Symon waved back at the boy and continued along the road, his mind whirring as he contemplated how his healing worked. He'd given the kid back as much vitality as had been accidentally taken from him, and yet the injury still healed. The total amount of vitality was the same, so Symon was a bit confused as to why it had worked. It was like he'd taken water from a bucket, poured it back in, and then ended up with more than he'd started with.
That didn't make any sense, as even magic couldn't just make something from nothing. If a mage were to generate fire or water from thin air, it would cost them mana. If he were to heal someone, it would cost him vitality. How was it then that he could use someone's own vitality to heal them, without any extra from his reserves entering the process?
The issue lay in that Symon still didn't know what vitality was. It had some link to physical health and robustness, as someone with a high Constitution like Atabek could safely give more than someone like Safiya, who had focused on different stats. Physical size also seemed to have an effect on how much vitality something had, with small bugs dying almost as soon as the draining thread attached to them while the much larger Razor Stalker took several minutes to go down from his draining, and that was even including the Dumosans injuring it.
So, everyone had vitality in their bodies, presumably also Symon. In addition to most people, he also had the vitality storage in the form of his vessel, which was displayed in his Ledger. Just like Symon, there was no 'body vitality' section in anyone else's Ledgers. In fact, both Keelgrave and the Dumosans treated the word vitality similar to the English word 'health'. The very old, very young, and the sick had poor vitality. Those in their physical prime, especially those who were particularly fit, were said to have a strong vitality.
That was easy enough for Symon to understand, as long as he pictured vitality as just being a representation of someone's overall health. The problem was he didn't understand how it worked. Vitality wasn't just some abstract concept, it was a tangible thing he could take, give, and feel. Even now, he could sense the gently swirling mists inside his vessel.
He already knew that his magic did something to the vitality he took when it reached his vessel. This was what enabled him to use foreign vitality to heal, so perhaps it also made the vitality... stronger? If he took one unit of vitality from someone, and gave them back one unit of Symon-enhanced-super-vitality, it would result in a net positive for them.
Symon let out a deep sigh as he walked. Damnit, then where does that bonus even come from? I've just worked myself back to that something-from-nothing problem...
He considered this problem for a while. Perhaps it wasn't that his vessel was making the vitality stronger, just more focused. After all, the bump on that kid's forehead would have healed on its own eventually. Had Symon just taken some of his vitality, told it 'go heal that injury now' and given it back? That seemed feasible to him. If that were true, the kid would still have less vitality in his body, meaning his injury was healed but he was overall less healthy. Presumably, it would be easier for him to get sick, and any future injuries would heal slower, at least until his vitality naturally regenerated.
Actually, it's kind of like how chemo might get rid of your cancer, but you wouldn't say it's healthy.
It was just a theory, but it seemed to fit with his past experience with the magic. He could even test if it was true, although obviously not on the kid. He tried to imagine explaining to the kid's mother that he only needed to cut her son a little bit and laughed. That sounded more like something his spirit roommate would do.
"Nothing, nothing, just thinking about how different we are," Symon said.
"You were kinda short though, right?" Symon had only been slightly above average back home, but most people here were noticeably shorter than him.
"Unless everyone in that city were half-giants and built their doorways to scale, yeah, you were. You can't lie when I see your memories," he laughed.
"I'm sure you weren't compensating for anything with that giant gun you strapped to the front of your ship. Seriously though, what the hell was that thing?" It had seemed oddly futuristic, more like a laser gun than the fireball cannon he'd been expecting. He could still remember the fear Keelgrave had felt when it fired, even though it was his own weapon, as well as how eerily silent it had been as it decimated the docks of that city. Plenty of uninvolved innocents must have died, but he knew better than to admonish Keelgrave for it. It would have been pointless.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"I know what you mean, I felt it through your memories as well. The Grymjaw seemed to like it, though."
Keelgrave chuckled softly.
He sounded legitimately sad, one of the few times he'd shown any approaching that kind of emotion, which was saying something considering Symon had first encountered him trapped in a room with his long-dead crew. I thought he could only be sarcastic and angry...
"What happened to, uh, her?" Symon asked.
"I'm sorry. She seemed really badass," he said, not feeling like he should push for any details.
Symon smiled. He could certainly do that. Durga's tavern and inn were in view, the familiar squat stone and wood structure taking up the same space as several houses. It was still work hours so it wouldn't be particularly busy, but there was no way he'd be able to sit down in there. Once again, he'd have to stay out in the back.
That was fine, though. His friends could join him out there, and the outdoor weather was much more pleasant than he was used to with the cool breeze from the sea.
