"Alright, I'll see these two through."
The doctor nodded at Greva and Carte, who had forced the duo of Vant and Morma into the hospital of the town, despite their hissing and groaning. They both sat on the same medical bed as the doctor, clearly not a fan of his rowdy patients, inspected both of them through a circular lens floating in front of his right eye, formed by magic. He took around thirty seconds to squint at Vant and spent nothing more than a passing glance towards Morma before dispelling the lens, taking a few notes on his clipboard.
"I'll have to have to heal you, big guy. A few bandages aren't going to fix a bullet wound, no matter how strong you are."
The doctor took a moment to look up at Carte, his voice still sounding dull and annoyed.
"That'll be additional charge, by the way."
Carte nodded understandingly, although he wasn't exactly happy about the doctors attitude. He couldn't really blame him though; the tiny village they were situated in was a hotspot for bloodsports a somewhat out of place coliseum a little ways out from the village where it was far enough from the cities that the council simply didn't particularly care. The doctor set his gaze back onto Morma, looking a little more pleased with her condition.
"The girl seems fine; a little dehydrated and low on proteins, so I'd advise a nice bit of meat for her tonight."
The doctor eyed the pair standing up, silently wondering who in the world the father was between Carte and Vant. He could see the woman of the group being the mother; they did share a remarkable likeness. The father though...
"Greva, you can go. I'll keep watch on these two."
Greva took a moment to considered leaving and scouting out somewhere nice to eat, but decided against it, simply shaking her head and leaning back onto the wall behind her. Pushing the pair of them out of his mind, the doctor stripped the amateurishly wrapped bandages off of Vant's arm and inspected at the wound, which had partially healed over the week or so that had passed since he had gotten. To say it wasn't pretty was an understatement. The bullet had been removed, but the flesh around it was still twisted and mangled from the projectile, a small spot of gore in an otherwise normal arm.
"This is going to hurt."
Mumbling to nobody in particular, the doctor prepared his regeneration spell on his newly unwilling patient. Almost immediately picking up on his distress, Morma forced her tiny hand onto Vant's palm, trying to grip around it tightly before giving up and going for a few fingers. She sent a massive smile his way and he returned one, although it wasn't nearly so joyus or confident. The doctor, attempting to ignore Carte who feverishly held a book in his hand and pen in the other, began the healing process.
White light emanated from his hands and surrounded Vant's leg, before flesh and skin duplicated and snaked forward both sides of the wound, almost immediately colliding into each other. Vant gritted his teeth as the doctor carefully pushed each tiny piece of flesh and skin into place, like it was some sort of grim jigsaw puzzle. Eventually, once every piece was in place, the glow shined brighter for a moment, each small molecule bonded with one another. Vant struggled to keep in a scream as it all began to fit into place, but as soon as the bonding was complete, the pain was suddenly gone alongside the magical glow. Operation complete.
The doctor slid away from the bed and towards his table to calculate the financial costs, ignoring the scene behind him. The total cost for two check ups and one minor healing was one gold and two silver; a little pricy compared to most places, but that was to be expected. He passed the invoice to Carte while questioning how in few seconds that he had looked away, the little girl had managed to climb onto his patients shoulders and began cheerfully flexing. Vant mimicked her movements perfectly despite his recent injury and healing, leading him to believe this was some sort of normal occurrence to them. As Carte paid him for his services, he concluded that he was probably the father; Vant was likely some sort of babysitter... or something...
The pair of patients prepared to get up, with Morma now clinging onto Vant's back like some sort of backpack, much to the embarrassment and dismay of Greva. Carte wondered if he wasted his money as they enthusiastically strutted out of the door, him following closely behind, taking notes. Perhaps he could use them as a potential source of infinite mana, since the two of them seemed to have an endless supply of energy. Greva took followed behind him, turning towards the doctor just as she was about to go through the door, smiling as she did so.
"Thank you."
+++
"What's wrong? Don't like the other kids?"
Greva both consoled and interrogated Morma, who latched onto Vant's sleeve as he cut the steak into bite sized pieces. The young one shook her head, seeming more comfortable around the adults around her compared to the children that had been playing outside.
