When the welcome party was over late at night, the mood shifted from festive to mournful. And the thirty-two fallen soldiers were laid on one massive pyre that was lit right at midnight when the moon was at its highest. The new Priest who arrived yesterday with everyone else held a long but impactful speech about the brave fallen men who had lost their lives while defending the weak from the undead menace. For someone new, I was told he did an excellent job and already earned himself some respect. This was especially surprising considering that he was the main reason this expedition started in the first place. I sadly didn’t attend because I didn’t know any of the people that have died. And because I would rather not show my face for the rest of the day.
The next day, when I went into the clinic, I was greeted by a small crowd. There was, of course, the new Priest, whom I could easily identify as such from the od multicolored robe he wore. He was in his late forties with sharp brown, almost black eyes, and his brown hair already showed streaks of grey. He wore a bright, complicated tunic in red, orange, and yellow, with a hooded cape that was completely black on the inside and dark blue on the outside.
Next to him was Sir Titus. He really looked like one of the Titans from the old fairy tales Otto had made me read, standing seven and a half feet tall, dwarfing everything around him. Next to him was… Rika and Benjamin. As well as Joel, Joel’s squire, Collin, and all the other men who went to Aldmoor with them and Titus.
But no one else.
Janus was suspiciously absent. Everyone else had some injury or scar they wanted to get rid of, but he didn’t?
Yeah, no way.
It was obvious that he was keeping his distance. Was it because he felt embarrassed about what he had said? Well, whatever, I’m more than happy that he isn’t here today, but I will make sure to see him at least one more time before I leave. As well as Otto, Benjamin, Rika, Rosalia, Madam Olivia, the twins, and, huh, even Joel now that I think about it. And if I think about it even more, I realize that there are a lot of people I will have to say goodbye to. Way more than in my previous life…
I face the expectant crowd with the brightest secretary voice I could manage and say,
“Hello, everyone, could everybody who is here for treatment please form an orderly line. I will talk to whoever is left once there are no more people in need of care.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I could see irritation on the Priest’s face. Still, everyone else just went along and formed a neat line, so he couldn’t really interject if he didn’t want to stick out as the only one who disagreed.
Etiquette would usually have required me to greet the Priest first, as he is the highest-ranking noble in the room. After all, all ranks in the Armentis faith are equivalent to noble titles and rank. The Pope is technically the same rank as the King; the ten Cardinals are about as mighty as a Duke; Archbishops are Marquiss; Bishops are Viscounts; Priests are Count; and Deacons are Barons. This is a rough comparison, and it doesn’t work exactly like this. Still, I couldn’t be bothered to remember all the minute differences from Otto’s lessons. So, as an explanation, this will have to suffice. And even though we always just referred to him as “priest”, because it was the only thing we really cared about, he was actually a Cardinal appointed directly by the current Pope.
So, our new Priest was at least officially speaking more important than Marquiss Wilhelm Yuwen. Far outstripping our previous Priest Roland, who was really just that, a Priest. As for why the Priest sent our way is of such high rank, I have no idea. Are they trying to undermine the Marquis’s power? Is he disgraced, and rather than firing him, they send him here? Are they trying to get rid of him or his political influence? Perhaps even all three? Or none at all. This could potentially lead to significant power struggles and political intrigue, but I have better things to care about than politics at the moment, so I quickly stopped thinking about it. Though I continued wondering as I healed one person after another. Why are the titles and their structure even similar? I mean, they are obviously called differently since it’s a different language. But there are so many similarities in their structure, roles, and responsibilities that it becomes easier to count the differences than all the similarities.
There must have been someone else who reincarnated and brought along all these ideas and concepts. But who it was and why their ideas stuck around is an absolute mystery due to the passage of time.
And just like that, I’m almost finished and only Titus is left, and next to him stood… Rika? Hasn’t she listened to me when I told them to form a line, or could she simply no longer wait for her well-deserved earful from me for putting me on a silver platter yesterday?
Right behind her, I could see the Priest with his face completely aghast. Had he seen a ghost?
“Could you please show me your other leg and foot. It is a lot easier for me to regrow a leg if there is already a model to go by.”
Titus promptly took off his boot and sock, revealing a big toe that could have rivaled my wrist in circumference.
“Ehm, easier, what do you mean?”
Titus and Rika turn around at the Priest’s question and look at him incredulously.
“E-Ehm, I mean it usually takes months just for a finger, so why would you already care about such things as Aesthetics?”
True from his point of view, it must be like watching someone talking about wanting to build their dream house but getting stuck on choosing the right wallpaper. Titus, too, now looked a bit sceptical. But Rika reassuringly puts her arm around his neck, or at least attempts to, and says,
“Don’t worry, Dad, she will fix you in a jiffy.”
I wouldn’t put it like that, but… wait… Dad? Is she his daughter? Why do I only learn this now? Why did no one mention this? I mean, her hair was the same color, but besides that, they couldn’t have been more different. Like A sunflower right next to a hundred-year-old oak.
“Well, if you say so, I will believe in your friend.”
Titus lowers his head, doing his best to go lower than me but remaining taller still.
“Miss Ruby, I’m in your hands.”
I look smugly towards the Priest whose pale face had started to regain a bit of color.
“Because this won’t take months.”
A green light more potent than on any of my previous patients this day flowed from my hand, attaching itself to the stump and taking on the form of Titus’ lost leg. Within seconds, new bone began to form, then was enveloped by cartilage, ligaments, blood vessels, muscles, and, finally, skin. Even the hair and toenails grew until they looked exactly like the other.
And while Titus and Rika cheered, the Priest looked utterly lifeless. After a few seconds of him just staring at Titus’s leg, he excused himself and left, saying that he didn’t feel too good.