The Gate Traveler

I returned to town in the dead of night, somewhere around three or four in the morning, hoping someone would still be at reception. I really didn't feel like wrestling with a tent. Thanks to my new Luck stat, the innkeeper's son was there, legs propped on the bar, nose in a book. The second he spotted me, he dropped his legs and looked around with a guilty expression.

I chuckled, paid for three days, took my key, and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

The following two days, I lazed about in town, read, took long walks with Stretch, and regenerated my mana—again. I tried to teach him to fetch a stick. It didn't work out. Every time I threw the stick, he looked at it, then at me, then back at the stick, and walked away.

"You're supposed to be a dog," I told him, pointing at the stick. "Dogs love playing fetch."

Stretch yawned, showing me every tooth he owned, flopped down, and dropped his head on his paws. The message was clear: if the stick was so important, I could go fetch the damn thing myself.

I shook my head in defeat. Lazy dog.

On the second day, there was a frantic knock at my door. When I opened it, the innkeeper stood pale and jittery in the hallway. "You said you're a healer, correct?" he asked.

"Yes. What do you need?"

"Not me." He wrung his hands. "The blacksmith's apprentice. Terrible accident. Can you help?"

The apprentice was in terrible shape. A crucible of molten metal had spilled down his legs, leaving burns that smelled like cooked pork, with chunks of cooled metal fused into the flesh. The blacksmith's face was pale, his enormous hands trembling as he helped me lift the boy onto the "operating table" I pulled from Storage. I cut his pants away, exposing the full damage. His legs looked like a forge horror show: blistered and blackened skin with metal embedded in it.

Diagnose revealed the extent of the damage: torn tissue, blood loss, pealed off flesh, cracked bones, and foreign metal lodged where it had no right to be. I cast Anesthesia and set to work. With a scalpel, I cut out each piece of metal, cast Clean to prevent infection, and healed each wound while holding the blood under control so he wouldn't bleed out. This time, it was even easier to split my mind to use the needed spells consecutively, and I almost didn't notice the strain.

The blacksmith hovered so close that he literally kept breathing down my neck. When the first patch of raw, blistered skin knitted into smooth flesh, he let out a sharp gasp, and his massive hands gripped the edge of the table so hard, it creaked ominously.

I shot him a glare.

He lifted his hands in surrender and took a step back. Better.

The boy's bones didn't break, but they'd cracked under the heat. Heal Bone took care of that issue. The worst part was the burns. So much of his skin and flesh was burnt away that in some places his muscles, and even bones, were exposed, and I had to layer new flesh across everything with Regrow Flesh. It was slow, draining work, but inch by inch, his legs began to look human again. After addressing the specific points, I cast Healing Touch a few times to give him a general boost to his health and tend to the minor burns that remained. A final Purify cleansed away whatever poison the metal had carried in, and then Fortify Life Force.

I released the Anesthesia and stood back, sweat sticking to my shirt, and swaying on my feet. The blacksmith hovered again, looking between me and the boy.

I cast Clean on myself and said, "Right now, his body is out of energy. See that he eats, drinks, and rests. Bring him to me tomorrow at the inn, and I'll handle what's left."

I was lightheaded from the extensive mana use and dropped onto the closest chair. Mana: 80/4200. I sat there and regenerated until I was stable again. The apprentice stayed unconscious, giving his body time to heal and regain strength. When he finally woke, he looked about ten kilograms thinner than when I had started, but his legs were whole again.

The blacksmith gave me three gold coins and kept saying, "Thank you. Thank you."

This time, I graciously accepted the payment without argument.

When I returned to the inn, the innkeeper approached me with a hopeful expression. "Would you be willing to treat other people?"

I nodded, but held up a hand. "Yes, but only in two days. I need to regenerate my mana first. Direct all the people to the inn, and I'll see them then."

The innkeeper's shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled in relief. "Thank you. I'll let them know."

As he walked away, it suddenly dawned on me. I didn't even consider offering my services when I arrived in town. Shaking my head, I chuckled. I was still thinking in Earth's terms, where you go to a doctor, and the doctor doesn't go around offering his services. But I wasn't just a doctor anymore; I was a healer, and this role was different. I needed to adapt. To stop waiting for patients to come to me and make myself known instead. This wasn't Earth. The approach had to change.

I caught the innkeeper again while he polished the bar. "Do you know a good carpenter around here?"

He nodded and pointed left. "The last shop on the main road. Can't miss it."

The carpenter's shop was easy to spot—a modest place with chairs and stools stacked outside. Inside, a burly man with sawdust in his hair, worked on a half-finished chair.

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"Hey there," I said.

"How can I help you?"

"I need a special table for healing. It has to be long enough for a person to lie down, narrow enough that I can reach across, and higher than normal."

He scratched his chin with a thoughtful expression. "I can do that. Anything else?"

"Partitions. Three of them, four panels each."

Seeing his confusion, I said, "Let me sketch it for you." I grabbed a piece of paper and began drawing, explaining as I went. "The frames should be sturdy, with fabric stretched over them like this, and hinges here so you can open or close them."

He leaned over, eyes lighting up with interest. "I see. And the fabric?"

I took out a thick, dark blue fabric roll. "I brought this for the partitions."

He took the fabric, feeling its texture. "This is excellent quality. I've never worked with something like this before."

"So, do you think you can do it?"

He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely. This is a great idea. Can I use your idea to make more to sell?"

"Go ahead and make lots of money," I said with a chuckle.

He laughed heartily. "Thank you! For all this work, it'll be seven gold and three silver. But I'm only charging you for three partitions; the fourth is payment for the idea. Everything will be ready in two days."

