While the party from the capital was settling in at the Graywolf estate, at Baron’s secret mine the hero was sitting in what was frankly little more than a three room hut. She sat at a small table, barely large enough for two people, where she was scanning sheets of parchment. The Baron kept a number of written records about his more illicit dealings here is this secret place. Neither he, nor the guards watching over the hero, even suspected that she might peruse these incriminating papers.

“Unreported tax income, sales to foreign powers, political favors, faction connections… he must have a terrible memory to go and write all this down.”

She casually started rolling up the parchments and placing them into her bag. Once done, she exited the hut and glanced at the guards who rushed to stop her departure. All of the men exuded an aura that screamed roughian, and several made no attempt to hide their lust for her from their faces.

“Baron Graywolf hasn’t yet sent word that the danger at the mine has placed,” said the leader of the guards.

“Yes, well I’m tired of waiting. I said I would come for a few days. And now I must go and prepare more tonic for the villagers.”

“I’ll have to insist otherwise.”

“You don’t have the power to stop me.”

“Oh really? You know, the baron seems to you’re a hero. But you don’t carry a weapon. I think my boys here should be treated to some special time with you.”

Disgust crossed her face.

“Oh what’s with that look now? We’re just gonna…”

The leader’s statement was interrupted by his sudden lack of consciousness. The other roughians quickly followed suit as they all slumped to the ground. Vivette and another Shadow operative emerged from the shadows.

“Are you alright, Lady Hero?” asked Vivette.

The hero sighed, “I’m not a hero. Will you please stop calling me that?”

“You are already making a great impression on our country, you will undoubtedly be referred to as a hero in the future.”

“I’m just a doctor.”

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Fortunately, before her forced relocation, the hero had left a large supply of tonic behind at the mining town to treat illnesses of the miners as they were rescued. Returning there now, she set about resuming treatments for not only the miners but the entire town.

“Lady Hero, why do you not utilize magic?” asked Vivette, “Or potions?”

“Potions require magic, and I can’t use magic.”

“Ah… Wait what?”

Vivette was legitimately confused. A hero unable to use magic was not impossible, but this tended to be in exchange for enhanced physical abilities. Since this hero had not exhibited physical abilities, Vivette assumed that she possessed enhanced magical abilities.

“I can’t use magic. No idea how to.”

“Oh,” Vivette understood now, “You lack training.”

Being on the receiving end of a hero’s scowl was not what Vivette was expecting. She said a silent thanks that the hero at least seemed benevolent.

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Adelade and Wyen sat together in the room that Wyen had been provided as a guest. Wyen was clearly tense, which in turn was rubbing off on Adelade.

“Maybe he won’t,” she said.

“I’ll rejoice then. Do you really think it is possible though?”

Adelade paused as she reflected on the Baron’s daughter.

“No.”

“I should stay next to him. It would only be words then,” Wyen strained.

A figure emerged from the shadows, which made Adelade jump up in a panic, taking a defensive stance. Wyen meanwhile, kept his composure after a slight shock.

“It’s alright, Adelade. He’s one of ours.”

The male Shadow bowed his head in apology and pulled out a scroll case. Wyen accepted it.

“From the hero,” murmured the Shadow.

“Ah,” said Wyen, “Please return to her side and protect her.”

The Shadow gave another head bow before disappearing into the shadows again.

“I know their shadow magic is good, but it is unnerving that I still can’t see through it,” Adelade said as she sat back down.

“It is part of why you have not succeeded your father yet. I am certain you will soon.”

Wyen opened the scroll case and began pulling out far more sheets of parchment than the case could possibly hold. There were enchantments that expanded the carrying capacity of containers, and such an enchantment was applied to this case.

“This is a lot,” Adelade commented, “How will we know what’s useful?”

“Everything will surely be useful in some way. It’s a matter of what is immediately useful versus what will be useful later on.”

“So what are we looking for right now?”

“Unreported taxables and foreign dealings will be enough for now. It will be enough to mark him for treason and depose him while a full investigation uncovers everything. Granted, he will not see the final results of such an investigation.”

With that, Wyen and Adelade started examining the documents.

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“The prince asked the misses to stay,” reported one of the maids who had been sent to the Royal Room.

Once upon a time, Baron Graywolf had indeed loved his daughter, Felicia. As she grew up and became a beauty in her own right, he foresaw the potential political moves that her marriage held. It all went wrong when Felicia grew what others might call a ‘moral compass’ that was not generally in line with nobility. At that point, the Baron could only see her as a tool. Perhaps in some hidden corner of his mind he still cared and loved her, but having abandoned that morality, it was out of reach for him.

