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Engineered Magic - Trueborn
Trueborn: Chapter Twenty

Trueborn: Chapter Twenty

Chicago was a bustling hub of commerce. There were more shops than ever. They were selling armor and weapons in more advanced styles. Elie, downtown's top blacksmith, was selling plate armor bracers and greaves. There was a note about special orders scrawled on the wall that made Irene suspect even more pieces were available for a price.

The halls were crowded with warriors fresh from the border. Irene saw several missing fingers and one missing ear. The missing ear surprised her, she thought that it would regrow on its own without any healing. Apparently not.

There were a lot of new drinking and gambling establishments. For the first time, Irene saw something very close to prostitution. That shocked her. Speedwell's history lessons claimed that prostitution was the result of inequality between the sexes. Its arrival here showed a much deeper divide between the men and women than Irene realized.

Women stayed in the settlements more, bearing and minding children and becoming crafters, while men faced the danger of the structure, becoming warriors and scavengers. The population was getting a little uneven, with more women than men, because men were far more likely to be killed. Even with their lower numbers, men were making all the decisions and controlling the flow of coins from prize money.

Crafting was not a less valuable contribution to a settlement than fighting. There was no reason a man couldn’t be a crafter. Minding and teaching the young was just as valuable as hunting and bringing home food and raw materials.

There was no reason why women couldn’t be scavengers and warriors. Redfalls’ gatherers were all women. They went out and faced the same dangers in the green that hunters did. An animal could be faced down and killed with a weapon and strength, but it could also be defeated with magic using a flick of the hand. A larger physical size was not a guarantee of safety.

All the adults here were raised on the Speedwell. If asked directly they would agree all those roles were valuable and essential. There was no honor or shame associated with any of them, and yet…. here they all were.

For once Irene didn’t think Control was responsible for this development. Just like the emergence of royalty in Londontown, it echoed too closely the sins of history on Earth to have come from anywhere but humanity itself. Although Irene suspected Control might be taking advantage of the situation.

The Chicago hospital occupied four suites instead of just the one Irene remembered. The rooms were littered with fighters with more desperate injuries, including missing limbs. There was a shortage of nursing assistance. Irene itched to cast her tier four heal on all those with missing limbs. At the same time, Irene realized that a missing hand would send them home to their suburbs and their families and away from the border.

Irene settled in at the side of a fighter with a gut wound. He didn’t look good. Irene pulled her main water flask off her belt and began dribbling water onto the man's lips. When the lights cycled down for night, Irene cast a quick tier one heal. He moaned and twisted, the only sign of life she saw from him so far. In the horror of the ward, no one noticed his reaction. About an hour into the night, one of the nurses came over to check on him.

“Is he your spouse?” the nurse asked her.

“No,” Irene responded. She dribbled more water between his lips. Irene thought he might have swallowed. She pulled a small cloth from her pack earlier. She used it to bathe the dry skin of his face.

“I don’t think he will make it,” the nurse warned. “Not all of them do. You need to prepare yourself.”

“He needs food and water to fuel his recovery,” Irene countered. “Is there any available?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied. “It is for patients only, not visitors.” Irene held up the water flask she was using to give water to the patient.

“I have my own,” she said.

“I’ll fetch it for him,” the nurse replied. Irene didn’t really expect the woman to return. She dug through her pack and came up with some travel food and a small copper bowl she found scavenging around Londontown. She added water to the bowl and put in some dried fruit, hoping to soften it.

It was nearly half an hour later when the nurse returned. She carried a flask and a tankard of hot broth. She was surprised when she saw Irene’s soaking fruit. She handed the broth and water to Irene before settling down onto the floor next to her.

“Are you from the same suburb?” she asked Irene.

“No,” Irene responded. “He reminds me of my brother,” Irene found herself saying. Not Phillip, ruling Londontown at Mother’s side, nor Christopher, who was running the war from the other side, nor Benjamin raising his family in the eastern villages. This man reminded her of Thomas, her second youngest brother, who was always the jokester. Irene last saw him a few months after the landing, nearly fourteen years ago, at her father’s memorial. “I haven’t seen him in a really long time,” Irene said. She returned her own flask to her belt and began giving the patient water from the new one.

