"You there! Apologize immediately! Do you have any idea what you just did, you fucksmear?!" The words erupted from an incensed man, his face flushed.

"Relax fretter, just a smudge of dirt," the other spat dismissively. "Brush it off. I didn't mean to touch ya, merely passing through."

"This wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't stained me with your filthy hands!"

"And so what!? We're soldiers. Surely, you can handle a bit of dirt."

"Do you possess even an inkling of who I am you fool? Who my father happens to be?"

"Why? Didn't your mother tell ya? Perhaps if you were a more attentive bastard, you'd already know. Wouldn't need to ask from the likes of me now would you?"

The two continued to argue, already on the verge of a brawl, egged on by a growing crowd that surrounded them, fueling their aggression with cheers and claps, like spectators at a theatrical performance. Seizing the moment, entrepreneurial minds swiftly opened business, a temporary gambling den, with coins exchanging hands like wine on eve.

"Alright, lads! Gather 'round, gather 'round!" the lieutenant clapped, already licking his lips at the anticipated profits, clearly and shamelessly neglecting his duty to prevent the imminent brawl. "Place your fucking bets, gentlemen! Don't miss out! Men play, cowards pay! Make your richest here, perhaps even a spouse! Place your bets!"

Raid moved through the cheering crowd, pushing aside men. Clad in a nondescript long-sleeve shirt, military-issue pants, gloves, and a duty belt, he carried no sword. His destination: the Carinmel Military Hospital, positioned to the east, just adjacent to the expansive base.

Each step across the vast military compound was a well-practiced march, leading him to the familiar doors of the hospital. It had become a ritual, a daily pilgrimage since his arrival, often undertaken more than once. Raid emerged from the base's eastern gate, the imposing silhouette of the sprawling hospital dominating the view. This medical complex, with its various buildings and wings, stretched across the landscape, extending its influence over two to three contiguous streets.

As he ambled down the pavement, patiently awaited the opportune moment to cross the road, his attention focused on not only avoiding the flock of people but also any remnants of equine presence on the ground.

The hospital boasts a rich history spanning four centuries, characterized by continuous improvements, renovations, and expansions. Over time, it has transformed into a sprawling complex of buildings be it interconnected or in close proximity.

Raid headed towards the largest and oldest structure, primarily dedicated to light treatment and patient housing. This three-story building, severely lacking appeal with flaking paint and resembling a poorly designed fortress, could benefit from aesthetic improvements. Even Raid, as blind as he is to taste, acknowledged the need for some budget to enhance its appearance. However, as a doctor wisely pointed out to this needless concern, aesthetics don't heal patients nor do they wish to attract any. Fortunately, the interior presented a stark contrast, devoid of the exterior's issues and, one could argue, even pleasantly inviting.

Raid was greeted with a playful salute by one of the receptionists upon his entrance, the woman no doubt expecting his visit. He returned the greeting with a courteous smile and immediately made his way to the intended room on the second floor.

Approaching the door labeled 117, he eased it open to witness Nova absently stabbing a slice of bread on her plate nestled on her lap. Raid stopped, leaned his head against the door frame, and watched her repeatedly jab more holes into the slice with her fork, showing no intention of consuming it. After a contemplative half-minute, when he figured he had seen enough, proceeded to break the silence with a casual, "Nova."

"Yes?"

"Stop euthanizing the bread," he uttered, his entrance now more deliberate.

"I am just making it easier to digest," Nova replied, observing as he pulled a nearby chair closer to her bedside and settled into it.

"Really now? I don't recall you having issues with bread in your system. You seem to have finished off everything else that was on your plate. Why stop at the bread?”

In response, she raised the plate to his face. "Then eat it for me. They've been stuffing me with food since I got here. It's as if this hospital never experiences supply issues or something. What do they think I am? A pig?"

"This city is literally a logistics hub, and the crops were good last year. This year as well, if not for the Imperial occupation. Let's hope we take back the south soon, so we can stuff you with more food," he said, settling back into the chair. "You've been doing nothing but complaining about your portions. They just want to take good care of you, and besides, you are a pi–" The aforementioned mutilated bread flew at his face.

"Ever been told that if you can't speak nicely, don't speak at all?"

"You're the last person I want to hear that from," Raid replied with a sly smile before nibbling on the mistreated bread. "Have you told them about it?"

"I have, but that damned badger in charge of me increased the amount instead, complaining that I am too thin," she said in minor frustration.

