The following week marked a subdued moment for the Clinic. Luna still didn’t visit him in the attic, and they maintained a professional relationship during clinic hours. There was a hidden tension between them, like a taut bowstring aimed constantly at his vital point - and it was wreaking havoc on his anxiety.
Sometimes, he would turn around to catch her staring at him with pursed lips, and the sudden sense of rejection would cause him to break out in cold sweat. The Diviner had effectively struck two lethal blows to their relationship. The first was the implication that he would bring suffering to Luna, and the other was the fact that he wasn’t blessed by the World Spirit. If Savta were to hear of this, it would lead to his immediate expulsion from the Clinic.
To offset this, Exill spent his free time in the morning outdoors, delving into the Labyrinth alone, regardless of the risk of receiving injuries without someone to watch his back. Iris had confirmed that Grundle had a new partner now, and although she was concerned about his safety, couldn’t recommend anyone else to accompany him in the mornings.
This was not to say there weren’t any good developments; for instance he had begun to focus on raising the level of [Monk] at the expense of [Witchdoctor]. The new combat skill was amazing and provided increased damage resistance that scaled with his level. He was deep in the process of integrating punches and kicks with his spear arts.
However, even that positive failed to spark meaningful joy. Glancing at Luna that morning, he sighed and poked morosely at his breakfast. ‘I know she was shocked by the revelation, but it still hurts to see her treating me like a stranger.’
Old Savta eyed the two and inwardly lamented as well. They had been like this ever since their return from the bakery. It wasn’t clear what had brought about these changes, but Luna smiled less and no longer reacted to her teasing and prodding. While it had been her idea to bring Exill into the Clinic, she was having second thoughts about his impact on her granddaughter and was on the verge of cutting him loose. She now turned to the Witchdoctor to relay the news that had been delivered that morning:
“Boy, I received a request from Diallo last night. He wants you to treat two slaves that were caught escaping. Both of them have broken legs.”
Exill closed his eyes. He had been there once before and it had been a sobering experience. Human misery truly knew no bounds, whichever plane of existence you were in. Old Savta nodded her head, empathising with Exill’s aversion. Slavery was a despicable profession.
“Diallo has a dedicated healer since the last incident. Luna can stay here” the old woman instructed.
Luna sighed in relief, but her eyes flickered guiltily towards Exill who sat opposite her. She tried to avoid the slave market because it left her depressed for days, as it similarly did for him.
Last night, she had tried to visit him in the attic. She had stood at the foot of the ladder, willing her feet to take the next step up… but couldn’t do it. An invisible wall had sprung between them. It pained her to work with him day-to-day. No longer did he joke or tease her, his professional smile only directed towards patients.
‘Is it possible for someone to change their entire behaviour at the snap of a finger? Was the previous Exill even real or was that a façade?’ She went down the stairs with the Witchdoctor and helped him pack his equipment and medicine in the travel bag.
“… come back safe.”
Exill turned back, his emerald eyes caught wide in surprise. Then the light in his eyes grew dim and he just nodded and set out.
He walked for some time and came to a walled compound where he displayed his Card to the guards. This was the slave market, and he was loathe to be here.
People of all ages and races were held in cages, no better than animals, all hope abandoned to them. They were purchased by the dozen and usually served as indentured servants or field hands.
Some mercenaries were known to purchase slaves and they were nearly always looked down upon, except for Trey and Maxine. Those two were married and Trey was a free man now.
There were many merchants in this walled compound, and Exill turned the corner to enter a small brick building that was the office of Diallo the slave merchant. A middle-aged man in a simple tunic sat at his desk while stroking his beard. He was bald and well built, his scar lined face devoid of emotion. He looked up as Exill approached.
“It’s you. They are next door.”
Exill waited for a second to make sure he had been dismissed, caught off guard by the man’s bluntness. However, Diallo had already lost interest and had diverted his gaze to studying the tablets before him. Exill left the office to enter a dim warehouse on the right that stunk of piss and blood. He tried to avoid looking at the cages too carefully, and instead walked forward to where a healer was crouching over a large pallet.
Two beastfolk, one male and female were chained to the pallet, limbs outstretched. Exill could see each had broken a leg near the shins. He sighed, hoping they were clean breaks.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
A portly man dressed in fineries who had been examining nearby cages with a frilly handkerchief pressed to his nose turned around in surprise. “Morning Witchdoctor, I’m Healer Perg. You can just call me by name. We haven’t had the pleasure before.”
“Thank you Perg, just call me Exill. Any information on how this happened?”
“Remarkable thing really, they escaped late in the evening and ran through the streets and made it to the Inner Wall. The gates were guarded of course, so they broke into a tower and leapt off the wall! The Spirit bless them that they survived.”
Exill grunted in reply. Looking at their condition, he wasn’t sure they were blessed at all. Squatting down, he pointed to a few locations on their bodies, “It looks like the main damage is in their shins. I’ll be making an incision along here near the worst parts and we can assemble the bones by sight. I’ll need fifteen minutes to prepare, you can take some fresh air.”
