“Right. Well, nothing we can do about it.” I remembered the 17 EXP I needed to level up just then, and the corner of my eye jumped.
Ignas returned to his seat, his long face drawn with worry and fatigue. “Suri, Hector, I will receive you in the Writing Room after the Dark Moon festival tonight. But please, brace yourselves for bad news. I don’t know how much support I can offer you now, and whatever we have, I fear it will not be nearly enough.”
Chapter 5
Suri, Rin and I all breathed a sigh of relief once we were out of the War Room and back out under a blissfully dragon-free sky. When I touched Karalti’s mind, I got a flash of what she was up to. She was hunting.
“Myszno’s shaping up to be a hell of a party,” I remarked. “We better bring a case of beer. Maybe some snacks.”
“There isn’t enough beer in the world for this.” Suri ran her fingers through her hair, chest lifting in a way that caught my eye. “But speaking of getting shit-faced, what’s the plan for tonight? Rin?”
“Oh! I was going to go to the University and do some research for the quest and for my crafting, you know.” The little Mercurion was suddenly much more chipper. “Ebisa and I are finishing up some tinkering, too. And tonight’s the Dark Moon Festival, so I guess we’ll be going shopping. The Church has mana auctions where Mage-classes can stock up for cheap...”
“What is the Dark Moon Festival, anyway?” I reached out to Suri as if I would put my arm around her waist. She stepped into the offered embrace with a sultry quirk of the lips and a sidelong glance that made my heart skip.
Oblivious, Rin clasped her hands and bounced up and down with excitement. “Twice a year on the equinoxes, Erruku and Archemi line up in front of the sun and the moon goes dark. Well, I guess it’s not really the moon, because we’re actually the moon, but you get what I mean, right?”
“I’d wondered.” I scratched my jaw. “Erruku kind of weirds me out, to tell you the truth. I don’t think the physics of this planet are totally realistic.”
Rin twittered an anxious little laugh. “Probably. We took artistic license with some things. The eclipse thing looks really cool and I-I think Erruku even has some of its own lore, but we were scheduled to get some astrophysicists to play-test and advise us on refining the skybox-”
“The what?” Suri squinted at her.
“The, uhh… the… planetary mechanics?” Rin flashed her a fleeting, nervous smile. “We, I mean, the Devs… we…uhh… don’t worry about it, okay?”
Suri cocked her head, a red curl tumbling over one of her eyes. “You guys are serious, aren’t you? About the whole ‘the world is a game thing’? You aren’t having me on?”
Rin bit her lip. “I’m sorry, Suri. It’s true.”
“Well if that’s true and you’re really an Architect, can’t you just get up into your God Box or whatever it is and go and crush this cunt in Ilia like a cockroach?” Suri asked her. “Because that’d make our lives a whole lot easier.”
Rin was looking more stressed by the second. “The… uhh… short answer is that I never had that kind of admin access, and that Ororgael isn’t supposed to be able to do what he’s doing, either. It’s complicated. I-I don’t have any more power than a normal player. Person. Starborn player-person.”
The larger woman shrugged. “One day, I’m gonna pin you down and ask you some hard questions. But not now, because this bitch is going shopping.”
I chuckled. “What’s on the menu today? Shoes? Bags?”
“Armor, you dick.” She bumped me with her hip, grinning broadly. “And maybe something nice. I dunno if I want to buy any fancy clothes when we’re going off to a war zone, though.”
“Do it. It’s good for morale.” I gave her waist a one-armed squeeze. “When I went to war, I always made sure I had something at home I wanted to come back to. For me, that was my games, my motorcycle, and this photo album I got from my grandparents. And every now and then, when I had the chance, I’d order a package for myself online, you know? Like a new shirt or something. And I’d send that package to my best friend’s house, so that when I came back alive, I’d have like a year’s worth of presents waiting for me. It’s a good mind trick.”
Rin put her hands to her cheeks. “That’s so sad but… also cute.”
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Conscripts are like prisoners: you either find a reason to keep living or you die.”
