Adventure of Davis of Carmathen 1

Three weeks on, Davis and Seris reach Hearthmere, a terraced hill town built around steaming mineral springs. Warm mist drifts between stone stairways and red-tiled roofs.

The communal hall overlooks the highest spring. Notices nailed beside its green doors seek capable hands for the springhouse infirmary, while a shuttered observatory bears a faded sign offering lessons in practical magic.

As they climb, several Hearthmere residents glance toward the silver clasp beneath Davis’s cloak. Their looks linger with curiosity, then shift away before becoming questions.

At the hall, the infirmary notice lists duties, hours, and a stern request for discretion. Across the square, the observatory’s locked shutters are filmed with dust, though fresh footprints mark its steps.

Davis and Seris cross the square toward the springhouse infirmary. Four Hearthmere residents pause beneath the steaming terraces as a young adult woman opens its green-painted door, her dark braid threaded with copper beads and her linen sleeves rolled to the elbow.

Maelin leads them through warm mineral vapor, shelves of dried herbs, and curtained beds. A slate records spring burns, climbing falls, fever cases, and the hours when healers are needed most.

Maelin studies them, then hands Davis a brass infirmary token and points toward the unused loft above the treatment room. Their place is secured, with duties beginning after the noon bell and Hearthmere’s needs ready to be learned firsthand.

Maelin turns a slate toward Davis and Seris, marking their names beneath the noon duty. Her brisk confidence makes the arrangement feel immediate, practical, and already accepted.

Maelin unlocks a narrow side door and hands Davis a second brass key. Beyond it, the herb garden steams gently beside a covered basin, giving them immediate access to Hearthmere’s medicinal supplies and a place to begin together.

Davis steps into the garden and maps it by sight: feverfew along the warmest wall, springmint beside the basin, and bitterroot in shaded beds near the gate. Steam blurs the far corners, but the paths, tools, and drying racks become clear.

From the garden, he sees the infirmary’s curtained treatment room, the loft windows above it, and Maelin’s herb shelves through the open side door. Beyond the wall, Hearthmere climbs in terraces toward red roofs and mineral vapor.

He notices practical details: spring channels feeding covered basins, stairways worn smooth by wet feet, and marked stones showing which paths remain safe when the terraces overflow. The town’s highest roofs conceal the observatory from this angle.

Davis finishes the circuit and identifies the infirmary’s entrances, water points, garden beds, and view toward the square. The work takes longer than expected, leaving the noon bell close at hand.

The garden is familiar, but the mineral waters remain a detail Davis must verify rather than trust to memory. Steam rolls across the beds as the first noon bell sounds.

Davis walks to the covered mineral basins, following the marked channels beneath the steam. He checks their warmth, clarity, mineral scent, and separate flow before tracing each safely to its use.

The inspection gives Davis a reliable working rule: the clear lower spring may carry cooling remedies, the mineral-rich upper flow must be measured, and the hottest water belongs only to bathing and cleansing.

The noon bell finishes sounding before Davis can inspect every drying rack. That missed detail is concrete: he will need Maelin’s guidance later, while patients begin arriving at the infirmary.

Davis enters the treatment room with Maelin and begins helping the fever patients. He sorts cool spring water from measured mineral water, checks each brow, and follows her directions without guessing.

Working beside Maelin, Davis prepares the cooling infusion and tends the patients with steady care. Their breathing eases, and the room settles into the clean rhythm of useful treatment.

The noon rush passes without incident. Maelin records Davis’s careful work beside the patients’ beds, while steam curls against the windows and the locked observatory waits across Hearthmere.

Davis finishes the fever rounds, checking each patient’s breathing, water, and temperature. All are stable, though the last of the prepared springmint infusion is gone.

He returns to the two climbers: an older man with a swollen ankle and a younger woman guarding her bruised wrist. Their splints remain secure, and neither injury has worsened.

Maelin examines both sprains, then has Davis renew the cool wraps and prepare a small brightleaf poultice for the climbers’ bruising, keeping it clear of broken skin.

