A Doctor Without Borders [Healer | Slow-Burn | Medical Fantasy]

Her eyes narrowed at my joke. The power in the air prickled my skin. It was nothing like the Vísir's or Kyria Rhaptis's, but its malignancy was real. She could harm me if she wanted to. "You have gained the respect of my people. You healed your arm with a negligible amount of potion. And now, I have watched you mend this," she waved her hand in frustration, "this stupid coat. So I ask you again, what are you?"

"Hey, to be fair, I am pretty sure an essence enchantment did the mending."

"An essence enchantment? By the Mother, how did you get one of those?"

I couldn't help but shrink back a bit at her vehemence. "The Oresian [Tailor]."

She threw her hands up in the air. "You mean the Oresian [Archmage] who thinks she is so clever by pretending to be a lowly [Tailor]?"

I shrugged. "Yes?"

At some point in this conversation, her Marks had started to glow. The pressure in the room had stopped increasing, but with each word she spoke, it oscillated ever so slightly. "You somehow convinced an Oresian [Archmage] to imbue this ridiculous thing you wear." She stood up straight, her eyes never leaving me. "You aren't joking. You did all this while only in the second tier. I ask again. What are you?"

Had I gone too far with my demonstration?

No. I needed to make a point, and she damaged my coat, the coat that I had earned from years of work and sacrifice and that had somehow survived being blown into a new world. The coat I had literally bled for.

It didn't matter that neither my coat nor I had sustained permanent injuries. She still had no right to stab me.

I needed to draw the line, but how? Denials? Corrections? Or just rip her a new one?

I throttled my dark impulses—barely. Satisfying, sure, but I'd already dug a deep enough hole. I needed a working relationship.

"A stranger in a strange land." Her expression grew cross, and I sighed. "What do you want me to tell you that I haven't already? I'm not from here. The w—place I'm from is very different. Everything about this place is foreign. Until I woke up in this camp, I had never met an Ættar, Oresian, or Volk. I have no clue about the history between your peoples, and if I wasn't stuck having to navigate it—or figuring out how to make amends—I wouldn't care."

"Quit dancing around the truth."

The prickling on my skin took on a burning quality as the pressure around me increased.

I met her cold stare. "I'm not."

"You aren't just some commoner."

"This whole noble thing again? I'm not a noble. Do I have training? Yeah, I do. A lot. Some might even call me an 'elite,' but that doesn't change what I told you before. I ended up here because of an accident."

"An accident? That isn't what you said earlier."

"Given the state I was in, shouldn't you question anything I said back then?"

That actually managed to shut her up. After all, it also spoke to the comment that divided us in the first place. Her brows furrowed as she studied me. Her mouth opened and then shut. Eventually, she figured out what she wanted to say. "I thought you had lied before or, like so many Humans, falsely attributed your woes to meddling by the Ascended. But you did neither."

It wasn't a question. Still, I answered anyway. "No."

It wasn't a lie. I still didn't know what happened. Was it an act of God—or a god? I had hazy recollections to back up the latter, but what did stating that get me? I've already drawn enough attention. My dealings with what equated to superhumans had caused me enough issues already. Did I need to add in all-powerful beings? As a kid, I had read my fair share of Greek mythology and the games the gods played with mortals.

Please keep that mess far away from me. Thank you very much.

She walked toward the back of the room before abruptly stopping, arm against the wall, head bowed. Her whisper barely carried. "The Mother can be as cruel as she can be loving. And his competence…" She lifted her head, her fingers curled into tight fists. She pivoted and paced the length of the room three times before she spun towards me. "Do you know what my Master has asked of me by teaching you?"

"Not really. As I said, I know nothing of this place, but…I imagine it is a lot."

"You have no idea."

"If I could leave this place, I would. I wouldn't burden you. I would find another place to learn skills for my class."

My admission ignited something in her. More of her usual fire burned in those vivid green eyes. "Of course you would forsake all this knowledge, this gift, so easily."

"Didn't you just finish telling me about the terrible position my role puts you in?"

"So, refusing my teaching is better? The Sæmdarskati commanded that you be instructed in the healing arts, and I will not bring shame to my Master—or myself—by failing to do so, no matter how difficult it makes my life."

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"You've got to be kidding me—"

I clamped my mouth shut. I took a few steadying breaths.

Remember, you need this to work. You also owe her.

"I can't win with you. I came hoping for a fresh start, but instead, you stabbed me in my arm. I wouldn't call that a gift, much less training. Let's not even get started on my white coat. You may not have known much about it, but you could tell that it was enchanted. If I can pick up the faint energy signatures, so can you. Even if you couldn't, you know the limit of the supplies here. Yet, you were perfectly okay damaging it. Is all that what you call training?"

"Yes! What else would that have been?"

We stared each other down, and I refused to look away. She broke first, stalking off once more to the back of the room, but not before I caught a hint of red on her green cheeks. When she pivoted back to face me, any hint of embarrassment had disappeared. "What I did was reasonable and, in fact, expected. How else do you plan on getting stronger? Injuries don't grow on trees. Next time, do what I ask, and then you won't have to worry about your precious equipment."

The audacity.

"No. You can't actually tell me that that was the best way."

