After an eventful day, they closed the Clinic and all four of them gathered around the table. Exill opened the ‘Healing Magical Theory’ tome to a page detailing the physical differences of the various races and their common ailments.
“I want you to take notes on this section while I’m cooking, and I’ll quiz you during supper. At this point in time you don’t have to memorize the differences of various organs or race specific glands. Just focus on the general diseases they are susceptible to.”
The book they were studying from was about a hundred years out of date, compared to the later revision he had studied in Savta’s clinic. It was still a veritable tome of knowledge, and found himself reminded of queer facts he had memorised together with Luna.
With that, Exill left the girls and started working in the kitchen. Inspired by the jamba spice and the shrimp like creatures that thrived in the cooler depths of the volcanic caldera above them – he was determined to cook this fantasy world’s equivalent of the Spanish paella.
He fried the rice in lard before adding spices, tomato, and volcano shrimp. Once that was ready, he poured in the leftovers of yesterday’s stock, and this was left to simmer over a low fire while preparing the next dish. This one was comparatively simple, and only required eggs, salt, and water to create a fluffy, steamed omelette.
While this was going on, Dyna sneaked glances at Exill, admiring his rolled-up sleeve and the way his forearms grew taut while whisking the eggs. She ardently desired to be next to him in the kitchen instead of studying theory.
Her concentration was broken when Tsarra, who had been questioning the revelation at the market all day, finally broke and asked a shocking question.
“Did he propose to you?”
Envy raised her eyes from the hole she was patching in Exill’s tunic. Holding the firestone bracelet aloft for the Dwarf to examine, she replied in kind.
“What do you think?”
Tsarra felt her stomach perform a somersault, and excitedly grasped the Vampire’s arm to better inspect the bracelet. She beamed happily at Envy, knowing from casual observance just how much the two of them cared for each other despite their outwardly rough demeanour.
However with the congratulations came an emotion far more insidious. The pressure of abandonment, that her mentor and saviour would disappear one day was an ever present concern in her mind. ‘Would he take me with him when I’m such a burden?’ The answer she feared was that unlike the Vampire, it would be a resounding ‘no’. She fidgeted with her own ring, understanding it was merely an enchanted tool that had been loaned to her.
Envy withdrew her braceleted hand and returned to her sewing, ignoring the desire burning in Dyna’s obsidian eyes.
“How did he propose to you?” she asked, stubbornly refusing to believe the Vampire’s words while biting her lips.
“It wasn’t special… apparently it is enchanted with [Luck+] and he promised me a better fortune in this life, when he slipped it on my wrist.” She tauntingly raised the embedded firestone up to her amber eyes that flashed a crimson red. “It was cute how his hand trembled, saying it matched my eyes.”
Dyna gritted her teeth in jealousy. ‘How could a slave receive a proposal when he wouldn’t spare me a glance!’ She asked a follow up question, dreading the answer, “The ring that Tsarra wears… did he propose to her too?”
The shy Dwarf opened her mouth to deny the allegations, but was quickly silenced by Envy.
“If you are asking if it’s enchanted, it is. I hear it is much more valuable than mine…” The deceitful Vampire smiled while happily leaning into the misunderstanding.
Dyna abruptly stood up and walked to the entrance, her posture screaming of humiliation. With great effort she turned to Exill and cordially explained the situation.
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“Witchdoctor sir, I’m afraid I am feeling under the weather. I doubt I will be able to return tomorrow, and you have my sincere apologies.” She closed the door behind her and hurried away before Exill could even get a word in. He noticed Tsarra appearing guilty, while Envy wore a smug look. He filled two bowls with Virigo paella and fluffy egg omelette, carrying it to the table.
“What did you say to drive her away?” He pointedly asked Envy, who was the likely culprit.
“She was nosy about my past, so I told her what she wanted to hear.” Envy didn’t even look up while continuing to reinforce the stitches on his tunic.
