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The bitter smell of ancient rot invaded your nostrils and you wondered, once again, why you should go on.
The current group of mercenaries sat around the low fire, some murmuring among themselves while others just watched the flames attentively. You no longer cared about knowing the names, stories, fears and hopes of these people - you had learned many weeks ago that creating any kind of bond wasn’t smart. Not in this line of work, when it only took one false move for the creatures to claim another life. It was much easier to limit yourself to knowing whether the professional in question was a crusader or a jester and move on with the expeditions.
The exception to this rule was Tardif, one of the first to be hired after your arrival in the village, since Dismas and Reynauld died before you could create any kind of partnership with them. The bounty hunter didn't seem particularly interested in your personal mission to try to uncover your ancestor's past and unravel the grotesque mysteries, but he followed instructions accordingly as long as the payment was satisfactory. He was the closest thing you had to a familiar presence in the last few months, so you didn't complain about his grumbling and lack of interest.
You sighed, looking at the map of the abandoned ruins once more. It was with regret that you realized that the supplies wouldn't be enough and you would be lucky if you could improvise a torch with the damp wood you had found.
A distressed sigh caught your attention. The erratic posture of the vestal who accompanied you had been going on for some time now and you had been on enough expeditions to recognize the symptoms caused by the paranoia of dark environments and, unfortunately, that woman was already at her breaking point. Even the other members who didn't seem to be on the verge of madness showed obvious signs of exhaustion. Moving forward without knowing what awaited you was an irresponsible decision that bordered on suicidal, but you barely remembered the way back through the uncertain and inhospitable passages.
The only one who seemed unaffected by the arduous encounters was Tardif, who was still sitting by the fire, carefully checking his hook. The scene would have been almost domestic if it weren't for the very real threat of death and despair. Closing your eyes, you massage your temples as you try to decide whether it was better to share your pessimistic discovery with your companions now or after your rest. The devastating news certainly wouldn't do anything to help the group's morale, but the journey was as much your death sentence as it was theirs.
The bounty hunter stood up suddenly. The movement was going to go unnoticed until he stopped beside you and muttered an order.
"Come."
You simply put away your map and followed Tardif to a more secluded corner of the hall where you had set up camp.
“You’re leading us to our deaths.” It wasn’t a question or an accusation. His words were rare but always accompanied by some degree of reality and this time was no different. He raised a hand to silence you as soon as you opened your mouth, willing to discuss what seemed inevitable. “It’s obvious that the expedition is doomed. We passed through the same corridor for the third time before you decided to set up camp.”
Your abilities to lead expeditions had never been questioned before. You looked at his worn helmet and the long cloth beneath it, both of which prevented any inch of the man’s face from being visible. Even his posture showed no sign of anger or dissatisfaction and he remained still in a strangely calm manner.
However, since he had taken the time to distance himself from the others before pointing out your failure, it was clear that he had no intention of revealing the discovery. For now. Despite having known him for a reasonable amount of time, Tardif’s intentions remained a mystery.
“I believed it would be a short journey.” Your hurried whisper revealed all the feelings of absolute guilt you felt.
“Give the command and we will retreat. It is foolish to try to persist when we do not even know if we are close to achieving anything.”
You nodded without much determination, recognizing that this was the best that could be done in that situation.
“Let them know that we will leave after the rest.”
With a short nod, he left, leaving you alone with your uncertainties. You watched from afar the reactions of the others when Tardif shared what would come next, the vestal throwing herself to the ground with a desperate cry while the other two, a grave robber and a crusader, limited themselves to signaling that they had understood.
After that, you settled into your sleeping bag, a pile of thin sheets that were as uncomfortable as they were practical to carry during expeditions, keeping a reasonable distance from the others. The noise of low conversations soon accompanied the sounds of the campfire, the subjects indistinguishable to you, who remained with your eyes focused on the darkness of one of the passages, wondering what horrors you would still encounter during the journey.
