3.

The lord of Helwin

After dinner, Dominic was escorted by a maid to the chambers of the lord for his treatment.

He had white-streaked hair and was sitting in bed comfortably, accompanied only by Silas at his side. Two huge, antelope-like horns shot straight out of his head, spiraling at the tips, and his skin was a deep grey in color. His appearance was striking but peaceful—the picture of a gentle, aging monarch. But his smile and his eyes were calculative, and more than anything, his mana was overwhelmingly foul.

“Welcome, Dominic,” he greeted, his voice raspy. “You must be tired. I’m sorry for imposing on you so late at night.”

He smiled softly. The mana around the lord, in contrast, was murky and odorous, like there were deep, muddy grudges miring his skin. Like the depths of a fermenting bog. Dominic resisted the urge to put his hand over his nose. The lord was still waiting for his response.

He forced the corners of his lips upward.

“There is no need to apologize for such a minor thing, Lord,” he answered. “It is an honor to serve you.”

The lord still had that gentle look on his face.

“Come, Dominic,” he said, gesturing to a chair by his side, next to Silas. “Sit.”

Dominic heeded his words and took a seat. Silas scrutinized his every move.

“Child,” the lord called. “I’ve heard that you are a healer.”

Dominic nodded.

“That is correct.”

His expression brightened.

“I would like to see your power in action,” he said.

He gestured towards himself.

“As you can see, my body is not in the best shape. If you truly are a healer, then it could make the difference between life and death for me.”

His words were unassuming, but full of contradictions. Healers were extremely easy to obtain for the wealthy. The fact that he didn’t already have one meant that either nobody wanted to serve him, or he’d gotten rid of the ones that were willing. It could’ve been a mix of both. The grudges that clung to the lord’s skin were foul, but none of them could speak.

“It would be my pleasure,” Dominic responded, putting on a gentle smile. Accepting was the only option he had.

He held out his hand. The lord took it, his fingers cold and dry. It was repulsive to have to touch him, his murky mana physically swirling on Dominic’s skin, but he held back any reaction.

He closed his eyes and inspected the lord’s condition.

It wasn’t good. His body had been in poor order to begin with, seemingly taxidermied into place by previous healers. On top of that, there had been some sort of recent shock to his digestive tract, the organs feeling almost burnt. It smelled suspiciously like poison.

“What do you think, Dominic?” he asked.

Dominic slowly removed his hands from the viscount’s grip.

“I can heal you,” he replied. “However, I can’t do it all in one sitting. The treatment will have to be repeated again in two or three days, and maybe again after that.”

The lord nodded and smiled.

“Alright, child,” he said. “I will believe you. Show me.”

Dominic paused for a moment, then took his bony hand again. He put some pressure into his fingers and gathered his mana.

“Wow,” the lord commented, “the pain is going away.”

He was layering a numbing spell on thick. It wasn’t one any medical expert would approve of, but he’d formulated a makeshift magic anesthetic while doing mercenary work. Healing his organs would make him scream in anguish otherwise.

Having to dive into the lord’s swamp-like mana was disgusting, but he forced himself to do it. The cracks and tears inside his body slowly closed, the circulation returning to regular pace. His pallor became a little more lifelike, though it was hard to tell when his skin was deep grey to begin with.

Dominic let go of his hand. The lord looked down at his body and motioned towards Silas.

“Come check me,” he ordered.

Silas moved closer, taking his hand. Dominic watched as he closed his eyes to scan the lord’s condition.

“It has improved greatly,” he reported. “It’s as he claimed: a couple more treatments should bring you back to full health, my lord.”

“Amazing,” the lord said. “You’ve done a wonderful job, Dominic.”

He looked pleased with himself. He took his hand again, a gentle smile forming on his face.

“Thank you so very much.”

The stench of his mana was overpowering. Dominic squeezed the lord’s bony hand in return, a soft smile gracing his face.

“It is my pleasure, Lord,” he replied, holding in the urge to retch. “May peace be with you.”

∞

The click of the door behind Dominic signified that he was finally alone, back in his room, and he let himself relax. He opened a window and took a deep breath to clear himself of the residual mana that had been clinging to him. Plenty of nobles had murky auras, but this was the first he had met with one so thick. Even as a dying man, the lord was suffocating.

Luckily, it seemed like he would be safe for the time being. After he had left the lord’s chambers, he’d overheard them conversing briefly.

“Make sure he is treated well, Silas.”

“Yes, my lord.”

For now, they weren’t planning on doing anything to him.

Dominic collapsed into an armchair by the table and sighed. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t even rest. He reached over and popped open the wine bottle that had been left for him on the table. There was a basket of fruit and snacks too, but he couldn’t even think about eating after having to be around that stench. A honey-like scent drifted over to him from the neck. He poured out a glass and took a sip.