The rotund man gratefully nodded and after Perg left, Exill crouched down and channelled mana through the paralyzing enchantment of the scalpel to relieve both of them from pain.
A mixture of relief, regret and hopelessness crossed the slave’s faces as the paralysis set in. Using a razor, he shaved around the swollen sites and generously disinfected the area with dwarven spirit.
“Here, take a sip.”
He poured some of the spirit into their open mouths. The guard standing to the side tutted under his breath, clearly disapproving of his wasteful act of compassion.
‘Has it already been nearly a year since I came here?’ he mused silently.
Looking at the flicking ears of the beastfolk, he was reminded of the pet cat he had left behind. Before emigrating to Switzerland, he would cycle home from the market carrying daily groceries and some treats. On the way, he would encounter feral cats, flea ridden and battered, often missing their tails.
Stopping his bicycle, he would often wonder, ‘Would it be alright to give them a piece of this delicious snack? Would it be cruel, or humane to give them a taste of something they would never experience in their short, vicious lives?’
At the time, he had concluded it was alright to share a little kindness, especially if you had some to spare, but right now, looking at the chained beastfolk… he didn’t know what kindness looked like.
“Sorry I was late; an interesting specimen held me up. A vampire of all beings!” Perg approached him from behind.
Exill nodded as he took position over the male first. Then, he began to make his first incision.
***
Sometime later, Exill cleaned his trembling hands at the trough just inside the warehouse. All his mana had been consumed and the side effects of mana abuse was making itself felt, a nasty pervasive headache made worse by the stench surrounding him.
‘I hope there are no more patients when I return to the Clinic’ he grimly thought.
Turning around, he spared one last look at the warehouse filled with dozens of rows of cages. He was about to leave when a tantalising golden light flickered at the edge of his vision. Apprehensively, he navigated the row of dimly lit cages, following the source of this ethereal tendril of light. Eventually, he stood in front of a rusty cage.
Curious about the phenomenon, Exill took a step to the left and the golden thread also shifted to point at him. Some distance away, a worker could be seen throwing bread into the row of cages. He waited as they passed by, but the shimmering thread resolutely held its place in the air.
Stepping forward to peer into the shaded darkness, the intrepid Witchdoctor observed a fair skinned woman with amber eyes staring off into the distance. For a brief moment, their gazes met, and he realised her eyes were in fact illuminated with an ember that was on the verge of being stamped out. Her hair was the colour of dull crimson, and there was a melancholic beauty to her features that tugged at his heartstrings. Having witnessed his fair share of misery, Exill was nonetheless spellbound by the obvious pain and torment she must have undergone.
He had noticed the worker hadn’t thrown any bread into the cell, so he approached the pockmarked lady who had progressed further down the row.
“Excuse me, is there a reason why you didn’t feed that red haired woman?”
“Oh, you mean the vampire? Nah, she only feeds on blood. Disgusting if you ask me.” She spat on the grimy floor to emphasize the last point.
Exill walked back to the cell, and stood there for long minutes lost in thought. The ethereal golden thread tying them together warranted further study. It was likely that she was a loose thread of fate, as mentioned in the description of the skill [Free Will].
Job Planeswalker (lvl 12) Passive Buff: [Free Will]: the fabric of Fate is torn; you can now see its loose threads
‘Why is it pointing at me though?’ he was puzzled by the strange phenomenon and reluctantly turned away. Old Savta would not stand for him bringing home a slave, so there was little point in indulging this sudden irrational desire to rescue the woman.
Exiting the fetid warehouse, he nevertheless stepped into Diallo’s office and approached the slave trader whose furrowed brows indicated he didn’t appreciate the distraction, “Did you finish healing those slaves? Talk to Ivar my assistant about payment.” He grunted in a low voice.
“The slaves are fine. I want to know more about the vampire you keep on row C.” He ignored Diallo’s robust dismissal and forged ahead.
“What do you want to know?” The Slave Merchant’s voice softened, and stroked his goatee while eyeing Exill up and down. The distaste in the boy’s eyes had been obvious from their very first meeting. He hadn’t expected the famed Witchdoctor to seek out a slave.
“Anything. She is unresponsive and wouldn’t answer my questions.”
Diallo pursed his lips, and something flickered in his dark soulless eyes, “There isn’t much I can tell you. She feeds on blood and has jobs related to combat.”
“What are her jobs and what is her proficiency in them?” Exill concealed his excitement. If she could fight, she could assist him in the Labyrinth and cover his back. Now that Grundle his former partner had moved on; it would help smooth the transition away from Savta’s clinic.
Diallo snorted, “I can’t answer that, but I will tell you this; a lot of people have expressed interest in the Vampire. Even that portly Healer dropped by a minute ago to ask her price. She is 15,000 Denars and you can take it or leave it.”
Exill’s heart pounded at the decision laying before him. Even though there was only 2,000 Denars to his name, there was a strange compulsion propelling him forward. Perhaps it was the thread of fate tying them together, but he had to save her.
“I will think on it.” He reluctantly replied.