A few of the city guards had rushed over to help Elaria having spotted her battle with the three goblins earlier but were shocked to find the lone girl sitting on the ground, tapping away in the air, which they recognised as someone interacting with the Chain. The leader of the group, a grizzled old veteran with close cropped grey hair and a nasty scar running down the left side of his square face stepped out and waved at the girl to grab her attention.
“Hey little miss, where did those goblins that were chasing you disappear to? Are you injured?” He asked, wearing a concerned expression.
Elaria finally realised that there was a group of people nearby, observing her. From the light armour they were wearing and the crests emblazoned on their chests she guessed that they were part of the Felspire city guard. They had run over to help her and the leader seemed genuinely concerned, so she got up and put on a bright smile before replying to the older gentleman.
“Well I don’t have much health left if that’s what you’re asking. As for those three little bastards, I just finished sending the last one straight to hell.”
She didn’t know if the concept of hell existed in this world since it was unlikely that any of the abrahamic religions had managed to get their tendrils dug into another realm of existence, although with how persistent they tended to be in aggressive conversion tactics she wouldn’t be surprised. The guards seemed to get her meaning regardless, although they were a little dumbfounded. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence for young kids who’d just had their birthing ceremonies to get a little arrogant and fight the local monsters, often leading to them dying prematurely or having to be rescued, but there was the occasional prodigy who excelled right away after their tenth birthday. This little girl was likely to be one of the latter given that she managed to take out three goblins by herself. Some scions who came from adventuring backgrounds were also given artifacts or magical items by their parents or masters which could help them survive when they were out getting experience, although based on the well worn clothes which had been repaired a few times this little girl didn’t seem to be one of those nepotism adventurer kids.
“Well, good job for managing that little lass, most of the youngins who head out by themselves after the ceremony tend to get into a load of trouble. Even Rigby here almost lost an arm to a kobold back when he was your age. He must’ve been born under a lucky star, because I just happened to be wandering by that moment and saved his sorry hide. Why don’t you come with us to the city, I’ll get one of my boys to take you to a healer who’ll fix you up good and proper. My name’s Wren, what’s yours?” The veteran asked.
“It’s Elaria,” she replied, following the three guards back to the city gates. Her vision was still a little blurry and her muscles ached, and she almost stumbled to the floor but was caught by the youngest of the three guards, the one called Rigby. He was a lanky youth with pale skin and dark hair, the type of boy that might be considered handsome in a rural village, but didn’t stand out in a crowd.
“I’m guessing your parents were farmers then, to name you after the Goddess of Gentle Storms? Couldn’t be fisherfolk, seeing as there ain’t no lakes or seas for nearly a hundred kilometres around,” said the old guard.
The man was amicable and chatty and Elaria found herself answering questions about her hometown and what brought her all the way here as they walked. It didn’t take them too long to reach the gates and as soon as Wren flashed a smile at the men atop the towers, the huge iron bars began to roll upwards and the streets of Felspire revealed themselves to her for the first time. The roads were paved with worn cobbles, and patches of moss and grass poked up through the cracks. The buildings looked like they had been tossed together haphazardly, battling for space. Everywhere she looked there was an overhang jutting out, or some kind of extension that looked as if it might fall to the street below at any moment. Frankly, the houses back in her village were built better than the mess that she was looking at right now.
“She’s not pretty to look at, that’s for sure, but it’s the place we call home. We do the best we can with what little is left over after our magnanimous lord has collected his taxes,” chuckled Wren.
Elaria was shocked to hear a member of the Felspire city guard talk about the Baron so openly. She looked around, scared that someone might have overheard, but the only others present were a few city guards, and they all seemed to be nodding in agreement or chuckling along with the older man. He noticed her terrified expression, and a knowing look dawned on his face.
“Don’t worry lass, unless the royal knights or one of the Baron’s brats overhear you badmouthing him, nothing will happen. From the look on your face, your hometown probably had its fair share of shoddy treatment from that band of bastards, but don’t worry, you’re among fellow sufferers here,” he said, chuckling once more to murmurs of agreement from the other guards.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
It seemed like the Baron was even more heavily disliked in his own city than out in the far reaches of his lands, to the point that his own city guard was openly criticising him. After warning her which parts of the city to steer clear of, and offering directions to some useful places like inns and shops, Wren sent her off to the healer, with Rigby as an escort. It didn’t take them long to reach the place, and if it wasn’t for the guide, she probably never would’ve found it. The sign was buried in an alleyway that you could only reach by cutting through a dimly lit restaurant filled with rough men who looked like they’d murder you for the clothes on your back.