“It’s good advice.” Suri smiled mysteriously and turned in against my body. “On that note. Rin, do you mind just leaving me and Hector while you go do your thing?”
“Sure.” Rin’s eyes were shining. “You guys… um… have… fun?”
“Hell yeah,” I said. “We’re gonna get our faces painted, and get our nails done together-”
Suri kneed me in the thigh. I snortled at my own bullshit.
When the Mercurion was back inside the Keep and we were alone, I spun Suri around and dipped her in my arms. She laughed, and when she came up, she looped strong arms around my neck and looked up at me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Her eyes were a brilliant golden yellow, veins of color slowly folding in toward her pupils like slow-moving magma. “Have I... ever told you how gorgeous you are?”
Her smile turned a little shy. “Yeah, now and then. Still like to hear it, though.”
My mouth was dry, pulse hammering under my tongue. Sometimes, I felt confident with her, leading the way in our conversations, our lovemaking. Other times, I could hardly believe this glorious Amazon of a woman actually wanted me near her, let alone have me hold her like this. But here she was. “Well, that’s good. I can dish out as much as you can take.”
“We’ll see about that.” Suri sucked her bottom lip under her teeth. “Guess tonight’s our last night off, huh?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Might be the last chance we have to sleep in a proper bed, too.” She pulled herself in close, and rubbed her cheek along mine until she could speak against my ear. “I hear the Dark Moon Festival has an awesome Night Market. Wanna go with me?”
Stupid as it sounds, my first thought was my character sheet – and Karalti’s. If we worked hard tonight, we could probably hit Level 18 and 10, respectively. Still not enough… but better than where we were now. I winced.
“I really want to go,” I said haltingly. “But after that meeting… I can’t. I’m sorry. You’re Level 20 already, but we’ve still got to catch up before Myszno.”
Suri didn’t pull away, but I could sense her disappointment. She planted a lingering kiss on my cheek. “I get it. No worries: we’ll have another chance some time. So… what’s on the agenda for tonight, then?”
I sighed, guilt tightening my chest. “Well, honestly, I was going to go to the hospital and ask Masha about Myszno, then see about learning Vlachian and Churvi. I want to level up my healing skills until Karalti gets done stuffing her face. That, and I need to see how Rutha’s doing.”
Suri cocked her head curiously. “The Lys woman. Yeah… I was wondering how she was, actually. How do you know her?”
“She’s...” I trailed off, not sure how to respond. With most women, I’d have been on thin ice, especially after saying no to a date. But Suri didn’t seem like that kind of person. There was no hostility in the inquiry. No edge to it.
“Rutha was the woman who helped me escape that slave ship I told you about,” I admitted. “You know, the one I landed on when I first incarnated into Archemi? We helped each other out, and she gave me the Spear. We… ahh… had a two-night stand while we were in Liren. Nothing serious, but it was my first time and… I mean, we’re just friends now, but uhh-”
Suri rested her finger against my lips, cutting off the babbling. “That’s all I need to know. When you go and see her, say hi from me. Tell her I look forward to meeting her when she wakes up. Tell her she’s got people on her side.”
“Really?” I blinked a couple of times. “You aren’t... like... mad?”
“I’m mad this Baldr c
unt beat the shit out of a woman and used her as a hostage to make a point, sure.”
“Yeah.” The rage I’d felt on the parade ground was still trembling in my stomach and in the muscles of my jaws. “Me too. I was just worried you’d be…”
A small smile quirked the corner of her mouth. “Jealous?”
“Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck.
Her smile spread, but this time, it was strangely bittersweet. “I had a lot of time to think in Al-Asad. You know what I realized one day? ‘Evil’ is ‘Live’ backwards. Whoever hurt that woman is evil. You and me, we both know what evil looks like. Real evil.”
I nodded, taking her hands in mine. “Yeah. We do.”
She squeezed back. “Whatever you had or have with Rutha, that’s a living thing. It’s the opposite of evil. How can anyone be jealous of that? So you tell her that we’ve got her back, and one day, we’ll kill the mongrel who hurt her.”