The work of managing the mercenaries was not as lethal as being on the front lines, of course, but you had accompanied all the expeditions until then. The mental strain of witnessing and hearing information beyond your mundane comprehension was starting to affect you. Your hands were constantly shaking, you couldn't sleep even when you were in the safety of your inn and, little by little, the languages that previously sounded incomprehensible to your ears began to make sense. The abysmal madness of your situation was beginning to take shape and the grotesque was no longer abnormal to you.
Maybe that was why you had underestimated the dungeon so much this time. Maybe you would be the next one to collapse.
After a while, the fire died down and the room became silent. You didn't bother to close your eyes, knowing that even a short nap was unattainable in your condition. All you could do was watch the cobweb-infested ceiling and hope that time would pass more quickly.
Until a low noise broke through the space, something that could easily have been made up by your disturbed perception. What happened next was too fast for your unprepared instincts to follow.
A group of enemies invaded the room as if the darkness were nothing more than a minor inconvenience, while you and your companions tried to stand up as precariously as possible, armor poorly placed and weapons wielded desperately before the blows began to be exchanged. It was a premeditated massacre, it was obvious the moment one of the occultists landed a brutal blow on the grave robber who accompanied you, causing the woman to fall to the ground immediately with a heavy thud. Your frightened scream died in your throat, allowing you to only gasp dryly as your arm reached out, instinctively trying to reach the fallen body, but a sudden pull prevented you from making another move.
Tardif practically dragged your limp form to the other side and you watched, uselessly, as the vestal and the crusader fell behind, serving as a momentary distraction while you took advantage of the gap to escape, allowing the man to lead you away from there. A few moments later you could hear the echo of agonized screams before silence filled the air again.
Your mix of adrenaline, fear and confusion didn't allow you to do anything but follow the long, hurried steps of your guide. Whenever you misstepped and stumbled, he pulled you forward with a jerk, preventing your falls in a hurry. And you didn't know if you had been running for seconds or minutes, the labyrinth remained inhospitable and Tardif continued forward, relentless, without showing even a hint of doubt.
Until you reached the exit.
A cold breeze of air was the first indication that you were no longer in the dungeon's maw, but there was no sense of safety or relief. The sound of the echoing screams, the lunatic murmurs of the vestal who should certainly be dead by now and the almost imperceptible noise of the invaders sneaking into the camp were still fresh in your memory.
The journey to the village square should have been filled with some emotion, it was obvious - but even though you knew that your eyes should be watering from the repressed tears, a feeling of indifference took hold of you, who remained docile while Tardif continued to pull you, without looking back once.
It was the first time an exploration had resulted in such a notable failure, though it wasn’t the first time the bounty hunter had a hand wrapped around yours as he steered you away from danger. The other times, however, you hadn’t abandoned three fellow expedition members to certain death. That knowledge didn’t weigh as heavily on your conscience as you believed it should.
And if it had been a few weeks ago, when you still had a shred of humanity left, perhaps your catatonic state would still be lingering. Right now, you felt only briefly disturbed.
Still , you could use some company. The idea of your empty room at the inn didn’t sound appealing, safe as it might have been. Then your eyes fell on your wrist, where Tardif still held it a little more gently, a reminder that you were safe, whatever that might mean in these cursed days.
When you finally arrived at the inn, neither of you said a word to the woman at the front desk, as the hollow expression on your face, the filthy state of the clothes you both wore, and the absence of the others were a clear indication that pleasantries were not necessary at the moment. You simply followed the man who had finally released you and headed for the stairs, the creaking of the steps the only noise in the familiar environment.
The inn had become the official dormitory for your adventurers, the space where your hired men met when they were not in one of the dungeons under your orders. Your room, not coincidentally, was the most isolated room, a solitary door at the end of the hallway that seemed to mock you. Tardif noticed the way you hesitated, planting your feet in the hallway and refusing to take another step.
“Rest. There are only a few hours left until sunrise, but you must rest. We will talk about everything later.” Once again, the dull timbre carefully pointed you in the best direction, as if the exhaustion in his own voice did not exist.
