The Stranger smiled back with a wide-tooth grin and shrugged his shoulders,
"Why not? I heard it's hip with the kids nowadays, so I thought I would give it a go. I have to say, it turned out better than I thought. The Main menu here is simply for organizational purposes; simply think about which one you wish to access, and it will open. You can bring up any individual menu by simply speaking its name as well, though do so later, we don't have much time left.
The Examine option is the primary function of the System I had mentioned earlier. Simply focus on the target and select examine in your mind, and it will bring up the requested info."
Mark smirked, Focusing his gaze on Stranger and stealthily selected the option, only for a mechanical voice to sound in his head,
"WARNING, HOST DOES NOT HAVE PROPER AUTHORIZATION TO PERFORM THIS FUNCTION"
The Stranger gave a deep bellied laugh and wiped a tear from his eye before pulling a dull, rusty sword from the air. He tossed it to Mark with a flourish.
"You'd not be the first to try, better luck next time. Here, try this instead. I recommend keeping it around; think of it as a good luck charm."
Mark's eyes narrowed as he caught the blade's handle. His brow raised in surprise as he recognized the sword. It was the same dull, rusty blade he'd taken from the creature that had attacked the girl's family just a few hours ago. A sword he'd left behind in the cave...
Mark's eyes once more widened as he focused on the sword.
Legend
Quality: ???
Origin: ???
Status: Damaged
Quirks: ???
Index Entry: This old rusty blade has seen more and been farther than you will ever hope to. It has traveled the world, being passed down age through age. It has been wielded by great and mighty Heroes and common peasant soldiers. It has been used to slay dragons and skin pigs. Its very essence is a Legend, a physical manifestation of History. Just don't nick yourself, you don't want to know what those stains are.
Mark once more looked up at the Stranger, again questioning to himself if the man(?) was genuinely sane or not. More importantly, if he should even trust him. All of this seemed too... convenient, too easy. The man said that nothing was truly asked of him. And yet, if that was true, why was he placed here, of all places? Of all times, shortly before an ambush?
Was it simply coincidence? Or had they known he'd intervene? What would have happened if he hadn't decided to check on the commotion? Or ran away at the first chance? Would they have really just let him go on his way? Or was he, even now, just dancing in the palm of their hand, moving on strings he'd simply not seen yet. How long before those strings became a noose?
Or would he have to spend the rest of his life questioning his every action, his every thought, wondering if what he wanted was indeed his own desire or simply what he'd been lead to believe was.
No...NO....nOnOnonononNO. He couldn't fall down that rabbit hole. Not again.
That way, Madness lies...
He had to at least trust Himself, if no one else. If he couldn't even trust Himself, then what could he trust?
Mark stared down at the rusty blade and took a deep, calming breath before tightening his grip around the sheath and tying it to his belt.
The Stranger looked at Mark with a laugh shook his head before waving the man towards a particular direction.
"Time's almost up, but I have one more 'gift' for you."
The Stranger pointed at the nearby carriage and crooked his finger as if beckoning. The hidden carriage shook slightly as the bottom of the driver's seat slid out with the creak of old wood rubbing against itself. Mark, numb to all of the strange things in the past day, barely flinched before slowly approaching the revealed compartment.
Strange... he was sure he'd checked the carriage thoroughly, in the off chance they might have missed something that could have been of help. A closer inspection of the cubby showed that the seams blended so perfectly together that they would have been totally invisible when closed. It spoke of a level of craftsmanship that far outstripped the rest of the carriage and what he would expect from something so... rustic.
Inside sat a briefcase-sized wooden box, a large book, a folded letter, and a small satchel. Opening the boss, Mark found a surprisingly complex toolkit, similar to antique surgical kits he'd only ever seen on TV. The tools were obviously of exceptionally high quality, almost to the point of looking machine, with several small, brown glass bottles and clean-gauze neatly packed within.
But what caught Mark's attention most was the center compartment, where dozens of bundles of dried herbs and medical plants, some of which Mark recognized and others that looked almost alien. The strangest of all was a long blue stalk of a plant he'd never seen before, one that looked as fresh and vibrant as if it had just been clipped.
Mark lifted the strange stalk into the air, amazed at how fresh it appeared to be despite obviously being harvested long ago. He found the most striking feature of the herb to be its several small but transparent berries crowning its top. The skin of the berries was filled with light blue liquid that glowed slightly in the moonlight. Though they appeared fragile at first glance, their skin was thick and rubbery, refusing to burst even when Mark gave them a good squeeze between his fingers.
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Engrossed in the strange plant, Mark nearly jumped out of his skin when the Stranger called from behind, his voice quiet and soft.
"The box was Merry's Mother, Martha's, Apothecary kit. She loved to experiment and cultivate new herbs and understand how they worked.
Take it to Alexander; he should be able to use what is there for Merry. The Book was meant to be a gift from her Father, Thomas. I'd ask that you hand it and the letter to her once she's recovered. The gold in the satchel, you can keep. It was intended to be used as emergency funds in case something ever happened, but it will be only a tiny fraction of Merry's…inheritance.
Thomas would have wanted you to have it as a way of saying thanks for stepping in when you did. For now, Mark, remember my words well. The world may be cold and dark, but as long as there is even a single person still willing to step up, one flame left burning, the Dark will never overcome that light."
