Just as Clyde is about to succumb to the brand's command, Aithne's words from the night they shared their first kiss come back to him.
"No!" he exclaims, using all his strength to resist the compliance of the brand. The anxiety he had been feeling transforms into a surge of pain throughout his entire body. He collapses to the floor, crying out in agony.
Aithne stands over Clyde, pain and fury clenched in her fists. "Is it so terrible to kiss me?!” she yells in frustration. “Do you hate me so much that you'd rather suffer under the brand's punishment than just give me a simple kiss?!"
"No” Clyde wails out in pain. “I can't betray your feelings like that. You don't see me, Aithne. You see him. I can't replace him,” he says, doing his best to calm Aithne down with his honesty.
"Of course I see you, Clyde,” Aithne replies. “Haven't you been listening to anything I've said tonight? I care about you, as a person in your own right."
"No, you don't,” Clyde grunts. “You're still in love with Lord Raine. I can't be a substitute for him. I can't return your feelings because they're not meant for me."
“Greater Slave Brand Deactivate,” Aithne whispers. “Leave, Clyde.”
The pain instantly disappears from his body, replaced by a feeling of exhaustion and sore muscles. Clyde sits up from the floor, rubbing his temples. "I'm sorry," he rasps.
"I told you to leave,” Aithne says with an icy sting.
Clyde hesitates, wondering what he could even say to her now.
"Can we please talk?” he finally asks. “I want to understand where we stand and what you really want from me."
Aithne's eyes flash with anger. "Leave before I reactivate the brand and make you throw yourself out the window!"
Clyde quickly leaves the room, pausing for a moment in the hallway to catch his breath. That was so fucking painful. He shudders as his anxiety rises at the mere thought of the brand activating again.
After a slow, arduous walk back to his room, he stands in front of his mirror, bracing himself on it to catch his breath.
What does the stupid brand even look like?
Curious, Clyde undresses himself, and turns around. With some effort, he examines the brand on his back, looking over the broad scar on his back.
Spoiler :
[https://i.imgur.com/jeXf9xC.png]
So, this is the Slave Brand... They must have put it on me when I passed out, during the tattoos. I thought I had some freedom, when they took off the collar. I guess they just replaced it with a better one.
Clyde collapses onto his bed, feeling drained, helpless, and lost. He rubs his weary face, overwhelmed by his thoughts. Maybe I should just give in and kiss her next time. She really is attractive, after all. And with the Slave Brand…
But he forces that thought away the instant he feels the fear return.
Clyde shakes his head. No! She doesn't love me, and she never will. She loves him. She just loves him. That’s it.
He recites these musings almost like a mantra, closing his eyes at some point and drifting off to sleep.
Clyde wakes up and rolls out of his bed, feeling groggy from a restless night's sleep. He thinks back to the dream he had about Aithne and sighs, shaking his head. "Dammit, hormones. Why does she have to look like Ms. Smithy?" he mutters to himself.
After finding some fresh clothes and smoothing out his hair, Clyde quietly leaves to the Smithy, truly eager to start working again. Once there, he hustles about to put on his apron and gloves, and start the bellows by pouring mana into the stones. He looks at the huge box filled with nails that he left the other day, and the rods he'd used to create them all. Only 200 more for this order, he thinks to himself, determined to finish the job.
Clyde works straight through to the afternoon, utilizing the monotony to forget the world and its drama. He couldn’t even muster up the attention to notice Catherine coming home or Mia entering the house.
At one point, as he is deeply focused on his forging, Mia sneaks up behind him. She takes each step very slowly and softly, like a cat on the prowl. She waits for Clyde to fixate on the head of a nail before pouncing on him. "FOOD IS READY!" she yells gleefully.
Clyde jumps with a shudder, dropping the unfinished nail. "Dammit, woman!"
Mia starts laughing, holding her belly and trotting with delight. "I got you, I got you! By the way, lunch is ready!"
"Jerk. I'll be there in a moment." Clyde grumbles as he searches the floor for the nail, while Mia skips out, shutting the door behind her with a playful yank.
