It wasn’t quite the year that would be later called zero, not yet, but the evening of the solstice was drawing close and Jay was cold.

They were wearing what they thought was adequate attire for the journey home, namely a thick jacket of cotton, sturdy linen pants, well worn leather boots, and a matched set of woolen hat and gloves. But they had been mistaken.

The wind, while mild, was persistent in its attempts to cut straight through these garments and steal the warmth away from Jay’s body. It whistled through the boughs of leafless trees lining the forest road, over the scattered patches of remaining snow and between the various colorful markers of this or that vegetable garden, hunting grounds, mushroom spot, decoy mushroom spot, or forest spring.

This part of the Cental woods were both old and inhabited, so Jay was not especially worried for their safety. They could always find some village or another off the road containing some poor widower or mother or another with an empty nest and a willingness to give them a warm fire and a meal in exchange for help with a routine chore that would absolutely not cover the expense in any way but would neatly eliminate any feelings of obligation between them.

Jay would offer them a small gift, perhaps one of the pieces they made in their sketchbook during their sea trip from Joinder to Hillsport. They could stand to part with one or two drawings of gulls. The poor widower or mother or another would politely refuse, of course, and that would be the end of that.

"Ghastly experience all around, really". Jay thought to themself. "Better to just freeze to death on the side of the road. Honestly."

And so Jay trudged on, their sense of social awkwardness gradually succumbing to the greater sense of cold as the sun dipped ever closer to the horizon and the chill winds began to bite more deeply as the shadows lengthened. Nips of cold continued to patiently chip, chip, chip away at Jay’s resolve like the fabled crafters of the Queendom Under patiently working stone.

"I’d love to meet the Queen someday." Jay mused. "Queen of the Tre, of the domain Under, keeper of fire and protector of truth. She could just wave her hand and her army would jump to get rid of this cold. Perhaps she would even outlaw the concept, like she outlawed lying."

Jay chuckled at the mental image of a gaggle of Tre trying to speak to each other about ice or snow without ever once mentioning that it was cold, or indeed that anything could ever be so.

"Not that a Tre can easily get cold." Jay groused to themself. "Not with those fabulous braids and beards of theirs. Would perform much better than this hat at least."

They briefly thought about getting a better hat, this one was much too small, but as usual discarded the thought just as quickly.

The trek continued in this way for another couple of hours until at last the sun had set fully and Jay ended up shivering on the side of the road, searching by the light of the full moon for a slightly less damp and windblown camping spot to build a fire, hang their tarp, and place their bedroll. The evening meal would be hardtack and hot cocoa, as usual. Perhaps Jay would indulge by opening one of their packets of dried fruits.

Jay was sitting by the fire slowly turning one of the packets over in their hands and gradually coming to the realization that yes, they did deserve this indulgence to reward their resolve today when they spotted a figure moving down the road towards the campsite.

This was not especially unusual. Travelers moved across the roads of Varmyr all the time, even at night in the rural southern reaches, but this figure’s attire certainly was. From a distance Jay could see that the figure was clothed in a loose fitting linen shirt and pair of linen trousers, held together at the waist by a simple length of hempen rope.

As the figure, or well person at this point, got nearer Jay noticed that they were not wearing a hat, and as they stepped into the light of the fire and waited politely for permission to move closer Jay was startled to spy a pair of unshod feet.

Jay did not immediately motion for the stranger to sit by the fire, deciding to scrutinize them closely first. They were androgynous, obviously, and expressed that with the same subtle movements as Jay themself. So perhaps the stranger was from Joinder as well? They certainly spent a lot of time there.

Their hair was short, curled, and a golden color that almost seemed to burn alongside the fire when it caught its flickering light. Aside from being quite attractive to Jay, the hair didn’t reveal much about the stranger, which was unfortunate. Hair dyes and styling methods were ubiquitous, especially in Joinder, and Jay had known many naturally dark and straight-haired Cliaman who styled theirs in a similar way.

The skin and musculature, however, did provide some insight. The stranger’s skin was a light brown and pulled snugly over a lean and heavily muscular body, the body of a dancer or a swimmer. A fencer perhaps? That would certainly explain the casual grace and slightly dangerous air with which the stranger carried themselves.

