“Thanks,” the transformed Claire quietly muttered. Even her voice had changed, and was already leaving their confused brains seconds after they heard it. “Let’s get going everyone, miss Irma should see Doctor Taylor as soon as possible.”

Her current smile, while familiarly mischievous, looked nothing like the breathtaking one she normally displayed. The wide eyes and stunned faces all around would make one feel like this was their just desert for making fun of Claire earlier.

There might be many things a noble girl like her did not know about a commoner’s lifestyle, but the opposite held true just as much, if not more. Her things were furthermore quite impressive compared to theirs, which, unlike this blatant magic spell, did not surprise anyone.

Amazing… And quite scary at the same time. That’s a completely different person, in less than a second.

Roland involuntarily gulped, respect and a good bit of fear spreading through him. Despite a Knight’s abilities being no less than those of a Mage’s, there was a divide of perspectives. Mortals could easily imagine punching rocks to pieces or jumping over houses. This on the other hand was something mystical, something which had no connection to their daily lives.

Having seen a fair share of mystical events already, though admittedly most of them had been quite similar to one another, Roland regained his composure first. He exited after the new girl, before presenting his arm to Irma, helping her get down from the carriage.

Stephan followed suit, leaving Thomas alone in the carriage. Instead of getting off however, the latter knelt next to the bench the women had sat on and tried to lift it, thinking Claire might have pulled off an elaborate trick.

The possibility of it being actual Magic did not even enter his mind. The floating sword already entered the realm of familiar to him, so Thomas considered it about as magical as the orphanage’s endless jug, which was not magical at all in his humble opinion. Something that would no doubt greatly annoy the Artificer who had spent hours carving runes into it.

Not finding a way to lift the bench, Thomas inspected the curtains briefly. When those also did not give him any clues about the chicanery that was afoot, he finally joined his companions outside. The look of absolute suspicion he gave them through his squinted eyes told them he would need some serious proof before he could ever trust them again. For now, they were all considered suspects, to be treated with caution and distrust.

“That little friend of yours is even more impressive than it looks, Miss,” Roland commented, choosing to not use Claire’s name for now. Although the name is common enough, making a connection would be fairly easy if one knew about the last few days’ events.

“My, what are you talking about, mister Roland?” Claire joked with a grin. “I don’t remember having any little friends beside Thomas and yourself.”

Her disguise could not hide how much she was enjoying their little excursion.

I see how it is. Having the gal to call me little when you’re the shortest one here, and acting all embarrassed until you get the upper hand again. Don’t expect me to be nice next time.

The carriage driver cleared his throat to get their attention. He had been briefly stunned when someone new he possessed no recollection of excited his carriage but knew better than to snoop around. Especially with the most noticeable passenger suddenly missing.

Stephan dutifully stepped forward to pay for their ride only to be stopped by Claire.

“I got this,” she announced. “Don’t have much to spend my allowance on anyways.” Her small joke could have hardly hit a more unsuitable audience. What with three Orphans and a woman very much past the usual age for allowances.

“Most definitely not,” Stephan objected sternly, shocking everyone besides his two close compatriots. One of them wasn’t surprised because he knew Stephan well, whereas the other couldn’t allow himself to be surprised at the moment. A single opening and any of these imposters could finish him off before he could react.

“We are on an official mission of the Crescent Moon Helpers,” Stephan explained, looking way too righteous to be telling the whole truth. “And as the group’s treasurer, it is my duty to allocate and supply all the funds required. Your offer is most kind, I must however refuse.”

Claire was briefly stunned by the explanation. She gathered her bearings and stepped aside to let Stephan pay. An intrigued look surfaced on her face, slightly impressed by the usually sketchy boy’s determination. Something not shared by their leader.

He must have prepared the whole spiel beforehand for sure. Can’t have Claire take one of his biggest duties after all.

While Stephan had quite a few handy skills, everyone, including himself, agreed that his most useful one was the ability to use their reputation and accumulated favors to create the biggest monetary benefit possible. He was eerily proficient at making money for someone who grew up with nothing.

Obviously, Stephan would not be able to compete against the unfathomably deep pockets of the City Lord. Which is why he needed to quickly nip this idea of Claire’s in the bud. She could buy Thomas all the sweets he could stomach, but never, for as long as Stephan could prevent it, would he allow her to fund their activities. He did not feel like being replaced with a little girl that had her own special power of persuasion.

