“Ryan!” Linda called as she ran towards them through the crowded infirmary.

Ryan spotted Gardener at the entrance doors behind her, watching from the distance. The crowd shifted and he was walking away. Ryan would have to go talk to him tomorrow, even if he didn’t have training.

“You found him!” Linda said. “Is he alright?”

“He should be,” one of the nurses said. She was busy cutting off Micah’s bandages but answered anyway.

Barry and Mark had brought Micah to the infirmary and handed him over to the nurses’ care. They and their instructor only stayed long enough to make sure that Micah was OK before they headed off again. Ryan tried to thank them, but they wouldn't hear it. They were gone in an instant.

Now, only Lisa and Ryan were left with the two nurses. They waited around Micah’s bed in the middle of the long hall while the professionals worked.

He’d also offered to help them, but they had both refused, so Ryan had nothing else to do than bite his nails while he watched. The chest stood at his feet. Micah’s bag hadn’t fit inside with the other things, so he put it down in between his feet where it wouldn't get in the way.

Much like the bag, Micah’s body was littered with scratch wounds that were hidden beneath his bandages and tattered clothes. Ryan hadn’t even noticed them before. He hadn’t smelt them either over the stench of his own shirt.

He didn’t understand. Micah had had that high-grade healing potion with him. Why hadn’t he used it on himself?

Maybe he was being stingy? Ryan thought. What a stupid reason. But then again, he’d happily given the potion to Lisa when he saw Ryan was injured so it couldn't be that. Stranya, he thought. Something itched at the back of his mind.

Linda covered her mouth in shock when she saw the wounds for herself, but the nurses quickly explained that it looked much worse than it was. Most of them were only shallow cuts, they said, nothing life-threatening. The filthy bandages made Micah look much bloodier than he was.

He must have had a lot of luck to have evaded the wolves so often, Ryan thought, and twice that much to kill them.

“Where did you find him?” Linda asked. She stood next to him while they watching the nurses work.

“Fourth-floor Wolves’ Den,” Ryan said. “He was hiding in a treasure room.”

“That’s a Salamander chest,” Linda pointed out, frowning at the wooden box he was sitting on.

“He dragged it up from the first floor, apparently,” Lisa answered.

“We don’t know why,” Ryan added.

He honestly didn’t. Not anymore. He remembered what he had said earlier in the cave, his outburst towards Lisa, but … weren’t the Stranyas supposed to be wealthy? He remembered them now. They were one of the more active families in the community. Ryan even thought Micah’s father was a district regulator or something of the sorts. Not the mayor—he knew who the mayor was—but an official. Or was that his mother? Maybe both?

“Thank you, Ryan,” Linda said. “And you, too, Lisa.”

“Don’t look at me,” Lisa said, “he’s the one who heard him whistling. He—”

Ryan visibly flinched and Lisa shut up. He glanced at her. There was a look of realization dawning on her face.

“The sound … “ she said, trailing off.

“What sound?” Linda asked.

“Don’t worry about it, Ryan,” she quickly said, ignoring Linda’s question. “You couldn’t have known. And you saved him in the end, didn’t you?”

One of the nurses cursed all the sudden, keeping Ryan from having to answer.

The young man had unbandaged one of Micah’s hands and found a nasty cut there in his palm. Ryan clenched his teeth when he saw that. He felt like cursing. Why hadn’t Micah healed that? Why had he gone in the Tower in the first place? What the fuck was wrong with him?

He was getting angry, restless. Screw Micah for being asleep, he thought. He wanted answers. He got up and glanced down the aisle, checking on the doctors’ progress. Two of them were at the same beds as five minutes ago. At least the third was getting closer.

“How long is he going to be out?” he asked the nurses.

“We’re going to have to clean that for healing,” one of them said, ignoring him and nodding at the wound. “Can you flag down a doctor, Nancy?”

“Sure,” the second said. She went to the aisle and waved at one of the people in white coats. Then she headed off. Where was she going?

“It depends,” the first nurse said then, answering Ryan’s first question. "On whether he’s just sleeping or not.”

“Or not?” Linda asked.

“He collapsed,” Lisa explained.

“He’s malnourished,” the nurse said.

The other nurse returned a moment later with a bucket of water and a sponge. She set it down next to her colleague and got to cleaning the wound. Ryan was about to check the aisle again when someone stepped up to the bed.

