Brand-Bound: Hallowed Be The Menu [Rivals-to-Lovers Slowburn Fantasy Romance]

I could still use a shield, Calaf thought, sizing up the stump that was left of his left hand. The other half below the shoulder remained with the nomads, smoke-dried and shriveled up. Irretrievable. What they would use the ruined Brand could serve these nomads, the Shielder had no idea. But severed from his connection to the Menu, it was going to be quite the feat just getting back to the church lands.

Combat against a wild beast was one thing. If they continued down this path, they'd have to fight high-level, Menu-compatible arbiters and church militants. Those strength values compounded north of level 40 or so to allow fighters to achieve feats above and beyond any unaugmented human.

Jelena had been operating as an outlaw off the Menu for years. Going without a Brand certainly had advantages for those on the wrong side of the law. Despite this, having two members of the outlaw gang being Menu-compatible did bring advantages. Just having inventory access allowed for easy stashing of stolen holy relics. They didn't have to haul physical gold stores from safehouse to safehouse. Being able to view and size up fellow Branded was always a plus.

There were tactical reasons why Jelena would seduce one of the sentries tasked with bringing her to justice into serving as an outlaw couple. The thought lingered in the back of his mind every now and again. He hadn't had time to dwell until his crippling, career-decimating injury and recovery process. The thought left him nonplused in a way he couldn't shake. Calaf hadn't unclenched his jaw in a half-month. Jelena had sacrificed much to keep him alive. Staying by his side, prepared to die, even when he begged her to leave. That wasn't the behavior you'd show towards a patsy or even a fun-but-temporary fling. Still, with nothing to do but brood, he kept coming back to the thought.

Heavy furs covered Calaf's left stump. He could affix a shield to it once they got to a proper forge. Shields of the glacial nomads were made of a whalebone base (as with most of their technology) and formed from layers of dire-seal pelts. Calaf wanted something heavy and metal.

The knight imagined the feel of a specialized arm extension. He could learn to stab things with a spear in his offhand in time. But with a shield, at least he could continue serving his primary purpose as a Paladin.

It would feel like home.

The tent flap opened. The nomads would be keeping this dwelling.

"Ready to go?" Jelena asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Calaf said with a growl.

Another cloudless day in the cold, everbright north.

The nomads gifted the couple with a small sled and a team of dire-dogs. Calaf didn't want to take a perfectly viable group of sled dogs off the nomad's hands, but the band insisted.

"Just turn them around and tell them 'Sampi.' They'll know what to do." An interim elder grinned cheekily.

Calaf shrugged. "If you insist."

Eight smelly snow dogs sat attentively, already in their harnesses. Another task Jelena was going to have to deal with.

"Got chow for the dogs in the sled," said Jelena. "Maybe half a month if it's strictly rationed. Surely we can procure some raw meat as we go."

Calaf nodded but said nothing.

Learning the ropes of arctic survival up here at the edge of the world had certainly done them both some good. Allowed Calaf to practice essential off-Menu skills while Jelena refocused on how they were going to get back to the church lands.

That old relic of the Fort Duran war tent remained back at the 'winter camp', in view of Enkidu's cocoon. Hopefully, neither would cause too many problems for these nomads when the sun finally began to dip down under the horizon. The tent's special effects could throw off the delicate population balance of such a small settlement. That cocoon worried Calaf more… who knew when it would pass? It was dangerous just going near it!

They did not carry a physical tent among their packed effects. These nomad tents were thick and would become stifling further south. They had an alternative that would serve them at least until they reached the Capital Plateau.

Hopefully that'll work, Calaf thought, or else this will be the shortest expedition of all time.

Jelena took the reins. Calaf shuffled behind her. They shared a seat, and Calaf slung his good hand around her midsection.

Food made up the brunt of the supplies, for them and the dogs. It was piled into every free space on the sled. They could melt snow for water, but steady rations would help them keep their strength.

"Just have to make it out of the snow," Calaf muttered to himself.

Having a greater goal to pursue helped Jelena maintain her typical chipper demeanor.

"Hey, what's the word for 'get going?" Jelena asked an assembled crowd of curious nomads.

"That's 'huit'," said a handler.

"Right. Hui-eek!" Jelena was cut off as the dogs took the command to heed.

Jelena'd spent about a week getting the hang of sled driving. They didn't have much time to practice further. She led them south. If it ever turned to night, the pair had enough knowledge of the world's stars and constellations to point htemsevles in the direction of Riverglen. As it was, they kept heading in the general direction of the sun, which ought to point to the south.