Theoretically Claire could fill in for both Arthur and Stephan. Roland grinned at his friend's healthy territorial behavior, not actually believing Claire could ever fill the sketchy shoes Stephan would leave behind. His network of ‘acquaintances’ and ‘associates’ alone was worth a lot to their activities.

Leaving Stephan to deal with the payment, everyone else entered Taylor’s clinic under Roland’s lead. They did not enter through the reception area at the front of the building, and instead made their way to a small door in the back. An entrance only known to regulars, which Roland no doubt was, despite it usually not being him that needed the medical attention.

Past a couple small rooms filled with countless boxes, cupboards and cabinets, holding things of dubious use, they ultimately entered a well-maintained corridor. From said corridor one could reach four rooms for patients and two staircases.

One lead upwards only to abruptly end in a solid stone wall, whereas the other went down into total darkness. The building’s architecture left a lot to desire, although the temperature and lightning were actually of a surprisingly high standard.

Using relatively expensive solar stones the entire floor was lit up brightly like the midday sun shone right into it, despite only the rooms on one side having a few small windows. Normally these stones would be a prime target for theft, especially the half which were no doubt charging on the roof.

Taylor however was a respected member of the Backstreets, and punctual on any and all payments. Trying to mess with such an upstanding citizen would quickly have you lying in a ditch, a few choice limbs broken.

As for the comfortable cool temperature, the construction probably played the biggest part in that. Old Taylor definitely could not afford an Artifact to control it, much less have a mage inscribe runes in this backwater clinic of his’. Nonetheless everything appeared sterile and clean, creating an overall comfortable atmosphere. The clinic’s outside appearance was definitely deceiving.

Three of the rooms had their doors closed, most likely due to being occupied. Not about to disturb other patients in their search for Doctor Taylor, Roland instead led his group into the one open room, having Irma sit on the room’s singular bed. Familiarly opening a cupboard, he took out some water, pouring everyone a glass.

“Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get Taylor,” Roland said once everyone had settled in. Irma on the bed, Claire by her side, Stephan still on his way, and Thomas sticking as close to the windows as physically possible, in case he needed to make a quick exit.

Whether he would fit through one so small would be up to fate. And he really shouldn’t expect her support in such an impossible task, considering he had cautioned his leader to not blindly trust her just a day earlier.

Exiting into the corridor, Roland instantly spotted a gray-haired figure heading towards their room.

“Good to see you, Taylor,” Roland greeted the wizened man. “I was just about to find you.”

“Huh, no need for that, Crescent,” Taylor practically spat out. “I could hear you make yourself comfortable from a hundred miles away. Wouldn’t do to keep such an important guest waiting.”

Uh, he seems pissed. Though I can’t really blame him.

“About today,” Roland started, trying to apologize.

“Mister Roland Crescent himself,” Taylor declared mockingly, having stopped a step in front of Roland. His old features and the spotless white uniform only served to emphasize his currently livid face. “Sending his muscle to demand a service we don’t offer. I’m truly honored!”

Dramatic like always.

“I’m extremely sorry about that, Doctor,” Roland apologized, hoping the formal address would give him some leeway. “There were some extenuating circumstances. I hope you can understand.”

Taylor scoffed at Roland’s apology, having heard similar ones from the boy often enough.

“So should I take a look at whoever you dragged to my doorstep?” Taylor inquired, having calmed down a bit. “Or would you like to take a second to spit into the faces of my other customers waiting outside while you’re already here?” Just the slightest of bits.

“We need to wait for Arthur first,” Roland replied with a wry face, having preferred if the conversation took its end after his apology. “Wouldn’t want to leave him behind.”

The mention of Roland’s large companion, who had given him a surprise visit earlier, made Taylor stiffen briefly. When the backdoor coincidentally opened at the same time, he actually jumped in fright.

“Don’t listen to that bully of a boss of mine, old Tail. Arthur is too preoccupied picking up his shattered psyche,” Stephan called out when he entered, smiling brightly as he raised one arms, looking like he had found his long lost twin brother. Who was thrice his age. “Give it here.”

Taylor too smiled at seeing his favorite of the Crescents, mirroring Stephan’s arm raise, the two exchanged a practiced looking high five. Something the old man seemed to enjoy a great deal.

Leave it to Stephan to get along with the cranky old doctor. Roland appreciated Stephan pacifying old Taylor, even if it came as the expense of some slight disrespect directed towards him.

“We brought a lady around your age today, Tail,” Stephan whispered, sketchy grin on his face. “You better not have any indecent thoughts.”

