Chapter III.I (3.1) - The Medic

Fireworks exploded outside the window, showering the medical wing with momentary bursts of color. Below, noise still boomed from the school’s masquerade ball. Kizu, while still dressed for the dance, had long since discarded his mask and now lay back on the bed, wondering about what came next.

He wasn’t alone in the room. Besides a grumpy medical student reading a book in the corner, his friends were in beds to the left of him and his niece in the one on his right. And of course, Mort remained in the windowsill, transfixed by the fireworks outside.

Only Aoi was injured enough to really justify staying overnight at the medicine wing, but the headmaster had insisted after their discussion with him.

Aoi’s head had been properly bandaged and the headmaster himself had seen to her wounds to make certain she was stable, but he still wanted a more experienced medic to look her over before performing the most important heals on her. Head wounds were not something to take lightly, and Kizu knew firsthand the results of a poor healing. His newly grafted leg twitched at the thought.

Basil and Anata had made it through the night relatively unscathed, though Basil had been in a lot of pain for a while. Anata had mostly just been scared.

“What’s this?” a gruff voice asked. “This is supposed to be Shinzou Academy’s medical quarters? Kateshi should be ashamed.”

The medical student with the book looked up, startled by the interruption. He quickly jumped to his feet and scurried across the room to the doorway, just out of sight where he spoke to the newcomer.

“Ah, excuse me, sir, you’re not supposed to in here. Do you need directions to the ballroom?”

“No. I’m here to see those patients over there.”

“Visiting hours are over, like a long time ago. It’s the middle of the night.”

“Get lost, kid.”

Kizu heard the familiar pop of someone jumping. Then the man’s footsteps sounded as he strolled forward. It took Kizu a moment to realize what had happened. The man had sent the student away with an external jump, likely routing him up to the academy’s beacon. That meant the man exercised a great deal of control over spatial spellcraft.

Suddenly, Kizu was on high alert. He swung his legs off his bed and moved over to Anata’s side. She slept, completely unaware of the man approaching them. Mort stiffened, turning his attention away from the lightshow outside.

The man rounded the corner. He wore a dirty uniform and an uneven beard on his face. Fleas speckled his body. It took Kizu a minute to recall who he was. It had been nearly half a year since he last saw the man.

“You’re an Elite,” Kizu said, he shielded Anata with his body.

The man grunted. Then he walked past them and over to Aoi’s bed. After a quick examination, he placed a hand on her scalp. Kizu heard some slight popping, as the Elite rearranged the fractures in her skull, fitting them back into place.

“You did a good thing,” he said once he finished with the healing. “Inari needed to be put down. Glad the asshole’s finally dead.”

“Excuse me,” Basil said, sitting up. “Who are you exactly?”

“Taroe.”

“Did the headmaster send you here?” Kizu asked.

“Yes. And he told me the basics of what happened. But I want the details.”

“How do we know that you’re trustworthy?” Basil accused. “Anyone could claim to be sent by the headmaster.”

“Because I haven’t killed the Blood Harbinger or the Ooze Harbinger despite one of them mouthing off to me.”

“What do you want to know?” Kizu asked.

“Start from where we last spoke.”

There was a moment of silence.

“That was nearly half a year ago.”

“I’m aware of how time works.”

Kizu gave a barebones retelling of the events of the last few months. He avoided personal topics like his relationship with Emilia or unimportant things like his day to day class schedule. He also omitted a few other things like using Anata’s blood to advance his spellcraft and breaking the seal for the Kitsune. But for the most part, he remained truthful.

“I want to see this book and necklace,” Taroe interrupted when Kizu mentioned the enchanted items. “Those are invaluable tools.”

“Wait until he gets to the bell,” Basil muttered.

Taroe glanced at the shapeshifter but made no further comment, allowing Kizu to continue. When he finished, Taroe knelt down and ripped open his pant leg, revealing the new reptilian leg attached to Kizu.

“I just gave him those pants!” Basil cried out in anguish.

“Hm. For a necromancer, not bad workmanship.” Taroe tapped the leg and Kizu felt an uncomfortable shiver go through him as the Elite ran a finger down the scales.

“Is there anything I should be worried about?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. This isn’t a natural creature’s leg. Likely a juvenile monster. I recommend you keep an eye on your magic. It’s very possible for you to gain new affinities. Or lose old ones.”

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“But…it’s not going to fall off? It’s here to stay now?” It sounded like such a stupid question. But Kizu desperately wanted to keep the leg attached to him. It was so freeing to finally walk like a normal person again with no pain.

“I will run a few experiments. But your body hasn’t rejected it yet. That’s a good sign. And your soul is stable as far as I can tell. I expected far worse from Aoi. She’s improved substantially.”

“You know about Aoi?” Kizu asked.

“Yes. I helped arrest her mentor. I’ve kept an eye on her ever since I caught her sneaking away to go chat with her family’s prisoner.” He glanced over at the princess and scratched his unkempt beard. “Your headmaster will be contacting her parents about the necromancy used. However, I expect it will go better for her than she assumes.”

“Her family won’t be happy,” Basil stated.

“They’ll be happy she’s not dead by Inari’s hand. That’s the official story. An assassination attempt.”

Taroe then started performing tests on Kizu’s leg, some physical, like flicking it with various degrees of enhanced strength to test its resilience and reflexes, and others magical. He focused a lot of his examinations on the stretch of skin along Kizu’s thigh where reptilian flesh connected to human. It turned out to be the most tender section. At one point, the man jabbed a finger through the edge of the graft, causing Kizu’s eyes to water in pain as the man dug around under his skin. When he pulled back his hand, his finger had started to sizzle and melt, showing bone.