He rolled the wine on his tongue, his finger tapping against the table as he sorted out his thoughts. There was a lot to do, but more than anything, there was a lot he couldn’t yet do. He knew next to nothing about the world he’d just been thrust into. It was making navigating it rigid and difficult.

Dominic relaxed a bit and stared out the window. The lights of the city were still flickering outside. Some of them would probably remain on all the way to morning. The scents from the streets floated in on the breeze. Drunken laughter. Midnight snacks. A world that was laughing and dancing. Dominic sighed and pushed himself up from the chair.

He put on his cloak, stepped one foot onto the windowsill, then jumped out.

The cold air felt good as it brushed through his hair. He dropped several stories before landing softly on the grass of the garden. The gardeners had already left for the day. No one was left around but the guards.

Dominic made his way quietly to the gate. There were two sentries stationed outside and two inside, each alert and attentive. He released thin threads of his mana as he approached, letting it fuse with the air, letting them breathe it in.

Gradually, he felt their bodies go slightly slack, heart rates slowing, eyes rolling up. A mild sleep spell. They’d wake up in a few moments, not even realizing they had lost consciousness.

Dominic quickly moved past them and leapt over the gate.

He wove through the streets of the city, mingling quietly with the crowds, taking in the scents and sounds. He raised his head and took a deep breath. Individual scents, the mana signatures of the people all around, came flooding back to him. Lilacs and lavenders. Dusty linen and ink. Mahogany wood and the sound of a song. Everywhere there were people he’d never meet that would never know him either. It was comfortable, in a way, to be just another faceless part of that throng. Forget me by morning, and I, too, will forget you.

Dominic glanced upwards. A murder of crows lined the roof of a building ahead, watching the passersby, searching for scraps. His eyes narrowed. One smelled strange.

Their eyes met, the bird’s beady black ones reflecting the light of the streets. It froze for a moment, then turned and shot off into the sky.

Its silhouette melted into the black of night. Dominic followed.

It’d been a while since he’d genuinely tried to look for someone. He thought he’d be at least a little rusty, but it came to him naturally. He filtered through the scents that were flooding back to him, parsing through them one by one. The one he was looking for had a unique signature. The fact that it had had a signature to begin with had been strange for a bird. Animals had mana, but not enough to command magic. Yet for a moment he had felt like that crow could.

There, up ahead. A mana signature that flowed like molten metal—sleek and dense, yet thin and unassuming at the same time. Like water on a metal blade. Like the surface of a thermal spring. It was retreating across the city and away from him. He sped up.

He wove through the backstreets of the city, avoiding the crowds, the lone drunks, the couples sneaking out behind bars. The lights and sounds grew distant, the silent blue of night overtaking the streets. There were still a few windows of orange and yellow glowing among the buildings, but practically no one was outside in the residential district. And then slowly the houses and shops, too, faded away, leaving only fallen ruins around him, a stink in the streets. He’d come to the slums. The presence he had followed here had landed somewhere in the labyrinth of alleys and staircases, and he needed to find his way to it.

Dominic raised his head and took a deep breath. The chill of the night and itchy blankets. Echoing coughs and huddled embraces. Individual scents came like wisps on the wind. The one he was looking for wasn’t hard to find this time. It burned brighter than the others around it.

He followed the trail through the ruins, as if only casually taking a walk. He was sure there were residents spying on him through their windows, but none made their presence known. It was a strange kind of slum. Instead of being a shantytown made of recycled materials, it looked like the abandoned remains of a much larger city. There had been buildings here once, but not anymore. Only sagging stone walls remained.

Dominic stopped, glancing down the street, and then upward. On the edge of a stone pillar perched a crow, feathers glowing with a pinkish sheen in the light of the red moon. It was staring down at him with its beady, black eyes. Dominic stared back.

“Are you going to run away again?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled on the street.

The crow seemed to tense. It didn’t respond, but it didn’t fly off either.

Dominic stepped closer. He reached out and beckoned with a finger.

“Come here,” he said. “I have some questions for you, so how about we trade?”

The bird hesitated for a moment longer before finally leaping down from its perch and gliding over. Just a short distance away, midair, the mana around the bird suddenly frayed, turning mist-like. Its form flickered, and in an instant, instead of a crow, a boy with grey hair landed lightly in front of Dominic, his black eyes turning up towards him.

“…Is that a yes or a no?” Dominic asked.

The boy studied him for a moment before responding.

“It’s a yes,” he answered.

He held out a hand to shake.

“Let’s trade.”