Without looking at him, you spoke for the first time in hours.
“I… I believe that resting now is impossible. I do not wish to be alone, Tardif.” You reserved the right to call him by name in moments of privacy, on the rare occasions when it did not matter that you were his employer and he was just a mercenary. “...I cannot .”
That was a lie and you both knew it. You could do it, because you had already spent countless nights with only your own company. It was a kind of requirement that the situation demanded and you usually obeyed. However, you felt distressed just thinking about lying in the uncomfortable bed, spending the night awake with your eyes fixed on the ceiling, begging for the minutes to pass faster, after all, nothing good had happened the last time.
He turned his helmet to face you with an almost mechanical movement, as if your words had been incomprehensible.
“I will reward you well.” You added, more desperate than you would have liked, when you thought you were about to be refused.
According to your own experiences, there was no pride (or even moral alignment) that the right amount of gold could not buy. It was for that very reason that his answer felt like a slap.
“I'm no whore, miss. You should know better.”
And that was enough for you to change tactics.
“I know that what I'm asking of you is a lot. It's a level of intimacy that this kind of journey shouldn't require of anyone but the truth…”, despite your efforts, no set of words seemed to express the dismay that permeated your chest, but you continued in an almost erratic manner, “...the truth is that I'm not asking, Tardif. I am begging you.”
Faced with a moment of heavy silence, your fists clenched and you sighed, coming to peace with the idea of spending the next brutal hours accompanied only by your disoriented mind.
He approached with a half step, invading your space at the same pace that made you retreat uncertainly. Tardif's built made him menacing by nature, broad shoulders accompanying an impassive helmet that never revealed the man's expressions, who was also an expert at sounding indifferent. You didn't know what to expect.
"I'm not interested in your money, but I'll keep you company, if that's what you wish."
And the proposal sounded absolutely merciful to your ears. You would have thrown yourself to the floor and thanked him with all the genuineness of your heart if your own pride, a distorted feeling and much smaller than it used to be, hadn't intervened. Still, you weren't able to prevent the relieved gasp that left your lips.
With a curt nod, he opened one of the doors, signaling for you to enter. The accommodations were as cramped and simple as yours, except that your room didn’t have numerous pieces of armor scattered around the space. You recognized a worn-out chainmail from the early days of your journey; it was what Tardif used to wear before you gave him a fair amount of gold and sent him to the armorer.
Your nostalgic journey was interrupted by a question.
“What do you expect from me, miss?”
The question was simple enough. You should have answered with your distorted expectations and hoped he wouldn’t throw you out of the room, but you thought about the journey back. How he hadn’t even hesitated to leave the others behind, but how his grip around your arm hadn’t wavered for even an instant.
You thought about what you expected from Tardif. In the short term, fewer questions and more action, certainly, but you always hoped he would survive. You didn't have such expectations for anyone else, because they were just pointless - what was the point in expecting the mercenaries to come back alive if they always met their end at some point or another? It was inconsequential to you, because now people were little more than walls of flesh that you led to the slaughter.
Tardif was the exception. A soft, intimate and small part of you, what was left after repetitions of the same brutal and grotesque routine, had become attached to the man of few words. Logically, you knew that he was just someone you had hired and that if the payment wasn't directly tied to your life, he would probably have abandoned you to rot in some dungeon somewhere. You also knew that it was objectively foolish to get attached to anyone in this line of work - countless had perished before and after him and his luck was bound to run out. You also knew that he was the only source of familiarity and companionship you had.
His professionalism had become comforting in a cold way, and it was clear that the one-sided, twisted affection you had developed for him was merely a reflection of the insanity of your current situation, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that to your masochistic, insistent myocardium, this was real. You hoped Tardif would survive because you needed him to. You couldn’t lose the only shred of familiarity you had left.
“Don’t call me miss.” You turned to him, watching as he removed the heavy equipment with a practice only a bored professional could muster. “I was hoping you’d make me forget, Tardif. Even if just for a few moments.”
