With a small grunt of exertion, Henrik pulls himself free from Christina's arms and rises from the bed. Sighing contentedly, Henrik rides the wave of satisfaction cresting in his breast. A feeling that is interrupted by a glance at Christina's sweaty body and the stained bedsheets. Like curdling milk, Henrik's expression subtly shifts, the feeling morphing into something more like satisfied disgust. He opens a window in the room, letting cold night air drift in and dissipating the slightly salty taste of sweat that had built up around the bed.

"Hey ..." Christina's eyes flutter open and she murmurs at her lover.

"Mm." Henrik rumbles, not bothering to turn around as he towels himself off and begins to get dressed.

"Its still dark." Christina pouts, "Where're you going?"

"Out for a walk." Henrik shrugs, "This room is getting a bit too stuffy. I'll be back after a bit."

"You sure?" Christina pulls herself up to a sitting position, chewing her lower lip, "Come back soon, alright?"

"Right." Henrik lazily confirms as he steps out of the room and softly shuts the door.

Without another word, he makes his way down the inn's corridor and begins to descend the stairs toward the lobby. There's a low hum of magical energy being fed into the chandelier that serves as the centerpiece of the lobby's ensemble and the reception is attended to by a clearly dozing clerk. As Henrik's feet clack across the polished wooden floor, he briefly entertains the thought of rapping the clerk on the head, as a lesson not to loaf about on the job.

"Not worth it." Henrik shakes his head, putting his instinctive dislike of incompetence and laziness aside. The reason why he had checked into this inn was because it was both respectable and discreet. Stirring up trouble with the staff would defeat the whole purpose of coming here in the first place. The doorman is still awake though and smartly opens the glass main door and bows as Henrik leaves the inn. But not before giving the battle mage a sly wink and knowing look.

"Nice night." the doorman states with schooled neutrality.

Henrik doesn't pay the doorman any mind and strides into the streets of Deshawn City. It had been two days after Nair's rampage and while the mess from the fight had been cleared up, it had badly rattled almost everyone living in the city. The night streets were deserted, with the occasional carriage rattling by. People were too scared to head out at night, not with a potentially insane magic knight lurking about.

The whole affair was a disaster. Not only was Nair not apprehended, several gendarme were injured or killed in the bargain. A number of Henrik's own bodyguard, on loan from the Grandmaster of Robeur House, were also injured when they cornered Nair outside of the city. The Gendarme was livid at this very public failure of House Robeur to rein in one of their own and Henrik was the most obvious target for that anger, being the one tasked with taking Nair down.

"How did Nair become so strong?" Henrik curses as he kicks a pebble down the street. It made no sense. Nair was, by all accounts, a thoroughly mediocre sword master. While smashing gendarme was well within his abilities, no selling an army destroying spell from Christina and badly bloodying several elite House Robeur bodyguards was not expected. The Grandmaster had not blamed Henrik for the botched operation at least, but being humiliated so publicly still stung the battle mage's pride.

Then there was that bastard Mandor, who showed up uninvited at what should have been Henrik's moment. Everyone knows Mills Rahm is still alive. Henrik's even willing to bet that Mills is probably even hiding out right now in the Order's base at Temple, right in the middle of Deshawn City, laughing away. Laughing away at Henrik.

Henrik's hand unconsciously tightens into a fist, the simmering rage beginning to bubble up again. His mother had been accused of the gravest sin a concubine of a noble house could commit, birthing a child not sired by her master. And for that Henrik had been sentenced to rot away in the blasted sewer. He had not done anything wrong, yet his entire life was upended thanks to the tales stirred up by an unimportant branch of the family.

Small people with their small plots and schemes. And Mills, the child of these insignificant people, was the culmination of their small mindedness. A non-entity, that's what Mills was, sent out into the Beyond to get him out of the way with a make work position. While Henrik had clawed his way out of the sewer, literally.

There was no fairness in this world.

But with the Order of Impartial Justice protecting Mills, there was nothing anyone could do, not even the Knight Commander. So Mills might not be so stupid after all. He knew just enough to shield himself from Henrik's justice. Then again, rats knew how to protect themselves as well, so this might not exactly be high praise.

Henrik Rahm. Had a nice ring to it.

"Just have to wait a little longer." Henrik sighs, putting his annoyance aside. The fiasco with Nair and Mandor's antics weren't the first setback Henrik had experienced in life. The battle master would persevere and overcome, as he always did.

Without realizing it, Henrik's feet had taken him to the city hospital, a modest two story building. Not everyone in Deshawn City could afford proper healthcare, and the hospital had been built with such an expected patient caseload in mind. However, the grounds of the hospital were now overflowing with tents set up on almost every spare bit of space. An orderly stands by the gate, looking on with a bored expression on his face.

Since Nair was House Robeur's problem, it naturally fell on House Robeur to solve it. And with Nair being thoroughly unsolved, House Robeur had opted to do the next best thing. Which was pay for the healing of all the gendarme Nair had brutalized. Not to mention condolence gifts for the families of all the Gendarme officers that had killed. All the tents housed the injured and dying from Nair's rampage.

"Just here to visit." Henrik tells the orderly who in turn allows him to enter. There is no harm in seeing how things are going anyway.

" - it will all be over soon -" a delicate voice comes from one of the tents and Henrik curiously steps inside, surprised that the hospital staff was still working at this late hour. But its not a member of the hospital staff that was doing the talking.