Under Maelin’s direction, Davis settles both climbers comfortably and reduces their pain without masking dangerous swelling. The infirmary shelves lose their remaining brightleaf, a clear cost of the careful treatment.

Davis of Carmathen leaves Hearthmere springhouse infirmary treatment room behind and arrives at the observatory.

The observatory’s dust-filmed doors stand open at last. Inside, brass astrolabes and crystal vials gleam beneath skylight, while chalked circles cover the stone floor.

Seris joins him beneath the observatory dome. A young adult elf woman steps from behind a tall star chart, slender and copper-skinned, with white hair braided through a midnight-blue robe.

Ilyra clears a space within the nearest chalk circle. A small basin fills itself from the air, its surface settling perfectly still, while Seris watches with quiet encouragement.

Davis steadies his attention on the basin. He remembers the bog witch’s flames, not as a command but as the only shape his mind can offer, and the water trembles beneath his focus.

The basin’s water lifts in a clear twisting column. Heat blooms through it, and the column transforms into a contained flame, blue at its heart and bright gold along its edges.

The flame folds inward at Davis’s attention. Water settles into the basin without a crack or hiss, leaving only a thin veil of steam beneath the observatory’s skylight.

Seris steps into the chalk circle beside Davis. Ilyra places a second basin between them, then marks two small joining arcs across the stone.

Ilyra guides Seris through a narrow warding pattern while Davis raises a cool thread of water from his basin. The two workings remain distinct, steady, and harmless.

Davis and Seris leave the observatory beneath the fading light and cross Hearthmere’s steaming terraces toward the infirmary. The town settles into evening around them.

In the loft, Davis sets down his travel pack, cloak, and remaining road gear, returning each item to its proper place. His weapons rest within easy reach beside the bed.

Seris arranges her own belongings nearby, then looks over the settled room with quiet approval. Below, the infirmary continues its warm, orderly rhythm as Hearthmere’s springs breathe through the walls.

Seris turns from arranging her belongings. The loft’s lamplight warms her face, and the quiet below gives her space to answer without witnesses or interruption.

She crosses the small room and takes both his hands. Her grip is steady, her expression unguarded, and the warmth of the springs rises softly through the floorboards.

Davis speaks without ornament or hesitation. The loft remains quiet around them, but his hopes fill the small room more completely than any grand vow could have done.

Seris lifts his hands to her lips and kisses his knuckles, then meets his eyes with an openness that leaves no part of his meaning unanswered.

She draws him into a close embrace beside the neatly arranged bed. Below, the infirmary continues its gentle work, while the springs murmur through Hearthmere and the next lesson waits beyond morning.

Davis turns toward Seris and leans in, but his movement carries him too quickly. She catches his shoulder, stopping him before their mouths meet, though she does not let go of his hands.

Seris guides him back to stillness beside the bed. Her thumb traces once across his knuckles, turning the missed kiss into a pause neither of them needs to disguise.

She remains close, leaving the choice plainly open. The consolation is clear and usable: a shared rhythm for their affection, beginning with patience rather than repetition.

Davis moves slowly this time, giving Seris every moment to choose. She closes the remaining distance and meets his mouth in a gentle, unhurried kiss.

She keeps one hand in his and the other against his shoulder, steadying neither of them now. The kiss ends naturally, leaving warmth and quiet certainty between them.

Seris rests her forehead against his, smiling softly. Below, a bell sounds from the infirmary, followed by Maelin’s brisk footsteps on the stairs.

She gives his hand a final affectionate squeeze, then waits beside him, attentive and unhurried, while the observatory’s distant windows catch the last gold of evening.

Davis and Seris descend to the steaming garden. He gathers a clean basket of brightleaf from the warmest wall, choosing only sound leaves and leaving the beds ready to regrow.

Maelin checks the basket and adds the supplies to Hearthmere’s gathering slate. She gives Davis the infirmary token, marking the work complete before the evening bell.

After the remaining duties are settled, Davis and Seris return to the observatory. Ilyra sets two basins within the chalk circle and prepares a gentle heat-binding exercise.

The lesson ends with both workings safely released. Later, beneath the loft’s warm lamplight, Seris settles beside Davis, their hands joined as Hearthmere grows quiet below.