"Really? That's surprising. I thought doctors had keen eyes. If anything, you've been gaining too much weight if you ask m–" The plate soared at him, this time he dodged with grace, the ceramic whizzing past his head before shattering against the wall.

"Quit it with the throwing, what are you a child?" he said teasingly.

"Alright that's it, where the fuck is my sword?!" She tossed the blanket off her legs and tried to get off the bed.

Raid sprang up, swiftly stuffing her mouth with the partially eaten bread before gently pushing her back down against the bed, mindful of her injuries, if any. "Hey hey, calm down, you're a patient," Raid smirked, further fueling her irritation.

"I'dl fokng kefl yu" she said, muffled, struggling to get away from his grip.

"You know Nova, you've gotten quite weak being all cooped up for so long, unable to use your precious aura. If this was you before the battle, I'll be well on my way to hell right about now."

The rhythmic, deliberate knocks against the unshut door captured their attention. Both heads turned to the entrance, where an unamused figure had just stepped into the room. Raid practically on top of Nova by this point, clasping both her hands, stared blankly at the newcomer who regarded him with intense scrutiny.

Draped in the characteristic ensemble of a doctor, the man wore light blue pants paired with a matching shirt beneath a pristine white coat. An armband worn on his left arm, displaying the emblem of Hospitania, a serpent coiled under a grand tree, symbolizing one of the many branches within the Medicana. This branch, dedicated to the treatment of military personnel, adhered to stricter codes of conduct than many of its sister branches.

The doctor exuded an air of competency, with long, dark brown hair slicked back, appearing to be somewhere in his 30s. However, those acquainted with him assert that looks can indeed be misleading. Senior Spencer Kos Everlist, a stoic figure in his 50s, bore a face perpetually void of emotion, a characteristic earned, it seemed, during the rigorous course of his education. Dubbed the Pitiless Badger by his patients, apparently originating from a child, an alias he isn't too fond of. Nevertheless, he is widely acknowledged for his steadfast dedication to his responsibilities, a physician of the Kos Hospitania, presently assigned to the Rose in adherence to the mutual assistance treaty that binds the three clans within the Kundis Alliance. Spencer hailed from a lineage of esteemed doctors, his house having garnered enough recognition to be bestowed with the surname of Everlist.

With an expression that likened them to misbehaving children, Spencer addressed the situation. "Raiden, please get off the patient," he stated bluntly.

Raid, wearing an innocent smile, slowly relinquished his grip on Nova's hands. His gaze remained fixed on Spencer as he leisurely disentangled himself from the bed. However, his intended exit didn't unfold smoothly, as if prompted by a sudden surge of retribution, Nova swiftly unleashed a kick to Raid's stomach. This unexpected assist propelled him sprawling spectacularly off the cozy abode, disrupting the momentary quiet that had managed to intrude along with Spencer's entrance.

Spencer sighed, weary from the scene unfolding before him. He cast a brief look over his shoulder into the hallway, smoothly transferring the documents tucked under his right armpit to his left. Then, with an unhurried motion, eased the door shut until it made a subtle yet gratifying metallic click.

Spencer remarked, "How many times do I need to remind you two to close the door? We don't assign individual rooms without reason." He took a different chair, positioning it at the foot of the bed before sitting down, documents now resting on his lap.

Raid slowly rose from the ground, shooting a disapproving look at Nova before settling into his seat.

"I hope you both learn to respect your privacy, especially as officers, as young as you are. At least Sergeant Marcus for one heeds my advice, I expect the same from the both of yous," Spencer continued, shifting his gaze from Nova to Raid. "Raiden, it's good that you're here. I had something to tell you. This makes it rather convenient, but I must first address why I’m here." He opened the folder, pulling out a pencil from his inner coat pocket. Wisely choosing not to comment on the broken ceramic that just now caught his eye, knowing the nurse would take care of that.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Nova and Raid exchanged subtle looks, attempting to discern the other's thoughts. Both visibly lacked any eagerness for what Spencer was about to share.

"Lady Fable, the final report from the acologist states that you’re almost fully recovered. You will be allowed to use your aura again in about 2 days time, and I advise you to do so slowly, with appropriate exercise. As I am sure you're acutely aware, being confined tends to weaken the body, especially one trained to such a high athletic level as yours. You might sense a slight imbalance, but that can be addressed through gradual, safe, and proper training."

"Does the report also mention that you've been overfeeding me?" Nova interrupted.

