Jack sat in the waiting room, where fifteen other patients sat, awaiting the one and only doctor in the area.
Luckily for Jack, he was the 6th person in line. The room was still crowded, a few nurses walked in and out of the doors, collecting boxes from inside to treat the people. Some were more injured than others. A woman was missing her leg. And one man was bandaged all over his body.
Jack felt a sickness in his stomach, not just from whatever he contracted recently, but from the realization that his actions had undesired outcomes.
“Mommy, it hurts!” A girl called out.
“Hush now. The doctor will see you soon.” The girl sat in her mother’s lap. Jack was horrified by what he saw. The girl had a wooden stake sticking out of her hip. She couldn’t have been older than seven. She wore a traditional Dapk; A coat made from wool and twine.
What have I done? He thought. You liberated Keywark. A voice answered in his head.
But at what cost? After the explosion, he regained consciousness on a metal rooftop. He could barely move, his back damaged by his fall. The view of the crumbled Castle Keywark snapped his memory back into place and he fled, with many of the other refugees, to Gahvin.
“Jake.” A nurse called out.
He snapped out of his daydream. He was now at the front of the line, and everyone was staring at him.
“Next.” The woman called out again. She was a cross-human, with rabbit ears on either side of the nurse cap she wore.
Jack got up slowly, grabbing a stick that he had used earlier to walk. He hobbled over to the door, every step hurting more than the last. The nurse shut the door behind him.
Inside the room was much cleaner than the waiting room. Jack sat down on the cot.
“Hello, I am Gerald. I am your doctor.” Gerald said.
Jack pulled back his sleeve, revealing the swelling on his arm.
The doctor paused. He looked pale.
“Just tell me what it is.” Jack said, breaking the silence.
Gerald opened Jack's palm. It hurt. A lot.
“Yes, I'm afraid you've been poisoned by Asdewn toxin.”
“What?”
“Asdewn. It's the name of the toxin found in Keywark produce.”
“Can you treat it?” Jack asked.
“I'll have to take a blood sample first, everyone's body reacts differently. I’ll say, you should count yourself lucky to have come immediately as soon as you knew you were poisoned. Sadly many do not receive care in time.”
Jack’s throat went dry. “Immediately?” He asked.
The doctor paused whilst preparing a needle. “Well, although thanks to advancing medicine, better treatment has been discovered, Asdewn is still highly fatal. People poisoned by Asdewn last little more than two days, or more specifically, 50 hours. But it doesn't matter, you came fast, and I'm glad you did. Now, which arm do you want-”
Fatal in two days? Jack grimaced. He had noticed the illness about a week ago.
“Umm… what happens if you have Asdewn for longer than that time?”
The doctor paused again. Jack could tell that Gerald was taken aback by the question.
“Excuse me?”
“What I asked doc; what happens after that?”
Gerald blinked. “Well… you, umm… die, I suppose?”
“Suppose?” Jack asked.
The doctor seemed annoyed now. “I understand that you are trying to lighten the mood-”
“I’ve had this illness for about a week now.” Jack said.
The doctor froze. “I find that preposterous. Please lift your arm, I am going to apply the needle.”
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Jack said nothing as Gerald drew his blood. It was not the usual crimson, but rather a sick blueish-purple color. It oozed a cup next to the doctor. He pulled the needle out and put the cup under a lamp. He murmured to himself as he flipped through pages of a book on the counter.
He took another look at the blood, then back at the book, then back at the blood again.
He shut the book. “I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Jack's head shot up. “What?”
The doctor looked at him solemnly. “You have Asdewn, but your blood isn't providing any antidotes. That would mean you were already sick with a different illness at the time of your poisoning.”
Jack sat in his chair for a moment, trying to absorb what the doctor told him.
“I'm sorry, but I have other patients, I hope you understand that I can't waste any more time on you.”
Jack said nothing, simply putting his badly shredded cloak back on.
“By the way, when you said you were poisoned for a week… Were you telling the truth?”
Jack didn't respond verbally, but he nodded to the doctor.
The doctor pondered this. “Perhaps your illness has something to do with the effectiveness of Asdewn? I don't know. We're still learning about this poison. I will keep your blood, if you're okay with it?”
Jack nodded and exited the room. When he was outside, he took a breath of air and straightened his back. It hurt like hell.