But they had no scars to mark such a profession. Indeed their skin was smooth and entirely without blemish, as if cut from marble and polished to a sheen.

Combined with their short, pointed ears the stranger looked most similar to the long-lived Xilae of the eastern Juvelin princedoms, but most Xilae had darker skin and longer ears than the stranger, whose proportions of each were more closely related to the Athnat of Jebzel. And the strangers’ eyes were shockingly blue, a trait unique to the Lua people who lived south of the Durken woods.

As Jay studied them the eyes caught the firelight, and for a moment Jay swore that the eyes were not blue but solid gold, shining mirrors that reflected their own befuddled expression. At the same time the trees behind the stranger seemed to darken and shine, as if a pair of great wings stretched behind them, speckled with golden dots Jay swore were studying them right back.

As quickly as the vision appeared it vanished, and Jay was left with only confusion. The hair of a Rhin, the body of a Xilae, the eyes of a Lua, the ears of an Athnat, the poise of a fencer, and a face entirely their own.

They were obviously androgynous and young, but was that the twenty five years young of a Rhin or the hundred years young of a Xilae? Jay couldn’t tell. Combined with the stranger’s ambivalence to the cold Jay could only come to one conclusion. Aether or Elemental.

A being of pure light brought from the aether to spread goodness to the world, or one of elemental chaos whose only goal was to propagate its own essence. Jay supposed it could technically be a demon, but that couldn’t be the case because then Jay would be dead. And Jay didn’t think they were dead. Were they?

"I don’t mind the cold or your staring." The stranger spoke, interrupting Jay’s unproductive thoughts. "But I do have an invitation I think you will want to hear. May I sit down?"

Jay flushed in embarrassment and gestured to the fire. "Sorry. Sure, sit. My name’s Jay by the way."

The stranger smiled and sat with obvious relief. Then, before Jay could react, they grabbed the packet of dried fruits Jay had forgotten was still in their hands, ripped open the paper, and began picking out and eating pieces with obvious delight.

"I’m Amber!" they exclaimed with a mouth full of stolen goods. "It’s wonderful to meet you Jay, but what are you doing out here during the new year? The town of Pleurian is right over there"

Amber gestured vaguely towards the northeast.

"And we are actually having a festival right now. Baked goods, great food, dancing, fireworks. The works!". They winked at their pun. "You could join us for the new year!"

Jay looked at the brazen thief with utter confusion, theories about their mortality or lack thereof completely shattered by the blatant lawlessness of their actions and pettiness of their concerns.

This was not some immortal being that wished to spread good to all or burn Loerma to the ground, this was just some lunatic who had spotted Jay’s fire outside town and impulsively decided to trek for half an hour through the cold in festival garb perfect for dancing around a bonfire and utterly useless for a winter forest walk.

Just to extend an offer of a night of celebration to someone who obviously did not want one.

Part of Jay wanted to refuse the offer anyway, despite the pains Amber took to deliver it and despite the festival promising to be at least bearable. But that part of them was quickly shouted over by the part who longed for good food and to stand around a bonfire so hot it could trick their bones into believing that summer had returned.

"All right" Jay conceded. "I’ll be sure to eat lots of sweets as justice for you stealing my fruits."

Jay Section Marker [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

As the pair walked into the town of Pleurian Jay noted that it was quite sizable, at least for the region.

The main square was packed dirt and not paved, true, but it boasted a tailory, a blacksmithy, a carpenter/cooper, and an apothecary, all housed in small wooden buildings lined up in a neat row to the west.

As such the town would be home to about two to three hundred people and would produce a tax base for Varmyr with gold value per year of... Jay shook their head, dispelling the thought. They were traveling home for the winter, and there would be plenty of accounting work waiting for them back in Joinder when the shipping trade broke from hibernation come spring.

"Well, enjoy the festivities!" Amber called, before waving and trotting away from Jay. "And happy solstice!"

They beelined for the bonfire in the middle of the square, grabbed a partner, and joined the dance with a whoop.