Seeing as this old doctor laughed his ass off at Stephan’s, decent at best joke, it seemed the key to Taylor’s heart apparently lay in treating him like the gutsy teenage boy he had been a good forty years ago.

“Yeah, let’s take a look,” Taylor remarked, still chuckling. “I got a lot of other patients too, but don’t worry I’ll take extra good care of her.” The lecherous grin he showed during his statement was truly not something Roland needed to see.

How can this be the best doctor we know? Roland internally lamented the unfitting personality. Luckily Taylor was what people here called a professional. Decades of work had ingrained routine so far into his bones he could perform perfectly no matter the circumstances, like a butcher that perfectly processed half a ton of meat, despite drunk being drunk as a skunk.

“Good day, madam,” Taylor greeted Irma while entering the room, voice full of compassion. His gray hair and coat waving in the nonexistent wind, he somehow looked extraordinarily reliable. “It’s my greatest honor for you to have come to my humble clinic. I, Doctor Taylor Evans, will do everything in my power to assist you.”

The things Roland saw and heard barely a couple seconds ago suddenly seemed like a fever dream. Sadly, he knew better. This was true professionalism at work. Scary stuff.

“Move aside girl,” Taylor shooed Claire away, leading to some amused expressions from the others. Though Roland’s quickly left him as he stiffened upon taking a closer look at Claire, who tried her hardest to hide a full faced grin. She was literally beaming in happiness.

Damn. This better not awaken any more mischievous tendencies in her. If she ends up running around in disguise after today, it’ll be a disaster in the making. Especially if she ever feels like making a big reveal.

Steeling himself to stop Claire if it ever came down to it, Roland hoped she would be distracted enough by her own duties and their erratic missions. Otherwise, there may come a day when a large amount of seemingly unconnected people suddenly fled the city overnight. Averting his face Roland hid his own grin, lest he actually encourages her.

Taylor meanwhile started his diagnosis. He asked Irma a lot of question, took her temperature and inspected her ears and eyes. His tools, despite looking old, were still in good shape, sporting polished lenses and shiny light stones.

These ones seemed to be the kind that did not need charging, instead requiring a touch of metal on them to shine extremely brightly. With the unfortunate side effect that said metals would corrode quickly. They nonetheless remained a must have for any medical practitioner who could not afford Artifacts.

Having apparently caught onto something, Taylor took a look at Irma’s throat, asking her about things she had eaten recently. His questions caught Roland’s attention.

Irma seemed to be looking paler than earlier, this time he was sure of it. It should still be some time until her collapse, but all the recent excitement could have easily speed up her condition.

“...some beef my husband brought back, together with mashed potatoes for dinner, I planned on using the rest of the meat to make soup today.” Irma told the doctor what she ate yesterday, making him nod thoughtfully.

“Thank you, that’s enough,” Taylor thanked her, before beckoning the rest of them over. “I got a good sense of what’s going on.”

“Seems to be a standard case of food poisoning, nothing serious,” Taylor started his explanation by reassuring Irma things were mostly fine. Which barely helped, as her face dropped anyway. “It’s quite common during this time of the year sadly. With the festival coming up, cheaper local traders try their best to make profits while they can, which at times leads to subpar storage and preservation. Especially in the current heat.”

“Why would they try to make money now?” Claire asked, genuinely confused. “Wouldn’t the time around the festival be most lucrative?”

“The seasonal traders are the problem,” Irma was the one who responded quietly, looking sicker by the second. Knowledge helped most of the time, here however it simply worried her.

Taylor excused himself to get some medicine from storage. Seeing that Irma did not go into more details, Stephan decided to bridge the silence himself.

“As miss Irma mentioned, the festival attracts an enormous amount of competition for our local businesses,” Stephan elaborated. “While the bigger establishments still profit greatly from it, smaller ones basically can’t sell their goods at all. Nobody buys inferior quality stuff when the market is literally flooded with superior foreign goods. Especially when most workers receive a bonus around the festival, not to mention the benefits given out by the church.”

Irma nodded along, happy about the distraction. Claire herself seemed intrigued, never getting many chances to interact with the commoners during such times.

This year should be different if we repeat the Fire Safety Day. She’ll probably see a lot of things she wish she hadn't.

“The Red Market goes real insane during the festival,” Thomas added from his spot at the window, no less suspicious but not about to pass on any conversation vaguely relating to food. Even if it was talk about food poisoning that started it.

