Arthur scanned the area around him, but most of the prisoners following him had fled at some point. Considering he hadn't seen them run past him toward The Cat's Cradle, they likely entered the other tunnels, but nothing could be done about it now.

Arthur hoped that in their fear, they didn't alert the Agelian guards above to the chamber's happenings, but that was what had likely happened. Whether the Agelians fled or came down to investigate was no longer a matter of Arthur's concern.

Fenric and his lieutenants would just have to deal with them, as Arthur no longer had the ability to fight unless it was to ensure his life. Even then, given his body's condition, he doubted he could do much against a competent opponent.

A few of the braver prisoners remained nearby, terrified out of their wits, but Arthur had no words of comfort for them. Instead, he scrutinized Foster as he approached to see if he was hurt, but his guard appeared in better shape than he was.

"Are you hurt?" Arthur asked nevertheless.

Foster went wide-eyed. "Are YOU hurt? I practically thought you'd died when I saw that abyssal send you flying—Young master, your arm!"

Arthur looked at his limp arm, which was growing more painful with each passing second, and noticed blood trickling between his fingers.

Thankfully, he didn't see any bone sticking out, but it looked like the abyssals claws still managed to carve some flesh that wasn't protected by the hidden blade.

However, the wound didn't appear deep enough for stitches, and he couldn't really feel it, thanks to the pins and needles shooting up his arm. So he wasn't concerned with it for the moment.

Instead, his concern lay on the limp appendage from where the blood sprouted. He gritted his teeth in anticipation before lightly touching his left shoulder. The feeling of electric fire shot through his arm the moment he made contact with the bulging flesh beneath his clothes.

Arthur groaned through his teeth. "...Definitely dislocated."

He had never dislocated his shoulder before, so he wasn't entirely sure how to reset it. Of course, he had seen it done dozens of times in movies, but movie logic rarely translated to the real world.

"You ever fixed a dislocated shoulder?" Arthur asked as he looked to Foster.

"Me?" Foster recoiled. "Young master, my surname is Welt, not Ikorryn."

"I know what your surname is..." Arthur said, trailing his words to think.

The Ikorryn family was a noble family that was one of the nine pillars of the empire. They had a tight monopoly on medicine and healing magic, so if someone was injured or sick, they'd inevitably end up in one of their numerous shops.

However, visiting one of their shops was a non-option for Arthur. They'd undoubtedly scan his body before fixing his arm, and when they did, they'd discover his mana core.

Much like on Earth, doctors in Nithe offered discretion; however, no laws kept their lips sealed like they did on Earth. It was simply a promise from the doctor to the patient, and Arthur couldn't take the risk for an injury as basic as a dislocated shoulder.

He began to feel nauseous as the last few drops of adrenaline seemed to be broken down and reabsorbed into his body. He had wanted to take advantage of the adrenaline's pain-killing effect to reset his shoulder, but it appeared he wouldn't have that luxury.

Arthur glanced back to Fenric and hoped he had experience with dislocated shoulders. The trio was now finishing up with the final abyssal, so it appeared they had also won their battle.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"They seemed to handle the abyssals easy enough." Arthur commented aloud as he recalled his blade from the abyssal's corpse.

Foster agreed, but Arthur didn't speak to hear his thoughts on the matter.

Kyren scoffed and shook his head as if he was annoyed. "That's because they hadn't fed yet. They grow stronger the more they eat, and they can heal more, too."

Kyren had looked grumpy ever since he entered the basement of The Cat's Cradle. Arthur wasn't sure what his problem was, but he couldn't get to the bottom of it now, so he'd just have to ask him about it later when they were alone.

In the distance, Fenric and his lieutenants took a moment to acclimate before Fenric threw Alan a sheathed dagger. Then he pointed to the abyssal corpses before speaking some order that Arthur couldn't hear.

Arthur began to walk toward them, grimacing in pain as his dislocated shoulder rubbed against the nerves in his arm with each step.

Fenric opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur raised his good hand and stopped him before pointing to his limp arm. "Before anything else, please tell me you can fix this."

"Lord Arthur..." Fenric glanced at Arthur's arm nervously. "Shouldn't we let the Ikorryn clinic handle such a matter?"

Since Fenric didn't say he didn't know how, Arthur surmised that he was likely worried about hurting him due to the difference in their status.

"I'm sure you know why I can't go to a clinic by now. If you know how, then please help me."

Fenric appeared to contemplate for a moment as he stared at Arthur. Then, sighing, he knelt down before him and looked at Foster. "Sir, I'll need you to hold the lord still."

"Young master, are you sure?" Foster asked.

Arthur was putting up a brave front, but on the inside, he was in agony and felt that he would be sick at any moment. "I am. Do as he says, please."

Foster nodded and knelt down behind him before wrapping his arms around Arthurs's chest.

"Hold him tight," Fenric added as he grasped Arthur's left hand and elbow.

A sharp, tingling pain shot up Arthur's arm as Fenric grasped it, causing him to grit his teeth as hard as he could in anticipation of what came next. Fenric pulled on his arm, stretching it and twisting it in search of Arthur's shoulder joint.

Arthur's vision turned white as he desperately fought the urge to pass out. Then, the sharp pain disappeared with a pop, and a dull throb replaced it.

"It's done, lord. You should let it rest now, else you'll risk dislocating it again and damaging your shoulder." Fenric announced before he and Foster released him.

Arthur collapsed to the floor and took some time to adjust before speaking. "I'm not certain, but more Agelians may be on their way from the other tunnels. Since you'd be the ones fighting them, it's up to you whether we leave now or finish freeing the prisoners."

Fenric's eyes glanced around the chamber before returning to Arthur's. "What makes you suspect that?"

Arthur looked behind him and pointed toward the dozen or so freed prisoners. "Some people fled when the abyssal came our way. I don't know where the tunnels lead, but I imagine they're much the same as the tavern."

Fenric nodded, seemingly agreeing with his deduction. He shouted to Mara and Alan, telling them to keep an eye out before speaking again. "Lord, if you don't mind me asking. How exactly was that abyssal killed?"

Arthur released a pained laugh from his sitting position on the floor. "You're telling me a man who can spot his people amongst a hundred within a few seconds of entering a dark cavern couldn't see how it died?"

Fenric awkwardly smiled. "I happened to be rather preoccupied at that time. So I'm certain I didn't have the opportunity to see anything out of the ordinary."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh again. Even if he wasn't a used car salesman in this life, Fenric was a used car salesman at heart.

"You don't need to beat around the bush. In exchange for keeping my secret, I'll put Fenric's Chosen on retainer indefinitely. How about it?" Arthur asked as he carefully observed Fenric's facial expressions.

"That..." Fenric sized him up. "It wouldn't be cheap, lord."

"That's unfortunate." Arthur laughed. "I don't have much money. But, regardless, I still intend to have you on retainer."

Fenric thought for a moment and carefully chose his words. "Even if I agreed, my men won't work for free."

"Tell me, have you ever wanted to settle down somewhere?" Arthur asked. "Perhaps somewhere a bit colder than Revan, a bit wilder. I imagine a place like that would be safer for you and your men than on a battlefield."

Fenric squinted his eyes at Arthur. "And what would my men and I do in such an imaginary land?"

Arthur smiled and changed his tone to that of the innocent thirteen-year-old Fenric had met earlier this morning. "How would I know I'm just a young boy?"

"But, if I had to guess, you'd make sure the new lord of that imaginary land didn't wind up on one of those." Arthur added as he pointed toward the altar in the center of the room. "I think that lord would feel so grateful he'd grant you and your men land within his new territory."