Yavneck gasped- his eyes opened to the sight of a wooden ceiling of wooden beams and a roof made of thatch.

He stared at the strange sight for a single moment, wondering where he was. He wasn't back in his tent, that much he knew, yet he also wasn't in that hell hole, which if anything, was the worse place he had ever woken up in. He also wasn't feeling pain- a nice change of pace compared to yesterday..? How much time has passed? How long has he been asleep?

Deciding to check for any signs of the passage of time when he was “asleep”, Yavneck searched around with his eyes- first was his body, he pulled off the blanket covering him and stared at himself, a plain shirt and pair of pants were on his person, both made of cheap wool. His hand- oh, he only has one left now, he stared at the stump that was his left hand for a few moments before sighing and accepting his new state.

He… moved on… soon enough and after a while of just sitting there in a daze, Yavneck’s mind snapped back to his body and everything was into focus once more, he continued to check his body, starting by lifting up his shirt and looking at his muscle definition to see if it had lessened, and to his pleasant surprise, they didn’t- either this is a side effect of the strength potion or Yavneck hadn’t been asleep for long enough to start losing any fat or muscle.

Or it could be a combination of both, but he has no way of finding out without any strength potions left. Regardless, Yavneck sighed in relief, glad at the fact that he didn’t have to start exercising or do physical labor to get himself back into shape.

Subconsciously, his eyes moved to his chest and saw that the melted silver that had buried itself into his chest is now gone, replaced by pink skin that still had signs of healing- that last part was especially important to take note of since fresh, newly healed skin meant that he had just gotten healed by the person responsible for bringing him here.

Speaking of which… where was he?

He looked around, in the room were cabinets full of herbs and leather flasks, they were all over the place, filling up every nook and cranny and leaving no space on the walls, and on the room’s only table is a mortar and pestle sitting idly on top, unused and dry.

Those two things are a clear sign that the house belonged to an apothecary of sorts, one that is most definitely working under the God of Healing, and one that has sworn an oath to heal those who had been wounded, no matter what or who they have been before their wounds, which meant that even if the man knew Yavneck is a criminal, the healer would still help him recover until he was at best, safe to be transported to a prison.

He was safe for now, and it would be preferable if he just stayed put and recovered some more for the next few days but he didn't want to waste time nor did he want to risk getting imprisoned, he needed to prepare, needed to move-

The sound of a door creaking open entered his ears and Yavneck stopped moving to face the door, someone started talking- "Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't do it."

An old, wisened voice came from his right, and standing there in the middle of the door frame is an old man wearing a colorful, mess of a robe that looked like it was by stitching together using torn clothes of different origins and colors, the damn thing hid his entire body and Yavneck started to feel paranoid about what could possibly be hidden underneath.

It didn’t help that the one hand that is out in the open had totemic animal skulls hanging from a bracelet the man wore on his wrist- no, not totemic skulls, trinkets. Of the shamanic type too. Yavneck internally cursed, his class wasn’t the type to fight, as it is either for support (once upgraded) or for academic jobs.

And worse still, his Port and Wand are nowhere near him, and Yavneck doubts that he would be able to fight under the current state of his body.

Though, it seems that he is safe as the old man did give off the impression that he wouldn’t harm Yavneck so the [Scholar] found himself relaxing.

Yavneck met the man’s eyes as he observed the man’s facial features- Gray hair, wrinkled skin, and oceanic blue eyes stared at him with passive anger, as for why that is? Yavneck assumed it was because of what the man said to him just now.

"So, you’re probably wondering how I knew you were planning on leaving," Yavneck reluctantly gave the man an honest nod but did not admit his mistake- which is to say, him squirming around in bed, - and confirmed the old man's guess.

The apothecary sighed, "Well, if you work for as long as I have as an apothecary, then you're gonna see some shit kid," Yavneck blinked at the sudden use of crude language and the old man chuckled, he moved forward, grabbing a chair from the table and placing it right next to Yavneck's bed.

The old man placed himself on the seat and started talking, "Crippled adventurers wanting nothing more but to avenge their comrades, stupid children who want to go back to where their family was attacked and kill the thing that had attacked them- cases like that are common,"

Yavneck stayed silent through the explanation, and the old man didn't seem to care as he grabbed a flask of something underneath his messy robe and started drinking it, "You know what I see every time they think like that?" He asked and Yavneck shook his head.

Continuing, the old man leaned back against the chair and faced the ceiling, "I see them as hopeless idiots who lost to the world wanting to take back what has been owed to them,”

Yavneck held back a smirk, finding the explanation odd, especially since it apparently relates to him- he wasn’t hopeless, he didn’t feel that way, In fact, it was quite the opposite as he wanted to move away, not at all willing to risk himself getting potentially imprisoned.

Oblivious to Yavneck’s thoughts, the old man continued, “It’s all the same, all of you lay in that very same bed, hopeless, then you get restless, start to silently panic, start squirming in place with obvious anger in your movements,” The old man straightened his head and looked at Yavneck with an unreadable gaze, “you’re all tempted to leave the bed as soon as possible, and sometimes, I feel bad so I let some of you go and even though I know that no matter what happened to you or how justified all of you are for reacting like that, it doesn't matter, because the Tapestry does not care and all of you will always end up dead."

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

... Yavneck looked away from the old man and faced the wall to his left, even when he couldn't be seen, the voice of the apothecary entered his ears, "So, let me ask you, are you gonna be stupid and kill yourself?"

