Milc/C.J. Milnes
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Chapter 43 - Breath through your nose.
🕑 Added 2025-06-30 19:07:13 +0000 UTCWe had been on the road for six days and were due to arrive at Baginton sometime this afternoon. Despite arguing they would be necessary, T
We had been on the road for six days and were due to arrive at Baginton sometime this afternoon. Despite arguing they would be necessary, Tex had not hired any more guards. I rolled out of my blankets and added some wood to the embers of the cooking fire. I needed to go and feed properly. Human food, or at least eating in human form, simply wasn’t good enough for me.
Soon. I’d get the signage and the booze for the Cod from Baginton, say toodle pip to the illuminated weirdos and mosey on home. My hoard was calling to me, and I longed to snuggle down on my soon-to-be vast pile of comfy gold.
“Good morning, Bob. I honestly think you would benefit from allowing me to perform a few minor adjustments.”
“Damnit, Worm. We haven’t even had breakfast! No, I’m not letting you stick your wigglers into me! No wonder you were so cheap!” I had subsequently learned that hiring a Guild healer would usually have set me back five figures, and I suspected that the ninja guarding the door had picked out Worm just to mess with me. Still, he was cheap, relatively.
“The fact that people cannot accept the biological perfection and utility of nematodes is their problem, Sir Bob. I am sure, as an educated man of culture, a traveller from another world with exclusively physical medicine, you can see the advantages of my process?” He replied in a slightly hurt voice.
“I can see that I’m never going to let you anywhere near me with those things, and if I catch you sneaking up on me in the night again, I’ll do more than crack a rib!” Worm shifted uncomfortably and rubbed his left side with one hand. Consent was apparently not a thing for the dapper healer. Or he operated on an ‘it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission’ principle. Either way his wigglies were not going anywhere near my shapeshifted ass.
“Phrasing, Bob,” I muttered to myeself as I set a pot of water to boil for a round of coffee before we set off.
“I’m concerned about your appetite. As your employee, it’s in my interests to ensure you are able to confirm the job has been completed. Otherwise, I forfeit my payment to the Guild.” He crouched down across the fire from me and poked a stick into the embers to get some air in them and speed up the cup of Joe. Discovering they had coffee here had resulted in yet another reluctant spending spree. Restaurant One didn’t have coffee. Suck it, Angtirm.
“I’ll be fine. I ate well in the city.”
“Bob, that was six days ago, and I’ve barely seen you eat a thing while we’ve been on the road. You can’t have worms, that’s for sure. Would you like some? It might kickstart your appetite again.”
“No, I do not want worms!”
We got rolling less than an hour later, and the three of us rocked along on the driver's platform, sipping coffee from a flask that we passed back and forth. Tex and I fended off another dozen requests from Worm to allow him to dicker with our internal chemistry, and one instance of him touching the oxen that Tex came down on like a pile of bricks, with my support. A slightly bruised Worm then sulked the rest of the way to Baginton.
“Do you smell that?” Tex sniffed. I glanced at Worm, who was covering his mouth with a cloth he’d plucked from his frock-coat’s pocket. I risked a quick tongue flick to taste the air. And promptly regretted it. I snatched the flask of coffee and downed it to try and clear the aftertaste from my mouth.
“I suspect that is who you want me to heal,” mumbled Worm from behind his scented hankie. “Smells like-” he pulled the cloth away and drew a deep breath through his nose before clamping his hand back over his face, “-Bowelisis Semperesuriens. A particularly nasty bug. A filthy amebic infection. Nothing noble about that little monster!”
“You can tell that just by sniffing the shit smell?” asked Tex.
“I’m very experienced.” Worm grimaced, and I did not envy what he must have gone through to develop that experience.
While breathing exclusively through my nose and speaking as little as possible, we made our way into town. I had no idea why my sense of smell didn’t work in my human body, but I was quietly grateful it was the case. Worm had doused his kerchief with some peppermint solution seven times, and Tex was looking very green around the gills.
Tex pulled the wagon into the Broken Baguettes yard, and a kid ran out to take the reins and park it before stabling the beasts. I eyed them hungrily, the ox, not the kid, but still caught an odd look from Worm. I turned and headed into the pub without a backward glance.
“Sir Bob! Tex! How lovely to see you again!” called Neville from behind the bar. I was reasonably confident the glass he was polishing was the same one he’d been putting a shine on the last time I was here. “Sir Bob, the sign you requested has been completed. The other goods are also waiting for you in the backyard.” My greed rubbed its claws together. This would put paid to Restaurant One for sure.
“Thanks, Neville. How’s it going?” I asked as I pointed to the bottle of Golden Jack and raised two fingers. He obliged with a glass and poured me a double. Tex asked for an ale, and Worm just sniffed.
