The Lampwatcher Ch. 04

The Lampwatcher Chapter 4

By Aersnow96

Author's Note: I know this may take some time before we get to the more steamy parts. I have a lot to improve on and I'm just an amateur. I'm learning to get better at writing and I like telling stories with character growth and also a lot of sex.

Thank you for reading my work and take care.

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John went out to meet the woman on the wagon.

The sun had finally risen well at its zenith to bathe much of the land in its bright haze. The green pasture that extends from around the village and surrounds around the tower were full of sheep. It would have been an ideal time to just sit back and unwind within the confines of the tower. The tower was as much as his home growing up, being with his grandmother during her tenure as the Lampwatcher.

With each crunch of his step against the rough earth, John thought of what he had reached for. The job of a Lampwatcher. In doing so, he denied his grandmother's wishes for him to go somewhere else.

This was his first ever real job. One that would have an impact for the village as a whole. Sure, he helped with his grandmother but he always felt safe then, knowing that he wasn't the one in the frontlines. The responsibility and heavy lifting were always left to others.

Her grandmother's passing realized how sheltered he had lived his life. He was always just stayed behind the tower or their home, buried beneath the books his family had collected over the generations. Reading the exploits and adventures of others. His grandmother often caught him daydreaming of what he might do, walking back in forth in hallways of their home, stuck in his dreamscape and imagination.

Now here he was. This was the reality he chose.

These were real people. With real consequences.

He didn't know where he was going in his life. All he did know was he can't stop now, he has to put one foot in front of the other and keep on going.

Despite the unchallenged heat of the sun, the mountainscape winds were ever present, ever cold.

The winds maybe chillier here than the lowlands but he found himself always sweating through the cloth of his back, whenever he found himself handling troublesome folk.

Once, while his grandmother was making her rounds out in the ravine, John found himself alone at her post. John was just doing some simple things, cleaning her grandmother's weapons, potives and other tools of her trade.

The person that came looking for her wasn't from the village but just a passing merchant. The merchant seemed to be in foul mood him that day. To this day, he could not discern what irked the merchant to be in such mood. However he did found himself at the receiving end of it.

The merchant's inquiring at first were simple. John remembered something about some grazing rights and some argument with a sheep farmer about some wool. His face was near red, like some plump red berry turning purple, dangerous to burst at any time.

John, being the recluse that he was, floundered at all the names the merchant mentioned and all the things that he had done right. The man was near shrieking at him and ready to commit to violence. Her grandmother's teaching that day kicked in. John feared the man may get violent even. He didn't know what to do then.

A heavy weight was lifted off his chest, when the familiar shadow of his grandmother finally graced the door.

Stephana Guntram, was a tall woman. Imposing figure in leather armor and lesquin's attire. The jutting end of her carabine fusil at her back. But she was all smiles when the talked to the man. Her tone was friendly and understanding. Cheerful even. She answered his inquiries and deflected much of his rather ill-tempered remarks. He had heard folks call her she knew how to "blend" people.

Their sweetness and sourness, churning and ands stirring them just the right way that their inquiries always turned out just right. Not perfect. But not so wrong either. Just the right "blend".

He admired that of her. She never was to get intermingled with their emotions. Always resolute.

John on the other hand, would just do about anything to drive them off. People were troublesome. Complicated.

John got closer, couple mere feet away from the woman in the wagon. She was older than John by a couple of years, by how many however he does not know. She wore a midnight blue travelling dress in a shade of color that played tricks in the eye. John could not quite discern if it was blue or black, as if in the corner of his eyes it would be one color only for it to change to another when he would look at it directly.

It looked quite fetching on her John must admit. She had sharp features, from the glint of her eyes to the edge of her jaw. Her gaze was calm and penetrating like a sudden strike of lightning, clear and dangerous and without noise. John feared of the trailing thunder behind her gaze.