"Are you shy?"
No response. Vant tapped her on the shoulder and she opened her mouth, biting down on her food when she felt the cold silver of cutlery on her lips. Greva sighed, accepting that the child they had sudo-adopted was much too stubborn to speak of her weaknesses. Although it made her harder to deal with, she supposed it made her cuter too, to most people.
"Morma. Just remember they're human... just like you are. I'm sure they're just as nervous too."
Morma reacted slightly with a head twitch, but refused to turn. Pretending to have ignored her, she continued to silently be fed her pub dinner. Considering that it was their first meal in a while that wasn't vegetables, fruits and bread, princess Morma, queen on all dimensions and goddess of all the land could ignore the presence of a few drunks in the corner playing some sort of card game. Greva eventually joined Morma and Carte in enjoying the meat they had ordered, although she would let her eyes gaze down upon Vant's untouched meal a few times.
"It's fine, Greva. I'm sure Morma isn't interested in dolls anyway."
Greva took a few moments to wonder how he was so confident about his knowledge on an amnesiac child's hobbies and interest, but simply accepted it as him projecting. She turned to the girl and gave her final plea, waving around a small piece of cooked cow on her fork as she did so.
"Morma, you really should make friends your age. They'll be fun once you get to know them."
Morma shook her head, jumping out of her seat and up onto Vant's back, hanging off his shoulders as he kept feeding her, unphased by his new role as a jungle gym.
"Vant's the most fun! Plus, he's the strongest hero around!"
Greva immediately turned her soft gaze into an annoyed glare towards Vant, who couldn't do anything but shrug and try to keep his grin from showing too much. Greva silently wondered how much nonsense he had fed her before coming back to the task at hand, this time going to Carte. The mage read a particularly large book as a floating set of a fork and a knife perfectly diced his meal slowly and fed him in the same manner Vant did, although his technique was a bit less messy.
"Can you help me out here? I'm trying to talk some sense into there two."
Carte tore his gaze away for a moment to take a look at Greva, then a little further towards the pair of Morma and Vant, coming to the realisation that they had sat in the order of their heights and finding it moderately amusing. He turned back to his book, not particularly interested in supporting Greva's cause.
"Kid, you want to learn magic?"
"Yes!"
"You will NOT be learning magic. It's barely been three days since... well, you get it."
Morma groaned at Greva, showing her displeasure at the administrative decisions being made as clearly as possible. Now certain that neither of her two companions were going to be any help, Greva gave in and decided to utilise the ultimate form of negotiation.
"If you promise me you'll make at least friend who's not an adult, I'll buy you an apple juice. Right now."
"Apple juice? Why would I want an apple juice?"
Oh. Right. Amnesiac. Of course.
"Imagine the apples you already like, but in juice form. And sweeter."
Obviously intrigued, Morma slid back down Vant's back and sat back down on her seat, putting her closed fist under her chin and elbow on the table to make some sort of thinking pose. It took her about half a minute to come to a decision, but based on the fidgeting, Greva was quite sure that Morma had already made her decision within a split second but was just dragging it out.
"Alright. Deal!"
Greva motioned for the grizzled elderly man behind the counter to come closer and she ordered her an apple juice once he was in ear shot, placing the money on the upper counter. The man went into the back room with a particularly large jug, coming back with it topped up to the rim a few moments later. Greva carefully placed it in front of Morma, trying to avoid messing up Vant as he caught up to everyone with his meal.
"You never said when I had to make my friends."
Morma laughed coyly, satisfied with her fabricated trickery that Greva most somewhat saw, but was not happy about. Her glare was enough to tell Morma it wasn't funny, but the ability for a child to ignore the feelings and emotions of an adult whenever the time was convenient was in full force at that moment, leading an annoyed monotone response which admitted defeat.
"Preferably within the next six months. I'll feel ripped off otherwise."
+++
"This one's on the house."
