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B2 | Chapter 56 - Official Bathhouse Opening
🕑 Added 2025-07-17 15:35:36 +0000 UTC< Previous | ToC | Next >
B2 | Chapter 56 - Official Bathhouse Opening
General POV
Holden was excited on the morning of the bathhouse's opening. It was more of a subdued hum of excitement, rather than the type that accompanied market festivals or royal visits. It was as if everyone had a secret they were dying to tell but were unable to bring themselves to do so.
Martha the baker had been up since dawn, and it wasn't because she had bread to bake—she'd done that the night before—but because she couldn't sleep.
She kept thinking about the bathhouse. A real bathhouse, not the lukewarm mess she got from heating pots over her kitchen fire sometimes as a luxury, but properly hot water that would stay hot for more than five minutes.
Down at the Hunters' Guild, hunters who usually spent their mornings arguing about nets and territory were instead discussing whether they'd splurged on the right package.
"Common bath for me. Not about to waste a week's wages on fancy water."
"You sure about that? I saved up. Going for a private chamber."
"Pfft. Water's water, boy."
"Is it though? When's the last time any of us had a hot bath that stayed hot? When's the last time we didn't have to haul buckets and heat them ourselves?"
"He's got a point. My back's been killing me for months. If hot water can fix that..."
"You're all fools."
Common bath or private chamber?
That was the question in a lot of people's minds.
Some had saved up for the private experience, but the majority had gone common—it was what they could afford. But for those that went for the private chambers, they were nervous yet excited. Just once, they told themselves, just to see what it was like.
The atmosphere was one of wary excitement. People had been let down in the past, but they still wanted to think it would be nice. How often had they been promised something better? How many times had those assurances been shattered?
The line that was developing outside the bathhouse, however, was telling a different story. It was no longer limited to the intensely curious. These were people who'd paid good money and expected good value.
Of course, not everyone was pleased.
Lady Cordelia watched with undisguised contempt as the common people milled about the bathhouse door while she sat in her luxurious carriage. She couldn't quite put her finger on why she had come to witness the clown show. Maybe it had been morbid curiosity, or perhaps she simply wished to observe the inevitable disappointment when these people recognized what they had truly paid for.
"Look at them, standing in line like cattle. Do they really think some peasant bathhouse is going to compare to the Riverside Baths?" She whispered to her friend, Beatrice, a minor merchant's wife who had somehow gotten into Cordelia's social circle.
"Absolutely ridiculous. I mean, the Riverside has marble tubs imported from the capital. Scented oils. Servants who know how to properly draw a bath." Beatrice agreed.
"Exactly." Cordelia adjusted her silk gloves. "This Theodore fellow might have money, but he clearly doesn't understand quality. You can't create luxury by simply heating water and calling it a bathhouse."
Inside the Red Boar tavern, the merchant who had sold the property to Theodore, Gareth, held court with his usual crowd of sycophants and drinking companions. From the start, he had expressed his doubts openly, and today felt like his day of vindication.
"Another round!" Gareth called out, raising his mug. "We're celebrating!"
"Celebrating what?"
"The beginning of the end! By sunset, half those people will be demanding refunds." Gareth took a long drink. "I tried to warn Theodore. 'Buy something safer,' I said. 'A warehouse, maybe some farmland.' But no, he wanted to build a palace for peasants."
"What exactly do you think will go wrong?"
"Everything!" Gareth laughed. "Mark my words. By sunset, half these people will be demanding their money back. You can't just throw together some wood and pipes and expect it to rival a proper establishment!"
There was a vigorous nod from his friend, a minor nobleman with more opinions than common sense. "I've been to the Golden Springs in the capital. Now that's a bathhouse. Heated floors, crystal-clear pools, and attendants who know their business. This little project is not even worthy of my spit! Not to mention, who would dirty oneself among the peasants?"
Gareth laughed. "Give it a week of heavy use, and the whole place will be a swamp. Theodore's going to learn why nobody else wanted to build there."
The laughter that followed was mean-spirited and confident. These folks had witnessed enough unsuccessful endeavors to identify one that was underway. They were certain that they would be proven correct by sunset.
But for every skeptic, there were two believers as well.
Sarah Millwright, for example, had been anticipating this day. She had saved as many aurums as she could, even skipping meals to save for a private room. It was not that she was rich—far from it—but that she had never had anything really nice in her life, so this felt like something really important to her. Something that she could enjoy peacefully.
"You're mad. Spending that much on a bath when you could heat water at home for free." her neighbor Jenny had said.
Sarah had ignored the hateful woman. This was what she desired. She didn't know why. Perhaps it was the thought of being given the impression that she was important like those rich people or nobles, like she deserved nice things, like she were more valuable than the day-to-day struggle to make ends meet.
On the other hand, Tom the carpenter was aware of the construction quality because he had worked on the project himself. The pipes were installed correctly. Someone who truly understands engineering was responsible for designing the heating system. The construction materials were superior to those used in the majority of the noble houses.