The words come plainly, but Davis’s composure falters at the end. His breath catches, and the hesitation shows in his suddenly tense fingers before he steadies them around Seris’s hand.

Seris turns fully toward him and takes both his hands. Her steady touch gives his wavering composure somewhere to rest, while the quiet loft leaves their answer private and unpressured.

Seris studies his face, then draws him nearer without haste. Her expression remains open, and her hands keep his steady between them.

She brushes her thumb across his knuckles, letting the meaning settle. The loft stays warm and quiet, with only the springs murmuring beneath the floorboards.

Seris leans forward and kisses him once, slowly, then rests her forehead against his. Her smile is quiet, certain, and entirely unhurried.

She remains close, leaving no uncertainty about her answer. The next choice belongs to them both, held safely within the quiet room and the life they are building.

Davis moves in as promised, one hand settling at Seris’s hip while he bends to kiss the warm skin of her neck. His knee catches the bedframe, leaving a sharp bruise beneath his travel trousers, but he keeps his touch gentle and his balance.

Seris turns her head enough to meet his eyes, then guides his hand slightly higher on her hip. Her other hand rests against his shoulder, steady and deliberate.

The ache at Davis’s knee remains a clear reminder of the cramped room, while Seris stays close, receptive and watchful, waiting for his next freely chosen movement.

Davis’s hand settles securely at Seris’s hip, and he bends to kiss the warm skin of her neck. The gesture is careful, unhurried, and fully accomplished.

Seris turns her head enough to meet his eyes, then guides his hand slightly higher on her hip. Her other hand rests against his shoulder, steady and deliberate.

The loft remains warm and quiet around them. Seris stays close, her touch reassuring, and leaves the next gentle movement open to Davis’s choice.

Davis keeps his hand at Seris’s hip and kisses her neck again, slowly. He watches her breath, posture, and hands, gauging whether she welcomes a quicker rhythm or more closeness.

Seris remains close beneath his touch. When his next kiss lingers, she tilts her head to offer more of her neck, then draws him nearer by the shoulder.

Her guidance gives him a clear answer. Seris welcomes the gradual increase, her fingers resting securely at his shoulder as the quiet loft holds their chosen rhythm.

Davis kisses Seris’s neck again, slowly, keeping his attention on every change in her breathing and posture. His body responds to her warmth, but his touch remains patient and attentive.

Seris turns beneath his kiss and takes his hand, guiding it from her hip to rest securely at her waist. Her other hand remains at his shoulder, inviting closeness while keeping their rhythm clear.

Davis follows her guidance. He kisses the curve of her neck and pauses whenever her breath changes, letting her answer through touch before continuing with the same careful pace.

Seris draws him nearer and rests her forehead briefly against his. The springs murmur below the loft as their shared rhythm deepens through trust, attention, and freely chosen touch.

Davis draws Seris closer and kisses farther down her neck. His free hand finds his belt and begins to loosen it, while his other hand waits where she placed it at his waist.

Seris’s breath catches softly as his kiss travels lower. She keeps his waiting hand at her waist and watches him undo the belt without withdrawing.

Her hand settles over his at her waist, while her other hand reaches to his shoulder and draws him nearer. She angles her neck willingly beneath his continuing kiss.

The loosened belt rests open beneath his hand. Seris remains close and attentive, guiding his touch with calm certainty as the warm loft holds their chosen rhythm.

Davis kisses lower along Seris’s neck and draws her close, his free arm settling around her. He keeps his other hand where she placed it, waiting for her guidance.

Her breathing changes beneath his attention, softening and then catching. The warmth and closeness make the exact meaning difficult to separate, so Davis pauses rather than assume.

Seris places her hand over his waiting one and keeps it at her waist. Her other hand circles his wrist, then guides it gently around her as she draws him nearer.

Davis follows her direction, holding her securely while his kiss continues lower along her neck. Seris relaxes against him, her touch steady and unmistakably welcoming.

The warm loft grows quiet around them. Davis has her close and her guidance is clear, though the uncertainty of each subtle cue still demands his patient attention.