Chapter 51:

Shirleen slept in a chair, her upper body lying at the foot of Sophi’s bed. Celica had spent most of the night casting white healing spells over Sophi’s body. After a thorough examination Celica concluded that Sophi had suffered severe internal injuries, ranging from bruises across her entire body, broken ribs, and a collapsed lung. Celica said she was lucky to be alive, had they brought her in any later, Sophi would be dead.

While Celica was an accomplished master mage, her white spells could only do so much. She had managed to heal her lung, but her ribs were still mending as were her contusions. It was up to Sophi’s body to do the rest. The child had yet to awaken, but given a few months she was expected to make a healthy recovery.

Stryg leaned back in a chair a few beds away from Sophi and her parents. He would have liked to have gotten some sleep like the daughter and mother duo, but he wasn’t going to leave himself vulnerable in a clinic in the middle of the trade district. Sure, he trusted Celica enough to heal him, but the others, like her assistants or other guests, not so much.

Besides, he was waiting for Rorik to get back to him with an update on the situation. Celica had sent one of her assistants to fetch the guard captain earlier that morning, with news of the gang fight that had transpired. Karen had given her side of the story before she went to bring her dad over. Stryg had filled in the rest, which simply summed up to him breaking into a house and killing people. It sounded fine to him, but the assistant seemed disturbed. Stryg decided he didn’t like the assistants here.

Karen’s dad stood up from besides Sophi’s bed and walked over.

Stryg sat up with caution, “What do you want?”

“Sorry, to disturb you. I know you're probably trying to rest, I know I would after the night you had. I just came over to say thank you.”

“Oh.” Stryg crossed his arms.

“Madam Skeller tells me you’re the one who saved my daughter. Both my daughters, actually. My wife too.”

“It wasn’t my goal, I was just there to kill some thugs.”

The only reason Stryg had even brought them here was because he felt a strange pang of sympathy for the small goblin child. She reminded Stryg of himself as a child, bruised and beaten. It was bad enough that he had gotten help during a battle from Karen, a non-tribemate. It was a shame to his pride as a sylvan goblin. Her father’s gratitude only served to remind him of that failure.

“I understand,” the father nodded. “You know, like many people, I grew up hearing many stories of heroes. Most of the tales were about the powerful and ruthless warriors of the Ebon Realm. But, some stories were about the humble heroes. People who would save others without anything in return, not even a mention of gratitude. I didn’t believe those stories, I mean what sort of powerful being wouldn’t wish to be praised. Even the gods want praise. Those stories seemed farfetched, until now.”

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at,” Stryg frowned.

If this man was implying Stryg was humble then he was the greatest fool in the land. Stryg wasn’t a hero either, far from it.

Kithina loved gushing about those stupid tales of gallant heroes, coming in to save the day, no matter the cost to themselves. Stryg thought the idea incredibly stupid and a quick way to meet death. He would rather be the strongest of all, the king.

The kings in the stories were always surrounded by a host of beautiful women, a guard of loyal warriors, and a retinue of loyal vassals, ruling their castles from afar, feared and respected by all. Stryg didn’t wish to be the unassuming idiot on a life-threatening quest for the small chance the princess might give him a second glance.

Karen’s father looked at Sophi sleeping soundly across the room, “About a week ago my wife told me how Sophi and her were attacked by a pair of sentinels. She thought they were doomed, until a mysterious stranger appeared from the sky and saved them both. He was injured in the encounter. Yet, after he escorted Shirleen and Sophi back home he didn’t ask for a reward. He didn’t ask to be sheltered. He didn’t even state his name. He vanished as quickly as he appeared. A mystery. A hero.”

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with the conversation at hand,” Stryg said.

“Shirleen didn’t know who the stranger was. Only that he had a silver nameplate and a most unique appearance. Ash colored hair, pale purple eyes, and bluish skin. Does it remind you of anyone?”

“A drow maybe?”

Karen’s father smiled, “Maybe. I don’t know why you saved my family, twice at that, for no hope of a reward. But, to me, you are my hero.”

“I didn’t do it for them,” Stryg narrowed his eyes. “I just didn’t like the gangsters or the sentinels for that matter. I’m not your damn hero, I’m just a mage who got shot, twice, becuase of my own stupid mistakes, not for your family.”

Karen’s father nodded, “I understand, even still.” He knelt on the ground and prostrated himself, his head to floor, “I can never repay you for what you’ve done, but from the bottom of my heart, I am truly grateful. I am just a simple brewer, but if there’s anything I can ever do to repay even a fraction of your kindness, please just say the word. Anything at all.”

Stryg was frozen by the gesture of submission. This was what he had always wanted, right? To have other goblins bow to him. To have them serve him. For them to respect him, not ridicule him. Yet, ironically the act was born out of a false idea of Stryg’s altruism. The man wasn’t bowing becuase he feared Stryg’s power. Of course, leave it to Stryg, the oddity of nature to not even get this right.

“Am I interrupting something?” Rorik asked from the doorway.