“I'm going to get you back for that one, Mia," Clyde says, as if she were still there. He picks up the nail with his tongs and rounds out the head, before dropping it in with the others in the box.
Entering into the dining room, Clyde sees Mia and Catherine sitting at the table, eating their soup- Mia obviously still pleased with her scare as she swings her feet under the table.
After shooting a side eye at Mia, Clyde grabs his bowl and dips it into the soup, bringing it over in front of the girls to eat.
Catherine's mouth stretches to a pout. "I told you not to do that!"
Clyde shrugs. "When in Rome!" he says with a full mouth.
"My dad isn't even here!" Catherine whines.
"Where is he?"
"He went out because the merchant is supposed to be here this afternoon,” Catherine replies through pursed lips.
Mia and Clyde then begin an exchange of insults, including snides over cat ears, greasy slave hair, flat chests, and perverted natures. Catherine attempts to mediate, but is unsuccessful.
Spoiler :
[https://i.imgur.com/4Yej3nP.png]
“Alright you two!” Catherine finally yells. “I said that’s en-”
But before she could finish, the storefront doors swing open with the entrance of a rather blanched-looking woman.
Catherine immediately rises to her feet. "Welcome back, Claire,” she says with a renewed, calm countenance. “How are you, madam?"
Clyde discreetly studies Claire through spoonfuls of soup. She is a captivating woman with a unique style. Her long, straight white hair cascades down her shoulders like a waterfall of clouds, complementing her piercing red eyes that stabbed through one’s soul. She is thin and slender, with pale skin that glows softly. Her red lips are perfectly painted, a bold contrast to her gothic lolita fashion sense. Despite her youthful appearance, Clyde could tell that Claire was likely quite a bit older than him.
Spoiler :
[https://i.imgur.com/zYoOh7U.png]
"I'm fine,” Claire replied softly as she lifted the veil from her face. “I have the items your father wanted."
Catherine and the woman haggle back and forth over the prices of the items. Catherine often uses the excuse, "My dad won't let me go that high." Clyde, bored with the haggling, goes back to work at the forge. As he leaves, he can tell that the woman is politely annoyed, almost as if she hates haggling.
I bet Garson left Catherine by herself for this exact moment. Smart…
Clyde picks up a rod and walks it to the forge to begin a new nail. Having made so many nails now, he instantly loses himself in the process once more, tuning out the outside world. He doesn’t hear the door open, and the subsequent footsteps approaching him.
"I've heard many things about you," Claire says quietly, causing Clyde to jolt out of his work to face her. She offers her hand for an introduction. “I’m Claire.”
"O-oh, I'm Clyde.” Clyde replies, grasping her hand with his own and giving a gentle shake with his leather gloves on. “Only good things, I hope."
"May I ask you some questions?" Claire asks with a slight head tilt.
Clyde instantly felt uneasy in the pit of his stomach. She sounds like an interrogator…
He respectfully declines her proposition, but Claire is prepared.
"I'll make it worth your while," she coos, pulling out a brilliant silver coin and holding it out in the palm of her hand.
“I'm not interested in money, to be honest…” Clyde replies. “I don't even know how valuable a silver coin is.”
"That can be easily mended," Claire says breathily.
She reaches into the pocket of her dress and slips out a lace coin purse. Walking over to the work bench, she pours out the contents of the bag, letting the coins trickle out like little bells. She smooths them out with her delicate fingers before plucking up a small copper coin to show Cyde. Clyde steps towards her, to view the small piece of metal.
"The base denomination is called a pren. It's a simple copper coin, and very little can be purchased with it. Small items and food ingredients are often a pren or two." She places the pren down into a wooden bowl, and begins organizing the coins in order.
Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.
Spoiler :
[https://i.imgur.com/vhAbFwi.png]
"A bronze coin is equal to 5 prens, while a large bronze coin is 10 prens. A quality meal can be purchased for 10 prens.” Claire taps the next two coins. “A small silver coin is 25 prens and one can buy an excellent meal with it. One large silver coin is 50 prens and is often used to pay for a day's labor that is unskilled.” She then points to a highly polished coin. “Above that is the gold coin, which is 100 prens.”