Jay had watched Amber’s movements closely and still had no idea how they had navigated to the heart of the festivities so quickly. The square was absolutely packed with festivalgoers of all sorts, at least four hundred of them, all moving around the large tower of burning wood in its center and below a myriad of waving banners of string and cut birch boughs which stretched from scattered carts to a pole mounted atop a small hut on the square’s eastern edge.

The sound was cacophonous, a chaotic combination of crackling flames, excited conversations, the laughter of children, and distant bleating of farm animals penned to the northeast.

Jay didn’t appreciate the sounds, but at least the smells were pleasant. The festival smelt of burning wood, incense, roasted treats, and fresh baked pastries.

Jay sighed and moved towards the square at a more sedate pace than Amber had, inching over to a cart stacked with pastries and picking one up. It was delicious: flakey, oily and filled with the sweetness of apples. Jay devoured the treat greedily, then took another and ate it as well. They reached for a third.

"Hey!" a voice said from Jay’s left, "You’ll get sick if you eat too fast. I baked those so they could sate people’s hunger, not be puked up behind a bush."

Jay turned and saw a short woman with brownish red skin, pointed ears and teeth, and braided black hair. She was Haco, then. A rich one, as she wore a poofy, flowing dress of elaborately embroidered silk whose quality could drive a Pryns mad with envy.

Or wait, no, that clothing pointed to her being Ufriq rather than rich. Jay had seen a Ufriq caravan from afar before, when they were very young, but the strange culture was as famous for their skill in textiles as their refusal to share them with outsiders.

And, yup, on a second glance the woman wore feathers in her hair, which was a fashion exclusive to the Ufriq. But when Jay had studied the town from atop the hill they had not spotted any of their characteristic wagons. Where had she come from?

Correction, where had they come from? A Haco man wearing a patchwork coat who Jay presumed to be her husband was standing a few paces behind her talking to a short Lua man with pale skin and blue eyes wearing the classic pointed hat and robes of a master mage.

Jay appeased the woman by wrapping the third pastry in a bit of paper laid out for that purpose and stashing it in their coat pocket for later consumption. Later being defined as "when she stops looking at me."

Their curiosity was quite piqued, however, so Jay decided to eavesdrop by hovering awkwardly. They were an expert at awkward hovering, could turn themself practically invisible in a crowd like this.

"So you learned this from your master?" The Haco man asked, "If what you claim is true, if a resurrection could be performed without divine aid, that would change so much about our knowledge of, well, everything. Were you ever given the chance to perform one in such a manner?

We ourselves have assisted in only one before. It failed, even with Dumuzid’s guidance, but I believe I have a good grasp of the theory nonetheless."

The Lua man shifted uncomfortably, and answered hurriedly.

"I have not," The mage replied. He was definitely lying. "My master was a horrible lout of a man. I left him as soon as I was able and moved here to make fireworks."

The mage absently pressed a hand to his side, as if checking if something was still there, then continued.

"I suspect that the secret process he was so protective of involved demons. As I said, horrible person."

Jay blanched. Horrible indeed. Jay had never really understood why demonic contracts and magics were legal throughout most of Loerma. Swau was one thing, everyone knew the mageocracy would rather doom the world than threaten their so called scientific progress, but even Varmyr and most of the Juvelin prynsdoms allowed for certain kinds of demonic contracts.

That would lead to ruin one day, sure as the gods. The only good demon was a dead one, and even death did not stop them for long.

Disquieted, Jay stopped hovering and made their way towards the bonfire instead. They were cold, and a festival was a time for celebration, not morbidity. Besides, the conversation had died out on its own. A Rhin man with shaggy blonde hair had drunkenly stumbled into the mage, then babbled about a cute girl until said girl fetched him and apologized.

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SectionMarkerJay [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

The heat of the bonfire stretched out over a hundred hands from the flames and seared deep into the skin of the linen-clad dancers circling the center of the square. The dance was freeform and fluid, sometimes with partners and sometimes without, sometimes accompanied by music in Varmyr style and sometimes only by the music of the flames.