“Phew,” she said and took a deep breath. “What’s that smell?”

Ryan took a whiff himself and realized Micah still smelled like spring, from the potion. He’d kind of gotten used to it by now, being used to Micah anyway, but the scent ebbed and flowed a little with each of the boy’s breaths. The people around him seemed to react to it.

He looked at the doctor.

‘Heswaren’, her name tag read. She was tall and had dark skin. She looked foreign, though that was hard to judge with Tower people. They were a cooking pot from all over the worlds after all.

“Linda,” the doctor greeted her. “Is he one of yours?”

“Evening, Hannah.” Linda bowed a little. “Yes, he is. This is Micah.”

“The dead kid?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Doesn’t look so dead up close.”

“No, ma’am,” one of the nurses said with a smile.

“Doesn’t smell so dead either. Is that a potion or a Skill?”

“A potion,” Ryan offered. “He made it himself.”

“You didn’t tell me he was an alchemist,” she said to Linda, sounding impressed. She got out a bit of metal hanging on a thick cord and held it against Micah’s exposed chest. What was that for?

“N-no, he isn’t,” Ryan quickly added, embarrassed for misleading her. “I apologize for the misunderstanding. His Path is [Cantrips]. Gardener, Mr. Gardener, my instructor, said he made the potion with one of those.”

“His Path isn’t [Cantrips],” Dr. Heswarren said simply while she opened one of Micah’s eyes. She was inspecting them. Why? Then she held her hand against his forehead. That Ryan knew. She was checking for a fever. “Hmm, has the wound festered?” she asked.

“No, it’s rather clean,” the nurse washing it said.

“Are you sure?” Linda asked next to him.

“Hmm?” the doctor looked up. “Oh, yes. He’s definitely an [Alchemist].” She looked at Micah again and her eyebrows shot even higher. She whistled. “And he’s level 6 already. Impressive. How old is he?”

Ryan was confused. How could she tell what Class Micah had?

“He told me his Path was [Cantrips],” Linda said.

“Maybe because [Alchemist] isn’t a combat Class?” the doctor offered.

Linda opened her mouth to respond but shut it again. She seemed lost to Ryan. He knew because he felt the same.

“Then what’s his Path?” he asked.

“It’s, uhm … “ the doctor started, but looked up suddenly. “Am I a registrar? No! I’m a doctor. And I have work to do. Now, shoo, shoo.” She walked over as she said that and waved Micah and Lisa back, then Linda on the other side of the bed. There, she took up Micah’s wounded hand and inspected it.

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She started talking with the nurse, but Ryan didn’t catch what she said. Lisa spoke to him.

“I have to leave, Ryan,” she said. He looked up at her, surprised.

“Oh. Of course. Thank you so much for everything today.”

“It’s no problem,” she said. “I got some good training out of that. Plus, I got great loot.”

She flashed him her new mana ring. It caught on the infirmaries’ lights and had a faint sheen to it already, around its silhouette. Lisa must have been charging it already. Ryan said his goodbyes and she left, waving.

When she headed off, Linda followed. Ryan called after her, asking where she was going, but she kept on walking. Was she angry because Micah had lied to her?

Ryan frowned.

Was he angry because Micah had lied?

He looked at the unconscious figure, covered in wounds and being doted over by three different healers. He didn’t know why, but yes, he was very angry at him. What had he been thinking, putting himself in danger like that? Without even a combat Class?

“Well, he has one now,” the doctor said, suddenly in front of him.

Ryan frowned. Had he said that out loud? He wanted to ask, but she went on.

“He’s got the mark of a warrior on him, just hasn’t interpreted it yet. I bet he’ll get a combat Class as soon as he wakes up.”

“He killed a pack of wolves on his own,” Ryan mumbled.

“Well, that’s all well and good,” the doctor said with a smile, “but has he signed up with the Guild?”

Ryan blinked.

“Uhm, I don’t-” he started, thinking back to what Linda had told him on Monday. “No. No, he got a day pass, back then. He didn’t sign up.”

“Poultice, then,” she said to the nurses. They nodded at her and she headed off to the next patient. Ryan wanted to stop her. He had more questions, worries, he wanted to know if Micah would be fine—but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. She was still a doctor and far above his station.

He looked around himself then, at the many other beds filled with wounded from the Tower. Most of them were sleeping or had visitors. Only some looked new and were being treated by nurses.

“What now?” he asked himself.