To emphasize your point, you removed your heavy hood, letting it fall to the ground carelessly. Your next target was your boots, followed by your belt, gloves, and your other coat, until you were left with only your cotton shirt and pants, all of which were worn and more stale-looking than you would have liked, but you knew the situation didn’t allow for much luxury. In another life, you would have spent hours preparing to try and catch a man’s attention, but you were learning to play the cards you were dealt.
There was care in the way his head moved to the side, no doubt taking in your exposed form. Without another word, he followed suit, letting parts of his armor fall to the ground carelessly, until the only remaining pieces of clothing were his helmet and pants—the scarf that used to hide the lower half of his face had also been discarded, and you could finally see Tardif’s face, albeit partially. A stubble, some scars and full lips, although they seemed a little chapped. These were the details that caught your attention.
For a moment, you considered asking him to reveal his face completely, but if he hadn't done so willingly until now, you wouldn't demand it now. Besides, you suspected that you were already asking too much from him.
Before uncertainty could blossom in your mind, he approached you with determination, one hand gently immobilizing your face while the other invaded your pants, promptly ignoring your underwear - the kind of fluidity you expected from a trained lover. The kiss he initiated was hungry, rough and insatiable, an almost perfect match to the provocative touch he exerted on your folds. The attention made you shiver and your arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer insistently.
The distraction was so effective that you only noticed that he had somehow maneuvered you to the bed when the soft surface met your back. You pushed him away subtly, taking a deep breath to get out what had been stuck in your throat for some time. He obeyed your request in silence.
“Don’t feel obligated to fulfill my wishes just because I’m your employer, Tardif. Say the word and I’ll leave, we’ll never bring it up again.” You hated how transactional it all sounded, but you weren’t going to try to convince yourself that it was anything more than that.
“Don’t think I don’t have my own motivations for being indulgent with you.” It was almost mesmerizing to watch him speak, his husky tone so close to you sending a shy shiver down your spine. “...I’m no saint.”
Maybe not strictly transactional, but you refused to think about it any further, just letting him spread your legs and position himself between them.
There was an almost technical quality to the way he disrobed off your lower half, lowering himself until you could feel his breath against your most sensitive part - your hands immediately reached for his helmet and your nails scratched uselessly against the metal.
“Settle down.” It was the only warning you had before he began to devour you with determination, letting his tongue roam over your folds almost carelessly as you shuddered beneath him, lost in the ecstatic sensation. After a while, when your restlessness was reaching its limit, he pulled away for a brief moment before repositioning himself against you.
You felt the slightest pressure before he entered you, a broken groan leaving him throughout the slow process. Your head rolled back gently, your own grunts leaving you without you noticing. There weren’t many complex thoughts occupying your mind other than a growing impatience and a weak urge to order him to hurry up - but he was being so clearly careful that you held yourself back.
He rolled his hips against yours experimentally, pleased by your needy squeak. The movements were slow, almost gentle, you felt every inch and every moment and you wouldn’t complain if you remained in that trance forever. With your eyes half closed, you watched Tardif above you, still moving with the idleness of a lover, as if there was nothing more urgent than that. You found yourself forced to agree when you felt the signs of an orgasm - it had been so long since you had had one that it took a few moments for you to realize that the warm sensation in your core wasn’t a sudden malaise.
The bounty hunter realized what was happening before you did, increasing his pace vigorously and approaching you for another greedy kiss. You closed your eyes and allowed your senses to be filled by him, who seemed determined to make you writhe in pleasure. With a deep gasp you reached your climax, watching with brief confusion as he withdrew his length from you, only to spill himself on your abdomen.
He fell beside you on the bed with a satisfied grunt, the tight space clearly not designed to house two bodies, but that was of little importance. For the moment, you were content and sated. Despite your contentment, however, eventually you would be separated and the warmth of his body would no longer be so close. The day would still break and you would still have to sit and remember the horrors of the dungeon, the fallen companions and the grief that haunted you every step of the way.
You could only pray that Tardif would not leave your side so soon.