Occasionally a dancer would drop out of the central dance and take a break to cool down within the standing ring of spectators where Jay now found themself before popping back into the dance. Even more occasionally a dancer would gather the courage to grab some tongs, dump a bucket of water over their head, and run towards the fire to snatch an ember from the flames.

Many failed, yet a few succeeded. Either way, the crowd roared in approval at their courage.

As the dance continued and heat slowly nestled its way deeper into Jay’s body, they found themself letting out a deep breath they hadn’t known they had been holding. This was nice.

Someone said something. It took Jay a moment to realize the words were directed at them and turn around. They were confronted with a strikingly bare brown chest streaked with ash and sweat, a young face with green eyes, small horns poking through black curly hair, and a smile.

"Man. Fey of the Durken woods. Attractive." Jay’s shocked brain unhelpfully supplied.

"Care to try the tongs?" the man repeated, holding a pair out to Jay. "I’ll reward you if you manage to grab an ember. What do you say?"

Jay just looked at the man in baffled surprise. They were not going to run towards a bonfire, no matter what reward waited at the end.

Yet this man was undoubtedly just using the challenge as an excuse to flirt with them, and Jay wasn’t opposed to that per se. Jay was open to romance, and a little flirtation would undoubtedly be fun. The man was attractive, and isn’t that what festivals were for, in the end? Eat good food and flirt?

But Jay was worried that this man may not have the same intentions they did. Jay didn’t want just a new years fling, and besides they lived in Joinder. Joinder was hundreds of leauges away. Did they just ask if this man would move to Joinder with them? That was absurd. They had just met, that was just their lust talking, and besides saying that would be weird.

"Look at that ’Solre, you broke them." Another voice admonished.

This one came from a figure that was wearing a gambeson and a scale skirt. She had the strong build of a warrior and a pair of long pointed ears, with light blue skin and silver hair that seemed to wave in the moonlight. Her eyes were of the darkest black, both iris and sclera, with the faintest ring of silver separating the two. There was an insignia woven into the gambeson, but Jay wasn’t looking at it at the moment.

"Woman. Half Elemental. Attractive." Jay’s brain unhelpfully supplied. Again.

"It’s Pussisolre, wench." The man bit back. "Just because your language is terrible doesn’t mean you should abbreviate it."

"You literally said you were hunting your namesake tonight, ’Solre." The woman rolled her eyes. "Besides do you even know a language other than Rhina?"

Pussisolre sighed. "Why did you mention that Jeshin? Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a bee their parts? Besides, I know Reono."

"But not Fey. Which your name is in." Jeshin pressed.

"No mortal knows Fey you ignorant wench. The people of Durken speak Feylish, which is as close as mortal minds can comprehend. And yes my name is Feylish and yes I know Feylish." Pussisolre smirked.

The two glared at each other for a moment before Jeshin begrudgingly conceded defeat and looked towards Jay.

"I apologize for Pussisolre here," She said, "We are heading down towards Helgvik for work and someone didn’t understand our orders about not fraternizing with the locals. He’s not looking for anything serious and don’t trust any words to the contrary that come out of his lying mouth."

Pussisolre just shrugged and flashed Jay another grin.

"What Archon doesn’t know can’t hurt him," He said, "Besides, that order only applies when our contract begins. Also, he’s taking the western group."

He waggled the tongs again and looked towards Jay.

"So, are you down?"

Despite the crassness of the two stranger’s interaction, Jay felt a lot calmer after Jeshin’s apology.

"Um, no sorry." They said. "I don’t like fire very much. And I’m not looking for a... um... fling. I’m Jay by the way."

"Your loss, Jay" Pussisolre said with a shrug. "I guess I’ll do it myself."

He grabbed a bucket, dumped it over his head, and dashed towards the bonfire with a yell. He did quite well, managing to almost reach the flames before the water evaporated and his leg fur caught fire.

Jay expected him to turn back after that, but the fey ignored being on fire, snatched up an ember with the tongs, and continued running into the other side of the circle where he was greeted by cheers and another bucket of water which thankfully quenched the flames.

