“Fine lot of Adventurers you are!” Guild Master Ronson was berating the group, glowering at the Adventurers the next day—only technically, as the sun had yet to even rise—from within his sparsely appointed office. “Getting into bar fights, breaking the furniture, and injuring multiple other Adventurers in the brawl!”
Beside the Guildmaster, Lady Marshall was nodding along, looking entirely unimpressed with the group. “That’s right.”
“There were a half-dozen members of other guilds in there. Do you know the kind of messages I’m going to get? The complaints that are going to come? Do you not understand what it is like, being the party of the prince?” Ronson continued.
“It’s a major responsibility,” Lady Marshall interjected.
“A major travesty in our reputation! I don’t even like it when our regular guild members get into fights, never mind you people,” Ronson said.
His gaze swept over the team, taking in the battered appearance of everyone but Daniel. His gaze stopped on the Healer, glaring at him, but Daniel could only shrug. What was the point of having a Gift like his own when he couldn’t patch himself up? Especially when it had only required a single cast of Healer’s Mark anyway.
Of course, once the guards and Lady Marshall had arrived to drag them around, he’d been barred from healing anyone else. Not that his Healing Aura II had not been running fixing minor cuts and bruises even now.
“So true. We punish our guild members for such rule breakage. And you, the prince’s party, caught in a barroom brawl. The gossip that will occur,” Lady Marshall said, her voice filled with horror. “A true scandal.”
“Exactly. And worse, you didn’t even win.”
“That’s ri—” Lady Marshall paused. “Wait . . .”
“If you’re going to get into a fight, at least make sure to win. And make it a good win too—none of this eking-out-a-victory garbage. There were only two dozen Adventurers in there. It should have been simple!” Ronson said, fixing Johan with a glare. “I expected more from a Master of Arms. Or a Northerner.” Again, his gaze shifted to Omrak and then landed on Asin who was still cradling one arm. “I did hear mutterings about you though, but eyes are not considered legal attacks in a brawl.”
“Grabbed tail,” Asin said, mulishly.
“I don’t care if they used your tail to clean their privates. You don’t try to blind other Adventurers!” Ronson roared.
Asin’s ears turned down, and the Catkin gave an abrupt nod. In the silence that the guildmaster’s shouting caused, Johan’s soft-voiced answer was clear. “Wasn’t using a weapon . . .”
“Yeah? And you think a broken chair leg isn’t a weapon? Grab two of them, lay into them!” Ronson snapped.
“Guildmaster, this isn’t the kind of lesson—” Lady Marshall said, raising her voice.
“And you! Why are you still clutching your head like that?” Ronson said, ignoring his vice-guildmaster as he pointed at Lady Nyssa.
“Headache.”
“That’s because you need to hit them higher up the head, not down at the brows. And do more exercise with your neck if you intend to headbutt people. Wear a good heavy helm!” Ronson advised before turning to Charles. The older bodyguard regarded the guildmaster with a stone-faced expression, only for Ronson to move right onto Daniel. “And you, Healer . . .”
“Yes?”
“Sir, I really don’t—” Lady Marshall tried again.
“What was this healing the other fighters garbage I heard about?” Ronson said.
“It was . . .”
“Soft-hearted garbage! You beat them, make sure they remember their bruises. Then they won’t start a fight again.”
“GUILDMASTER!” Lady Marshall roared, her voice piercing and making the Adventurers flinch. Asin, ever more susceptible to loud noises, even let out a low whimper of pain as she rubbed her ears. Still, she knew better to complain as the furious noblewoman ranted. “This is not helpful. Our members should not be taking part in such endeavors at all!”
“Well, that’s what I said,” Ronson said, wilting a little under the Lady Marshall’s glare. “But yes. No, you know, fighting. At all. Now, go clean up and go to bed. I expect we’ve got a lot to deal with.”
The group nodded, happy to escape the angry pair. Daniel, the last to slip out, caught the muttered words of Ronson, just before the door closed. “And win if you do.”
“I heard that,” Lady Marshall said.
Closing the door firmly, Daniel hurried to his room. It was after he had cleaned up the minor blood splatters and sweat from the day’s delving, clad in a new tunic that knocks on his door occurred. Frowning, Daniel opened it to see Charles standing before him.
“Yes?” Daniel said, puzzled.
Stepping aside, Charles ushered in Lady Nyssa. “My lady requires your aura. Unfortunately, her room is a little too far away at the present moment.”
“I—”
“Ah, Friend Charles and Nyssa, come to enjoy our favored friend’s great powers?” Omrak rumbled, towel over his shoulder and his chest still bare.