When he walked out back, he found that things were much the same. Simple benches and chairs sat out, arranged without any sense of planning, while a few large trees provided shade. A lone older man was nursing a mug of beer off to the side, but barely spared Symon a glance before returning his attention to his drink. Symon nodded at him, but he didn't think he'd even seen it. With a shrug of his shoulders, he approached the back door before opening it up and peering in.
There were about a dozen people spread out through the interior of the building, mostly burly men that he assumed were miners. He also spotted Durga, polishing a mug behind the long bar that took up an entire wall. It was such a prototypical bartender thing to do that he couldn't help but smile. For as different as Cathar could be, some things were also strikingly similar.
More importantly, he also spotted his Dumosan friends. They were all in one corner, Safiya and Atabek appeared to be arguing over something, while Aslan sipped his drink and observed. Their words were loud, although the tone was friendly. That was one thing he'd noticed about them in their travels — they'd never gotten into a fight or even just been snappy with each other, even with the stress of travelling through monster-infested fields. He only knew a few words of Dumosan so he supposed they could have just been wishing death upon each other in a cheery voice, but he didn't think that was the case.
He gave them a wave and Safiya — the only one facing him — spotted him after a few moments. She pointed him out to the others, who turned around to face him. Aslan gave a nod, while Atabek enthusiastically waved before giving a thumbs-up.
He's really taken a shine to the thumbs-up...
Symon pointed his own thumb over his shoulder, signalling back the way he'd come. The others understood he wasn't able to safely come inside, so they all stood up and made for the door, taking their drinks with them. Aslan paused to speak to Durga, so Symon guided the remaining pair out to a nice large table with plenty of shade.
He scooted all the way to the end, leaving them plenty of space to sit without getting in range of his draining.
"Hey guys," he said. "Things been calm for you?"
The two Dumosans shared a glance, Safiya having to crane her neck back to a comical extent just to make eye contact with Atabek. The height difference was even more pronounced when they sat next to each other. They seemed to come to the agreement that Safiya would attempt the talking. She had slightly better Common, for one, but Atabek also just wasn't a very talkative person.
"This... uh... this?" She said, pointing toward her big clay mug of beer.
"Um, I think it's a stout," he guessed. He didn't really know the types of beers, but he was pretty sure stouts were dark like the drink the mug was.
"Yes, yes, stout! This stout-beer good," she said with a satisfied smile. If that was the most important thing she felt like mentioning, then he was confident that nothing bad had happened. It wasn't that he'd been expecting something horrible — after all, they'd been in Brackstead before they'd met him and hadn't had any problems — but it was always good to check in.
"Symon beer?" she asked.
"I think Aslan is getting me one," he said, to which both she and Atabek nodded approvingly. "And I've got the spare coins to pay for it now, too." He pulled out a small pouch that Lado, the old mayor's son, had given him, and jingled it suggestively.
At that point, both Safiya and Atabek started pumping their fists in the air and chanting "Beer! Beer! Beer!" Everyone paused when Aslan returned, but redoubled their efforts once they noticed he had two mugs in each hand. After a moment's hesitation, Symon joined in with the chanting too.
"I see you have gotten them all riled up, friend Symon," Aslan said with an amused smile.
Symon laughed. "I think they might have had a few drinks already."
"Indeed so. I cannot attest to the taste, but it is cheap. Were your travels well? The hearthkeeper Durga informed me you went to visit the mayor of this village."
"Well, there was a minor incident, but nothing I couldn't handle myself. It all went pretty well, and I learned a lot from the mayor and his son. Oh, and they're letting me stay with them as a thank you for the healing. Sure beats trying to figure out how I was going to get up into a room on the upper floors here," Symon said, looking up at the top levels of the building that contained the sleeping rooms.
"Your magic goes through walls, yes? I suspect the rooms are small enough that it would be a problem even if you climbed in through the window."
"Hmm, yeah, that's true. The range has gone up too, after that little scuffle I had. At least three metres, so be careful." The table they were seated at was plenty long enough, but it did make passing drinks a little awkward. Aslan just slid one of the mugs down to him, but he suspected he might miss one if he got truly drunk.
Aslan passed out the other freshly filled mugs to the others, and everyone lifted theirs up into the air.
"To new friends!" Symon toasted.
"To new friends," Aslan said with a smile.
"To new friends!" Safiya chirped, a big grin on her face.
"To new friends!" Atabek rumbled, although it was clear he didn't understand the words. That didn't stop him from chugging down his drink right after, though.