Author's Note:
Warning: As the chapter title implies, this side story may not be appropriate for those who have suffered a recent loss. The lore on the slums and graveyards will be further elaborated in later chapters and the content below may be safely skipped over.
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Thank you for voting in the previous chapter. Looking at the results, I feel a little guilty, knowing I've reeled in so many of you into reading a trashy romance. While the world and lore were originally devised as a garnish to the main dish - it has taken a life of its own, and 25% of you will be glad to know that this is the quiet lull before the storm, and soon romance will take a backseat as adventure and danger awaits in the subsequent chapters as Patreons are well aware.
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Early the next morning, the Painter arrived to repaint the store front and sign. Pino was a jovial mercenary in his mid-thirties and had mostly retired after marrying a successful seamstress. At the incessant nagging from his wife, he had hung up the mantle on delving and took up the odd commission jobs such as these.
“Mornin’ Witchdoctor sir, heard about those Healer shenanigans from miss Iris.”
Exill grunted in response. He had paid the 100 Denar fine yesterday and wasn’t looking forward to paying the Painter again. On top of that, Milo the Healer had dropped by yesterday, threatening he would continue to escalate the issue within the Guild.
Seeing the sour mood of his client, Pino the Painter lowered his tools on the counter and patted the young man’s back, “No need to be a grumpet! It should only take an hour at most to paint the front and thirty minutes for the sign. Tell you what, I’ll only charge a hundred D’s for my services today to help take the edge off, you being a repeat customer and all!”
“Deal, and I want you to confirm the final colour won’t be guildmarked.” Exill took out a silver coin from his pouch and handed it to the winking Painter. Pino gave him a happy salute then began to whistle a merry tune while mixing the paint with its liquid binder.
“Ah~ you don’t know how good mercenaries have it nowadays. Back in my day, it cost five Denars for entry and you really had to milk that run!” Pino grunted as he unfurled a canvas sheet in front of the clinic then continued with his monologue, “I’ve told my wife countless times that entry is free now, meaning I don’t need to take many risks, but she don’t understand, no siree… Women, am I right?”
The bright smile on the Painter’s face became slightly subdued upon spotting the visible pain on the young man’s face. He could somewhat guess what had happened to the Witchdoctor from his expression. There was a saying amongst the old hands, ‘the second most common injury a Merc faces is a broken heart.’ You either lived long enough to get married and settle down, or were lured back by the whispers of easy money in the abyss. There simply wasn’t many ways uneducated folks could earn a living in Ark.
Fortunately, they were both interrupted by a man dressed in rags who did a double take upon seeing the light blue façade of the clinic. He was sweating and out of breath, and communicated through panted bursts.
“Healer sir, please come help my wife. Her labour, it’s gone too long!”
Exill nodded at the Painter to excuse himself and invited the distraught husband to the treatment room. It hadn’t failed to escape his notice that the man had come from the direction of Milo’s clinic, indicating he had consulted with the irritable healer before heading here.
“Has your wife given birth before? How long has she been in labour?” Exill had been on several such calls with Luna before, and knew the questions to ask. The time frames of prolonged labour could mean different things depending on whether the mother had delivered a baby before.
“No… ‘tis her first time Healer sir, and she been going at it for over a day.”
Exill now understood why Milo had sent the desperate husband away. However he was facing a bit of a dilemma. It would be his first time doing a solo C-section, and although he was familiar with the principles by now, an extra pair of hands would really help.
Glancing at the dirt smeared palms of the increasingly distressed father, he hurried upstairs to find Envy stretching her legs against the stair railings.
“I need an extra pair of hands and we need to go now.” Exill turned to leave, but did a full circle after it registered the Vampire’s tunic was soaked in sweat, “You don’t have time to change so throw on my cloak and come downstairs.”
As soon as Exill packed his callout bag, a cloaked and irritated Envy descended the stairs. The two hurriedly locked up the Clinic, with the Witchdoctor assuring Pino the Painter that he would be back soon. Following the distraught husband east towards the very outskirts of Ark, they came upon a ramshackle warren of huts, haphazardly stacked on top of each other to create a dense impenetrable maze.
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Exill had to look away several times as he encountered half rotting corpses of beggars littering the stagnant blind alleys of the slums. Twice, he had to smack away the grasping hands seeking food. After what seemed an eternity, the husband finally led them into a one room house filled with acrid smoke from the unvented stove.
“Keep the damn door open!” Exill directed the husband as he coughed into his sleeve. He crouched down to examine the moaning wife who was pale with pain and exhaustion. Then he handed several towels to Envy and snapped off a series of instructions:
“I need you to warm up some water as fast as you can then join me beside the mother. I know you haven’t done this before, but you just need to grab the baby and make sure it breathes, massage and clear the airways if it doesn’t.”
With that out of the way, he removed the [Wizard Ring] and scrubbed his hand and patient as best he could, then positioned the glowing red scalpel mere inches above the moaning woman’s belly.
“Shh- it won’t hurt a bit.” Ensuring Envy was on standby, he plunged the blade into flesh and in just a few seconds, dragged the limp newborn out by the ankle.