“Never mind, let us enjoy our meal.” He dismissed the incident for now, mentally filing a note to ask Tsarra later what had happened. It was difficult to get a straight answer from the slippery Murderess.
Letting out a quiet sigh, he dug into the carefully prepared meal, discovering to his delight just how delicious it was. They spent a quiet evening of study and taking notes, quizzing each other on the peculiarities afflicting each race. Exill occasionally looked up to find Envy glancing at him, listening along to his lectures.
“What are you doing with Tsarra’s old dress?” He asked during a break, noticing she had patched all his old clothes.
“I’m just undoing the stitches for now. Iris taught me old clothes can be recycled to reinforce and accessorise new clothes.” She easily replied. It appeared she already had plans because Envy was studying the pastel green dress that Tsarra was currently wearing.
Exill suppressed a smile and breathed out his nose in quiet amusement. At times like this, you could squint, and almost forget she was a cold blooded murderess who had eviscerated her previous master. It just went to show how little he knew about her, seeing how she could still surprise him with little things like this.
Turning to the tome spread between them, he continued to study alongside Tsarra.
***
Dyna didn’t turn up to work the next day, or the day after that.
Dark circles had begun to form under Tsarra’s gentle eyes from lack of sleep, brought on by the worsening nightmares, but she handled the patients with quiet competency. Her warm dimpled smiles had grown smaller, and fewer in between.
It was after the sixth evening of their arrival, having wrapped up clinic activities when an urgent knock resounded against the front door. Exill had been washing the dishes after dinner, the rolled sleeves of his tunic drenched from the swirling dishwater. Envy stood beside him drying the dishes with muted efficiency, while Tsarra sat at the dining table, reviewing the notes she had earlier made.
Drying his glistening hands, he tiredly approached the door and was greeted by Father Jonas who looked just as tired as him. Weary bags hung under his eyes, yet despite this, a determined energy flowed through the old man.
“Spirit forgive me for disturbing you so late.” Father Jonas brusquely began, “A child from our orphanage disappeared over an hour ago, not far from here. The militia has called off the search and you are the only one I can count on.”
Caught off guard by the sudden call for help, Exill froze, and the Priest continued to explain the situation in a jumbled panic, “The Commander said the men need to rest, and the boy’s name is Mio, only ten years old and under the care of the Church.” At a sudden loss for words, the desperate Priest beseechingly asked again. “I know he is out there, and time is of the essence!”
Exill lingered in his acceptance. His mana and vitality had been drained from the day’s activities, and he just wanted to lie down and rest. Perhaps he had taken too long to respond, because disappointment soon clouded the Priest’s eyes.
“I’m af-” Exill began, but was cut off by the kindly Priest.
“Don’t worry, my child. It was wrong of me to seek help at this hour. You look tired and should rest.” Father Jonas forgave him and turned away from the door, nearly slipping on the half-step.
Exill watched the devoted Priest amble away in search of the missing orphan and he felt shittier every second. ‘Did he not unquestioningly assist me when I asked for help?’ The shame coursed through him at the thought of the old man searching alone in the darkness.
‘I’ll help for thirty minutes and convince him to abandon the search.’
What made Exill attach the oil lantern to his belt was not the desire the help. There was a premonition… a feeling that come tomorrow, news of the Priest’s disappearance would spread around town.
And when that reckoning arrived, Exill knew he would be stricken with a terrible guilt - for the sin of wanting to rest when someone earnestly called for help. Hefting the spear that stood ready behind the door, he held up a hand to stop Envy who had likewise been about to arm herself.
“I won’t be going far. You should stay here and protect the Clinic.” He raised his chin in the direction of Tsarra, implying wordlessly that she should stay by her side.
Not giving her a chance to protest, he firmly closed the door behind him and channelled mana into a small flame to light the oil lantern that hung on his belt. It had been a while since he had come out during the night, and unlike Ark, the streets of this resort town were dimly lit, especially in this outer orbital road.
Intending to keep the route short, he chased after the receding figure, and the two men were swiftly swallowed by the night.