“Shirt, Sir Omrak.” Charles rumbled, not at all angrily but firmly.
“Right, right. I’ll put it on,” Omrak put action to words, and while his hand was raised, Asin slipped in underneath his arm.
“Now, come on,” Daniel said, staring at the Catkin. “You’re right next door.”
“Muted.”
“It’s still good enough.”
A hand came up, showing him the slight bend in it and the pair of missing claws. Yellow eyes narrowed at Daniel, daring him to say anything more and the Healer sighed.
“Whatever. Omrak, you’re in the other room. Charles . . . whatever you choose.”
“I shall rest outside. And you will do so with the door open,” Charles said, firmly.
Daniel snorted, but did not argue. He knew better. Turning towards his bed, he groaned, noting how both women had taken it while he had been busy coordinating their rest with the bodyguard.
“I should just join Omrak,” Daniel muttered, as he found an extra blanket in the foot chest and spread it out on the floor. “Teach them a lesson . . .” Still muttering to himself, he flopped down on the ground. It really was no different than sleeping in the Dungeon. More comfortable in fact, what with the lack of potentially murderous monsters appearing out of thin air.
Within seconds of closing his eyes, Daniel drifted off to sleep.
***
Morning was a simple enough affair, though Daniel had to extract himself from the blanket that he had somehow managed to cocoon himself into. One of the advantages of running his Healing Aura all night was that his back and body did not ache at all, even if his sleeping arrangement had not been the best.
After kicking his friends out of his room after his morning ablations, Daniel made his way down to the dining hall. Breakfast was subdued with the team soon breaking up afterwards to take care of their myriad duties. For Daniel, that was more lessons on healing with Master Healer Rotfield today. Another reason why he had wanted to escape to the Dungeon.
Arriving at his classroom, he was surprised to find that Rotfield was already waiting for him. Before he could even check the time, Rotfield was already speaking.
“Late as always. Even if you are a mere Adventurer, I expect you to be on time.” Having said his piece, Rotfield turned away and strode over to the front of the board. “Now, I assume you have done the reading. So we will go over the particular anatomy of the human nervous system, the way the Nerve Defraying spell works and how it is different from a Greater Treat Wounds spell.”
Daniel slid into a seat with alacrity, pulling out quill—magically enchanted to always have ink so long as its user provided Mana—and paper from his inventory and scribbling the name of the spells as well as the topic.
“You did do the reading, did you not?” Rotfield barked, spinning around, a piece of chalk ready to throw at Daniel.
“I did, Master Healer.”
Looking almost disappointed, Rotfield continued. “Then, list the total number of vertebrae in a human body, major differences between the major genus types in Beastkin—since you continue to insist on treating those creatures—and the names of the nerves leading and controlling the hips and lower back.”
Daniel nodded, composing his mind and tucked his chin in a little, letting the chalk piece bounce off his forehead when he hesitated.
“Now, Adventurer.”
Keeping his temper in check, Daniel began rattling off the answer, knowing he would see another piece of chalk coming his way soon. The books given to him had not contained details about the Beastkin at all, though some he knew from self-study.
Such were his days “learning” healing from the angry Master Healer. Even if his jealousy was proudly worn on his sleeve—at least in private—Daniel had to admit, the Master Healer’s Tutoring Skill made a significant difference in his own Skill gain. Enough so that it was worth the abuse he received.
Hours later, Daniel was dismissed, sent to practice his new knowledge on a group of new and willing patients. In this case, they were the members of the other guilds they had fought the night before, all subjected to his Healing Aura and the spells he clumsily attempted to weave together.
One of the major aspects of his study was the practice of new healing spells and learning it on a manual basis, in this case Treat Moderate Wounds. Unlike the Healing: Medium Wounds spell, the Treat series of spells were more commonly used by true Healers. The Treat spells required less Mana from the caster, substituting the patient’s own Mana and body resources instead and could be directed to specific locations. The Heal spells on the other hand bathed patients in a general aura of healthiness, which sped up healing, but of course led to things like growths and tumors.
Of course, there were other major disadvantages to the Treat spells such as the long casting time and the precise medical knowledge required by the Healer. Since the spell was guided through the body, understanding which tendons stitched to which bone, which layer of skin—if you even knew about layers of skin! —went where and the like was important. A subset skill within the Treat spells even allowed for minor cosmetic improvements. That, Daniel was not intending to learn, but the lower Mana cost was certainly useful.
If he could get the spell to cast.