"No, I don't believe so. That responsibility falls on the general practitioner, which is me, not the acologist," Spencer clarified, fully aware of her intent.

"He doesn't get it," she sighed.

"No, he doesn't," Raid agreed.

"I don't see what's wrong with your portions. True, I increased the amount, but may I remind you that skin and bone doesn't represent health. I delayed taking action earlier because your injuries significantly impacted your appetite. You were hardly eating, let alone consuming a healthy amount. We were relieved when you ingested anything at all, even if it required force-feeding. Our primary concern was ensuring your survival, now, the focus is on your recovery, and that entails an increased emphasis on nourishment. Knights also typically have a heightened need for sustenance compared to the average individual, at times, a substantial amount. Based on past experiences, we won't allow you succumb to weakness solely due to a lack of food under my care."

"Didn't know you care so much about food doctor. Thought you'd be more concerned about actually treating patients than feeding them," Raid said.

"You may not know it. But rest and nourishment are two of the best healers, it would be unwise to underappreciate such aids."

"A diner might have a problem with how you conduct your job. They might think you're competition," Nova said.

"Perhaps improve your poor diet, and you won't need to complain."

"How about you mind your own? My diet was never an issue until you came along," she retorted.

Raid, with a wide grin, added, "This sounds promising. Do you reckon you could address her picky eating habits as well, doc?"

"Shut it," she sneered. "You've always had an issue with my eating, it's not your place to comment."

"I don't criticize your diet Nova. My concerns stem from the fact that you hardly eat to begin with, has been that way since we were kids. You're thin."

"You call these muscles thin? Are you blind?" Flexing her arms.

"And you'd have more if you ate better, with extra fat too. Besides, I can barely call that muscle. Look, my hand can almost wrap around your forearm."

"You have bigger hands dipshit, and you're taller, so that's a given. My muscles are dense, see, that's why their small."

"Yeah yeah, excuses. My height doesn't justify your poor stature. You're muscles exist jack, fucking baseline sinews is what you are. You gotta eat more if you want a big physique like me, or Miles in that matter, his are bigger."

"And in what godforsaken world would I want to look like you? People refer to me as lady, not lord. Wait, why are we even talking about this? What does this matter? My core strength comes from my aura not my muscles."

"That's the problem isn't it. More muscles, less bodily stress, didn't you know? Quite taxing when you want to flow unorthodox."

"Horseshit. Our blood and lineage is what determines our resilience. Otherwise neither of us could've learned our artforms."

Spencer cleared his throat loudly, aiming to recapture their attention, which succeeded. "Allow me to conclude, you two can resume your engaging banter once I take my leave. In essence, Lady Fable, anticipate your discharge within the next 2 to 3 days after a final check-up. I sincerely hope I don't see you back here."

"Don't count on it," Raid quipped.

"Raid, I hope you like functioning kneecaps," Nova said.

"Depends, what's the cause?" he asked.

"Attempted manslaughter."

"Then I politely decline."

"Both of you, spare me discussions about potential new patients. I'm already overworked enough," Spencer sighed.

"I thought your kind were workaholics? Like, don't you guys have a blind spot for happiness and the like? Can you please define the word joy for me, and mayhap, dare I ask, if you ever experienced such a rare and borderline unnatural emotion?" Raid inquired.

"Raiden, we're just trying to do our job correctly and competently. It demands significant effort and time, making it appear as though we're always entrenched in work," Spencer explained, maintaining his professional demeanor and tone.

Raid sneered. “Nothing gets to you, jokes or otherwise. Has your face ever shifted from anything other than passive?”

“I wouldn't know,” Spencer replied bluntly. "Now if I am able to resume, otherwise we'll be here all day, and I have other patients to see. Having concluded what I needed to share with Lady Fable, let's move on to you, Raiden." Flipping through his folder with deliberate intent.

"What? I'm not a patient."

"I am aware..." Spencer continued flipping through the papers with a keen eye, pausing intermittently to absorb the contents. "But it would truly pain me if you were."

Raid's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait, hold on, what are you—"

"I had requested your medical record about a week ago, but apparently, the only hospital that has it and has done any checks on you is the Grand Liquafor Hospital in Astra. I had to wait for it to arrive, as you know, the capital is quite far," Spencer stated, his finger tapping on a piece of paper he was looking for.

"Okay... But hold on."

"It seems you've only had two proper examinations," Spencer continued, ignoring Raid's words completely. "The first, a compulsory enlistment health check prior to joining the military, dated 10th the 3rd 54, and the other way back on 2nd the 7th 44. Don't you think you're badly due for another one?"