Suri and I parted with a long, lingering kiss that left the taste of honey on my lips. I walked to the hospital with a little skip in my step, humming as I let myself inside. The Master Healer was at the triage counter, tending to a giant ox of a man with a grossly swollen hand. The air was thick with the scent of bitter herbs, old leather, and rubbing alcohol.
Masterhealer Masha was three days older than dirt and tougher than boiled leather, with the kind of jaded wisdom gained through living through the rule of three kings and not only surviving, but keeping her tenure. She had an underbite, hard steely eyes, and wisps of gray hair pulled back in a brightly colored scarf. The tiny old woman had to stand on a stepstool to mix potions, pounding a pestle into a bowl of herbs like it owed her money.
“Ah, well, look who it is. His new lordship, Count Tuun.” She spoke in a heavy accent and didn’t glance up from her work as I padded over. “I heard you helped His Majesty fend off those dragons before, eh? Good work. Now, go over there and tell me what you think of this hooyeh’s injury before he dies.”
“No, Master Healer, I beg you. Don’t let me die.” The man panted. He was bright red and soaked in sweat, squirming in his armchair with discomfort. "I-I have a family!"
The old woman turned on him. "I know you have a family, you dolt! I delivered your son. I've had my hands further up your wife's piztar than you have."
I couldn’t help but smile. In a world full of characters, Masha was a standout.
“You’re supposed to go to the doctor before you’re on death’s door, man. What did you do to yourself?” I asked him.
“It was just a scratch on a nail in the stables,” he moaned. “I didn’t think anything of it until now. Please, give me water.”
“No, no, no, don’t give him any water yet. He’ll bloat up like a dead fish and his blood will boil with fever.” Masha shook her head irritably. "Medicines first, then water."
I went to examine the stablehand’s infection. He looked like he was wearing a big red baseball mitt. “Staph infection, right? That's a... sanguine disease?”
“Correct. A sanguine disease from the feces of the hookwings in the stables. Do you remember the difference between sanguine and choleric diseases?”
“Sanguine is hot and… moist? Sanguine diseases are things like blood poisoning or liver failure. Choleric diseases are hot and dry, and attack the skin and muscles, right?”
Ting. My HUD chimed as I gained a small amount of Skill EXP toward Field Medicine. Masha nodded. “Correct. You’re smarter than you look. Now, take his temperature.”
I unequipped my right gauntlet and put a hand to his forehead. Assessing temperature through touch was a Level 1 Field Medicine ability. I was at Level 3 now, so I got an auto-success. “He’s burning up. That’s got to be at least a hundred and five degrees. He’s at risk of organ failure.”
He whimpered. “Khors have mercy.”
“If the gods had mercy, there’d be no need for doctors.” Masha stirred in clear alcohol, the smell stinging my nose from across the room. “This fever is not so good. Give me a moment.”
I knelt next to the man’s chair, and soon enough the healer came bustling over with a poultice and three bottles of potion: one yellow, one green, and one blue. The blue potion emitted a faint glow. She set the alchemical brew aside, and uncorked the herbal medicines. “Now, what do we do first?”
“Lance the abscess and drain the wound,” I said. “Then the yellow po… "
"No!" Masha slapped her hand on the counter. "Wrong!"
"Oh, right. Sanguine’s hot and moist, so you have to... dry it out and cool it down," I said. "So we lance and apply alcohol to dry it, then the poultice to cool it, then give him the potions. And water after that?"
“Correct. You do not want to give a man fluids for a sanguine condition. This is a Concentrated Oil of Garlic poultice. It will remove the Blood Poisoning status effect.” Masha took a clean scalpel from her apron pocket, dunked it in a small vial of alcohol, and swirled it around. “You need garlic oil, red rashovik, and activated charcoal to make it. You simmer the rashovik in the oil until it turns bright scarlet, then add the charcoal. Mix, wrap, drain the wound, then apply it straight on.”