Cursing under his breath, Daniel felt the Mana forms unravel within the Adventurer’s body once more. The hiss under the man’s arm, slender and scarred, informed Daniel that his failure had not gone unnoticed. Flashing the man a quick consoling smile, Daniel exhaled and focused again, ignoring the glare sent his way.
Fixing them was a necessity and because of his Healing Aura, he was running out of time. Still, haste made waste—in Mana and pain, if nothing else. He would learn this spell, he would learn the physical form and he would not let the damn Master Healer get to him.
***
Trouble arrived the next day in the form of the prince stalking forward, anger warring with disappointment as he joined the team at the Dungeon entrance. Arms crossed, he glared at the group while the Royal Guards stood a short, careful distance behind and watched for potential problems. None of which were arriving, not with their presence being so notable and upfront.
“I heard you all were involved in a bar fight when I left,” Roland said accusingly.
“My apologies, your highness. We did attempt to avert the fight,” Lady Nyssa said, stepping in smoothly and dropping into a curtsy. It looked strange to Daniel, what with her not wearing a dress, but she certainly played contrite well.
“Brawl,” Omrak corrected her.
“What?” Lady Nyssa said, echoed by Roland.
“It’s a bar brawl. A fight would entail death. A brawl is done in good fun,” Omrak said.
“That . . .” Lady Nyssa paused, then added reluctantly. “I have never known the etymology of such conflicts. I stand corrected.”
“It’s okay,” Omrak said. “You correct me all the time too.”
“So, you started a bar brawl without me,” Roland said. “Causing significant damage and injuring a group of Adventurers.”
“Which I have healed,” Daniel was quick to point out.
“And you didn’t even let me join!” Roland said.
“Wanted join?” Asin said, curiosity making her speak.
“Of course! I’ve never been in a bar brawl before,” the prince replied. “Why wouldn’t I want to join in such a situation?”
“Because it hurts?” Daniel said.
“It’s pointless?” Johan added, speaking up. “You, um, don’t even get experience.”
“Expensive,” was Asin’s answer.
“Bah! You don’t do such things for the experience points. It’s for fun! What’s the point of doing all this if not for fun?” Roland replied, snorting at Johan. “Come, Lord Cleese. Surely you know that you will eventually have to give up your sword for more sedate affairs.”
“I’m . . . ummm . . . a third son. I don’t have an inheritance to . . . uh . . . inherit,” Johan said. “Mother says I need to . . . uhh . . . win it.”
“So am I! But I still have duties,” Roland said. “Anyway, you never know what might happen.”
Johan could only shrug, choosing not to contradict the over-eager prince. Lady Nyssa however was quick to cut in. “Prince Roland, I think you misunderstand how common deaths among the noble heirs are. Or even, among royalty.”
Roland rolled his eyes. “We’ve had over a dozen assassinations in my family.”
“But none in the last century. Not since your grandfather stabilized the nobility,” Lady Nyssa said gently. “Brad has reached a period of peace under your grandfather and father’s rule.”
“Mmm . . .” Roland said, crossing his arms. He opened his mouth to speak further only to be interrupted by the loud clearing of a throat by the lead guard. Roland sighed, put-upon, but chose not to elaborate, though the entire byplay had Daniel eyeing the prince curiously.
Something else was going on, obviously. Potentially something dangerous enough that they were quite insistent in grabbing an Adventurer with a powerful Gift.
Or perhaps he was just being paranoid.
“Your highness, we shall try to start our next bar brawl when you are around,” Omrak said, only to receive a smack off the top of his head by Charles, the only one of them who was tall enough that doing that was an easy action. “Ouch!”
“We are not starting any further brawls when my lady or his royal highness are nearby,” Charles said, his voice cold. “We do not put our charges into danger, just for fun. If you so desire, I can introduce you to a class of individuals—or a Class even—who would be interested in such pursuits.”
“Ooooh . . .” Johan hissed at the burn.
Daniel shook his head at the entire group and, seeing the way the guards and the rest of the Adventurers around them was eyeing the group, clapped his hands together. “All right, enough. We’re here to delve, not talk about fights. Some of us have got a bar brawl to pay off.”
Grumbling, the team fell into line and Daniel pushed them towards the Dungeon entrance. He was mostly kidding about paying for the brawl—the cost of furniture, while exorbitant to him in some ways, was not much when compared to an Adventurer’s take. It was still, however, more than he wanted to pay.
Anyway, if they kept talking about setting up fights or bar brawls, those Royal Guards might just tell on them to the king. And that was one meeting he would be happy to avoid.