Long days continued with no signs of night. The sun did, slowly, begin to angle further towards the horizon. Whether that was because they were making progress in their southward trek or because the seasons were already changing remained to be seen. If the latter, they'd die of exposure out here by month's end, and that would be the end of their tale. None would ever know what happened to the pair.

Running into a group of less-understanding nomads with no relation to Zilara was among the pair's greatest trepidations on this journey. But the wastes proved so sparsely populated that they never saw another soul, or even any signs of another human being. A distant herd of dire-elk were seen approximately once, three days into their trip.

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The sled ran over sheets of snow and ice, then gradually over rocks. The dire-dogs kept a slow and steady pace. It was the only team they had, so keeping the dogs from wearing themselves out was paramount.

They rested on the dog's schedule, still exposed to the elements. When it came time to sleep through the eternal midday, however, the pair did have a plan…

Even those with scoured Brands maintained a tenuous connection to their Inventory. A necessary conceit, to preserve the total amount of available matter in the universe and prevent key items and relics from being forever lost. Jelena had long since picked the remnants of her inventory clean years ago. But Calaf still had much of their haul locked away in this non-space of the Menu.

Unnervingly, the connection to this Inventory applied to the person, not the severed Brand itself. Almost like the demonic slave-branding maintained some tenuous connection to the afflicter's shackled soul. The extent of this imprinting here would be a question for the mages in the Battletower. The important thing was that they had access to some remaining spare weapons in Calaf's Inventory, armor he was ill-equipped to use in this environment, and most importantly, Camp items.

The dogs decided it was time to rest for the 'night.'

"Hopefully, this will be easier now that my mind isn't clouded by pain," he said.

Jelena kissed him

Here goes nothing.

Calaf held the remains of his left arm out in front of him. He spared a thought for what his mummified hand was being used for back at the settlement.

Eh, probably best not to dwell on that, he concluded.

He envisioned the Inventory, hundreds of assorted items sorted in neat columns and rows. Physical objects, turned into data points by the abstracting power of the Menu. Calaf imagined pulling out a 'Camp' item just the same as he'd done dozens of times before.

A faint portal to the odd nether realm where items went while in storage appeared an armspan and a half from where the palm of his hand would have been. Out popped four tents, meant for a full party. A fire appeared in the middle of this semicircular camp and burst to life, despite the fact there was no wood or trees for a hundred leagues around.

"Fire will keep things warm at least."

The dire-dogs were domesticated and quite well-behaved. Once Jelena unclasped them from their harnesses, they walked about camp, patiently waiting to be fed. They'd cuddle for warmth outside the tent.

Camp-item fires would last for twelve hours, so they had their equivalent to a day-night cycle. Daylight streamed through the tent fabric regardless, but they'd long since grown used to sleeping with the light on. Item-based tents were not so good at storing heat, but the fire was just outside and they had plenty of furs to hide under.

Calaf went into the tent to lay down while Jelena handled the dogs. She returned in an hour.

"I'm sorry." Calaf groaned. "I wish there was something more I could do."

"Phsaw. Just leave the dogs to me," Jelena said. "You keep pulling these tents out so we have a place to sleep. I'll handle most manual labor."

Calaf grunted in begrudging acceptance.

"How many camps do you suppose we have, anyway?"

"Maybe twenty?" Calaf couldn't pull up the Menu to confirm and so had to guess. "We usually overstock on them whenever possible. But Zilara had some, and we hadn't resupplied since the capital."

Jelena frowned and shrugged. "We'll manage."

Manage is all they could do. If they ran out of camp items, they'd have nowhere to stay. Their options would be to find another amenable nomad band within 24 hours, or they'd be exposed to the elements with no relief and die. Twenty days to get to where the sun sets. No, to get beyond that; to somewhere where they could buy a reusable tent to pitch manually. They'd make it to the churchlands or they'd die. Some plan.

Normally, Calaf would sleep on the right side of their shared bunk. After his injury, they'd taken to having Jelena sleep on his right shoulder. He tossed and turned under this arrangement and generally only slept due to exhaustion.

Dogs patrolled outside but generally took the opportunity to sleep together in a big pile for warmth. Calaf lay there, still but not entirely asleep, until Jelena stirred.

"Mmm. You still awake?" she asked groggily. "How long have we…?"

"Don't know," Calaf managed. He could still feel the tension in his shoulders, his jaw, and running up his phantom left hand. "At least six hours? You could probably get more sleep."