A heavily bandaged man lies on a shabby cot, nearly delirious from the pain. With a raised eyebrow, Henrik takes in the small pile of empty vials piled up by the side of the cot. The patient's injuries must be truly horrific if all those painkillers were barely able to blunt the agony. The real surprise though is a young woman dressed in a modest long sleeved white gown with blue highlights, sitting by the side of the bed and clasping one of the patient's hands.

"I never realized the Royal Guard had sent someone." Henrik comments, recognizing the gown the woman is wearing. Standard issue for the healers of Royal Magic Knights.

"Ah!" the woman gives a small cry of surprise and turns around. Her green eyes open wide as she recognizes Henrik. The battle mage smiles in amusement as the healer's mouth opens and closes like a guppy, emphasizing her dainty features and innocent expression.

"Senior Brother." the Healer bows low, "This Knight greets you."

"Working hard I see." Henrik smiles wryly.

"No, well yes, I am working hard." the young woman blushes shyly, "Though the Royal Guard didn't send me. I volunteered to come here in my free time."

"What? Why?" Henrik frowns, as he covers his nose from the medicinal smell permeating everywhere on the hospital grounds.

"The staff here does their best," the young woman purses her lips, "but they can't help so many people. Not the way I can."

"That man is close to death though." Henrik points to the patient and whispers softly to the healer, "What can you do for him?"

"Make him more comfortable." the healer explains, "Simply keeping him company also helps. Then there's -"

Before the young woman can complete what she's saying, the sound of the gate being forced open intrudes into the conversation, coupled by the noise of a brief fracas. Henrik dashes out of the tent, with the healer following closely behind.

The orderly by the gate had been pushed to the ground, a foot clad in an expensive leather boot planted firmly on his chest. Subduing the Orderly is a pot bellied man, dressed in rich but garish clothes, the clashing color schemes of the yellow shirt, pink trousers and black gloves searing Henrik's eyes. The man's hair had been slicked back and his face molded into an arrogant and challenging sneer. Looming behind the man are several heavies, laughing unpleasantly at the orderly's plight.

"Gods." the healer groans before raising her voice, "Richard! I already said no to your brother! Stop coming here and bothering me!"

"You don't say no to us." the heavy set man laughs, kicking the orderly to the side, "I thought that was made clear the last time I was here."

"Who are you?" Henrik steps forward, his voice low and dangerous.

"Richard Dasar." the fat man grins and at his gesture, the heavies advance with blackjacks and rope in their hands, "Understand what you're about to get yourself involved in yet?"

"Can't say I do." Henrik snorts and flexes his fingers, feeling the magic flowing through his body. Casting would be more difficult without his wand, but handling some flat foots shouldn't be a problem.

"Smart ass." Dasar spits to the side, "So who're you then? I like to know exactly whose face I'm wrecking. Call it a point of pride."

"You don't need to know my name." Henrik says, feeling his power churn and focus.

"I guess I don't." Dasar mocks, "Go get them boys."

The heavies rush forward, the one in the lead charging at Henrik with his baton raised. Henrik merely shakes his head and raises an index finger, unleashing a bullet of force.

The spell strikes the heavy squarely in the gut. But Henrik had botched the casting, having grown too used to having a wand with him. Instead of tearing through the entire pack of heavies as Henrik had intended, the spell merely rips open the man's torso, causing his intestines to flop out grotesquely.

"Ah." Henrik murmurs with some embarrassment, but his voice is drowned out by the shrieking coming from the mauled heavy.

"AUUUUGGGHHHH"

"They run away quickly at least." Henrik muses as Dasar and the remaining toughs bolt off into the night. The healer runs forward and stands over the injured man, her hands clasped tightly in prayer.

"He's not going to make it." Henrik comments, surprised that the woman intends to help someone that tried to harm her.

"Everyone deserves salvation." the healer says with tears in her eyes, "A chance to be at peace in Ea's paradise."

"A believer?" Henrik mutters, "Prayer won't change anything. Not after the gods left us."

The healer ignores the jibe, her brows furrowed in concentration. Just as Henrik is about to tell her to just put the heavy out of his misery, a warm glow suffuses the healer's entire body, almost blinding in its radiance. Even the orderly observes with a blank, expressionless look on his face. The healer then bends down and gently strokes the brow of the dying man. There's a bright flash, forcing Henrik to cover his eyes.

And the dying man is gone, leaving nothing more than motes of light, drifting away into the night sky.

"That was -" Henrik gasps in shock. The orderly's eyes narrow, the blankness within them never fading.

"He's gone now." the healer murmurs to the wind, "Ea accepted him into paradise. A better place than this one."

"A miracle." Henrik concludes. Yes it was. No prayer had ever been answered in ages. And tonight Henrik had seen the impossible. The Creator Gods had deigned to respond.

"There's so much suffering in this world." the healer responds forlornly, "So much pain. I wanted to take some of that away. And Ea granted my wish."

"So that's what you're doing here?" Henrik answers, putting two and two together.

"Its a small thing." the healer looks down, "But I like to think it brings comfort to those who need it."

"A miracle is no small thing." Henrik nods to himself, looking at the healer with naked admiration, "May I know your name?"

"Amanda. My name is Amanda, Senior Brother." the healer blushes and answers Henrik shyly.

"Please treat me well."

.......

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