“Oh yeah, that thing is ridiculous,” Stephan chuckled, remembering the last few years’ chaos. “All the surrounding hunters go crazy trying to present their best catches. The church doesn’t even recognize the tradition anymore, but it’s ingrained in them from previous generations so they do it anyway.”

“Aha, something I actually know about. Almost started feeling like I was living in a different city all this time,” Claire jokingly remarked, fully aware the noble district was quite different from the average citizen's life. She simply did not expect there to be so many differences she never considered.

“Tanya told me the Pope was considering to add the solstice offerings as an official way of worship. In the end it should be better to have them dedicate it to the Princess, if they are going to do it anyway.”

What? That’s not some casual change. People have been arguing about it for centuries. Leave it to Claire to so casually drop a bomb. She probably doesn’t consider news of the Pope rare at all. Though with Tanya always sticking close to her it’s not particularly surprising.

“Don’t have too much hope on him actually changing anything,” Old Taylor had returned. And judging by his response, he heard the last part of what Claire said. The slightly pained look he gave her also being a bit of a clue. After all, this poor doctor had lived long enough to be able to pick up on some rather obvious clues. Like him being unable to remember a single thing about the random tag-along girl’s features after not seeing her for a minute.

And recent rumors about the City Lord’s daughter joining a certain weird group, one which definitely gave him too much unwanted business at times. Add in a ‘Tanya’, who casually informed her about the thoughts of one of the most important personages in Vasperi, and it becomes quite apparent who the girl he shooed away earlier actually was.

An impromptu disguise, with absolutely no planning behind it whatsoever. I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise someone like Taylor saw through it. Luckily, he isn't one to blabber.

“Why is that?” Claire inquired further, beaming happily.

Shit.

“Because the hardliners have shut down any previous attempts,” Taylor answered, already back to his previous professional face. He was savvy enough to know a young noble girl renowned for her righteousness wouldn’t hold a grudge over something like this. Though she seemed a bit too happy about him finding out. “The situation will end with them giving concessions over some other matter as usual.”

“Ah, compromise,” Stephan sighed. “Where would we be without politics.” His joke drew a chuckle out of Taylor, though Claire seemed less enthusiastic, having been reminded of some less favorable compromises her father had been forced to make.

“Well enough of that. This here if for you, ma’am,” Taylor stated, handing a green pill to Irma. It was oval, about the size of her pinky’s nail. “Take one pill, drink a lot and try to sleep. The next couple of hours could be a bit uncomfortable. Here is a bucket and that door over there leads towards the toilet.”

Taking an old looking bucket out of the closet. Taylor pointed towards a little side door which apparently led towards the room’s personal toilet. Certainly extra extravagant.

“This is?” Irma asked, looking worriedly at the pill in her hand. Her usual responses to sickness had been sleep and home remedies. Although she seen pills before, they were all been tiny discolored balls, being sold at sketchy looking stalls. This was the first time she held a real one in her own hands.

“A simple stomach booster made out of common herbs, I get batches of them from trusted local alchemists,” Taylor replied, keeping a straight face even while he elevated some half blind fools tinkering around with plants to the level of alchemists. “It’ll boost your metabolism and get the toxins out faster. Don’t worry, I have been prescribing these for decades.”

Convinced by the doctor’s reassurance Irma swallowed the pill, looking equally intrigued and scared. Anticlimactically nothing whatsoever happened, though seeing that it was purely a fancy herb mixture instead of some miracle drug, things seemed about as expected.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Irma gave Taylor her gratitude after she swallowed the pill and downed whole glass of water. “I feel bad about taking so much time and space of yours for such a simple thing.”

“Nonsense,” Taylor reassured her instantly. “Everyone brought here by our lovely Crescent Moon Helpers deserves nothing but the best. I’ll bring you some bread later, best not to eat anything greasy or acidic for now. Please stay here until you feel healthy again. I insist!”

Roland was taken aback by the overly enthusiastic Taylor, until he realized what the latter was doing. Trying to make yourself look good? I doubt Claire will talk to her father about the selfless backstreets doctor whose clinic she visited today. Hopefully.

Ignoring Taylor’s further attempts at inflating himself, Roland beckoned Stephan over. The latter’s eyes shined at his leader’s call, smelling impending freedom.

“I’m going to escort Claire back. We need to make it in time for the training after all,” Roland quietly told his companion, keeping up appearances despite Taylor most definitely having seen through the disguise. “You and Thomas stay here to keep an eye on miss Irma. I trust your judgment to bring her home once she feels fine. Also get her and her husband some decent food for dinner and breakfast.”