One of the nurses at Micah’s bed walked by with a bucket of dirtied water and filthy bandages. And Micah’s clothes. They were rags now. Was she going to throw them away?

“How about dressing your own wounds?” she asked, eying Ryan’s bloody shirt.

“Oh, this isn’t mine,” he said, embarrassed. “And this I healed already.” He held up his blood-crusted arm. “For everything else, I drank some healing potion.”

“You drank?” she asked.

“Uhm, yes. Only a little? It was from a chest, I think, and high-grade.”

The nurse eyed him. “How bad was the wound?”

“Pretty bad?”

“Hmm … if it was Tower-made, alright. But you know you shouldn’t do that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“You could tell his parents that he’s here,” the other nurse offered. “That way we don’t have to send a messenger in the morning.”

His parents. Right. Why hadn’t Ryan thought about that?

He remembered the directions his classroom teacher had given him that morning. He’d been planning on helping the Stranyas search during the weekend. Had that really been just today? It seemed like an eternity away.

“Thank you,” he wanted to tell the nurse, but she was already gone. Only the other one was left, applying a salve to Micah’s wounds and bandaging him up.

Ryan looked down at his chest.

“What do I do with this?” he asked, gesturing at the wooden box.

“If you have a locker or a storage space you could keep it there,” he explained. “You could also leave it here, but … “ he trailed off.

Ryan suddenly noticed the many, many other people in the crowded infirmary with him. The wounded and desperate. There was no way he could leave the chest here. He didn’t own a locker or storage space, though. He was with a school, not directly with the Guild. The chest would have to come with him, then. What about Micah, though? He wouldn’t have any of his possessions when he woke up. Not even his clothes.

What if he woke up all alone while Ryan was gone and had to pay the bill, but he couldn’t because he had no money and they threw him out and then he got lost in the city and mugged and stabbed or starved to death and this was all for nothing?

Yeah, no. Ryan couldn’t let that happen either.

He got out all the coins he had on him. It wasn’t much, maybe enough for a meal and a half. He walked up to the bed, looking around as he did in case anyone was watching, and shoved the coins under Micah’s pillow. He hoped the boy would notice them there when he woke up. Just in case.

“I’ll be back,” he told him. Then he picked up the chest and bag, told the nurse where he was headed and made his way towards the Stranyas' home.

----------------------------------------

Nobody answered when Ryan knocked on the door of the large house. Dark windows were on both stories of the building, and Ryan considered throwing stones at them, just in case someone was sleeping inside. He didn’t want to break anything, though. Maybe he should try climbing up? People might get the wrong idea at that ...

Eventually, he went around back through a small alleyway next to the house. The windows there looked much easier to climb, but still, he didn’t do it. There were no lights inside the building. The alleyway was fenced off, too. Ryan only realized on his way back that it was part of their property, and led into their garden. They really were wealthy, he thought.

He was tired from lugging the chest halfway across the city and everything that had happened before that, and he didn’t know where else to search for them, so he sat down on their doorstep instead. When he took a moment to relax his shoulders, he realized just how tired he was. He dialed up [Hot Skin] a bit, stretched out his legs, shut his eyes, and groaned in exhaustion as he practically melted into the stone steps. The next thing he knew, a man was shaking him violently.

Ryan opened his eyes just in time to see a raised hand poised to slap him.

“I’m awake!” he quickly said and got up, pushing himself away and against the closed door behind him. “I’m awake, I’m awake.”

The Stranyas stood before him, Micah’s mother a step back and his father with an angry look on his face. It was almost night time already. The horizon only held a sliver of red. A nearby street lamp cast the man’s shadow thinly over Ryan. Had they just gotten home? He realized he was blocking their doorway.

“What are you doing on our doorstep?” Mr. Stranya demanded.

“I’m, uh, my name is Ryan, sir. I’m a classmate of Micah’s,” he started and tried to look respectful. He cringed on the inside, though. He was sleeping on their doorstep, with a sword and shield and wearing a blood-soaked shirt. What an awful first impression.

“I found your son.”

The moment he said that Micah’s mother gasped. His father’s scowl eased up a bit, before sinking ten times deeper. He shifted his hand on Ryan’s shoulder and pressed his fingers in deep.

“Where?” he asked.

“Is he alright?”

“He’s in the infirmary of the Climber’s Guild right now,” Ryan quickly explained. “He’s unconscious and he has some scratch wounds, but the nurses said he’d be alright.”