Instead, the Baron sighed. It was a shame in his mind to lose such a valuable tool, even when going against the Crown. Felicia could have used to gain the support of an influential lord to further cement the Baron’s, perceived, rise to power. Instead, she would be viewed as tainted, fit only to service the whims of depraved men. She would fetch a good price despite her used condition, which had become the baron’s thoughts. The maid left, leaving only the Baron to contemplate his own thoughts.

“Perhaps another daughter might be useful?” he muttered, knowing that his wife was still young enough to bear another child.

His concerns were interrupted as someone frantically pounded on his office’s door.

“What?” he called out.

The door was flung open by an out of breath messenger pursued by the head butler.

“The hero escaped.”

The faces of the butler and the Baron paled.

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It was several hours of rapidly scanning the documents that had Wyen and Adelade find several things of note about the baron’s activities. It was when Wyen remembered that Quinn was in a potentially compromising position that he dashed to the prince’s side.

“Fang! I have to get in now!” Wyen nearly shouted as he ran.

Fang had been diligently standing guard just outside the Royal Room, silently panicking at Wyen’s continued absence or attempted interference. It had only been a short time since the baron’s daughter had entered, but Fang knew it was plenty of time. Relieved at Wyen’s arrival, Fang flung the door to the room open as Wyen raced by, following just behind.

“We’ve got him,” said Wyen.

“Oh thank the Goddess,” gasped Quinn, who was taking heaving breaths.

Wyen and Fang glanced around the scene. Quinn was still dressed, standing over by the desk. Felicia was on the bed, having grabbed a blanket to hide herself and her revealing attire. Fang shut the door before anyone else could enter.

Wyen bowed towards Felicia, who was completely red in the face as she peeked over the edge of the blanket.

“Please forgive His Highness’s words and actions.”

The phrase was said with clearly practiced frequency. Felicia was caught off guard and left speechless.

“Hey! Nothing happened!”

The skeptical look Wyen gave Quinn caused the latter to roughly seat himself.

“You really don’t believe me.”

“H-he didn’t,” said Felicia, “We just talked.”

Fang and Wyen’s gaze shifted slowly turned back to Quinn.

“About the Baron!” said Quinn, desperately clinging to the lifeline Felicia had thrown him, “But you have stuff on him too, Wyen?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” said Wyen before answering the question, “Yes, courtesy of the hero.”

“The hero?” asked both Quinn and Felicia, though for different reasons.

“Yes, young Lady. There is a hero, and they have come to this territory.”

“We came to support her and prevent the Baron from capturing and hording her power,” added Quinn.

“There’s a hero here,” Felicia whispered.

Turning back to Quinn, Wyen continued.

“Our… agents assisted in her escape and she gave over documents full of the Baron’s misdeeds and dealings. Frankly, it will take a more thorough look to find everything these documents contain, but with Adelade, I have identified enough.”

“Fang,” ordered Quinn, “Alert the captain and ready the men we have here. We’re moving on the Baron immediately before he can make any moves.”

Fang nodded and ran off to complete the task, passing Adelade at the door.

“Adelade, perfect timing,” continued Quinn, “Set up a barrier over the mansion. We’re taking control immediately. Oh, and please take the young Lady back to her room in secret.”

Adelade glanced over to Felicia, who again turned red with embarrassment despite still being mostly hidden by the blanket.

“Pervert,” Adelade shot at Quinn.

“Nothing happened!”

Adelade helped Felicia cover herself with the blanket she had been using and, followed by a quick invisibility spell, escorted her out of the Royal Room.

“It is going to be tough to hold out here if the Baron calls his militia in with only two squads,” said Wyen.

“And the court mage successor, the prince’s personal guard and his advisor, most of the prince’s Shadow unit, and the prince himself,” retorted Quinn, pointing at himself.

“That last one concerns me the most.”

Quinn smirked as he strapped his sword to his belt. Like Wyen, he understood the dangerous situation that their lack of troops presented if the Baron rallied his own troops.

“We also need to grab the wife and son. Felicia confirmed my suspicions about their involvements in the Baron’s activities. You take several and arrest the son, Fang and I will grab the Baron.”

Wyen nodded as the pair left the Royal Room and started closing their trap. As soon as Fang rejoined them, Wyen split off with two guards and moved on the Baron’s son.

Despite the late hour, when Fang flung the office door open, the Baron was still there along with the head butler and a third man. Quinn entered in, sword drawn.

“Baron Graywolf. You are under arrest for treason, attempted abduction of the hero, and other crimes. Both your wife and son have also been found guilty and will meet the same sentence. Surrender quietly,” Quinn ordered.

When people are caught in positions that they deem to be life and death, they have a tendency to fight for life. So quickly had the Baron received news of the hero escaping and now this, that he found himself cornered.

