DOCTOR LORDE WAS AN EXTREMELY DEVOUT, FUNDAMENTALIST DOCTOR WHO WAS WELL KNOWN FOR HIS PERSONALITY AND MEDICAL SKILLS. HE CARED GREATLY FOR THE COMMUNITIES THAT HE SERVICED, AND THE COMMUNITIES HELD HIM DEARLY IN THEIR HEARTS.

The doctor himself was by no means physically imposing. He was around average height for a man his age (the exact number is a mystery only he himself might know), and not muscular. He had black hair, a sharp, straight nose, thin lips, and pale cheeks.

His choice of clothes was not much to look at, either. Underneath his medical gown, he wore plain, simple clothes. Usually, there was some form of monochrome tunic with a pair of plain, brown pants. This getup matched what locals would normally wear, as well as the desert climate of the area he operated in.

He was a well-received doctor because of his dedication to the job. He spent at least several hours every day taking cases personally, which was rather unusual for the head doctor of a chain of offices. Successful doctors would often practice less as they dedicated more time to management. Doctor Lorde, on the other hand, preferred spending less time on the administrative side, and more time putting his skills to good use.

Doctor Lorde was happy at the moment. He was caring for a family in one of his local offices, and their health was doing exceedingly well.

Though they lived quite far from this little town, the family would make sure to schedule appointments with him whenever he came around. They and he were very familiar with each other.

“Ah, I see that the little one’s knee injury has healed well in the past few months,” Doctor Lorde commented smilingly after an inspection.

“Yes! Your medical skills are truly unrivaled. She was able to run around without assistance just weeks after the operation. Your technique certainly surpasses the famous Worker medical practitioners.” The mother had always lavished Doctor Lorde with praise.

“Surely not! I can confidently compare the skill of Workers to the magic of fairytales. My methods are not magical in the least,” Doctor Lorde responded as he usually would.

“Aye, I can’t help but agree with my lady on this one. Truly the best,” the father interjected, “Speaking of, my son here still has great interest in your art, if only you are willing…”

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“No, no. My unrefined arts are hardly worthy of being passed on.” Doctor Lorde had never really wanted an apprentice; he had other things that concerned him more.

Seeing that the doctor was unwilling to pursue the topic of an apprentice, the man changed topic:

“Actually, I have a question about a member of my family who is not present. They have come down with some sort of illness that could not be identified, and we thought that you may enlighten us. Here are the symptoms…”

Doctor Lorde’s previously cheery mood changed when he heard mention of a mysterious disease.

At first, the symptoms sounded common. It started with a light cough, which eventually disappeared. Later on, the patient in question experienced short breath, muscle atrophy, and brittle bones.

The symptoms the man described matched just right. Doctor Lorde sighed internally.

“Well, it would be best if I could meet with this patient in person, sooner rather than later. In the meantime, have them take this,” he handed the family a small vial of medicine, “every Monday and Thursday until it is convenient to visit me.”

The vial was filled with one of his self-made concoctions, and the mother stowed it away unquestioningly. Doctor Lorde’s medicine always had fine efficacy.

After the visit, the family left. All in all, this time around with the group had been immensely fulfilling. Their physical health was well, his medicines (which were, in fact, slightly experimental) had all worked as intended, and the family had already scheduled their next appointment.

And yet, Doctor Lorde was not happy.

Why was he not happy?

As a doctor, he was responsible for the health of the communities that he served. He found great joy by taking in sick and afflicted patients, and returning healthy, happy people. He operated off of the maxim that it would be ideal to never see a patient again (assuming that said patient was healthy, not dead).

However, there was a problem that he had been noting over the course of the past few years. He had noticed a rising trend in the number of cases of a seemingly unidentifiable disease. This disease seemed to be quite contagious, but he had no idea as to how it spread. It did not seem to follow any of the standard transmission methods such as breath or blood, and cases would appear randomly throughout a population.

He had never seen a record of a cured case, neither had he witnessed a cure personally. This brought him great anguish. There was nothing he could do except treat the ill patient to the best of his ability while he researched a method of treatment that would lead to a cure.

His attempts had been futile so far, to the extent where he was convinced that they could not be rid of this disease using his own fundamentalist methods, without any of that oh-so-mysterious Energy involved…

He hoped that he could find a cure before this situation worsened significantly.