"Fucking idiot" Jeshin observed. "How is he going to get laid if he burns his dick off? And I’m not healing him tomorrow no matter how much he whines."

Jay felt out of their depth and decided to respond as they usually did to most social situations: polite inquiry.

"So you have a contract in Helgvik. Are you guarding a caravan there? As part of a Doge’s retinue?" They asked.

Jeshin snorted contemptuously.

"Oh my you are adorable," She said, "No we aren’t part of some fancy Doge’s guard. We are part of a mercenary company, Jay. The Crimson Throats."

She gestured to her gambeson whose insignia, upon closer inspection, did appear to be a head bleeding from the throat. Red blood on silver skin.

"Guns, halberds, mages, armor, cavalry, the works," Jeshin continued, "You want to kill people and take their stuff, you call us."

She gave Jay a winning smile.

"We are very good at it."

SectionMarkerJay [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

Mercenaries. Jay felt as if an icicle had just been stabbed into their stomach: sick and cold despite the heat of the bonfire. Caravan guards and adventurers were one thing, pirates and monsters were both notoriously cruel and trade notoriously fragile, but mercenaries? The person in front of them, feasting and chatting with them, flirting with them, fought for... for... nothing but gold.

How many peasants had the Crimson Throats hung at the behest of some prince’s honor? How many levies had they slaughtered? Towns sacked, lives ruined, all for a Doge aspirant’s lust for control of some worthless luxury trade?

Jay looked at Jeshin and saw bloody clothes, frenzied eyes, and pouring sweat. They smelled smoke, and felt the heat of the fire. Jay had almost forgotten that they didn’t especially like fire.

"Oh shit" Jay heard her say, distantly. "That look. I didn’t know. I’m..."

She reached out to steady them but thought better of it as Jay flinched away.

"Hang on, I’ll get a holy. Stay right here, okay?"

Jay managed to nod in weak agreement as Jeshin rushed away through the crowd. After what felt like only a few moments a priestess appeared at Jay’s side and gently escorted them to the edge of the square, placing them near what Jay had mentally designated as the streamer hut, the one supporting the pole tied with birch streamers.

After ensuring that Jay was decently situated she plopped down beside them and let out a sigh.

"My name’s Yeon, I’m a priestess of Gula and here to make sure you are okay. Your friend said you fainted?" She asked.

Yeon’s speech was perfunctory, as if she had said the words many times before, but they still held a deep current of care behind them.

Jay’s brain helpfully supplied that Yeon was Rhin, middle aged, with long blonde hair pulled up into a tidy bun and a symbol of Gula hanging around her neck. She was wearing the same linens that Amber had, although she had sensibly added on a pair of wooden clogs decorated with swirling colors.

Jay shook their head.

"No. I didn’t faint. But I nearly did," They admitted, "I was... surprised. I didn’t know there were mercenaries here."

They shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry for the bother. I’ll be fine."

"Nonsense." Yeon scoffed. "I’m the holy, I decide if you will be fine or not. Also, I decide whether or not you are worth my time. Nearly fainting is worth some attention, at least."

She studied them intently.

"Do you want some water?"

Jay nodded, surprised by how thirsty they were.

"Yes, thank you."

Yeon gave Jay another long look, and seemingly satisfied with the results of her examination jumped up to fetch a cup.

"Stay here" she said. "Holy’s orders."

The world became darker as Yeon moved back into the crowd, leaving Jay alone with their thoughts in this shadowed space at the edge of the festival.

The thoughts weren’t especially happy ones. They ran into one another, jostling and jumping over one another for attention in a self-chastising wave, like a low drumbeat of pain in the pit of Jay’s stomach whose each beat jostled the slowly thawing icicle of raw panic still lodged there.

Idiot, Jay thought, There is no reason I be surprised like that. Of course they were mercenaries.

Jeshin was wearing scale, and no guard can afford anything better than mail. I should know, I ran the books on hundreds of guard contracts. She was wearing livery and adventurers don’t wear livery, as livery is used to distinguish friend from foe and that isn’t exactly hard when the foe is a ten foot tall monster with nine limbs.