"Aye, if Raid is going to join my crusade in this damned hospital, can you please patient tag him as gloomy pig?" Nova interjected.

"Fuck off, I am no one’s patient."

"Say that to the doc when you're bleeding out," Nova grinned, lightly poking Raid's cheek with her fork.

"I'm just doing my job, interpret it as you wish," Spencer said.

"You're being nosy, that's what you're doing," Raid responded.

"My apologies if the institution's diligence appears intrusive. It's merely compliance. Now, allow me to pencil you in for an appointment two days hence, precisely at 12:20 on the 8th the 3rd. Understood?"

"I haven't agreed yet..."

"No agreement required. Raiden, I trust you won't vanish mysteriously at the appointed time?"

"I might... I am a busy man you could say."

"So busy in fact your ass has permanently occupied my room along Marcus for the past two and a half weeks," Nova added, amusement evident.

"Raiden, should your obligations impede, I may deem you unfit for service, resulting in a fifty percent pay reduction," Spencer cautioned.

"Are you threatening me? That's absurd," Raid retorted, irritated. "Go dig a hole."

"How awful, whatever can we do doctor? My unfortunate, mentally afflicted companion here seems utterly incapable of making it," Nova lamented, donning her most convincing expression of sorrow. With a theatrical touch, she delicately wiped her eyes as if shedding genuine tears.

"Nova, quit it," Raid said, about to jokingly punch her shoulder before halting mid-action, noting Spencer's stern gaze. He slowly retracted his arm.

"Well?" Spencer questioned, his voice carrying impatience. "Are you attending or not? I'd prefer to know now, so I can deduct your pay early."

"I wasn't aware you could do that."

"What use is a frontline soldier who can't fight? It's a waste of good coin don't you think?"

"So if I get injured in combat, my pay gets cut because I can't fight?"

"That's a different case. In your case, you have no reason to be unfit."

Raid reluctantly relented, "Fine, curse you. Do I get paired with an attractive doctor at least? I wouldn't mind that."

"Yes... I do believe my face would be enough to satisfy your needs," Spencer replied, his tone flat, his expression unchanging.

Nova couldn't contain her laughter, doubling over with one hand clutching her stomach while the other covered her mouth. Raid, conversely, wore a persistent scowl.

Spencer rose from his seat, moving gradually toward the door. "Rest assured, Raiden, it'll be quick. Lady Fable, you should ideally be discharged soon after your final check, if nothing noteworthy shows up. I'll also try and match your appointment on the same day and time as Raiden. You two can leave together holding hands for all I care. What you do onwards is none of my concern, as long as you don't crawl your way back here. Your injuries especially, Lady Fable, all pale and befriending a corpse when I first saw you. I trust the march here didn't help your condition?"

“You've already heard the story, stop mentioning it. Receiving treatment on march isn't exactly a memory I cherish. Made worse by this fretting idiot here hovering around me."

Raid frowned, "I was just worried. No need to be so mean about it."

"Snow where the water flows, not near the barn," Spencer said. "I trust you're smart enough to understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're the snow. I get it. Is that your way of kindly telling us to walk off?" Nova said.

A fleeting stare from Spencer preceded the opening of the door. "Enjoy the rest of your day. I would love to stay and continue the slow, agonizing drainage of my soul that you two excel, but I am afraid I have many patients to see today."

"The issue there, bud, is that you don't have one," Raid quipped.

"I like to think so too," Spencer countered before making his exit and shutting the door behind him.

"My, isn't he a box of sunshine," Nova said.

"Don't you prefer these kinds of doctors more though? The chatty ones tend to drive you mad don't they?"

"When did I ever say that? It's the quiet that's been killing me. Spending most of my days doing a whole lot of nothing."

"Marcus and I not enough for you? What about the books I've been giving you?”

“You want me to read to death? Marcus nags me, and you annoy me. At least give me something interesting to read, like, where in hell would I need to know anything about seafood?”

“The book was the cheapest I could find. You're not worth that much silver,” Raid chuckled.

Nova shot him a long, blood-ridden stare. “Get out...”

“What?”

“I said get out you whore!”

“Nova, hey, that isn't very ladylike. Woah now, don't resort to violence. That's assault.”

“Do you think your aura would discern a fork? I am rather intrigued.”

“Hey! You know it does! Stop, that's a weapon now!”