“Kill him!” screamed the Baron.

The butler and man lunged towards Quinn, only to be intercepted by Fang and another guard. Unfortunately for Fang and the guard, the relatively confined space of the office made using their swords nearly impossible while their opponents daggers were well suited to the confined, close combat situation.

“Phillippe!”

The leader of Quinn’s Shadow unit emerged, turning the situation into a three versus two. With quick movements, Phillippe ended the entire situation just as quickly as it began. Both the butler and messenger were not dead, but they were likely to never be holding weapons ever again.

“We shall add attempted murder of the crown prince to your list of crimes now,” Quinn coldly stated, “Arrest him.”

Fang moved to carry out Quinn’s order and stood the Baron up. Spinning around in a surprise attack, he stabbed a dagger through the gaps in Fang’s armor, piercing the abdomen. Whipping it back out, the Baron charged recklessly at Quinn, seemingly determined to get him even at the cost of his own life. With as much ease as before however, Phillippe ended the Baron’s life by deflecting the attack with one hand and slicing the Baron’s throat open with the other.

Quinn paid no attention to the corpse at his feet as he ran to Fang’s side. Fang was clutching at the wound, which was profusely bleeding, and had fallen to the ground.

“A potion! Quickly!” shouted Quinn.

The guard ran out to get a potion from the small stock that their group had available. Fang grunted in pain as he took several rapid breaths.

“Something’s wrong. It’s more than just a stab wound,” Fang managed to get out.

“Poison? The potion will take care of it too.”

The guard returned a moment later with the potion and handed it to Quinn. Popping the vial’s cork, Quinn poured some of the potion into the wound and forced Fang to drink the rest. Though partially obscured by the armor, Quinn saw the flesh mend before his eyes as the potion took effect.

“There. You’ll live now.”

Quinn helped Fang back to his feet, only for Fang to scream in pain again.

“No, it burns! I feel it inside me!”

Quinn’s face clearly expressed his shock at the situation. A healing potion, like the one that had just been used, was used to treat smaller wounds and could easily cure most poisons. Both effects were within the scope of Fang’s injury, so why was the poison effect not dissipating?

Quinn frantically opened the drawers of the Baron’s desk looking for some hint. Finally, after breaking through a locked drawer, he found a small vial with a label that read hydra venom.

Hydras, the serpentine creatures with multiple heads that quickly regrew when decapitated, were not the easiest creatures to slay. Due to the magic that fueled their regeneration, their venom was potent enough to overpower the effects of a generic healing potion. Their venom required a custom tailored antidote potion. However, Quinn had no such potion on hand and no alchemist to create one. Fetching a qualified alchemist from the capital would take too long and there were likely no alchemists within the Graywolf territory.

“Hydra venom,” Quinn managed to speak finally, “There’s nothing we can do.”

“You need an alchemist,” said Fang. It was something that even he could understand.

“Wait... alchemist,” Quinn realized his mistake only after hearing it, “Phillippe! Go with all haste and fetch the hero! She can save him!”

Phillippe disappeared instantly he made for the mining town. Once Wyen and Adelade joined, together they escorted Fang to a bed to rest.

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Vivette was standing watch nearby when Phillippe stumbled into the hero’s tent well past midnight. He was out of breath, something that should never happen to a Shadow, which caused her concern.

“You must come with me immediately, Hero,” gasped Phillippe.

“And why should I?” asked the hero, startled awake by his sudden arrival and intrusion.

“The prince’s guard has been poisoned with hydra venom. We need you to make the proper antidote potion.”

Vivette and the hero’s faces darkened.

“I can’t.”

“What? Why?”

“I can’t make potions. I can’t use magic.”

Phillippe was just as stunned as Vivette had been when she heard that revelation.

"You cannot use magic?"

"That's what I said."

"Does the alchemist have to be the one to use magic when making a potion?"

The hero looked up at him, questioning with a glance at what he was getting at. She then started thinking about everything she knew about potions.

"I suppose not. There hasn't really been any research in that direction due to the delicacy of potion making as I understand it."

"Then we will use Lady Adelade's magic," Phillippe declared.

"Who?" asked the hero.

"She is a powerful magic user. Please, we must hurry."

The hero gazed at Phillippe for a moment before nodding.

"Come with me," she said, rising and attempting to step out of the tent.

“Lady Hero! You should put on something... different,” interrupted Vivette.

To someone of Earth, while not necessarily the most appropriate for going out and especially if one were to meet royalty, her somewhat form fitting pajamas were enough in terms of coverage.

“You’re right. Forgot my coat.”

The hero grabbed a white lab coat from where it was hanging and, grabbing her bag which she also nearly forgot, walked out of the tent.