“Not many sibling groups stayed together,” the nurse observed. Irene could hear the fatigue in the woman’s voice. She looked at the woman and could see she was just as damaged as the patients. Irene rose to her feet, and made a round of the room. She offered water to every patient that was awake. For the sleeping patients she tried to judge if it was a healthy sleep, or just unconsciousness. She didn’t think anyone else would die in the room that night. When she circled back around to her chosen patient, the nurse was asleep.

Irene sat back down and started trying to feed her patient broth and moistened fruit. He murmured something resisting her and Irene knew that he too would live. She was insistent that he eat.

Now that she studied him, Irene could see he didn’t share much of a resemblance to Thomas. It must have been a trick of the light that caused her to think of her brother when she first sat down. It didn’t matter. She needed to sit next to someone during the night. This man needed care and she could give it to him.

“You have experience with this,” the nurse said, when she woke from her nap.

“I always volunteer if I stay the night in Chicago,” Irene responded.

“You’re not a resident then,” she said.

“I’m a trader,” Irene said. It was the easiest explanation for what she was. “I’ve never seen the hospital so full, or so many nurses.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“There are never enough nurses,” the woman replied. “Darien pays us, but there are easier ways to earn coins in Chicago. Most of us nurses are war widows, with kids to feed.”

“Darien pays?” Irene asked. “That is new, when I volunteered before it was funded by donations and fees.”

“After the first few wounded died, the warriors became angry. Darien funded the hospital to keep them fighting,” the nurse explained. The nurse moved to pull herself to her feet.

“Rest,” Irene told her. “I’ve got this room for now.”

The nurse was out like a light. Irene rounded the room again, confirming that all the other patients were now sleeping soundly.

Her patient mumbled and actually woke up. He blinked several times, looking at the room around him.

“Try to drink this,” Irene said to the man, handing him the tankard of cold broth. He automatically sipped from the vessel.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“The hospital in Chicago,” Irene responded.

“I need to get back to Northbrook,” her patient said.

“You’re not going tonight,” Irene said firmly. “Eat, drink, rest and you might make it in a week.” The warrior tried to get up. Irene made no move to stop him, knowing how weak he would be. He didn’t really fall back, since he didn’t manage to get up. He did manage to drop the tankard. Irene caught it. It was mostly empty anyway. She refilled it with water from the flask, while she waited for him to catch his breath and come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he calmed down, she handed him the water and a piece of dried meat. It wasn’t five minutes later and he fell asleep. Irene rescued the meat and tankard and sat them beside him on a square of leather. Irene judged it was a healthier sleep than his earlier unconscious state and let him rest. When the nurse woke, she went and refilled the flask. When she returned she took the watch while Irene napped.

“Can you take word to Northbrook that I am here?” her patient asked when he woke in the morning.

“You can go yourself in a few days,” Irene responded.

“Please,” the man asked. “It is important to me.”

“Where is Northbrook located?” she asked. He described the location of the suburb. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“Stan,” the man reported.

“I’ll see if anyone is going that way,” Irene said.

“Thank you,” he said, his relief seemed physical. Irene gathered her belongings and stepped out of the hospital into the hallway. She tracked down a woman that looked like a lead nurse and asked about sending a message to a suburb for a patient.

“No, we don’t do that,” the head nurse replied. “They need to find a trader or another warrior heading home to carry it.” Irene swung by several bars and eateries on her way through Chicago asking if anyone was from Northbrook. She didn’t find anyone. Most of the early morning occupants never heard of the suburb.

She ended up at the other end of Chicago at the north stairwell exit. There was no tax on exiting Chicago. Since it was early in the day, the stairwell was clear of hunters returning. Irene went down the stairs. At the bottom exit from the stairs she paused. If she wanted to get back to Redfalls and Ian, she needed to go north through the green. From Stan’s description Northbrook was to the south, and two more stories down. Stan swore it wasn’t far, but Irene knew how long it could take to find the moving target of a suburb.