He may not be one when it comes to interacting with people but he could get a feel every now and then of their traits. This woman was going to be a very tough one to deal with. He had to bit back a sigh at the prospect.

She doesn't seem to be stopping. The gait of her ox was slow but never ceasing.

So he said, in his own appropriation of an officious tone he had heard plenty from the village officials, including his own grandmother.

"Ho there, halt please," that came out good. It was a good start. Not too submissive but not too hostile either.

"Hello there, young man," she greeted in a manner that bespoke of good tidings. She was smiling as if the sun's shine never wavered and the blue skies never ceasing in their good favors. It was not for John. The woman's sharp features gave her a somewhat patronizing air as she smiled at John.

"H-hello there, w-where might you be going Madame?" He stuttered. John cursed himself inwardly for stuttering.

"Why I go out there, of course." She pointed a finger towards the direction of the ravine. "I understand that no papers or fees are necessary," she gave a light tug on her reins and the ox pulled the wagon once more.

"True enough. But I cannot in good conscience let you otter ma'am. It's dangerous," he warned. "Monsters roam those parts madame." He hoped to scare her off, it really was a dangerous place to settle. John couldn't bear the idea of a person killed, knowing he could've saved them.

Someone dying directly because of him scared him to the core. His mouth went dry at the thought and for a brief moment he felt lightheaded.

She laughed so suddenly; John nearly jumped out of his own boots.

"Oh, come now young man, surely, you don't believe that?" she asked, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye from laughing so hard. Her dark hair bobbing lively in her shakes of laughter.

"Wait please! Madame, find some other place else to settle!" John stood stubbornly against her path.

"Those other places, require me to pay a hefty purchase for land, and I don't think this is obvious enough, what I have is precious few."

"And I'd rather not leave any documented trail behind me, thank you very much"

"Madam!"

Quick as a snap, John found himself at the barrel end of her carabine.

Eyes wide, the barrel's end was a mere inch away from his head.

A number of different things stumbled through John's head. His heart hammered so loudly in his chest, the blood pumped through his ear drumming. Despite the chill of the mountain wind, he found himself sweating through his back.

"I'd really appreciate it for you, to step aside now young man."

John was afraid of having someone dying on his watch. He gulped, wanting to be resolute in his task but the look in the woman's eye betrayed no hesitation. There was a hardness to them in, those dark green eyes of hers that reminded him of the evergreen groves swirled with shadows. It had beauty certainly but also had a promise of something lethal.

And just like that he was reminded of that moment just last night, of the creature in the dark. And the innate question that would tip John's life: Fight or Flee?

Mind in disarray, a conflict of emotions stirred inside of him. John only had heard stories of would-be settlers in the ravine barely surviving the first few nights. They'd be lucky to get out of the ravine with mostly their limbs intact.

John didn't know why he moved. But move he did, letting the woman pass through.

"That's a good lad. As you can see, should any little beasty try to sneak up on me, he'd have a word with my good friend here," she tucked away her carabine fusil as swift and neatly, in a quick flourish of her hands.

"Now good day and my gratitude for you warnings, good man."

John released his breath in breaking sobs, head aching from his throbbing veins. Dealing with folk really was troublesome. He watched in defeat as the wagon rolled about in what he probably knew to be the most dangerous place in the country, if not the world.

He had no control whatsoever.

He stood there in the middle of road. His heart sank further, reminded of his cumulative shortcomings since his being Lampwatcher.

He felt defeated, once again. His bones ached in places. And his heart was making this beat that just made him want to lie down in the dirt and never getting up for a good long while.

But he didn't.

He might wake up and find a woman, killed by some beast in the ravine. And the mere idea of it filed him with fear, he doesn't know or didn't want to know how he was going to make it through that, should it happen.

He truly didn't know what he was doing if it was right or wrong. He wanted to ask his grandmother for some advice but knows he can't.

He only knew to keep moving, one step at a time. One problem to solve at a moment each.

With a deep breath once more, John followed the woman into the ravine.