In stark comparison to the grime of Felspire, the inside of the healer’s abode was spotless, and a handsome receptionist dressed in a tailored, pressed shirt greeted the pair with a pearly white smile. Rigby handed over a few silver coins that Wren had given him, and had a short conversation with the receptionist, the amicable tone indicating that the two probably knew each other.
“This one’s just arrived in the city and had a run in with some goblins a few hundred metres outside the walls. Wren said he’ll owe Dr. Lyle a favour. A bit generous if you ask me, seeing as he’s still paying, but that’s just how he is.”
“You know, this is supposed to be a specialised clinic, there’s a bloody pharmacy a few streets away that sells healing potions for things like this. Since it’s the guard captain, I’m sure we can make an exception, but he really should stop sending every straggler that wanders into the city our way,” replied the receptionist, counting out the coins and then putting them away into a drawer.
Elaria was surprised to discover that the old man was actually the captain of the city guard. No wonder he was so comfortable speaking out against the Baron with so many witnesses around. Who would dare to snitch on their own senior officer? After arranging for her to be treated, Rigby said a polite goodbye, and she thanked him for his help before turning to the receptionist. The man looked her up and down, sighed, then waved a hand and opened a door at the side of the room. “Go on then, follow me. Seeing as you’re still whole, this probably won’t take too long.”
She did as he asked, and went through the white door into a corridor. He led her down for a short distance, stopping at another white door at the end of the hallway. He knocked twice in succession before pushing open the door and stepping inside the room. There was a bed in one corner, a few cabinets on the walls, and sitting in a chair beside a white desk was a dishevelled man, with day-old stubble and scruffy hair, and food stains on his shirt. Hopefully this wasn’t the healer. He looked more likely to give her a septic infection than cure her wounds, although perhaps the magical nature of this world bypassed such mundane hygiene practices? Even if that was the case, he could’ve at least put on a clean shirt.
“Another one from the Captain, he said he owes you a favour for this one. He paid in full too,” announced the receptionist, before making his way back to the front desk.
The scruffy man, who she presumed was the aforementioned Dr. Lyle turned to her and motioned for her to sit on the bed. She did as he asked, and then he grabbed her hand, and she could feel a stream of energy entering her body through their connection. After it had done a full cycle of her body, it dissipated, and the doctor released her hand.
“Looks like it’s just some missing health points. Why does that bastard Wren always send the easy cases to me, he knows you can buy healing potions for things like this. Waste of my damn time,” he muttered to himself.
While Elaria was internally berating the unkempt doctor for his lacking bedside manner, he put his hands up, palms facing towards her, and started to channel some kind of healing magic, gentle green light gathering around his hands and flowing towards her. When the small particles of light made contact with her, they simply melted into her, and an incredibly comforting warmth spread throughout her body. She pulled up her status and saw that her health, which had been sitting at a measly 2 points, was now rapidly increasing, and with just a few moments of magic, she was completely recovered. If she’d waited to heal with her own natural regeneration, it would’ve taken her four entire days of waiting, during which she would have to sit around and do nothing. Instead, her previously aching muscles were now full of energy, and the sharp headache had dissipated. It seemed that despite his shoddy appearance, the man was a skilled healer.
“Thank you for your help, Dr. Lyle,” she said.
“Hmph, if you want to thank me then get out so I can continue with my work,” he retorted.
Good Goddess the man really was lacking in social skills. She simply flashed a terse smile and made her way back to the reception area, before thanking the receptionist as well, and deciding to make her way to a nearby inn recommended by the old guard captain. The last rays of sunlight were disappearing when she left the building, and without a good night’s sleep she wouldn’t be prepared to continue her journey the next day. It took her a few minutes to get through the winding labyrinth of streets, but Elaria eventually arrived outside the inn. There was a weather worn sign hanging out front depicting an imp standing on hot coals, one leg in the air. Just below the image was written the name of the place, ‘The Dancing Imp.’ Tasteful. She pushed open the heavy wooden doors and entered.