Age of Faith

Episode 14

On the right there are small chairs and tables, closer to the right there is a brazier, and before the last one there is a bathtub. Fortunately, his size was smaller than what he enjoyed in Lillia, despite how a man of Wulfrith's height and width found comfort in it, he had no idea.

After all, that meant a dozen trips to the cauldron. He crossed the sun and lowered the bucket in front of the bathtub. “The water went cold,” said the bodyguard, appearing beside him.

Annyn lifted the first bucket. What does he mean by cold? Still no steam—if someone squints. Sucking his tongue into the ceiling of his mouth so as not to say the words he would regret, he emptied both buckets into the bathtub. “Quick!” the guard's orders.

Each successive journey was more difficult than the last, his shoulders, arms, and legs protesting, his hands sore. On his sixth return to the sun, he was shocked to feel the prick of tears. Looking towards Wulfrith, he saw she was no longer at the table where she had never looked up during her previous journey.

A moment later, he faltered as he looked at the bare shoulders above the edge of the bathtub and was shocked when he met Wulfrith's impatient gaze. "I'm waiting, Mr. James." Seeing his bodyguard kneeling beside the bathtub soaking into his master's back, he rushed forward and shifted his gaze so that he would not be forced to look at Wulfrith's nudity.

He was happy to know that the water had increased tremendously with his size, which meant two or three more trips were enough. "On my solar," Wulfrith said as she poured water on his feet, "You'll show respect by taking off your hat." He put down the first bucket and swept the lid off his head.

Even though he felt his gaze beckon, he remained lowered. "Will this be another lesson, my lord?" “Do they need?” "No, I'll remember it." He poured out a second bucket of water, but as he turned to leave, his huge fingers wrapped around his wrist.

He flinched, dropped the bucket, and looked up. Seeing his chest roll with muscles making his heart flutter as if it wanted to be taken out, he pulled his gaze higher. He looked at the back of his hand. "You have burned yourself." Is that a worry? Definitely not. He turned his palm and pressed his thumb towards the middle of it.

Despite having escaped the boiling water, his touch caused something strange to spin inside him. "Squire Warren, get into my chest and bring me my ointment." "Yes, my lord." Although Annyn desperately wanted to let go, she felt like the rabbit trapped in front of the bushes was too thick to provide any protection.

Wulfrit's gray-green eyes returned to him. "You lack grace." Then he doesn't behave like a girl? Although pleased with his match with James Braose, part of him was offended. When the opportunity was needed, he wore elegance quite well.

He pulled his hand free. "What is the use of grace for a man?" He raised an eyebrow. "For someone who's supposed to learn about respect, at least about God, you know very little about it, Braose." What does respect have to do with grace?

Before she could recapture Annyn Bretanne's words, she said, "All I learned about respect, my Lord, is that it was earned." Eyebrows gathering. Ann, stupid! "Lesson five," he growled. Another? “Speak only when spoken to.” "But you did speak to me, though,

The young man stepped up from behind Annyn and handed her a small pot. "Take care of your hands" Wulfrit ordered. "Now?" He was too shocked to consider whether the response was right after his final lesson. From his eyebrows that dropped, it was not. "You'll know the pain in Wulfen, Braose, but the pain that taught and acquired." He lowered his gaze and was very grateful that the water that soaked Wulfrith's stomach was obscured by soap.

He shifted his eyes. "What about your bath water?" "We're not talking, Braose!" Secretly, he cursed himself. He has no shortage of intelligence—can read, write, and count. If not for her training with Rowan, she could even keep Uncle's books.

However, in the presence of Wulfrith he thrashed and fumbled as if he knew nothing. Surprisingly, the ointment smelled fragrant and soothing as he refined it. He reattached his stopper and extended the pot to the bodyguard where he stood again behind his master. "I'm grateful to you." “Save until your hands are healed,” says Wulfrith.

He opened his mouth but closed it with a reminder that he was not trying to speak. He's learning. He spread out the wallet strap on his belt, dropped the pot into it, and grabbed the bucket. Just a few more trips— “Your task is done,” said Wulfrith, starting to rise from the bathtub.

He jerked his face to the side so he wasn't made to look at her. What'd he say? Is the job done? Yes, but why when more water is needed? Certainly not because of his hands.

He's not so loving. Maybe he's just tired. Or don't like to shower. Regardless, he was dismissed. Enlarged by imagining a soft palette, he turned around. “Fixed, Braose.” Keeping his eyes down, he came back. "My lord?" “We should need to talk further.”

Didn't he mean he should talk and he listened? What other lessons can you learn in the middle of the night? She ventured to catch a glimpse and felt relieved to find she had put on her robe. "Sit down."

He swept his hands towards the table. He lowered the bucket, adjusted his tunic, and crossed the sun. Sitting on the seat furthest away from the one he was sitting in before, he was disappointed when he pulled the chair beside him. "What's the highest honor, Braose?" He thought his throat was thick. Pulse throbbing there, proof of his humanity. And death. "The..." He deepened his tone of voice. "Highest honor, my lord?" "What's that?" Did Rowan talk about it? Father Cornelius?

Although something tells him that he knows, Wulfrith is too close. So close he could feel his body heat. "You don't know." "It escaped me, my lord." "The unknown cannot escape." He poured her a glass of wine and sat back down to watch her as she drank. Finally, he lowered his glass. “High honor, Jame Braose, is serving others.” As he knows.

What's wrong with her? That must be exhaustion. “And it was your sixth lesson—that you serve others. Do you think you can?” “Yes, sir. For this I was sent to Wulfen.” "Yes, but if you don't prove yourself in two weeks, you'll be returned to your father." Surely Jonas will take revenge before that. "I'm not going to embarrass him" he spoke for Jame Braose. "It's I swear."