“Lastly, there is the mithril coin.” Claire looks up at Clyde with a very small, yet brilliant coin between her thumb and index finger. “Mithril coins are worth 1,000 prens. They don't see much use outside of large trades and business deals.”
Clyde picks up one of the few mithril coins on the table and holds it in the light of the sun, where it glimmers. "Why is the smallest coin worth the most? It's not even half the size of a pren."
"That's because of how rare it is. Mithril is a metal that cannot be counterfeited, which is rather useful," she explains.
Clyde looks at the coin in greater detail, rubbing his finger over the miniscule imprint on its surface. "How isn't this counterfeitable? It just looks like a normal coin,” Clyde wonders aloud, as he thinks back to how he always saw Garson weigh the money to make sure it wasn't faked or reduced- even on the smallest of purchases and sales.
Claire steps closer to Clyde, again holding up her small mithril coin. She imbues a gentle stream of mana into it, causing the coin to glow blue.
"Mithril has a very particular slight blue glow when fed mana. It is always found in a pure form; thus, if it's mixed with any other metal, no matter the amount, it will lose that glow when mana is applied.”
As he fingered through and examined the coins, Clyde noticed that the faces varied a bit. While all of the coins had their weights punched into them, some coins were plain and others were embellished with elaborate stamps.
"Why are all the coins, stamped different?"
"Currency is the same across kingdoms and nations, with the exception of the stamping. Some kings like to put their own faces on gold. However, all coins must have the weight pressed very clearly into the coin. That is the only standard for currency.”
Claire collects all of her coins except for one gold, and returns them to her purse. "How about 100 prens? That's two days of labor, just for you to answer some questions."
"I'm still not interested,” Clyde replies.
Claire then pulls out a roll of paper, opening it in front of Clyde. "You might be interested in this, given you're a smith," she says, her voice trailing off as she speaks.
Clyde only sneaks a peek at the parchment before Claire rolls it back up. "I'll give it to you… If you tell me what I want to know," she says.
Clyde thinks back to Catherine’s haggling. "Hmm… How about that, and 50 prens."
"That's a hard bargain. 20 prens?"
"No, 50 prens and the schematic. If you want, you can make a copy before you give it to me."
Claire puts great effort into a heavy sigh. "Fine. 50 prens, along with the schematic,” she says, replacing the gold coin with a large silver from her purse. “I wish to know what happened during your baptism."
“Straight to the point, “ Clyde huffs. “I unlocked the Warrior class."
Claire tilts her head. "Oh? I heard from the birdies that it wasn't a standard baptism. Tell me everything that happened."
Clyde hesitates. "I… don't know if I should answer that. Do you have any other questions?"
Claire smiles softly. "Mhm, your refusal to answer leads me to believe that something extraordinary happened and the rumors are true. Thank you for confirming them. I heard you were excommunicated from the church alongside Hayden recently. What do you have to say about that?"
"What of it?" Clyde ripostes, feeling like he's damned if he says something and damned if he doesn't.
"You resurrected someone past the expiration limit and they lived. Am I right?" she stated matter-of-factly.
Clyde falls quiet for a moment, filling the air with an awkward silence. Claire looks at him, waiting patiently for him to reply.
"Do you have any other questions?" Clyde asks, ignoring the question entirely.
"Is it true?! How did you do it?!" Claire eagerly asks, showing the greatest amount of emotion since Clyde first saw her.
"Do what? Break the church's laws? Not me, no ma'am." Clyde says through raised eyebrows and pursed lips.
"You can trust me,” Claire responds earnestly, returning to her more serious state. “I'm always in pursuit of knowledge, and I'm certainly no follower of Amare, let alone any other god. I solely believe in myself."