He grimaced at his makeshift cane. I should be dead right now. Really, I should be.
He was right. Not only did he survive the confrontation with Corvin at Castle Keywark, but he also seemed to be surviving an illness that should have been fatal days ago. What the hell was going on?
Jack glanced across the street. He caught a glance of a figure standing right across from his position. A dark-skinned and even darker-haired woman wearing a shawl and staring right at him. Those eyes belonged to none other than Belladonna.
He heaved his chest at the sight of her. Quickly averting his sight. A wagon blocked sight of her anyways, and when it finished crossing the crosswalk, she was gone.
Jack grimaced as he walked to the bridge where he slept the whole week. This was not the first time he had seen Bel. In fact, he had seen her on the first day, as soon as he returned in the caravan with the rest of the refugees of Keywark, he spotted her a few times. He never approached her. The reason why was simple: He didn’t want to open Felica’s Jar.
In his time in Keywark, he had learned more about the world around him. It was cruel and unjust, yet beautiful and balanced. However, its delicate ways were not to be tampered with. Results of its manipulation would be disastrous.
But above all, he was afraid of Bel.
Not afraid that she might kill him, he was not afraid of death itself, but rather, how the world went along without him. How it would be a missed opportunity, a chance. He had been sure with all of his heart and soul that he would not survive his encounter with the Ice Lord, yet here he was.
I have no choice now.
Jack knew that Bel could fix him. That she could help him. But more importantly, he was afraid that she would keep her promise, and provide him with the means of feeding his rage.
Jack didn’t know where his violence came from. He felt the same way he did when he killed Curt and Nick at the tavern a few months ago, as he did when he pulled himself from the rubble of the castle. He had never killed a sentient being beyond a slime before. The fact that he could bring his fist down on anything and kill it jarred him.
Either I die, or I finally face the witch.
Jack was already beginning to question Bel’s motives. Initially, he trusted her. But that was when he had little options. Trust forged in a scarce time. But when he saw her walking free, he asked himself if she had really been imprisoned in the first place.
The shade of the bridge hit his face. A popular place for peasants of Keywark refugees. The illiterate, handicapped, and otherwise bottom class. Yes, Keywark was a socialist society, but in any society there will always be a caste system. In the case of Keywark, according to the many conversations he had with those who spoke Aurorian, there were three. The top, consisting of wealthy nobles, visitors, and businessmen, the middle, which made up the majority, of working class individuals, and those at the bottom, who slipped through the cracks and stayed at the bottom, feeding off whatever they could find.
Despite making up a small percentage of Keywark, they made up the majority of refugees migrating to Gavhin. People who failed financially, even under a socialist regime, could simply not imagine surviving under a capitalist establishment. Jack had spoken to a man, who, during an accident on an assembly line, lost one of his legs. As a result, the manager deemed him unfit to work and fired him. His family starved the winter before the overthrow.
As these people huddled under the bridge during cold nights, Jack, amongst them, couldn't help but feel enormous guilt. Not just for the destruction he caused, but for consuming resources that would otherwise feed someone else.
Just one more night, he told himself, just one more.
He was certainly not wealthy, but he had accumulated a decent amount of money while working jigs as a soldier-for-hire. The massive droves of people gathering at the gates of Gavhin attracted other unwanted guests.
Unfortunately for Jack, Peasants weren't the only ones migrating. Those from the working class and the upper class migrated as well, but for economic opportunity. Including ex-soldiers and guards.
With no king or kingdom to defend, there was a surplus of men with military experience that Jack would have to compete with in order to secure a role in mercenary or bodyguard work. And to add insult to injury, Jack was one of the only people to have zero military training to put on his resume. It wasn’t easy, but Jack discovered that even with his broken back, his fighting skills surpassed that of most of the applicants he competed with.
Now he was here. Curled up in his shelter, with nothing but a rusted knife and a broken shovel. Upon regaining consciousness after his fight with Corvin, he discovered that his knife was completely drained of fire energy. He tried igniting it many times to no avail.
He pulled up his cloak, it no longer worked as well as It did. Its once sleek black texture, now riddled with holes and loose threads. It smelled like charcoal when he laid his head down on it. As he stole a glance at his blueish-purple arm he hoped this night wouldn't be his last.