“Strong liquor can have a deleterious effect on your liver and circadian rhythms, Bob. Perhaps a nematode, customised to your level of alcohol intake, would help ensure a healthy liver into your old age?”
“Worm, I am not letting you give me worms. Sorry about him, Neville, he’s got a bit of a one-track mind.”
Speaking of which, Miss Arbuckle is looking forward to seeing Tex. I understand she requested a special delivery from the city and is eager to settle her account with you,” Neville said. Fortunately, the air in here was clear of the fecal miasma infesting the rest of the town.
“Excellent!” Tex adjusted his trousers in a way that made me want to unleash a Crow-Poops-From-Above punch on him.
“I trust this exchange will be accurately logged?” I enquired with a raised eyebrow.
“Ah. It was a nonpecuniary arrangement, more of an exchange of professional services. This one is-”
“The cost of your spanking is coming out of your cut, you scoundrel. And it had better show in your final accounts!” I tossed him a copy of the ‘spiciest novel this side of Urkoomb’ wherever that might be. I can’t lie, I'd read the blurb and skimmed a few chapters. It was certainly spicy from the get-go. I hadn’t known half of it was physically possible for a human, and I remained unconvinced. If the author were some kind of rubber monster or slime, I could see it working, but otherwise…
“Of course, Bob!” Tex lied to me. I glared, and he flinched. “I will. Thanks. I’ll let you two go deal with Sir Dysentery and meet you back here tonight?” He was hopping from foot to foot and sneaking glances at the door that led to the back rooms.
“Fine. You’d better not need a cushion when we ride north.” I didn’t care beyond it possibly slowing him down as he headed back to the Mill.
He shot away like a schoolboy on the last day of term.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, sirs?” Neville asked politely.
“How come this place doesn’t smell like ass?”
“Air conditioning, sir.”
“Fair enough. Can you get a message to Jenny that we’re going to fix her dad’s back door?”
“Of course, sir. It will be delivered within the hour.” I nodded my thanks.
“Where exactly does her dad live?” I asked. It was a small but vital piece of information.
“He lives on Stumblert Street. Head left out the front, two rights after the temple of Bulb, you need to go left, then take the third right.” I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I can sense the parasites from here, Bob. My wigglies are twitching.” Neville raised an eyebrow of his own. “I can find them no problem.”
“Ok, let's trust the wigglies. Jesus Christ. Lead on, Worm. I’ll be back later, Neville.” I put my glass back on the counter and flicked him a gold coin. “I’ll have a look at the sign then.”
“Very good, sir.” Neville resumed polishing the same damn glass as Worm led me out onto the street and we were once again face-to-face with the olfactory apocalypse.
The normally bustling streets were empty. Every shop was closed, every door sealed, and rags had been stuffed into all the cracks around the windows. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse unless it had had its nose amputated. The town was dead. I guessed that the wind had changed unexpectedly and the usually tolerable problem had stopped being a ‘don’t be downwind of it’ issue and become a ‘dear god, please change the wind direction’ tier dilemma.
“I’ve not passed through Baginton before, it seems like a lovely little town. Do they have a lot of internal health concerns? I have been looking for a retirement spot. I’m still a few years away from that, but it’s always best to plan ahead, don’t you think?” Worm said conversationally, his voice muffled by the scented kerchief. “This way.”
I nodded, carefully keeping my mouth firmly shut, and followed where he led. I was ok as long as I breathed through my nose. I could practically feel the smell seeping into my skin, and I would be burning these clothes the next time I resumed my proper form. The air seemed to thicken as we closed on our destination.
The houses on this street looked abandoned. Lawns and gardens were overgrown, whereas the rest of the town was so scenic I suspected the local neighbourhood associations had machine guns at their disposal to enforce garden maintenance.
There was a single house, about two-thirds of the way towards the edge of town, that still had a neatly trimmed garden. My eyes began to water as we got closer to it, but some kindly soul had been taking the time to keep the facade in line with the standards of the rest of Baginton.
“I believe this is the place. Yes. Mhm. The pulse of amebic energy is certainly just on the other side of this door. Would you like to do the honours?” Worm gestured to the knocker.
I shook my head and waved a hand to suggest he should knock himself. He reached out and slammed the knocker down three times. A quiet groan and a faint but terrible rumbling sound came from the other side.
“Perhaps we should try round the back?” He asked from behind his kerchief. He had a normal human nose, as far as I was aware, and I was beginning to suspect he had tinkered with his own biology with his wrigglers. There could be no other explanation for how he could bring himself to open his mouth in this environ-
Arms wrapped around my chest and squeezed, knocking the air out of my lungs, and I did the worst possible thing I could have done in the situation. I inhaled through my mouth.