"... let me leave," Yavneck responded, perhaps he had subconsciously wanted to act stupid, perhaps not, but it was true that he needed to go, "I need to keep moving,"

"Move?" The old man asked sarcastically, "With what? Burned feet? One hand? A cooked chest, and lungs full of ash?" Yavneck heard the man laugh, one of sarcasm, "Kid, you won't get past fighting the children of this village, let alone whatever bandit is waiting in ambush out there in the wilds, stay here and recover. Rest for a bit. Relax. Nothing's gonna happen to you."

Yavneck stayed silent, thinking- should he leave tonight? He moved his toes and... held back a hiss. It felt like stretching a strained, sleeping muscle. How the hell is he gonna move now?

"You're safe here," the apothecary said.

"I know that," Yavneck replied. He knew that the [Great Mage] responsible for what happened to him most likely wouldn't chase after Yavneck, that person’s character didn't seem like the type to do that and even if the mage is a murderer who enjoyed hunting down men and killing them for sport, then Yavneck knew that he can rest assured that people like that would be more than just overconfident in their own power, they wouldn’t chase after a victim they considered dead.

They… he- Yavneck had most likely disappeared from that mage’s thoughts by now.

The mage had displayed something that was far deadlier- no, the deadliest spell Yavneck had ever seen. It managed to wipe out a section of the forest, burning it clean and turning stone into molten slag.

If anyone thinks that someone somehow survived that, then they would be paranoid to the extreme.

And yet... here he was, crippled, yes, but a survivor nevertheless. The mage wouldn't get him, wouldn’t chase after him-

He's safe here.

But Yavneck wasn't convinced of such a frail illusion of safety- he needed to move, "I'm sorry," he said, forcing himself to stand up by pushing against the bed with his remaining hand, "but I really need to go, I don't like my chances of survival while staying,"

Because if he wasn't going to die from the mage hunting him down, then he certainly would when the men of the Fratenian Kingdom searches for him because he had valuable- no, first hand knowledge about what happened back there in the forest and like any power, they'd want answers and would demand to know what happened.

He's not planning to give them any, not only because he refuses to, but also because he doesn’t know anything.

"And you'll like your chances even less in your current state," retorted the apothecary, voice calm yet pushy.

"I've heard the stories you know," he said, "of a powerful explosion caused by a magical artifact near Yarya," Yavneck’s body stopped moving. Then he blinked in shock. Artifact? ARTIFACT?!

For the second time, the scholar noticed that the apothecary didn’t see Yavneck’s anger through his stoic face and kept talking, "Yarya merchants-" Those mouthy bastards, Yavneck cursed their name, "- have told everyone here that it was because of a Bandit attack, and no one believed them.”

“No one?” Yavneck wanted to make sure.

The apothecary’s smile turned wry, “I know most people wouldn't believe that there's a small army of Bandits living in the forest next to Yarya but I know who Teyen is,"

"You do?" Yavneck asked, the momentary shock removing any filter that he had put in front of his mouth, causing him to slip.

"Yeah." Replied the apothecary, "Because he's come here to heal from time to time,"

"And because you serve Clarah..." Yavneck trailed off, hoping that the man would finish his sentence.

And he did, just in a way that Yavneck didn't expect, "I don't heal because I'm forced to," replied the Apothecary, "I do it because that's my job, and discrimination would... ruin that. I guess." He added, "I didn't just swear an oath to Clarah to heal anyone in need, I did it to myself too, and even if I'm not being "forced" to heal anyone wounded I come across, I'd still do it."

"Hm," Yavneck grunted, not really believing the man's words. Everyone had their motives for doing what they do, including the man in front of him. Whatever it was that Teyen offered him in exchange for healing, it was big enough that he was willing to house a man with a thrice evolved [Bandit] class and risk his hide against the soldiers of the Kingdom.

Well... if his ex-leader used to come here to be healed yet go back to their camp just fine, then Yavneck didn't see the harm in letting the apothecary take care of him for the next few days.

Yavneck relaxed his arm and let his body fall back down on the bed.

"Good choice kid," said the apothecary, Yavneck turned to him and saw the man smile, "It's better if you heal and recover in our village before you go back out and do whatever it is that you wanted to do," he said as he stood up from his chair, he moved a nearby shelf and took a small brown bottle made of clay, after that, a violet herb that Yavneck didn't recognize.

With the expertise of an experienced [Apothecary], the old man crushed the herb into fine paste using the mortar and pestle in mere seconds before expertly pouring down the liquid of the clay bottle, then he placed a piece of fabric on the mouth of a mug and afterward, poured the liquid within the mortar into the mug.

A minty smell permeated across the room, and every time Yavneck breathed it in, his lungs would cool and his head would feel light.

Cup in hand, the old man walked over to him and held it out, "Drink, fall asleep, and rest for the day. Tomorrow we'll see if it’s possible for you to go to the forest and pick up a few herbs for me," Yavneck raised an eyebrow, “Payment for healing,”

“Right,” Yavneck murmured. Which part of that reinforces the apothecary’s words of healing anyone wounded he comes across? Why demand payment?

Yavneck didn’t let his suspicions show and took the cup before drinking its contents in one go, he sighed as a fresh feeling enveloped his body, "thanks," he replied, "and sure, I'd be glad to help."

The smile that he gave the apothecary was fake as he handed him the now empty cup.

The old man's smile was a perfect contrast to his own as he took it and nodded and Yavneck, "Thanks, and goodnight."

Before Yavneck knew it, he was already asleep.