With that, Claire whispers an incantation, and reaches her hand out to an old book from the ether. The book is adorned with beautiful, elaborate art on the cover, giving it an air of antiquity. She flips to the middle of the book, thumbing through the pages to the text she wanted.
"I'll amend our original bargain for something greater. I will tell you exactly how resurrection works, not the adulterated version the church teaches."
"I'd appreciate that, I guess,” Clyde relents with a shrug.
Claire smiles again softly and nods. She turns her attention to the book, and reads:
"Resurrection, and all healing magic, has an order of operations. Initially, it heals by undoing time. There is a restoration point seven minutes in the past. It matters not if the head is smashed or the body utterly maimed. So long as all the parts are there, Resurrection can restore the being to its original state. However, the restoration point is absolute. It is paramount that Resurrection be cast with urgency, as the benefits vastly diminish past the restoration point."
Claire gently moves a hair from her face back in place as she continues. "If a segment of the being has been lost, despite being within the restoration period, the body resorts to natural healing for that segment. Thus, Resurrection being cast at this time will result in a body healing without its missing pieces. If one should suspect a segment of the being is missing, Summon Corpse should be cast to gather the pieces together for a complete Resurrection.” Claire looks up from the book briefly- “many priests fail to understand this particular usefulness of Summon Corpse.”
Claire takes a deep breath and returns to reading. "When the restoration period has run its course, Resurrection no longer negates time; rather, it resorts to the person's own innate healing forthwith. This form of Resurrection spawns a husk, a curse stemming from irresponsible use of divine magic. More objectionable is when Resurrection is performed on a sanguine aggregate, thusly generating an abhorrent fleshy mass.”
Claire takes another breath and looks at Clyde in an austere manner. "These things can be discovered by casting Resurrection. Yet, there's another interesting thing that occurs with consecutive casts of Resurrection: the restoration point is reduced in duration. Each time it is cast, the restoration point decreases by one minute. After seven casts, Resurrect can only utilize the body’s natural healing."
Clyde asks, "Why would the restoration point be reduced with repeated casts?"
"It is a denial of immortality. If the restore point wasn't reduced, it could be possible for a person to live forever on their deathbed. I'm sure the gods would frown upon that."
Clyde nods. "That all lines up with what happened to me. That might be the most accurate depiction of Resurrection, even better than Hayden's. In fact, using all that information, Hayden's version is inaccurate."
"Most likely due to the teachings of Amare's church,” Claire says, throwing her hands into the air smoothly, showing her frustration. “It's filled with stubborn, literal, old men who care more about tradition than the truth."
"What about other healing magic, such as Heal Injury?"
"It’s very similar, except it does not negate time, which is unique to Resurrection. However, if a limb is detached for no longer than seven minutes, it can be reattached with Heal Injury."
"Hayden didn't mention that... What about Heal?" Clyde asks.
"The most common healing magic.” Claire says. “It restores your constitution first, of course. If used on someone with a full constitution, it will heal very minor wounds through natural healing." Claire sighs, leaning back against the wall. "It’s your turn, now, to answer my questions. Faithfully and honestly, please. How did you get past the seven minutes?"
"It was simple. I just did what we do where I’m from- I performed CPR. I was simulating a beating heart through chest compressions, and alternated that by giving breaths. I was able to extend her life by keeping her blood flowing through her body, even though she was technically dead. I'm assuming that Resurrection used her own innate healing ability, rather than undoing any type of time."
Claire's dull, ruby eyes light up. "Very interesting. Why did CPR save her, I wonder? Can you teach me this CPR?"
"It kept oxygen pumping to the brain. I could teach you, but I don't want to. Maybe next time. I'm busy." He grabs his hammer, turning around to continue his work.
Claire waves the paper around to catch his attention again. "Oh, but I have so many more questions. Won’t you take pity on me just once, and appease my hunger for knowledge?”
Clyde sighs to the floor, turning heel to face Claire once more."Give me the schematic, no more questions, and I'll teach you CPR."