"Let them laugh. I've seen what went into this place. It's not some thrown-together shed. Lord Theodore hired real craftsmen and paid real wages. This is going to be something special!" he told his wife as they waited in line.
His wife squeezed his hand. Although they had heard stories, they had never been able to afford the capital's opulent baths. For them, who couldn't even travel to such a place, how could they ever dream of actually getting in a luxurious bath?
Even the local priest had admitted that cleanliness was next to godliness, and if the bathhouse helped people maintain proper hygiene, it served a moral purpose. Though he'd added that excessive luxury was still a sin, of course. Balance in all things.
Amidst the crowd, impartial onlookers gazed with detached curiosity. Passengers, traders from distant cities, and others who were not interested in the success or failure of the baths. The novelty and entertainment appeal of witnessing a community try something new drew them in.
One of these onlookers stood a little way away from the throng. If Theodore were to look at this man, he would have been surprised to find a hidden Rank 5 expert. Though calling him "hidden" wasn't really accurate, for he wasn't quite hiding his presence. He was just indifferent. Tall, worn, and dressed in clothing that implied travel without being impoverished, he didn't even look that special, so to the normal eye, he seemed just another person waiting in line.
He had learned of the bathhouse's opening while traveling through the borderlands. He had changed his course out of curiosity to find out what all the commotion was about. He was familiar with bathhouses, for he had seen some himself. The marble and gold of the capital's big ones. The pragmatic ones that were constructed for efficiency rather than pleasure in trading cities.
But this one was different. Due to the people, not due to the construction, which was remarkably sturdy. The way they discussed it. how they perceived it. As though it stood for more than just a place to relax.
A mother was explaining to her young daughter why they were in line, and the mysterious traveler found it fascinating. The idea of taking a bath in genuinely warm water filled the child's eyes with awe. The mother's face was more nuanced and gentle. Perhaps hope. Or simply wanting to provide her daughter with something greater than what she had.
A man behind him raised an eyebrow when he noticed him looking around.
"First time in Holden?"
"Just passing through," the stranger replied. "Heard about the opening. Thought I'd see what the excitement was about."
"Lot of people think it's going to fail," the man said with a shrug. "But I've got a good feeling about it. Our lord's got vision, you know? Sees things others don't."
The stranger nodded noncommittally.
The excitement was almost palpable as the morning went on and the actual opening approached. Despite their apparent skepticism, even the skeptics found themselves listening more intently because of the enthusiasm of the gathering.
Lady Cordelia had left her carriage behind and was now standing at the edge of the crowd, trying to see what was going on at the entrance, but ostensibly watching from a distance. Despite her earlier dismissal, Beatrice hovered close by, similarly intrigued.
"The line's actually quite organized," Beatrice observed, trying to sound casual.
"Of course it is," Cordelia replied sharply. "They're peasants. They know how to queue."
But even as she spoke, she was noting the quality of the building's exterior. She was surprised by the quality of the stonework. Instead of the cheap substitutes she had expected would be used, the windows were made of actual glass. The entire building seemed sturdy, too, and even luxurious, if she might add.
Inside the tavern, Gareth's confidence was starting to falter. After sending his youngest son to inspect the bathhouse opening, the boy returned with some unsettling information.
Uncertainty started to set in as the morning went on and the crowd became bigger rather than smaller. What if Theodore actually knew what he was doing? What if the bathhouse was actually... good?
***
At precisely ten o'clock, the bathhouse doors opened.
The first customers were the ones who'd paid premium prices for the earliest slots. Exhibiting tense eagerness, they vanished inside, and the audience outside became quiet for a little while, awaiting, listening.
The sound of real astonishment then reverberated through the open doors.
"Oh my goddess, look at this place!"
Against her better judgment, Lady Cordelia found herself moving forward. She could see marble—real marble—inside there, which shocked her greatly. She noticed that the floors were hot, or at least that's what she could infer from her skills.
"That's not possible," she murmured.
She and Beatrice had forgotten their earlier contempt and were staring openly.
"Is that... is that real gold on the fixtures?"
Yes, it was. Although it wasn't a lot, it was just enough to capture the light and give the appearance of riches without being overt. Nevertheless, it was stunning, genuine, and totally out of the ordinary in this place.
Within the Red Boar, all talk had been drowned out chatter as Gareth's son explained everything.
"Maybe we should..." someone said.
"Should what?"
"Should try it ourselves. Just to see. For professional reasons."
That was an excellent way to phrase things. Not because they wanted to see what everyone else was talking about, or because they were intrigued, but because of professional reasons.
The stranger at the edge of the crowd watched with growing interest as the first wave of customers began to emerge. Words could not have conveyed the story as well as their body language did. These were individuals who had received an unexpected gift. It was better than they could have imagined.
As he left the building, one man staggered a little, as though his legs had forgotten how to function properly. His companion steadied him, both of them wearing expressions of bliss.
"How do you feel?" someone in the crowd called out.
"Like I've been reborn," said the man, and he wasn't exaggerating. He really did appear different. Undoubtedly cleaner, but also more laid-back. Like a release of stress that had been inside him for years.
