I was left with no choice but to accept my fate, my desire for a bath outweighing my embarrassment. I could only wonder how they were tolerating the stench coming from me.
I pushed the thought aside and focused on the present. Madame Miranda did most of the work, her practiced hands finding the latches and buckles of my breastplate. Her daughters, Jane and Alice, watched with keen interest, learning quickly despite their initial inexperience.
Soon, the upper half of my armor was removed. But when Miranda moved to unbuckle the greaves and faulds protecting my lower body, I gently caught her wrist.
"My lady," I said, my voice softer than I intended. "I am thankful for your expertise, but I would like to preserve the last remains of my dignity. I can manage from here."
She blinked, as if waking from a trance, and quickly regained her stoic composure, nodding in understanding. The same could not be said for her daughters, who looked profoundly disappointed, like children whose favorite mummer's show had been cut short.
Once they had left, I finished the task myself. I could hear the boys, Alaric and Alban, complaining to their mother in the hall, asking why they hadn't been called for a "man's job," then badmouthing their sisters for taking their place. I sighed. It seemed my arrival was causing more domestic strife than I intended.
After wrapping a towel around my waist, a knock came at the door. It was the boys, shuffling in to apologize for their family's behavior.
I waved a dismissive hand. "It's quite alright. Was there something else?"
They exchanged a look, equal parts embarrassed and eager. "Well, um... Ser," Alaric began, "could we... clean your armor and equipment?"
I saw the hope in their eyes. Of course. They wanted to be knights, and this was the closest they could get to that dream. Who was I to deny them? It was the same dream that had drawn me to games like For Honor.
"Go ahead, lads," I said. Their faces lit up as if I'd given them a chest of gold.
A half-hour later, they informed me my bath was ready. I found a large wooden tub set up in a small, private courtyard. Sinking into the warm water was pure bliss. For a moment, everything was perfect.
Then my peace was shattered. The "squires" returned, armed with a scrub brush and a torrent of questions about adventure and battle. My dream of a quiet, relaxing bath was well and truly over.
After the bath, I dressed in my new breeches and tunic, feeling strangely exposed without the weight of my armor. Boredom soon set in. I missed the internet with a sudden, sharp ache. If any god was listening, a smartphone, even without a charger, would solve all my problems. Or even just a word of guidance.
A knock interrupted my thoughts. "Yes, come in."
It was Jane. "Ser Julius, dinner is prepared. If you are ready, please come with me."
I offered her my arm like a gentleman from my world. She blushed prettily, uncertain, before tentatively linking her arm with mine. As we walked, I stole a glance at her figure. The new dress she wore did little to hide her generous curves, a silent, tempting call to touch. But I was a gentleman, or at least was trying to be, and I did no such thing.
We entered the dining room to find everyone waiting. They had all dressed in their best. Alice, Jane's twin, shot a look that could only be jealousy at our linked arms. Madame Miranda looked stunning in a black dress that accentuated her mature beauty. I kept my eyes firmly on her face.
The table was laden with a veritable feast by medieval standards: a roast chicken, fresh bread, salads, and various vegetables. Most surprising of all was a bottle of wine—a prized possession, I was sure, likely from her late husband's collection.
I began with a compliment. "My Lady, you look as lovely as your daughters. I would scarce recognize you."
She smiled. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Ser. Thank you, but I know my age."
"I do not lie, Madame. I truly cannot guess your years. But if you do not believe me, we can change the subject." I noticed the girls looking slightly put out by the attention on their mother, while the boys were already focused on the food. "I am curious, though. Why such a lavish dinner for a stranger?"
"Why, Ser Julius," she said, her smile widening. "Tonight is my daughters' name day. You are attending a feast in honor of Alice and Jane."
A surprise indeed. They were celebrating their eighteenth year.
"Is that so? Then congratulations are in order, my ladies. I shall have to find you a proper gift at a later date."
Madame Miranda insisted it wasn't necessary, but I was determined. The girls simply blushed. I learned they were of prime marrying age, but suitors had been scarce—either demanding the inn as a dowry or scared off by the Gold Cloaks. It was no wonder the boys were so desperate to become knights; it was their only perceived path to protecting their family and finding their own worth.
We began the feast. I was ravenous and did my best to maintain proper table manners, a formality that made the air thick with awkwardness for all of us. To lighten the mood after we had eaten, I announced I had a name-day gift I could give them immediately: a song.
I sang the one I remembered Ed Sheeran performing in the show, the haunting "Hands of Gold," my voice steady in the quiet of the room. It was all I had to give, a piece of a world they would never know.