“Interesting,” he muttered, healing his wound. “I haven’t seen anything like this before. The closest is the flesh of unusual Tainted. But this takes it to another degree altogether. Without the Ooze Harbinger’s flesh to act as a middle ground adhesive, adjusting the change in blood, I doubt you would have been successful. More likely, the entire leg would have had to be amputated up to the hip.”

“What does that mean for me?” Kizu asked.

“It means you’ve got a leg again. Lucky you.”

“Could I copy it?” Basil asked. The shapeshifter looked intrigued by the prospect of adding to his collection of possible body parts.

“I doubt it. It doesn’t belong to a true humanoid. From the accounts I’ve heard, you can only take the forms of humanoids.”

Basil grumbled. But it left Kizu with the question of where did this leg come from? Was it just some experiment grown in a lab? Or had it been removed from something? Unfortunately, Taroe had no answers for him.

Through more experimentation, Kizu discovered that any blood withdrawn from near the leg turned acidic. Luckily, it remained centered in that part of his body, returning to near normalcy when it circulated out of the leg. Taroe removed Kizu’s antimagic bracelet and had him test a few basic spells. Since spells were normally cast through a person’s heart, the leg’s blood appeared to not change anything. But more subtle differences in affinities would be difficult to notice.

Besides the leg’s blood, the leg contained far more strength than his natural one. He had learned as much when he smashed it down on Inari’s lackey’s back during their fight. The force had cracked the man’s spine. It also had a far greater grip strength, reminding Kizu of one of Mort’s feet, able to grasp onto things with little effort.

“You’re lucky,” Taroe said after some measurements. “Your legs are still almost even in length. You might have a bit of difficulty balancing but it should be manageable. Barely even a limp.”

Kizu knew all too well about limping. It might be an unnatural abomination, but he felt extremely satisfied by the new replacement.

“Now that your examination is finished, let’s take a look at the Blood Harbinger.”

Anata shrank back as he turned on her. She’d woken up during Taroe’s tests on Kizu and she had watched it all with wide eyes. Kizu didn’t blame her, everything about the man screamed unsafe. From his gravelly voice to his unkempt appearance.

“From this point on, I am your father,” Taroe said to her.

“What?” Kizu said, stupefied.

“Gizrim has been spreading the seeds of this rumor for months now. I have eight different bastards; nobody will think much of me having one more.”

Kizu stared.

The Elite guffawed at his reaction. “Relax, I’m not actually her father. But I’m taking on that title for the foreseeable future. She doesn’t need to call me anything other than Taroe, most of my kids do anyway.”

“Anata doesn’t speak.”

“You just said she did earlier tonight?”

“That was different…” Kizu wasn’t sure how to explain it.

Thankfully, Basil spoke up.

“Anata is the daughter of a Blood Lord. Like how I inherited a bit of the magic properties of my fathers, she inherited some from Otochi. It only makes sense she could glamour like a Blood Lord. I was wondering why she didn’t display any real similarities to his powers. The Kitsune I met in Tross was able to transform seamlessly.”

“Interesting.” Taroe narrowed his eyes and tugged on his beard. A few fleas abandoned ship and took refuge in the bedding. “Is this why you don’t speak?”

“What do you mean?” Kizu asked.

“If when she speaks, she immediately glamours anyone around, it makes sense her father trained her to keep her mouth shut.”

Anata looked away, not answering as she buried herself under her blanket.

“Running away from answers doesn’t solve them,” Taroe scoffed.

“She’s a child,” Kizu said defensively.

“Children got to learn. Apocalyptic children even more so.”

Once Aoi woke up, she chased Taroe from the room, throwing anything she could get her hands on while hissing like a cat. He appeared unperturbed by the thrown objects, but left the room, formally dismissing himself with a bow for the princess.

She did not hold a high opinion of him.

“He’s nothing more than a disheveled rat. He’ll sell you out to advance his reputation in an instant.”

Kizu and Basil shared a look.

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?” Kizu asked. “He seemed pretty reasonable, all things considered.”

“Ha. Reasonable. As if. He hates necromancy. I tried to get him to call off the execution.”

“Ah, I see,” Basil said. “He mentioned that.”

“He mentioned ratting me out to my parents? He’s the reason they so anally keep track of my going-ons. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to study necromancy with their constant interference? It’s next to impossible! I have to scrounge up every bit of resources I have and then keep it all completely hidden, or else it will get tossed out with tomorrow’s trash! And it’s all because of him.”

“At least he patched you up,” Basil pointed out. “It seems like you’re back to normal.”

Aoi touched her head, then she paled, obviously remembering.

“My cousin-”

“Dead,” Kizu said. “The monster under Owl’s Respite tore him apart. The headmaster said he’s going to make it look like an assassination attempt on you gone wrong.”

“Not much of a stretch of the truth,” Aoi said darkly. “He murdered my cousin. And she wasn’t his first victim. We’re lucky.”

“Unfortunately,” Kizu continued slowly. “This means that your friend, Taroe, now knows about our ship.”

Aoi’s eyes widened to saucers. She leaped out of bed, throwing her sheets across the room.

“NO!”

She dashed from the room, slamming the door closed behind her and leaving the rest of them bemused.