Idiot.

I made a fool of myself, and ruined a nice festival, and made a nice person who I had just met feel bad about their profession even though in all likelihood the Crimson Throats are not any morally worse than I am.

And gosh I knew that something like this would happen. I need to learn my lesson and not follow lunatics to festivals. In fact, why not quit festivals entirely, like I said I would?

Idiot idiot idiot...

The thoughts slowly faded into the background of Jay’s mind, growing less insistent as they grew less productive but not disappearing. They never did.

Jay had found that when it came to these thoughts time and isolation were always a blessing, and indeed under their effects the icicle of panic in their stomach first thawed then melted before disappearing completely.

By the time Yeon returned with two cups and pitcher of water Jay was amusing themself by studying the birch streamers waving above the crowd. The quality of their craft was quite shoddy, obviously made by children, but that just made them more charming.

"Huh, that’s a blackboard on the side of the hut. With... half erased magic formulae?" Jay noted aloud, surprised and pleased that a town of this size would boast a teacher, even if they couldn’t support a full schoolhouse. "A pretty advanced light spell too. I’m impressed."

"Ian’s a treasure to Pleurian, that’s for sure." Yeon grunted, sitting down and filling both cups. "He could join a top court in Swau but decided to teach locally instead."

She took a sip of her water.

"Are you a mage?" She asked.

"No. I don’t have the brains for research and combat makes me..." Jay waved down at their state meekly before taking a drink of the water.

Delicious.

"But I studied in Joinder for a bit. Tai Academy?" Jay questioned.

Yeon thought for a moment before shaking her head, she hadn’t heard of the place. Few people outside of Joinder mage circles had.

"I know quite a few spells from my studies," Jay continued, "but make a living by keeping books. I have a head for numbers."

Yeon made a face at that and Jay laughed.

"It’s not for everyone, I know. Quite dull, really. But it’s nice."

"Of course! As long as you find joy in it, that’s what matters," Yeon humored them.

Jay could tell she thought them dreadfully boring, and that was the most kind gift Jay could think of receiving right now.

"Are you feeling better?" Yeon queried.

Jay nodded, surprised that they meant it.

"I am," They said, "I think I’ll sit here a bit then find Jeshin and apologize before heading back to my camp. Maybe snag another pastry, they were delicious."

Yeon opened her mouth to continue the conversation but was interrupted by a sharp crack in the distance, punctuated by a shrill scream and a faint roar of shocked laughter.

She sighed.

"Duty calls I’m afraid," Yeon groused, "That was the signature sound of someone having an accident playing with fireworks. Probably just a burn, but hands are fragile and fingers tend to go missing around the frustrating things. Nothing I can’t heal, Gula willing, but an emergency nonetheless."

The priestess didn’t wait for any response from Jay before moving to help, which they appreciated. She hopped up and moved towards the distant sounds at a steady pace, taking each step with care over the frozen ground illuminated only faintly by the moonlight.

As she passed the teacher’s hut, the building exploded.

SectionMarkerJay [https://scythiamarrow.org/archive/SplinterGuard/Art/SectionMarkerJay.png]

One moment Yeon was walking past a small building made of wood with a blackboard mounted on one wall and dozens of birch streamers flying from the roof.

The next she was lying in a debris field, covered in a spray of blood, burns blackening her right side and with her hair come undone from its neat bun and burning.

Some fireworks that hadn’t been completely ripped apart in the blast were careening around the ground, casting red and green shadows over the patchy grass at the edge of the square. The grass was frozen in some places and catching fire in others, and Jay wasn’t panicking.

That was odd.

When they had imagined being in situations like this Jay certainly thought they would panic. Apparently not. Jay decided it was best to help and not dwell on their lack of panic.

Yeon was a better healer with more training than Jay, and was currently unconscious. Jay would need to help her first, wake her if they could, so they carefully picked their way towards her through the wreckage, making sure not to rush so much that they slipped.

Yeon actually didn’t look that bad when Jay finally reached her and managed to douse her burning hair with the water pitcher. No major pieces were missing at least, but the diagnostic spell they cast was more grim.

