Cassius stepped into the open hot-spring with only a towel around his waist and stopped for a moment, surprised by what he saw.
Pools of clear water steamed gently beneath a sky now thick with stars; flowering shrubs ringed the edges, their scents mixing with the rising heat. It was serene, romantic even, the sort of place nobles would pay fortunes to visit.
He found himself thinking that if the fishing trade ever failed, this could become a hot-spring village instead. The thought made him smile; he was glad he was guided here, blood-soaked and exhausted, to something almost sacred.
Still, he couldn't plunge straight into the spring with all the filth on him.
Beside the main pool stood a large wooden vat filled with hot water and a jug. He lifted it, poured the scalding water over himself, and began to scrub, rubbing away the dried blood until his skin shone clean again. The water turned pink, running down in rivulets across the stones.