“The Climber’s Guild?” Mr. Stranya asked.

Ryan could see the disbelief on his face. He realized what this might look like. A young boy who could have just as well been a grifter, based on his appearance, taking advantage of two desperate parents. Was he going to have to convince him? What if they didn’t want to come?

“We have to hurry,” Mrs. Stranya said, tugging on her husband’s shoulder.

“Wait, Elissa,” he said. “We need to—”

At the same time, Ryan tried to speak up.

“And he needs a change of clothes?”

They both looked at him.

“Why would he need a change of clothes?” the father asked, confused. His wife asked the same thing at the same time, but with a shocked expression on her face.

“Because. They were. All. Tattered. Up?” with every word he said, the look on their faces became more and more horrified. Mr. Stranya seemed to shake himself awake and stepped up the stairs.

“Move aside,” he said and pushed Ryan before he could do as he was told. He almost fell over the treasure chest, only saving himself by holding on to the doorframe. Mr. Stranya unlocked his door and stormed into the house.

Ryan heard stairs. He picked up the chest.

“Where can I put this?” he asked Mrs. Stranya, who was still looking at him.

“Did he— Is that a treasure chest?” she asked. “From inside the Tower?”

“It’s his,” Ryan said. The tattered bag still was on top, but she didn’t seem to recognize it. Not that she would, considering.

“His room is up the stairs, first door straight ahead,” she mumbled.

Ryan went inside, glad to escape the hurt look on her face, and found the stairs. Suddenly, he understood why Micah might have lied. Had he even told his parents about his [Alchemist] Class? He hadn’t told anyone from the classroom, as far as Ryan knew. He decided he wasn’t going to say anything either, just in case.

He found Mr. Stranya in Micah’s room, stuffing a bundle of clothes into a pack. The man frowned at him when he stepped inside, but noticed the chest and scowled. After Ryan set it down opposite Micah’s bed, he was dragged out and told to lead the way. Ryan didn’t even have time to get a look at the room.

All the way to the Guild, Mr. Stranya kept on asking him questions and Ryan tried not to give away any information Micah might have hidden from them without making himself seem like he was out to lead them into a dark alley. It was a hard act to balance. He thought he might have failed halfway through, but then the Stranyas saw that he was indeed leading them towards the Guild and took the lead.

They marched straight to the infirmary and assaulted Dr. Heswaren with even more questions, which she happily answered since they were willing to pay the fee for Micah’s care.

Ryan stood a while back, nervous, his gaze flickering between their conversation and the sleeping boy. He considered getting his own coins back, but when he imagined Micah’s father seeing him while he did it …

Was he supposed to leave?

He needn’t have wondered. The Stranyas didn’t even spare him a glance while they dressed their son. The father knelt down next to the bed and the mother helped him wrap the boy’s arms around his neck before they picked him up piggy-back style. They carried him off together, her walking a little ways behind and holding a hand against Micah’s back. To keep him from falling?

He couldn’t ask. He was forgotten.

At least, Ryan could reclaim his coins from under the pillow. He gave some of them to the two nurses who had treated Micah on his way out, as his way of thanks. The Stranyas hadn’t done it, after all. One of the two, the man, was barely older than Ryan himself. It felt awkward tipping him, but he thanked Ryan with a grin, so he guessed it had been right. Then he was alone in the nighttime city, standing in front of the Climber’s Guild.

He probably should have headed home right away, he knew. His parents must have been worried. But he was tired and his shirt was a mess. He still didn’t know how to explain that to them. So he took his time walking to Westhill. On his way there, he walked past a bathhouse that was still open.

The bouncer out front told him he looked like he needed a good scrubbing.

Ryan considered his arm and shirt, but the man also touched his own nose and nodded at him. Did Ryan have blood on his face?

“I guess I do,” he admitted.

“Long day?” the man asked.

“The longest."

“We’ve got hot baths you can relax in if you want. Gonna have to clean up first, though. Can’t have you bloodying up the water.”

Ryan still had [Hot Skin] dialed up. It was beginning to make him sweat and his clothes stink all the more. He turned it down as far as he could and felt the cool evening breeze on his skin, enjoyed a deep breath of it. It would be summer soon when the heat was too much to bear without shade and kept you from falling asleep at night. He would miss nights like this, then.

Walking home clean and cold after a hot bath sounded nice.