"Blocked airway. Heavy bleeding from laceration of the left inner thigh. Extensive burns along right arm, extending to upper torso. Concussion. Fractured right forearm. Fractured right wrist. Shallow cuts along right leg. Detached upper right ear." Jay murmured as they worked.

"Alright, definitely not waking her. No arterial bleeding, no broken large bones, no internal organ damage. Nothing lethal I can’t fix."

Their hand trembled at that thought but they held it together. There was no spinal injury, so Jay moved the patient to a recovery position to open her airway.

They then checked if she was breathing, a process which was supposed to take only a couple of heartbeats but stretched on for at least twenty. For a moment Jay had the terrifying thought that Yeon wasn’t breathing and would die in their arms, but she eventually let out a ragged gasp of air, proving that the patient was breathing.

The patient was breathing, so Jay moved on to the next life-threatening injury, the deep cut on her left thigh. Jay cast a glance around for bandages, there were none around, and began tearing their shirt before realizing that Yeon was a healer and would definitely have brought some herself.

A quick search of her person found a small bag strapped to the small of her back filled with bandages, gauze, antiseptic ointments, and some medical equipment Jay had never before seen in their life.

Jay quickly pressed the gauze into the wound and wrapped it neatly in bandages before realizing that they had forgotten the ointment. They rewrapped the wound with the required ointment and for good measure spread some on a piece of gauze and wiped down the small cuts on her right side.

This patient was stable. Move on to the next one.

The next patient had been present inside the building when it exploded. He was in multiple pieces, one of them being half a head topped by a mop of shaggy blonde hair, now covered in blood.

So that’s what I would feel if Yeon died in my arms, Jay thought absently. Nothing.

This patient was dead. Move on to the next one.

The next patient was a child, lying prone about forty hands away from the hut and doubled over in pain, clutching his side. An adult was standing over him, hovering, not knowing what to do and frantically shouting something.

Jay moved over carefully, still mindful of their footing, and said some pleasantries about knowing what they were doing to get rid of the adult and take care of the patient.

Jay ascertained that the patient had been struck in the side by half of the birch pole when it fell from the sky a couple of beats after the explosion. The patient whimpered softly, obviously in severe pain, and Jay’s heart clenched.

Don’t panic, They told themself. be professional.

"Hi, my name is Jay and I will be helping you." Jay said in a pleasant, professional tone. "What is your name?"

The patient spoke softly, obviously in pain, but speaking at all was usually a good sign.

"I’m Orma," He said.

"Mind if I examine you Orma? It won’t hurt a bit, I’m just comparing your soul to your body to see what is wrong." Jay asked.

After the boy nodded his assent Jay cast the diagnosis spell and immediately froze.

Broken ribs. Fractured spine. Fractured skull. Ruptured spleen. Severe internal bleeding. The damage went on. And on. And on.

It was as if the falling pole had shattered the patient from the inside. It was a miracle that he was even conscious. He wouldn’t remain so for very long. The boy would die in the arms of the worried adult pacing behind him and Jay would have to watch. They would have to explain that to the parent, tell them that no healer on Loerma could possibly save Orma. Give them that last chance to be together before Orma... Couldn’t anymore.

Jay could not do that. No one could possibly do that, it didn’t matter that it happened every day across the world, that some people conveyed such disastrous news routinely, no one could possibly do that. Jay fled, stumbling backwards from the boy and ignoring the confused shouts of the parent.

This patient was dead. Move on to the next one. The problem was, there was no next one. Several people nearby bore superficial scratches, sure, but none were life threatening and all were being tended to by others. There was nothing to do, and Jay needed to do something. What came after saving people?

Justice, Jay thought. Prevention. Finding the bastard that did this and hauling them back in chains. Ensuring they never do it again.

In the distance, they briefly glimpsed a person hurrying away from the festival.

They wore the same design of gambeson as Pussisolre and Jeshin, so they must be a member of the Crimson Throats, but they had obscured their figure with a dark cloak. They were also hauling a large bag that was heavy enough to slow them down considerably. Jay raced after them.