"That's very nice of you," I said, shaking his hand. He was genuinely excited, and the new setup would make a big difference in my work.

When I was halfway out, I stopped and turned to him. "Where can I buy a tent?"

"In the general store on the main road."

I nodded. "Yeah, I saw it. Thanks."

The general store was… well, general. It had a little of everything in a very confusing arrangement. The front was full of fruits and vegetables that looked quite similar to the ones from Earth, but not exactly. There were always differences. The apples looked and smelled like apples, but were bright orange. Vegetables that I was sure were cucumbers turned out to be some sour fruit used for juice, and small brown things that, on first glance, looked like walnuts with smooth shells turned out to be berries. Interspersed between them were baskets containing clothes of all sizes, together in the same baskets, and a bucket, a bucket! With swords that were chipped and quite rusty. I'm sure there was some logic behind it, but I didn't see it. Further in, there were shelves with a jumbled assortment of household goods, like candles, linen, cookware, toys, soap, and more. It was a neat freak's nightmare.

The shopkeeper, an old man with a sour expression, looked up from behind the counter. "Looking for something?"

"Yes," I said, scanning the chaotic display. "A big tent."

He disappeared into the back. Moments later, he returned with a leather sheet, poles, spikes, and rope. "Here. 2 gold."

I stared at the heap in front of me, feeling a headache coming on. This "tent" didn't resemble anything I'd ever used before. My tents either popped open or came with numbered poles that corresponded to the numbers on the tent. I just had to thread the poles in according to the numbers, place four spikes to tie the tent so it wouldn't blow away, and I was done. If I opened the canopy, I had to place two more poles, tie the canopy to the poles, and secure two additional spikes.

"How do I assemble it?" I asked, scratching my head awkwardly.

The shopkeeper gave me a look that conveyed exactly what he thought of my intelligence. "It's simple. Every child knows this," he grumbled, showing me with exaggerated patience. "You put the poles like this, throw the leather sheet on top, and drive the spikes in."

"Got it," I said, trying to hide my annoyance. "Thanks."

I looked around at his inventory and asked, "Are you interested in buying some things to sell?"

His expression changed to a friendlier one. "Show me what you have, and maybe I will buy something."

I moved to a clear area in the store and summoned one of the shelving units with glassware. He shook his head. "Those are rich folk things; we are simple people. They are too fancy for us."

"Okay, next," I said, storing it and summoning a more "down-to-earth" collection, mostly plain plates, mugs, and cups. "How about these?"

He shook his head again. "I don't think anybody in this town can afford those things; they are too fancy."

I summoned the cheapest pots, pans, and bowls from the flea markets. He chose a few pieces, but the rest were still "too fancy."

My annoyance grew. "Those cost me one or two bucks, and it's still too fancy?" I muttered under my breath.

He looked at me with a questioning expression, but now I shook my head.

Baskets of clothes. He chose two pieces for his daughter, the rest—apparently still "too fancy."

Linen and towels? Same story.

By the third time, my teeth were starting to grind with every repeat of that cursed phrase.

Simple, cheap silverware. He sniffed. "Nobody uses those fancy things here."

I sighed, summoning sharp cooking knives. At least one of those passed muster; he bought it for his wife's birthday. The others? "Too fancy." By the sixth time, I was ready to strangle the words right out of his mouth.

Rolls of fabric. He settled on one roll of plain brown cotton. The rest—yeah, too fancy.

"I can offer you a good price for it," I said.

He shook his head—again. "Everybody knows I'm honest. If I cheat you and buy expensive goods for cheap, folks will stop trusting me."

Thread, needles, yarn—too fancy.

Toys. He bought a bunny plushie for his granddaughter. The rest—too fancy.

Empty copper pouches. He bought one for himself. The rest—too fancy.

I need to delete this phrase from the Shimoorian language!

Finally, I had nothing else to show him. He checked everything he chose, twice, did some calculations on paper, and said, "I can give you 15 gold, 6 silver, and the tent. Is that acceptable?"

My Merchant Profession told me it was a fair price, but I could haggle to raise it. I decided not to. We concluded our business, and I returned to the inn, relieved but also exasperated.

An excellent lunch and a long soak in the bath took the edge off, and I spent the rest of the day regenerating, petting Stretch, and reading. Stretch lay beside me with his head on my chest while I read, his bushy tail wagging happily.

The following day, the apprentice knocked on my door for his checkup. He looked much better, but still skeletally thin. "How are you feeling?" I asked, gesturing for him to sit down.

"I'm good," he said, rolling up his pant leg to show me the healed skin. "Just some soreness."

I cast a general healing spell, feeling the minor issues melt away under its influence. Instructed him to eat and rest more, permitted him to return to work, and sent him on his way.

Later, the innkeeper approached me with a curious look on his face. "I heard you were selling some fancy rich folks' things in the general store," he said. "Sometimes nobles pass through town and expect to be served according to their station."

I nodded. "Yes, I have some items that might interest you."

He rubbed his hands eagerly and looked quite excited, not like that grouchy old man.

I took out some serving glassware from my more "fancy" collection.

The innkeeper's delight reached a new height. "These are exquisite," he exclaimed, picking up a delicate goblet and turning it in his hands. "Ooh, look at this craftsmanship!"

He continued to examine each piece, with a series of appreciative "ah's" and "ooh's". Finally, he selected the items he wanted. "These will be perfect for when the nobles visit," he said, handing me the coins. "Thank you."

At least I emptied my storage a bit, but looking at everything I had there, the things I sold didn't even make a dent in the total amount of stuff. I scratched my head, looking at it.

Yeah, I might have gone a bit overboard with my shopping.