“Have you sterilized your hands, boy?” Vahkul nods. He had done so after preparing the room. Today he is to assist Ukula with a leg operation on a particularly affluent man. He had come earlier than usual just to make sure that everything was in place. The man in question had already been put to sleep.

He rests on the sterilized steel table, his one leg uncovered by his operating robes. “Right. Get to removing the fellows hair then.” Nodding, Vahkul picks up the metal razor that sits among all of the other tools needed for the surgery.

The young druid preps the man’s leg with a bit of water and honey before he goes in and starts to shave off the absolute abundance of hair coating him. It takes a few passes and a bit more honey before the leg is hairless and clean.

Vahkul places the razor on the small table meant for used tools then goes to wash his hands in a nearby basin of alcohol. “Alright. Everything else looks to be in order, let’s-”

The operation room door opens, a nearly bald head popping in. “Excuse me Ukula, a message has come for the new ovate,” Druid Ukula’s eyes narrow, as if Vahkul manifested the message just to interrupt him.

“Go,” The man says as he turns back to the operating table. “And someone send Divon in. You’re dismissed for the rest of the evening Vahkul.” He almost has half a mind to object, but the startling silence forces him out of the room.

He closes the door aggressively behind him, sure that that’s going to get him at least a month’s worth of extra morning chores. The messenger that came for him hands Vahkul a slip of paper before heading off, presumably to alert Divon that he’s to take Vahkul’s place. The boy hisses.

Opening the message, it reads: “A young woman by the name of Miss Lutticous has left the following message for ovate Vahkul: I require your assistance, please meet me at my old house at six in the evening.” His brows furrow. What could she possibly need from him now?

His eyes widen. “She couldn’t be sick could she?” Vahkul’s thoughts run rampant as he eyes the clock. With a sigh, he goes to his chambers to wait out the time.

Still dressed in his white robes, Vahkul catches the attention of nearly every passerby. His trip to the Lutticous house is short though. He knocks, his legs bouncing beneath his long and thick garbs, and waits impatiently for someone to answer.

Only a few moments later, the young woman opens the door. “You came!” Her face is light. Her smile is love. Vahkul can’t stop his eyes from trailing up the young woman. Manny stands before him in a scandalously short dress that ends just above her knees. Her exposed legs are clothed in nude stockings, a stark change from the ever-present black ones, with lace bows tied right where her dress ends.

Her hair is down, the loose waves tumbling over her shoulder and sinking into her- “Miss Lutticous!” Vahkul turns, his face heating and his heart racing. “What is the nature of my visit?” He swallows.

He might not know much about women, but he understands that one doesn’t dress this way without intension. He can excuse her lack of veil, as she is from a newer generation, but the buttons of her top are undone . He hears the hinges of the door squeak. “I am so sorry Vahkul! I forgot myself for a moment. Please allow me to put myself together before we speak.”

Without turning around, he nods. “Very well.” The door shuts firmly behind him, but it doesn’t take long for it to open again. In that time, Vahkul debates running.

“Thank you for waiting. Will you come in?” He turns and sees that Manny did indeed put herself together. She wears a proper black dress that reaches her ankles and has tied her hair up into a knot. Vahkul nods, his head dipping low.

He follows her into her home, surprised to see that most of the damage has been cleared and patched up. Closing the door behind them, Vahkul speaks, “You still haven’t told me the nature of my visit, Miss.”

The young woman leads him through her home, her slippered feet barely making a sound. They enter the dining room, and Vahkul has his answer. “Please, call me Manny,” Manny requests as she turns to face the druid. “As for the nature of this visit… I just wanted to thank you. Dinner is the best I could do. I hope you enjoy.”

Vahkul is at a loss for words. He can’t very well say no, but he’s not supposed to accept gifts of any kind from clients. He looks around the dinning room. The six person table has been set for two, the seats right across from each other.

Black cloth napkins have been folded in the shape of roses, and two glasses have already been filled with what Vahkul can guess is wine. He looks to the young woman, who stands behind a chair, her eyes damp, as if she can feel the rejection.

He doesn’t have it in him to hurt the girl further. “What have you prepared for tonight?” He asks as he makes his way to his chair. Manny’s eyes light up as she scrambles to sit in her own seat.

She unfolds her napkin and sets it in her lap. “Well, I made roasted chicken for the main dish. We have alecron soup made with tomatoes and fish imported from Jarsia and freshly baked bread for dipping. I even brought out a bottle of Bosburian wine made on the island of Boigny. Try it!”

The druid smiles as he unfolds his own napkin. “It sounds lovely, and I’m sure the wine tastes great, but I am prohibited from drinking alcohol outside of morning mass.” Her eyes widen.

“Oh! Apologies, I didn’t even stop to think about any religious factors when I set this up. Please let me get you something else to drink.”

“It’s fi-”

“I insist.” She’s up before he can get another word out, the layers of her skirts filling the empty air. Manny comes back carrying a silver pitcher. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any other drinks in the house. I hope water will do.” Vahkul smiles as Manny fills the extra glasses on the table.

When they finally settle into their seats, Vahkul waits patiently for Manny to serve him. “Is this enough?” He nods. It’s plenty. Perhaps too much. He had eaten before coming here.

They eat in silence, their utensils hitting ceramic plates. “The food is great,” He says between bites. The young woman smiles behind her hand and bows.

