certain Men of great authority, who were come now to take counsel.
“Not all day, no. But there is small need for swiftness, Fräulein; the appointed time be not till afternoon,” I assured her, and coming by the two Men, presented to them flannels to dry themselves with. Gracious was Herr Rolf as he received his; Herr Sig gave a grunt of gratitude before snatching his away. And once all the wetness was wicked from them did I behold once more their bodies beautiful and bare under the bright sun. The long swim had rich-awarded them, for more lovesome did they seem than even before they had delved into the waters. And my eyes were all the gladder for it.
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