Jelena signed. Rolled over to look Calaf in the eyes.

"Look at me."

With her eyepatch off, Jelena's scarred and cloudy right eye was in full view. The Brand marking, a pitchfork-looking symbol wreathed by parallel lines, was readily visible.

"After I scoured my eye to break the Brand, I, ah, couldn't draw in many paramours."

Scar tissue ran in a tear pattern down from her cloudy eye. A consequence of her Brand-scouring. It was a blemish on the relic thief's otherwise-perfect face, Calaf would admit, but her beauty shone through regardless.

"What I'm saying is, ah, I didn't get much fulfillment outside of the Firefield brothels, yeah?" Jelena giggled, a nervous tick. "As a customer. Couldn't even go back to the old job. Damaged goods, yes?"

"That's not…" Calaf reached up and stroked her cheek.

Jelena ran her hands along Calaf's chest, then over to his amputated left hand.

"What I'm saying is, you looked at me bearing all in those hot springs and did not care about my scarring in the slightest. It's like my hideous deformity wasn't even there."

The gloam-eyed woman glanced down guiltily. Calaf leaned over and kissed the eyelid over her ruined eye. Slender fingers stroked over the patched furs over his left elbow.

"It doesn't… bother me," Jelena said, her free hand stroking circles along his chest.

"Mmm. It's… a crippling injury. There's so much I can't do anymore," Calaf said with a grimace.

Those gentle strokes along his chest grew more purposeful. A common wake-up ritual.

"There are still things we can try," Jelena said coyly. "Just… oh, c'mere."

Jelena pinned Calaf into the furry bedroll. She straddled him, hand pressing down on his heart.

"I was always better at showing rather than telling." Jelena's mismatched eyes stared down at a surprised Calaf. "Just lie back, Hot Shot. And we'll both find out what still works and what doesn't, eh?"

Keeping warm while the pair's clothes were off was the primary challenge. After some experimentation and fussing, Jelena settled for holding the furs over her front while straddling Calaf and facing away. This left the Paladin's chest exposed to the cold. At this point, though, they were generating a great deal of heat.

"See? You don't need to have a death grip on my hips the entire time." Jelena looked back at Calaf and winked her cloudy eye.

"Ah. Jelena. You're." He rested his hand on her thigh.

The relic thief was mostly doing the work, here. Not that he didn't appreciate the attention, but Calaf thrust his hips forward to help her out. He ran a hand along her immaculately curved back. Her skin was still dark in striking contrast to Calaf's own. But life in the north had turned her complexion a little pallid. He hoped a return to more temperate climes would help. And if sable-skinned goddess Jelena was looking a little pale in the cold, bleak north, surely ghostly-complected Calaf was even worse.

"This is. Mmm. Quite the exercise, partner." She winked again, then turned and resumed her squats.

Still, Calaf felt he wasn't pulling his weight here. Her ass was jiggling with a purposeful rhythm. Very toned, but also plump. It was quite distracting, jiggling as it was…

Acting on instinct, Calaf reached down (avoiding the urge to reach out with his left hand) and gave a firm squeeze to the dark and curvy skin of Jelena's right cheek.

"Mmm Ah~" Her breath shuddered. The furs fell away, and she reached behind her head, running her hands through her wiry hair.

"Again," she begged.

"Mmm." Calaf gasped as she rode against him more thoroughly. "Y-you like that?"

The Paladin raised an eyebrow. Who knew Jelena had that side to her?

"Do it. Again. Or I drain you dry right now," Jelena said through gritted teeth. "Don't think I won't."

"I believe you," Calaf said, voice tense.

Calaf eagerly obliged.

Six hours and three rounds later, the pair were back, ensconced in the furs. The pair writhed together, face to face. They'd used most of their strength over the long night, and now continued their union at the thighs under the covers.

"Mmm. See, you've still got it, Hot Shot." Jelena bit her lip. "Just needs a bit of adjustment."

With Jelena's hips wrapped around Calaf like a vice, he wasn't going anywhere. He supposed his arm wasn't that necessary for maintaining their positioning after all.

"J-jelena," he rasped. "I'm going to…"

Her legs wrapped around him tightly. Her hands hugged Calaf's neck.

Outside, the dogs whined impatiently. Mercifully they did not interrupt, merely repositioning and occasionally tossing about in the snow.

"C'mon." Jelena was short of breath. "Big finish~"

The pair locked lips as they finished up.

Out in the snow wastes, a sled dog let out an annoyed whine.