By twelve, the pub was less rowdy than before, with half of the crowd leaving responsibly before their fifth drink and a majority of the other half being close pass out drunk, mumbling to themselves about their next fight. Carte, still kept sipping away at his wine, seemingly no concern about his health as he continued reading in near-silence aside from the occasional page turn. Greva on the other hand had flushed cheeks and barely enough consciousness to keep her from slurring her words and she had joined in on pampering Morma, something she had promised herself not to do. Just as the continuous headpats and hair-ruffling was starting to particularly get on the girl's nerves, a particularly muscular old man approached them from behind the bar, placing a drink for himself on the counter and another apple juice in front of Morma. Greva was slightly taken aback when the bartender since he didn't seem like the nicest person from the way that he had aggressive way he dragged the town drunk out of the venue half an hour ago, but after he simply took a sip of his drink and looked on, the unnerving feeling began to fade away.
"It's on the house, by the way."
"What's the occasion?"
Vant looked on towards the bartender, smiling back sincerely. Perhaps it would have been threatening if Vant didn't look so overly curious.
"Watchin' you idiots reminded me of me granddaughter."
He took a moment to take another sip of his drink
"Although she's cuter than this brat."
Morma silently hissed in disgust. Cuter than her? Impossible! She was a princess and she had the royal mage, warrior and professional headpatter to prove it. How many subordinates did this man's granddaughter have? Probably none. Angered by the old man's heresy, she pulled the jug in closer and chugged the apple juice, slamming it onto the bar like she had seen Vant do, feeling like an absolute badass.
In reality she has split half of it on her overly large shirt that had been borrowed from her so called knight and her face told a story of dumb pride that she hadn't earnt, but nevertheless, it was still impressive in its own way.
"Don't worry brat, you're plenty cute enough."
In reality the bartender didn't want more mopping in the morning, but Morma seemed to be content with his answer, smugly crossing her arms. Vant chuckled, but Greva seemed slightly more concerned. In her drunken curiosity, she decided to poke the wasps nest.
"How's your daughter?"
"Haven't seen her in eleven years."
He spoke matter of factly, but despite that an awkward silence lingered over the four, with the only sound being turn of a page from Carte, completely oblivious to the situation at hand. Some sort of pet howled from outside the bar, followed by growling from another. Insects outside who enjoyed the cold of the night chirped away cheerfully in the distance, barely audible through the wooden walls and rough grass. The few moments felt like centuries for Greva and the bartender. Morma thought it was hilarious but held back their laughter while Vant listened in intently.
Eventually, the bartender rolled back one of his sleeves, showing an unmistakable marking on his forearm. A square of burnt skin other than two stripes of untouched surface, forming four, charred triangles in a quadrant. The mark of a criminal. Greva recoiled slightly while Vant almost immediately reached for his sword. Seeing the confusion on Morma's face, the bartender continued.
"It's the mark of a criminal. I've been in jail."
"So you're a bad guy?"
Morma raised two arms into what she saw as a ;fighting stance', but Greva gently pushed down on her forearms and she gave up, leaving her hands in her lap.
"Do you think he's a bad guy, Morma? He seems like a nice old man to me."
Morma nodded slightly and Greva smiled, feeling like she taught her a valuable life lesson. Then she shot a glance at Vant, who loosened his grip slightly, although he still kept his hand over his hilt.
"Prison is where you get reformed after years of confinement as punishment where..."
"I was falsely accused."
The wrench that was thrown into her plans of teaching a young one about justice hurt her soul. Another silence enveloped the room, as punishing as the last. Even Vant let go of his weapon, not entirely sure what to think. Not wanting it to go for any longer, Greva expelled the first thing that came to her mind.
"Care to elaborate?"
The bartender slowly walked to the back, returning with a fresh jug of beer. He downed it faster than either of them had ever seen a human drink, placing the jug back on the counter delicately.
"So begin, the first thing you need to know is...
+++
...and so I ain't allowed in any major cities no more. Too scared to send my family a letter either; doubt they would respond anyway. They've probably forgotten about a geezer like me. So I make my living out here, like a lot of people have. It's more peaceful anyway, despite the number of... injuries that happen."