Mark, frowned and turned back around, mouth half-open to ask what the Stranger meant, only to find the road empty. He paused, staring at the empty road for a long moment, before sighing in resignation. Mark turned back to the cubby, clearing its contents, then made his way back towards the path and the cave.
----------------------------------------
He arrived back at the small cave several minutes later, pausing for a moment as he let his eyes adjust to the light. Alexander, the young man he had rescued alongside the little girl, looked up at Mark with dull eyes and spoke, his voice listless and dry, half-mocking.
"What? Did you forget something?"
Mark looked down at the young man, a single brow raised, before noticing the fire. Despite his seemingly extended chat with the Stranger, the fire had barely dwindled, and the small pile of firewood he'd gathered looked no less full. The tired man couldn't bring himself to question or care, though, not with so much more on his mind. Mark didn't bother to respond to the young man's jab, simply tossing him the apothecary kit before walking back to his place beside the fire and sliding down the wall.
Alex glared at the older man but soon turned a questioning gaze towards the box in his lap. Flipping the latch open, the young man peered inside and gasped, his eyes growing wide. When he spoke, his voice trembled, forgetting even to control his volume as his head snapped towards Mark,
"God's Tear?! Where in the hell did you even...?!
... No, no, now's not the times."
Alex quickly stood and rushed over to the little girl's side. Kneeling down beside her, the young man's hands trembled as he began to remove items one by one from the kit. As gently as possible, he cut off the old, blood and pus-soaked bandages wrapped around the girl's head. The stench that filled the small cave as the wound touched open air was terrible, easily overpowering the small fire.
Alex gagged slightly, his face turning a shade paler as the full extent of the girl's injury was laid bare in the firelight but soon focused. As he stared down at the poor girl, still writhing in her nightmares, his heart twisted in pain. With a look of grim determination, he set about doing his best to clean what he could.
When the Forest Goblin struck her, her left eye socket had caved in, crushing the eye and leaving a massive gaping wound for the festering rot to invade. Even now, he could see poison spreading outward from the wound. Whatever it was, it wasn't normal, he could tell that much. It wiggles and writhed under her skin like black threads, digging deeper with each passing moment. What it something Goblin had done purposefully? If so, why?
Or was it just an opportunistic infection, something the vile creature had come in contact with and latched onto the girl when the chance presented itself? Alex didn't know, and he didn't have the skillset to tell.
The young man worked quickly as he did his best to clean out as much of the pus and rotting flesh as he could; God's Tear was powerful even in its raw form, but he didn't have the equipment to properly process it. The more he could physically do, the greater the girl's chances. Mark watched on in silence, his face blank, eyes quietly reflecting the fire beside him.
After several tense moments of work, Alex was finally satisfied he'd done everything he could to prepare. His hands slightly trembling, the young man lifted the blue stalked plant from the box. With a quick snip of a small pair of scissors, he separated the glowing berry cluster and wrapped it in a thin layer of gauze. Alex paused, closing his eyes as he whispered a quiet, desperate plea, then squeeze the clothe wrapped cluster with all his strength.
His hands shook in effort for a few seconds before the bundle gave a small pop, and the clothe caved slightly. The cloth turned color as a light blue liquid slowly seeped from the exposed end, dripping gently into the girl's open wound.
Mark's eyes widened in surprise as each drop seemed to spontaneously burst into shining blue flames on contact with the air. Even more surprising, as each tiny drop of flaming liquid landed on the girl's wound, the flames began to spread like an oil fire, yet the girl didn't seem hurt in the slightest. To the contrary, wherever the flame touched, the rot and pus seemed to burn away into nothing, leaving clean, raw flesh in its wake.
Alex heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the flames move slowly under the girl's skin, eating away even at the hidden rot in her veins. This strain of God's Tear must have been extremely potent for being so powerful, even unprocessed. A small part of him wondered how much a medical plant like this must have cost, even in Grandeur, and he shivered.
The flames continued to spread across the girl's wound, eating away at the rot and decay before they slowly dimmed, leaving a slight afterglow under her skin. As even the glow faded, Merry's breath, once ragged and wet, began to calm, softening into the slow, peaceful rhythm of a dreamless slumber.
Alex chuckled lightly before falling backward, letting out a deep laugh. Despite his aching body, a large grin split his face from ear to ear, and tears of relief slowly fell from his eyes as he lay on his back. The young man pulled himself together after a moment and pushed himself back to a sitting position. The most girl was out of immediate danger, but she wasn't home free yet. God's Tear was famous for its ability to purge toxins and decay, but it left the body weak, and the girl still had a significant wound. Luckily the apothecary's kit was well stocked with both tools and supplies.
Alex worked feverishly preparing and dressing the girl's wound. He finished just before dawn, as the sky was just beginning to brighten, welcoming in a new day. Finishing his work, the young man stood on shaking legs, slapping them lightly to return the blood flow.
He turned towards the opposite wall to find Mark sitting in the same spot he had all night long, eyes bloodshot, large, dark bags under his eyes. Despite his... prickly words from earlier in the night, the man had stayed awake the entire night, ensuring that the fire never so much as dimmed and Alex had the light to work by.
Alex walked over to his sleeping roll and laid down his weary head. Before the gentle embrace of sleep took him, the young man called out, chuckling lightly.
"Hehe. So, who's crack did you pull that one from?"