“Your will is my command Boss,” Stephan saluted happily. “Give me one minute please, I have one of my little friends waiting outside. Going to delegate really quick.” He was already slithering towards the door before Roland had even finished his curt nod.

He could at least pretend to be upset about missing the public training.

“A word Roland?” Taylor asked Roland on his way out of the room, looking like he wanted to discuss something serious. Roland of course knew better as he followed after the old man with a sigh.

“Next time,” Taylor started once they were out of earshot from the others. “Why don’t you just smear shit in my face and parade me through the streets? Seems easier than whatever it was you arranged here!” Taylor let loose, basically frothing in anger.

No good rebuke in mind, Roland patiently waited for Stephan’s return, trying his best to dodge any inbound spit.

Guess I should be happy this is all I have to endure for us to have a decent doctor in our service. In a way he could be seen as endearing. Poor old doctor being bullied by some cheeky kids. Though the fact we pay him makes his anger feel a bit undeserved at times.

In the grand scheme of things, Taylor just wanted to vent and never went anywhere remotely close to actually saying something Roland would find offensive. So, after what could best be described as a one-sided therapeutic conversation, Stephan returned. Whistling a tune, his grin widened upon seeing Roland so selflessly support an aging man’s mental health.

“All done, Boss,” Stephan reported. “Good luck with the public training. Make sure to wring those two for all they’re worth.”

“Will do,” Roland replied, quickly heading back into the room to escape from Taylor’s wrath. Inside Irma had laid down, looking sicker by the minute. Claire sat by her side, talking idly about unimportant things.

“Thomas,” Roland called out to his little companion still squatting by the window. “I leave the rest to you and Stephan. Take good care of miss Irma.”

Still mighty suspicious, Thomas wasn’t about to believe this sketchy Roland. A stance that changed when his long lost friend suddenly sailed through the air, straight into his arms. Seeing the orange he had been so cruelly torn apart from return to him, Thomas froze in shock, before running up to Roland, tears of regret in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for ever doubting you, Roland,” Thomas cried out, snot running down his nose, he held onto Roland’s shirt with all his might. “I’ll always believe in you from now one.” Friendship once again triumphed over evil.

“Miss Irma,” Roland said to today’s lucky lady, peeling the clingy Thomas off. “Thanks for following our advice. I wish you a quick recovery.”

“I should be the one to thank you. I’m sorry for not listening from the start,” Irma apologized. “Making you all expend such effort over on old ladies upset stomach.” Shaking her head regretfully, she felt like a fool for ever being suspicious of the kind boy. Luckily Claire had been there to make her see the light. By duping her much more successfully than the boys ever could.

We wouldn’t be here over a little stomach trouble.

Roland smirked, thinking about the convoluted way they saved Irma. It wasn’t particularly clever, needed a lot of unnecessary work, and ended up creating a lot of weird rumors. But it had been safe and stable. For everyone involved, including his secrets.

This way is fine. It’s better than fine even. There is no need to be overly serious if we can still save people.

“Everyone.”

Roland tensed up when he heard the faintest of whispers, quickly dropping his current train of thought. Everything went well, best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“Miss Claire, are you ready?” Roland inquired the disguised girl which seemed reluctant to go. “We should be on our way.”

Sighing sadly Claire grabbed Irma’s hand, surprising the poor lady greatly. As did the words that came out of her mouth.

“It has been an honor to help you,” Claire professed, voice overflowing with emotion. “I wish you all the health and happiness in the world. I’m sure we will meet again.”

Quickly averting his gaze, Roland couldn’t stomach the second-hand embarrassment. It felt too much like looking into a mirror. If said mirror could magically show the past, and switch up the observer’s gender.

She is already like that over a mere sickness. How would Claire act if she knew we saved Irma’s life? Probably not leave her side for the entire day.

Ultimately, a small smile settled on Roland’s face, finding Claire’s attitude more endearing than embarrassing. It reminded him of his earlier days, when he would easily get attached to the people he saved. Often to the others chagrin, as they were left to wonder why that random orphan boy suddenly acted all familiar.

Giving Thomas tear-filled goodbye a run for its money, Claire finally left alongside Roland, looking back from time to time. Though she had trouble keeping her sad face when she saw the melancholic look a certain little boy gave Roland, munching on his orange in sadness.