“What are you doing to my wife!?” The furious husband dragged Exill back by the shoulder, causing him to drop the searing scalpel in surprise. In a moment of clarity, the Witchdoctor realised he had been so focused on bringing Envy up to speed that he had failed to set expectations on the procedure with the patients.
‘Damn, the first time I do this without Luna and I immediately mess up.’ Thankfully, the newborn was already in Envy’s crooked embrace, and the Vampire knelt there wide-eyed, watching him struggle with the father. Exill firmly elbowed the desperate husband in the stomach and dragged the breathless man next to his wife, holding him down while he struggled weakly.
“I’m not trying to kill her you fool! Just hold your wife’s hand while I sew her back up!”
‘Can this get any worse?’ Exill wiped down his hand as best he could, and for the first time in months, was glad that the first perk of [Witchdoctor] lowered infection rates. He had looked down on it when it first unlocked, thinking it useless in the face of proper sterilisation procedure, but right now, he hoped all 26 levels of it would be enough.
On autopilot, he clamped the umbilical and massaged the placenta free, remembering to channel healing magic on the site of release so that the mother wouldn’t bleed to death. When he had nearly sewn her back up, he realised too late that something crucial was missing.
The baby wasn’t screaming.
“I can’t feel a pulse.” Envy finally admitted, who had been massaging the newborn all this time.
Exill quickly finished up and joined her, and examined the baby together. For the third time that day, he swore inwardly. ‘If only I had that Berserk pin!’ he lamented quietly. The ‘Berserk pin’ was a 1200 Denar enchanted awl he had developed together with Luna. It had been an expensive experiment that had paid off spectacularly in reviving patients that were at death’s door. Functioning a lot like an adrenaline shot, it had quickly become a valued component of their toolkit.
Pursing his lips, he watched Envy perform mouth-to-mouth for several more minutes until he gently pried the newborn from her grip, then covered it with a towel.
“She’s gone, departed before her first bridge.” He handed the pitiful parcel to the mother, and recited the symbolic words, “May the Spirit safely guide her to the next dream.”
It was a simple heartfelt prayer offered in good faith, and the grieving parents looked away as they embraced each other in pain. He cleaned up as best he could and packed his belongings, then stood outside the doorway with Envy to give the destitute couple some privacy. Envy looked worn and she tightened the cloak around her shoulders.
“Healer sir…” the husband eventually stepped out with the wrapped bundle and hesitantly stood in front of them. He pushed the deceased newborn into the Vampire’s arm and turned to apologise to Exill, “I’m sorry, but I have not the coin to pay you for saving my wife. I’m sorry I assaulted you earlier and I promise to pay you back. Please take my girl and send her off. There is nothing I can do for her here.”
‘Why do I do this to myself?’ Exill breathed deeply.
He had half expected this would happen the moment he stepped into the slums. It was a good indicator that the patients Milo turned away wouldn’t be able to pay up. However he didn’t show his distaste at being fooled out of his services. It had cost nothing but his time. After all… it couldn’t compare to the loss these two suffered today.
“Bring your wife to my clinic in three days’ time, we will sort out an instalment plan.” Exill replied gruffly. It was unlikely they would be able to pay the full amount owed, but he had a reputation to uphold, and it also afforded an opportunity to check up on the wife’s condition. With that, they left the slums back towards the Clinic.
“Let’s drop by the graveyard.”
The reason the grieving parents had been so desperate to push the pitiful bundle into Envy’s arms was that they lacked the ten Denars it cost to leave a body at the graveyard for disposal.
Dealing with the corpses of countless destitute beggars and orphans had become a societal issue, especially if you were a shop or homeowner in the Outer City. He had seen the Tailor next door shoo away a poor girl from his storefront at night, afraid she would die there come morning.
If you were unlucky to have someone die at your doorstep, it was your responsibility to deal with it. Some resorted to relocating the bodies under the cover of night, making it someone else’s problem. However that in itself was a punishable offense, and it was forbidden by law to transport corpses unless it was directly to the graveyard.
Soon, they reached a small yard, the perimeter fenced off with wrought iron. The stench of decomposing corpses pervaded the sombre atmosphere.
A hooded grave keeper limped along the grounds, piling bodies onto a nearby hand drawn cart. He turned around upon spotting the duo and leaned tiredly against the cartwheels, wheezing softly with one hand outstretched.
Paying the hooded man a large copper coin, he waited as Envy gently lowered the swaddled bundle amidst a pile of entangled corpses. Some colour remained in the newborn’s cheeks, and it contrasted sharply against pale pallor of the dead. These were the bodies of paupers, slaves and orphans that were gathered at various points in the Outer City - scheduled to be carted off where they would be incinerated outside the city limits.
‘This is the best I can do.’ He thought with a heavy heart. Burials were for the rich and nobles. Even then, the mausoleums were located far away from populated areas because of the weird phenomena they attracted. Besides… who would remember this nameless child when countless others died each day?
He tugged Envy’s reluctant sleeve and slowly turned away.
“Let’s go home.”