“Not at all,” Stryg stood up and headed towards the door. “Let’s talk in the hall. Did you get the message?”

“Yes, I did,” Rorik said. “And I have to say I’m impressed. My men have been looking for the Wild Knives gang for almost two weeks now. We barely caught a few of them and you wipe them all out in one night.”

“Not all of them. At least one escaped, but I cut his leg, he shouldn’t have gotten far.”

“We’ll find him. With most dead, including their leader, I can finally get a good night’s sleep. The gang stole from one of our higher-end shops in the trade district and the owner was livid with me. He threatened to get me fired from my post if I didn’t catch the damn thieves. Thanks to you, I doubt we’ll be seeing the gang again. I can finally put this whole thing to rest.” Rorik grinned, “By the way, don’t worry about Celica’s fees, I’ve got it covered.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, my men and I come here whenever we get injured on the job. The city pays for our medical fees since they occurred in the line of duty. Since you finished our job this time around I pulled a few strings to have the garrison cover your fees. Can’t say the same about the little girl, but don’t worry about that either. I personally paid for her medical expenses; my personal thanks to you,” Rorik winked.

Stryg felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, I really appreciate it. I didn’t think the fees were going to be so expensive until Celica handed me the bill this morning. I thought my savings were gone.”

“You have savings? Well, look at you, a businessman now,” Rorik laughed.

“I don’t own a business. My master simply told me I should save some of my wages, for whatever reason she has yet to share with me.”

“She sounds like my wife,” Rorik complained.

“If you are done gossiping Rorik, I’d like to have a word with my patient,” Celica popped her head out from her office door.

“Of course, madam,” Rorik feigned a cough and cleared his throat.

Stryg nodded to Rorik and entered the orc’s office. Celica sat in her chair, tapping her fingers on her desk. Stryg looked at the red-skinned woman with mild curiosity.

“Close the door,” Celica said.

Stryg did so. “What’s going on?”

Celica tapped her desk in thought, “Last night when I was casting my healing spells I noticed you were already healing a bit.”

“Ah, right. I used a drain spell to close my shoulder wound. I hope that didn’t interfere with your spell casting,” he said.

She shook her head, “No, not that. I noticed your grey magic’s work the moment I first glanced at your shoulder. No, I was referring to your natural healing. By the time I tended to your wounds, they were already closing up, the bleeding had already stopped. Healing spells help accelerate the healing process and the greatest of these spells can even reverse some wounds that should be impossible to recover from.”

She stared at her palms, “I hate to admit it, but I’m no arch mage. My magic can only go so far, the body has to do the rest, like with Sophi in the other room. Yet, here you stand, without the limp from yesterday.”

Stryg tilted his head, “I thought that was because of your spells.”

“My spells helped, sure, but it’s your body that’s the main cause. I know you’re a hybrid and from what you’ve told me you’re not sure which kind. That was fine, your anatomy was close enough to a goblin that my knowledge of healing spells covered whatever gaps I had on the rest of your biology. I was fine not knowing anything more, there was no need. But, now I’m not so sure.”

“What do you mean? Is something wrong?” Stryg asked.

Celica clasped her hands together, “Stryg, this is the second time you’ve come into my clinic with severe injuries. Both times with a large loss of blood. Just like last time I used white magic to heal your wounds. I only did a light checkup on your body on each occasion. One thing I did do both times was check your pulse. It was above average, which is normal when a patient loses a lot of blood. The problem lies in what happened later. I checked your pulse again this morning, after your wounds seemed to have completely recovered.”

“And?”

“...Your heart rate wasn’t just above average. I’m talking about impossible rates above average. You should be dead right where you stand. I really don’t know why you’re not. I’ve dealt with a few other hybrids, we read up on them back in the academy as part of a white mage’s training. I’ve even been scanning my medical books, too.”

She sighed in exasperation, “Nothing I’ve seen mentions an absurdly high heart rate like yours. Now, I can’t rule out that you could simply have a unique mutation, but not all mutations are necessarily good. We don’t know the entire ramifications of your pulse or your healing rate. Don’t even get me started on your eyes.”

Celica pointed at her own eyes for demonstration, “Your pupils keep dilating and constricting with no light stimuli, that’s not a good thing. Pupils constrict to prevent large amounts of light from entering your eyes, it's a defense mechanism in some ways. Your pupils are failing at that completely, it’s bad, Stryg. I think it’d be a good idea if you stayed overnight so I can perform a thorough check up on your body.”

“Are you going to charge me?”

“Naturally, my time is precious. I don’t give it out for free,” Celica shook her head. “I don’t think money should be of your main concern right now.”

“I think I’ll pass,” he made a twisted smile.

“I really don’t think this is something you should take lightly, Stryg. Your body could be in danger,” she said.

“I’m fine. In fact, these past months have been the best my body has felt in my entire life. I highly doubt there’s something wrong." Besides he wasn’t interested in shelling out money to this greedy orc.

“You men are so stubborn,” she groaned.

“Madam Skeller!” Karen’s father shouted from the other room. “She’s awake! Sophi’s awake!”