The audience mumbled with excitement.
Some time passed, and the skeptics had become believers.
Lady Cordelia was actively seeking a reservation and had given up all pretense of indifference. Later in the week, not today, as those had long since passed. She'd even considered offering to pay extra for someone else's slot, though her pride hadn't quite allowed her to make the offer yet.
"It's not that I'm impressed. I'm just... curious. How did he manage to create something so... adequate... in such a short time? I'm just curious to see if it will hold up to my expectations!" she told Beatrice as they waited to speak with the booking clerk.
Beatrice wasn't listening. She was staring at a woman who'd just emerged from a private chamber, noting how the woman's skin seemed to glow, how her hair looked softer, how she moved with the confidence of someone who'd been thoroughly pampered.
"I need to get in there," Beatrice whispered.
Gareth had also abandoned any pretense. He was standing in the common line, attempting to look unconcerned as he calculated the expense of this and if it was worth it.
Based on his observations, the answer was unquestionably yes.
Meanwhile, the mysterious stranger continued to watch, fascinated by the transformation taking place around him. Before, he had witnessed communities come together in support of successful initiatives, but this time was different. It was, he realized, quite remarkable.
Throughout the day, there was a constant flow of happy patrons and an increasing number of people looking to make reservations in the future. The bathhouse was operating at full capacity, and every single person who emerged looked like they'd been given a gift they hadn't expected.
When one Sarah eventually got her turn in a private room, the experience was better than she could have imagined. The water had been just right—not hot enough to be uncomfortable, yet heated enough to relieve the persistent pain in her shoulders. And the privacy... the blessed privacy of being able to relax without worrying about anything.
She'd cried a little, there in the warm water. Not because she was depressed, but rather because she was so relieved to have something that was just for her, for once.
When Tom the carpenter and his wife had their turns, they were both astounded by how effective and relaxing everything was. The water remained warm. The flow was steady. Everything worked perfectly. The gratification of knowing that everything he had a hand in constructing was working as intended was nearly as satisfying as the actual bath.
"You did good work," his wife had whispered as they soaked together in their private chamber.
***
The crowd outside the bathhouse had changed from interested bystanders to devoted reservation-seekers as evening drew near. People were already talking about whether their Lord Theodore might think about extending the facility, and the booking system was fully committed for the upcoming month.
Despite having to pay a premium price and accept an awkward time slot, Lady Cordelia had finally managed to reserve a private chamber for the upcoming week as well. She convinced herself that it was only for study; she needed to know what was making such a stir in the community.
But privately, she was looking forward to it with an intensity that surprised her.
Gareth had managed to get a common bath slot reserved next month, and he'd spent the afternoon trying to prepare himself for the experience. The thought of bathing alongside commoners was extremely unsettling to him as he had never done it before. However, the feedback from all those who had tried it was so overwhelmingly good that he was unable to rule out the idea that he was overlooking something important.
Curious and wanting to know what made this particular bathhouse so unique, the mysterious stranger had also reserved a slot.
The bathhouse was nearing the end of its first day of business. The final customers were coming out, appearing just as content as the initial ones. Employees were starting to wrap up in anticipation of another long day tomorrow.
The gathering outside had not vanished, but it had diminished a little. People stayed and discussed their experiences and aspirations, and Theodore had been smart enough to let an area remain for the people to just hang out. He had some food shops along with some other things set there as well. Now the talks became more private and quiet. These were no longer merely neighbors talking about a nearby company. They were individuals who had a transforming experience in common.
Lady Cordelia saw a disturbance at the periphery of the gathering and was about to head back to her carriage. The sound of someone being shoved or pushed made her pause, and like everyone else in the immediate vicinity, she turned to see what was going on.
People were moving to the side as a figure moved through the crowd. They were being forced to move, actually, they were not moving voluntarily. The figure was well-dressed, clearly wealthy, and obviously angry about something.
"Move aside," the figure yelled. "I said move aside, you filthy—"
Immediately, the atmosphere of the gathering changed. Tension and alarm took the place of the calm, contented environment. People started to retreat, but there wasn't much space. The person was advancing across the busy area in front of the bathhouse, disregarding anyone who stood in his way.
"What's happening?" someone whispered.
"Who is that?"
"Why is he pushing people?"
As the man neared the front, his comments cut through the murmuring of the crowd. Cultured and educated, his speech was full of the casual scorn that came with never having to think about others' feelings.
"You filthy peasant, begone, you are blocking my path!" he shouted at someone who'd apparently not moved aside quickly enough.
The crowd flinched and recoiled. This was supposed to be their day, their time to be content and joyful. They had been enjoying their community's most recent triumph, and now someone was attempting to tarnish it with contempt and arrogance?
The bathhouse's security guard stepped forward to intervene. His physique was akin to that of a blacksmith, and his presence alone was typically enough to prevent conflict.
"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to—"
He never finished the sentence. He was flung backward with unexpected force when the young man's foot struck his chest. The sound of the guard's body crashing through the main door of the bathhouse reverberated throughout the area.
The crowd stood frozen in shock.
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