She cast muffle and camouflage on herself and turned to the south. She moved quickly, trying to shorten the time required for the trip.

Irene walked boldly up onto what looked like a settlement. It was a little rougher around the edges than The Heights and more heavily populated.

“Hold,” came the cry from a guard. “Who are you and what is your business?” Irene could see the group was extremely jumpy. Two guards were holding a checkpoint ahead. One was covering Irene with a longbow.

“I’m a messenger,” Irene called. “I am looking for a specific suburb. What suburb is this?”

“What suburb are you looking for?” the guard called back.

“If I tell you that, I have no way of confirming I have the correct settlement. I want to make sure the message gets to the right place.” There was a long pause as the guards considered her request.

“This is Northbrook,” the man stated.

“Stan’s been injured,” Irene told the guards. “He is in the hospital in Chicago. I don’t think he’ll be able to travel for at least two or three more days.”

“What happened to the others?” the man questioned.

“I don’t know,” Irene responded. “I only spoke to Stan and he just woke up. That was my message, I am going to go now.” Irene said as she turned away.

“Wait,” a woman called. She pushed her way past the guards and approached Irene carefully. She was armed with a spear, which she held in a rest position.

“How do you know it was Stan?” she asked.

“He told me that was his name,” Irene said. She gave a brief description of her patient.

“That sounds like him,” the woman responded, “but someone else was already here and told us he was dead.”

“I know nothing about that,” Irene responded.

“What suburb are you from?” the woman asked.

“The Heights,” Irene responded, without thought.

“Who is your leader?”

“Greg Atwater.”

“That’s right,” the woman replied. She literally paced back and forth across the hall. Irene thought about leaving, now that she knew the way she was pretty certain she could make it back to the green before nightfall. The woman’s obvious distress held her. “Can you take me to him?”

“Are you sure you want to go with her?” one of the guards asked.

“None of it makes any sense,” the woman said. “I need everyone here to stay on alert until I get back. Stan told me about Greg from The Heights. He said Greg is a stand up kind of guy.” The woman turned to Irene. “Will you travel with me? I don’t want to take any more guards from the suburb.”

“Yes,” Irene responded. “If we are going to make it before nightfall we need to hurry. I had some trouble finding you.”

“Let me grab my pack,” the woman responded.

The women set off soon after. Irene only stopped once, to refill her water flask. “What’s your name?” Irene asked as they waited for the flask to fill.”

“Elizabeth,” Irene’s companion replied. “Call me Lizzy.”

“Lizzy,” Irene responded. “I am Irene.”

They arrived back at Chicago downtown just as the lights were switching over to the night cycle. They climbed the stairs to find four guards watching the north entrance for the night. The guards demanded an entry fee of fifty iron coins, or a silver and fourteen iron. Elizabeth paid it without comment.

“What suburb are you from?” a second guard asked.

“Why do you need to know that?” Irene asked. “We paid your fee.”

“I have to record it. Which suburb?”

“Redfalls,” Irene responded. “Ian Black is the leader.” The guards looked startled. Luckily in their startlement they missed Lizzy’s surprise.

“Keep the fee,” the guard said, handing the coins back to Elizabeth. “Redfalls is a primary suburb.” Irene nodded her head like that was perfectly reasonable and arrogantly walked away from the guard post, heading in the direction of the hospital.

“Are you really from Redfalls?” Lizzy asked, when they were clear of the guard station

“No,” Irene responded, remembering it was her claim that she was from The Heights that made Lizzy trust her, “but I’ve been there. I didn’t think it was any of his business where we are from.” Irene took Lizzy to the room she’d left Stan in just that morning. The warrior was still laying on the floor in the same place. He looked much better. Even in the failing light, Irene could see he was still awake.

“Stan,” Lizzy said with relief from beside her. She rushed across the room to hug the man. “They told me you were dead.”