He laughed heartily, unphased after talking about half an hour, which could have really been half that time if he didn't spend so much time describing each member of his family in extreme detail or included all the unnecessary fluff about how he lead a group of mercenaries back in the day.
Greva clapped, slightly impressed about how much of a badass the old man had been when he was younger, but still being a little sad that him standing up for his fellow mercenaries had gotten him banished. Morma was lost; she had phased out around the beginning and had gone into a light nap before waking up at the end. Vant was crying his eyes out.
"You alright kid? It's not a massive tragedy or any..."
"Yes it is! Greva, we're taking down the council RIGHT NOW."
Vant almost stood up with enough intensity to launch his knees straight into the counter, but stopped himself just in time, instead turning his body towards Carte and preparing to storm off. Before he could take on the world with just a shortsword, Greva grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him back to his seat, slightly embarrassed.
"I'd love to see ya take down the flying castle by yourself, lad."
"No matter how much you hate it, you'd get blown to bits instantly. Use your brain for a bit."
Vant looked at the two, baffled. What were they talking about?
"I've got to do what a hero should. Fight against all odds!"
"... and die?"
"Die a hero."
Vant responded to Greva's question with a straight face, much to her dismay. Carte took his eyes away from his book for a moment, glancing over at the pair of them before going back to reading. This was quite normal. The bartender had come to fully comprehend what a brick head that Vant was. He sighed, before grabbing a washcloth coming out the back to their side of the bar.
"It's not I'm mad anymore. I've come to accept what happened and few foolish words from an idiot isn't going to change it. Anyway... oop, scooch over, brat."
Morma slid off the stool and the old man wiped down the part of the bar where she once sat, removing the sweet scent of fruit from his wooden counter. She decided to go sit next to Carte and see what he was reading, not that she ever understood it.
"She's right. As much as I'd love to give them a good punch, it ain't happening. It would definitely feel good though. Especially that hag, Aka."
Vant sat there, perplexed, a large number of possibilities running through his mind that all seemed more improbable than the last. The idea of someone who didn't want to uphold what was fair and just, especially when he was the victim, was a foreign concept to him.
"So... even though you're in the right, you don't want to fix what's happened to you? Cut the wrongs away?"
"How do you expect to do that? Just raiding the city would end in more death than its worth to people who I'd care about. Nobody would believe me if I explained myself, I could even end with more years in jail. It's simply the right call to move on with my life."
"But I..."
He looked around the room desperately, but all he got was two hands on his forearms, holding him back gently. One was from Greva who smiled at him softly while nervously hoping he wouldn't do anything stupid. The other was from Carte, whose arm was being manipulated by Morma, his face showing an incredible disinterest in what was going on.
+++
He knew he shouldn't but...
Vant, barely keeping one orb of light under his control, staring intently at the Artifact. From what he remembered, the size control and intensity level wheels were the second and third ones from the left, although Carte's explanation was a bit hazy in his head. It was the dead of night and his comrades lay across the room asleep, except Carte who was content on the floor. Vant's burning curiosity however wasn't one to back away and to let him rest. He desperately tried to keep the clicking noises of the device to a minimum and lowered the range and punishment down to the picture of the singular vertical line, being mostly confident that it was meant to be a smaller number than the two crossed lines on the other side. From what he remembered, keeping the first wheel on 'Vise' would give him the result he wanted, although it was just speculation from the words of a few researchers
Holding the device to his chest, he pressed both the buttons on the sides towards the center with both arms and waited. It was supposed to take a few minutes to arm, although Vant wasn't sure how long, so he simply stood up, trying to distract himself with the scratches on the wall in their room, feeling a sense of nervousness that he hadn't in a long time. When it finally happened, he suddenly flopped onto his bed like a corpse only to rise up moments later, sweating bullets and breathing like he had just ran a marathon, a grim look in his eyes. The ball of light had already sputtered and died, leaving him alone in the darkness to contemplate the feeling of dread that made his stomach sink to the bottom of his bed.