[New Herbalism recipe learned! Concentrated Oil of Garlic poultice]
Archemi didn’t have any healing magic – at least, not healing magic that was available to players. Instead, it had a comprehensive medical crafting system comprised of four interrelated skills: Field Medicine, Surgery, Herbalism and Alchemy. Herbal potions could restore HP, cure common debuffs, or give buffs, and they were safe to use on NPCs. Alchemical potions contained mana, monster parts, and other magical ingredients. They could heal critical injuries, regrow limbs, raise the dead or create mutant dragon riding smartasses like me, but most normal people – read, NPCs – couldn’t consume alchemical potions without a risk of being fatally poisoned. The four healing skills were closely interlinked. You had to sometimes perform a surgery, then apply a potion. Properly diagnosing a patient using Field Medicine made them more likely to survive surgery and/or an alchemical healing process. Scientific advances in the field were possible, and were rewarded by the game. I’d never considered a medical career in the real world, but Archemi made it kind of fun, in a survival crafting-kinda way.
I watched as Masha dabbed a sticky white substance onto the man’s hand, waited a few seconds, then began to cut into the numbed flesh. The stablehand lay there, sweating and squirming as she squeezed pus from the infected area. I watched her flawlessly play the required minigame, following a series of holographic directions that showed her what to squeeze and when. Once she cleared it, she applied the poultice. A Status meter appeared, counting down from 60 seconds. At the end of the minute, his Blood Poisoning debuff vanished.
“Now we give the potions. This is Goldenseal Tincture. It cures fever.” She swirled the yellow bottle around, then put it to the man’s lips. “Drink it, and no whining.”
I glanced down at the other two. “What's that alchemical potion?”
"That is Bloodmoon Decoction.” Masha held the man’s head as he grimaced and sputtered. “If our hard worker here turns up his heels and dies, I’ll pour that one down his neck. It restarts the heart, purges blood clots and fluids from the lungs and brain... but it’s dangerous, like all alchemical medicine. If it doesn’t Strange the person drinking it, it will blind them. One hundred percent. All the blood vessels in the eyes burst and turns their eyes red. You can always tell someone who drank Bloodmoon and lived to tell the tale.”
Her patient shuddered. “I’d rather die, Master Healer.”
“You were begging for your life just a few minutes ago! So which is it? And before you tell me a life without eyes is no life at all, what about your children?” Masha scolded. “The Volod will give your family a pension whether or not you’re alive, but your son will prefer a blind father than no father at all.”
I sat back and watched them bicker, but as the stablehand’s status effects ticked down and then vanished, he got noticeably better. His fever broke,
and then his hand began to look less critical.
“Alright. You take this second Goldenseal Tincture before you go to bed. Yes, it’s bitter, but you must drink it all.” Masha helped him sit up once the second-to-last debuff vanished. “If you don’t, the Blood Poisoning will come back, and we’ll have to do this all over again.”
“Yes, Master Healer.”
“You come back tomorrow for more medicine, or I’ll send Stanislaw to pull you in by the ear. You’re not Starborn like this strapping Tuun here. You need more than one day’s course.”
The man grimaced. “Yes, Master Healer.”
When he was sent off, Masha went to go and wash her hands. When she returned, the old woman regarded me shrewdly.
“How’s Rutha?” I asked her.
“Not good. Not at all.” She shook her head, rubbing her hands with a clean towel. “Her skull has a fracture, and the join is still soft. She has dried blood in her nose and ears, which may mean there is damage to her brain. There is no miracle cure for brain damage, I’m afraid. She may awaken tomorrow, or she may awaken in a month, or she may never wake up. I hate to say it, but she is now in the hands of the gods.”
I looked away for a moment. “Can I see her?”
“I want the medicines I gave her to settle in her blood before I let any visitors in,” Masha replied. “But that will not take long. You can stay here, keep yourself busy.”
“Actually, Ignas recommended I see you," I replied. "He said that you could tell me about Myszno. And I was wondering if you could teach me Vlachian, maybe Churvi as well."
The old woman cocked her head with birdlike curiosity. "Churvi? Why would you want to learn that?"
"I want to fit in.” I shrugged. “Also, I have a hunch that my honorary noble title might become less honorary, more practical.”
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