“Thank you.” He knows that she isn’t showing gratitude for his compliment. His heart hurts because he knows the truth.

Vahkul gently places his utensils across his plate, swallowing the food that’s begun to taste like cardboard. “Miss Litticous?” She pauses with a small yes . “Had your parents been out of the town before you noticed a shift in their health?” She stops eating, giving the druid her full attention.

Swallowing, she answers, “Father was a merchant. He was gone, often more times than he was here. He’s never told me of the destinations though. Why?” The air has gone thick.

“You aren’t aware of the ailments that your parents suffered from, are you?”

She looks down, then around. “I…”

“Miss Lutticous, your father had caught a particularly brutal case of smaze during his travels.” The sound of her heart breaking was almost deafening. “From whatever realms he traveled, he brought back a disease that is both incurable and extremely contagious.”

Vahkul swallows, not sure if he should continue. “There was nothing I could do. No medicine could have saved your parents, and your mother knew that.” Her eyes close as her head tilts back. Brows scrunched and lips wobbling, she shudders. “Your mother died with your father in that room trying to protect you. You owe me no thanks, Miss Lutticous, for I am the one that failed you.”

He releases a breath of his own as he turns away from the woman. He can barely stand to look at her. She should shout at him. She should throw this meal at him. She should kick him out and curse his name. “Can I ask you something?”

Vahkul looks up and finds Manny already staring at him. Her eyes are clear, though her cheeks have reddened. He nods. Her eyes trail all over him, lingering at his hair. He knows what she wants to ask. How did he survive? “I don’t know. I honestly couldn’t tell you what makes one person die and another live. Not when it comes to this.”

Manny nods, her eyes returning to rest on her hands, which she fiddles with in her lap. “Is it… I mean, do you…”

He shakes his head. “Once this happens,” Vahkul points to his stark white hair. “You can no longer pass the disease onto anyone else.”

“So that means I can go into my parents room now? I don’t have much longer here, so I need to get started moving things.” This causes Vahkul to sit up straighter.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?”

Her eyes widen, her hand going to cover her mouth, as if she didn’t even realize what she was saying. Manny shakes her head. “Don’t mind me-”

“Are you being evicted, Miss Lutticous?” Silence, thick and potent slowly floods the air.

Manny’s voice just barely drains it, “Father didn’t want to tell mother, but his business was failing. With tensions rising between provinces, trade has been slow. We’ve been behind on our payments for a while, and now that they’ve both been registered… Creditors have claimed the house.”

Help her get on her feet.

That’s what Mrs Lutticous had asked of him, and he was doing a piss poor job of it. “When do you have to be out? You could stay with me for a while.”

She shakes her head, tucking some of her hair behind her small ears. “No, I couldn’t impose. Gosh, I apologize. Tonight was just supposed to be a small thank you.” She stands, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Thank you for coming. I’ll see you out.”

He stands, knowing that she feels he is no longer welcome. While he wishes to stay, to speak to her more, but he doesn’t want to make her anymore uncomfortable. “Thank you for the meal, Miss Lutticous,” He says with a small bow of his head.

Vahkul lets her lead him out of her house. She doesn’t meet his eyes as she closes the door behind him.

The cold takes over him as he thinks. He wraps his hands into the folds of his robes, his ears going numb. Soon enough, Vahkul begins walking, and he doesn’t stop until he reaches the door he was searching for.

“ You’ve missed a spot, ovate.” Vahkul grumbles to himself as people step over him, pointing to imaginary missed spots on the floor that he’s been forced to scrub. He would have thought that comforting the grieving family of clients that he failed to save would have been seen as a good enough excuse for returning to the compound after curfew.

But alas, the Archdruid didn’t seem to think so.

So the young druid has been called to scrub every single stone floor on the compound until they shine. His God is not merciful, nor is his fellow man.

He tunes out the laughter of a few of the older ovates as he continues to scrub the floors of the lounge. Everyone should be leaving soon enough, which will make his job much easier.

Vahkul continues his grumbling, his fingers and knees aching, until someone taps on his shoulder. Sunlight bounces off of the man’s nearly bald head, almost blinding the young druid. Eyes narrow as the man pulls a card out of his sleeve. He clear his throat. “Someone has left a message for you, Ovate Vahkul.”

Vahkul takes it, a sheepish grin lighting up his face. “My thanks, blessed son.”

“Of course, blessed boy.” Vahkul waits until the messenger has left to scowl. While quite a few of the higher druids had brought Vahkul up, nurturing him and instilling in him that he was a child of Moakn, there are still those that opposed of his joining the coven.

For every druid that supports his gifts, there are five that believe him to be tainted . They spit on his name during briefings and no doubt slander him when praying to their gods. There was once a time when the mere thought of someone not liking him would break the boy to pieces.

Their travels throughout Velshlind have steeled him.

He places the floor brush into his bucket, drying his hands on the bottom of his robes. Vahkul opens the message, reading: “A young woman by the name of Miss Lutticous has left the following message for ovate Vahkul: I received a message from a local seamstress today, claiming to need young eyes and a fresh soul in her boutique. I know this is your doing. You have my gratitude and a small piece of my heart, Mr Healer.”

Vahkul smiles as he places the note in his inner pocket. His heart feels light as he grabs the brush and begins scrubbing all of the missed spots.