"Stop being such a fool. Everyone knows adversity speeds development, and learning to heal through distraction is vital. What greater distraction than pain? On the battlefield, it's life or death—one lapse and you're finished. If you are lucky, you might even develop a skill tailored for those moments when healing is needed most." She flicked her hand toward my now-healed arm and mended sleeve. "And nothing is damaged."

I gritted my teeth. Putting the coat aside, what she said made sense. Adversity had played a significant role in my skill acquisition, but...

"Can you truly say that you had no ulterior motives in your choice of methods?"

She stared at me. "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

She waved me off with a dismissive gesture. "The more you speak, the less I can doubt your claim of being a stranger to this land. I know stories of our training methods are whispered amongst Humans. Many even try to mimic us, though they all fail. They lack the stomach for what must be done. We don't coddle our youth. Every one of us with a shred of talent in healing goes through this type of training. We weed out those weak in body or mind because we cannot falter when we support the line. Those who cannot stand this aren't fit to bear the title of [Healer]. It is harsh, but it produces results, and any [Healer], even a Human, would beg, even kill, for this opportunity."

I leaned back in my chair, mulling over her words in my head. I took another look at my left arm and the pristine white coat that covered it. It didn't show even a speck of damage. I flexed and extended my fingers without even a hint of pain.

Like it had never happened…

How much of my anger comes from my biases? Would my "traditional methods" allow a person to level? If only I had an XP bar, then I could actually test things.

I didn't, though, which meant I would have to trust her, at least for now. Easier said than done. I remembered what I saw. At least some part of her enjoyed stabbing that knife through my arm.

Once again, I found myself stuck in a difficult spot: do I forsake the one thing that has earned me respect and, by corollary, safety? Or do I suck it up, keep my head down, and take as much as I can from this?

I really only had one option.

"I want to learn. While I have distinct reservations about your methods, I will admit that my experience has borne out many of your claims. However, are you sure your vaunted methods will help me? After all, I can't 'heal.'"

She recoiled in disbelief. "How do you know so little yet have done so much? What you did was a type of healing. It was just very augmented. We are not all at the Vísir's level. Most [Healers] need agents until they learn and control their healing skills. Even then, potions can reduce the strain on our reserves. We can focus on the worst wounds while the potion works, and some illnesses respond better to a poultice."

"Let me take a guess. The ones that are festering?"

"Why do I feel like that wasn't a lucky guess?" The silence stretched into an uncomfortable length as I refused to answer. She shook her head. "Fine. Keep your secrets, but it is to your detriment. Unlike my Master, I don't disdain potions and poultices. For some, using them can become a crutch—an expensive one, assuming you can even find the reagents to create proper quality potions, but I believe that they have a role."

I should just keep my lips sealed, but even this brief exchange had provided me with key information: not all [Healers] eschewed potions. That gave me a place in this world. She also had confirmed that this world had some basic pharmacology. I had extrapolated as much from Dorian's comment on lower-tier areas' dearth of high-quality potions and my experience with healing potions and salve, but the more corroboration, the better.

I couldn't miss this opportunity. I had to know. "Can you show me the poultices and potions you would use for festering?"

She cocked her head. "Are you purposely trying to infuriate me?"

What? What had I just said?

She scowled. "Don't give me that look. Every traveler knows that potions only worsen festering. Even a soft and pampered Human noble such as yourself has to have been injured before. You should know this. So why don't you?"

Her eyes widened, and she rushed over to a table and back. When she returned, she held up three different vials. She popped a few open, tilting them so that the liquid in the tiny containers caught the light. Only one had the typical reddish hue I had come to associate with healing potions. "What are these?"

My eyes narrowed. I pointed to the vial with the red potion. "That's a healing potion."

"Obviously. Now the others?"

What is her game here?

I reached for the vials, but she pulled them back. "Nope. You should be able to do this by sight alone."

I studied the other two vials. Both contained an iridescent liquid, though one was yellow, and the other, blue. I tried reaching out with [Enhance Medicinal]. I could sense a potential for something, but that was it. The distance was too great to do anything else.

I guessed. "The blue one is for Energy recovery."

Her scowl confirmed my guess. "The other?"

"Stamina."

My luck ran out.

"No." Her face grew serious. "You didn't even know about potions until you came here. You used them without any background knowledge…"

Her eyes widened as the realization triggered something…concerning.

I raised my hands. "Hold on now. Let's not go making any crazy claims."

She shook her head. "You don't make any sense. You should be dead from the Aether levels or the casual use of a potion."

Wait? Potions could be dangerous?

She caught my flinch. "You didn't know. Just like a novice, you assumed that just because potions at your tier are safe, the higher-tier ones are too. Such stupidity is rampant. It's fine most of the time, until it isn't. You've been in contact with them so often, yet you haven't manifested any toxicity."

Her eyes bore into me as if they had the power to peel me open and reveal all my secrets. "You are Mind-based, but your Projection is low. So, you must have a predisposition to Perception and Processing. With enough of those, you might be able to manage the Aether conversion." She started pacing back and forth. "But at your tier? That is not possible unless you're a…"

She halted mid-step. She slowly turned toward me, eyes wide. Her jaw worked; she swallowed the word on the tip of her tongue: prodigy.