Death Healer

“You know, you should really tell me what happened,” Marcus, the huge [Monk], said, looking down at his lifelong friend.

Lucianus observed the countryside from the balcony of the remote monastery. Golden hues of wheat fields stretched through the landscape, punctuated by dark green clusters of olive trees and vineyards. The trees’ gnarled branches and leafy canopies whispered secrets of harvests gone by. Here and there, stone farmhouses with terracotta roofs sat nestled amidst the verdant patches, smoke curling lazily from their chimneys.

The distant tinkle of sheep bells reached their ears, carried by the gentle breeze that rustled the tall cypress trees that stood as silent sentinels against the backdrop of a cerulean sky. Farther beyond, the soft undulation of the hills met the dense woods.

“How’s your wife?” Marcus sighed, knowing his friend wouldn’t quench his other doubts.

“Angry. Little Aurora is blinding her left and right.”

“Just like her father.”

“Adriana says the same,” Lucianus smirked.

“She comes from the [Pope]’s lineage and married you, Lucianus. I still don’t understand how that happened.”

“I have my charms.”

Marcus rolled his eyes.

“I thought you’d said—you know what? Nothing. Anyway, is your daughter going to be as much trouble as you are? If that’s so, I’ll just retire. I can’t keep doing this.”

Marcus meant that mostly jokingly, but Lucianus gave him a serious side-glance, “She is... surprising. She already speaks and reads like an adult... Also, Adriana is too busy with her to complain about my collection of ancient books. Isn’t that a nice side effect of having a daughter?”

Marcus rubbed his face, not saying another word.

After a minute of silence, the [Healer] looked over his shoulder and shook his head, “How is the new [Monk]?”

“Trouble, just like you,” Marcus scoffed, raising his head. “You pick up strays left and right, Lucianus. This is going to be a mess.”

“He was already a [Monk] before I got to him. I didn’t convert him—just relocated him.”

“He’s not just a [Monk],” Marcus glowered.

“And we don’t just go on normal trips in the name of the Church, do we?” Lucianus smirked at his friend. “Are the others loyal enough not to get us put on a stake?”

“If we are lucky, we’ll just be hanged,” Marcus retorted, putting his head back between his hands. “You know that just because I owe you, it doesn’t make this right.”

“I know.”

“Good. Anyway, the [Monks] have taken well to [Meditation]. No one is as good as you, obviously, but Arcadius is much better than me... Wait, have you notified the [Pope] yet?”

“I had dinner with him before his big trip. Last I heard, he was filling in with his [Bishops] for a grand raid they had planned together with the Empire.”

“Lucianus, did you mention it, though? Please, tell me we are not hiding this from the Church.”

Lucianus pushed himself off the balcony railing and turned, starting to descend from the large stone steps.

“Shadows take you, Lucianus! You didn’t!” Marcus swore and followed the smaller man.

“I’ve been busy. I’m sure His Holiness would understand.”

Suddenly, Lucianus felt himself being picked up by his shirt and lifted up in the air.

“Must you do this every time?”

“You’d walk out on me otherwise,” Marcus scoffed. “So, what’s the plan? Are we releasing this knowledge or not?”

“Is yours at the Grandmaster Stage yet?” Lucianus deadpanned.

“No, yours?”

“I’ll tell His Holiness we are practicing a skill that could eventually be used in war but that it’s currently useless.”

“Lucianus, answer the damn question!”

In response, a terrifying aura sprung out from the smaller man, making Marcus stumble back and let go of his shirt. The [Monk]’s eyes went wide as he felt a hint of the pressure that had knocked him out years ago in those ruins they had explored together.