"Deal," Claire says, holding out her hand. Clyde grabs it to shake, but is stunned slightly by the coldness of her hand. Dead-cold, as if it were held under ice water for a prolonged period. He looks at it, noticing the huge difference in skin color. She's an alabaster ice cube!
Clyde jolts his hand back, as hers had sapped its warmth. "O-Okay, so it's pretty basic. You might want to write this down."
Claire pulls out a sapphire-blue fountain pen, turns to the end of her old book, and primes herself to write.
"First, check the area for safety," Clyde says. "When I performed CPR on Catherine, there could have been more goblins in the woods. As such, I placed my back to the river."
"I see," Claire says unimpressed, but writing the step down regardless- until she stopped suddenly, creating an ink splotch on her page. “Wait,” she snaps her head up to Clyde, "You did it on Catherine?!"
Shit! Clyde, you dumbass!
"No more questions was part of the deal,” he retorts smoothly. “Next, check if the person is unresponsive, feel for breathing, and look for bleeding."
"Okay," Claire says, clearly more interested in the fact that he performed CPR on Catherine than in the instructions.
"Place the person on their back-”
"If you're trying to scam me, I'm going to be quite upset," Claire warns. "This doesn't seem to be any kind of magic."
"It's not magic, it's a medical technique from my world," Clyde explains. "The start of it is boring, but no less important. After turning the person on their back, give 30 chest compressions, 100 to 120 per minute. Kind of like a fast song, like this.” Clyde thumps his hand on his stool, bopping to Stayin’ Alive with his head to maintain the rhythm. “The compressions must be at least 2 inches deep."
Claire's expression focuses as she becomes interested again, writing down very attentively.
"Lastly, give 2 breaths. Repeat the compression and breaths process, checking for breathing after a few rounds." Clyde says.
Claire waits a moment for Clyde to continue before looking up from her book. "Wait, that's it?" She asked doubtfully.
Clyde nods. "Yep. If you want, we can go outside and I'll show you the position you want to be in for compressions."
Claire follows Clyde outside, leaving her book inside, and following his command to lay down in the grass.
Clyde gets on his knees by her side. "Overlap your hands like this and place them in the center of the chest." Clyde hovers his clasped hands over her chest. "Your shoulders should be directly over your hands, elbows locked. It gets tiring fast, so you want to use your body weight for the compressions, rather than just your arms."
Clyde continues to hover his hands over her as he demonstrates the motions.
"It's okay to touch me." Claire says.
Clyde shakes his head. "That's unnecessary."
"Really, it's okay. I want to know how to do this, so please be thorough. If not, I'll have to take back our accord."
Clyde reluctantly acquiesce, as he places his hands on her chest, exactly in the center. He could feel her breasts pressing against the sides of his hands from underneath her black dress, but her chest didn't radiate any warmth. Just as before, her skin was cold.
"I see, it's there." She puts her hands over his to better understand compression placement.
Clyde's spine shivers as he quickly pulls his hand away.
"What about the breaths?" Claire asks.
"Oh, that’s the easy part. First, you open the airway to a neutral position. Just tilt the head back while raising the chin."
“Show me,” she demands.
"Okay, okay!" He slowly presses his hand on her forehead while gently lifting her chin, causing her head to move back and straighten her throat.
Clyded notices something odd. As he focuses on her breathing, he realizes that she hasn’t been. She only takes breaths as she talks…
Claire notices Clyde’s puzzled expression. "Oh, wow. I feel like I can breathe better in this position,” she says quickly.
Clyde brushes this off and continues. "Next, ensure the breaths last about 1 second, and make sure the chest rises and deflates before giving the next breath."
"Can you show me?" Claire asks once more.
Clyde hesitates. "I don't know how I can show you…"
"Perform it on me, the best that you can demonstrate."
Clyde freezes. I really don’t want to give her a rescue breath. Unlike with Catherine, where it was an emergency, this isn't necessary.
"Are you sure?" Clyde asks, still unsure.
Claire nods. "Yes."
Clyde bends down to give her the rescue breath, his lips only an inch away from hers.