“That’s not what I meant,” whispered Vivette.

Phillippe and Vivette would later describe what happened next as the first

miracle they saw the hero perform.

The hero led the other two to an open area nearby.

"I guess this will look like magic, but it's a magic item."

The two Shadows nodded. The hero then, seemingly from thin air, produced what appeared to vaguely be a horse drawn carriage. However, there were no places where one would hitch said horses to. Neither was there a coach box for the driver to sit upon.

"Both of you get in through the door on the right side," side the hero as she moved around the left and climbed in through that door.

The pair of Shadows glanced at each other before following the hero’s instructions. Getting in, they found the hero waiting for them expectantly.

"What about horses?" asked Vivette.

"Don't need them. Magic item, remember?"

"Right…"

The hero shifted a lever and the carriage started moving. The ride was smooth, with no effect from the bumps in the road as their speed increased. Light appeared ahead of them as they rode into the darkening sky.

"The main town, right?" said the hero as she glanced at Phillippe.

"Yes…"

"We should be there in less than an hour."

"What?"

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The mining town was half a day’s walk from Gray Den, and Phillippe had left in the night. This is just about the length of a standard marathon race. Even at a run, it would take some time before he could return with the hero and save Fang.

“You must hang on until morning,” Quinn murmured to his friend.

Fang was laid out on what was previously the Baron’s own bed. Moving early in the night, Quinn and his minimal forces had easily seized control over the estate, arresting both the now former Baron’s wife and son. Standing nearby were Wyen, Adelade, and Felicia, who was the new current acting head of the Graywolf house.

Despite Quinn’s more promiscuous nature, he did care about those he considered close friends. Wyen had therefore discouraged the other two from pressing any concerns on him for the moment.

“The hero is here!” someone shouted from downstairs.

Quinn and the others could not believe it. It had been just over four hours since Phillippe had left. There was no way that the hero had already returned from that distant town. The doors to the bedchambers were flung open by guards keeping watch and revealed three others. Two, Quinn immediately recognized, were Vivette and Phillippe. It was the third, a woman, that he had only heard of and never laid eyes upon.

Before the doors, almost seemingly illuminated from behind, stood an oddly dressed woman. She was younger than he had come to expect from the details given to him, perhaps in her late teens much like himself. The clothing she was currently wearing was form fitting, revealing that, while not athletic, she was at least fit. Had Quinn been in his normal state of mind, he might have taken note that she had a moderate chest. The white coat she had on over her outfit was open in the front and trailed behind her slightly with each step.

Her long, blonde hair was drawn into a ponytail, though it seemed that perhaps in haste a few strands might have been missed which currently framed the sides of her face. Speaking of her face, it was clear and vibrant, though her current expression was a bit of a frown. However, hazel eyes glanced over the room and its arrangement of people before settling on Fang, who was lying in the bed. She walked directly over to the side of the bed.

“Name? Age? Race?” she questioningly stated.

“Huh?” Quinn was not able to respond at the moment.

“Fangor, but call him Fang. Eighteen. Wolf Beastfolk,” Wyen stated rapidly, catching her questions.

“Haven’t had many beastfolk patients yet. Let alone such a severe case. Hydra poison?”

“Yes,” Quinn said, pulling out the vial they had found from a pocket.

The hero nodded and pulled out several things from her bag.

“Remove his shirt,” she stated.

“What do you need that for?” asked Quinn.

“Look. Do you want me to save him or not?”

Everyone in the room sharply inhaled in shock. She had snapped in anger at the prince.

“Lady Hero that’s…” started Vivette.

“The prince? Yeah, that much was obvious. Right now he’s in the way if he can’t follow my instructions.”

“You knew and yet you spoke to him in such a manner?” said Adelade.

“Are we seriously going to have this conversation right now? There is a patient dying! Give the vial to whoever Lady Adelade is. I’ll need her assistance shortly so get her here too. This is taking too long…”

The hero drew a dagger from her bag, causing Phillippe and Vivette’s hands to jump to their weapons. However, she grabbed Fang’s shirt and sliced only it straight down the middle and then likewise slit the sleeves, opening it as much as possible before dropping it back in the bag.

The hero took one of the device that she had withdrawn from the bag, which Phillippe had previously seen her wearing about her neck, and placed it in her ears while holding the other end against Fang’s chest.

“Respirations are strained but clear and stable,” the hero murmured, “Heart rate is high, but that might be a beastfolk thing.”

She took off the device for a moment, then strapped something around Fang’s arm. Taking another device in one hand, she performed some other analysis with both devices.

“Blood pressure is high. Again could be beastfolk. Hemotoxins destroy, so organ failure could become a problem if this continues. But I know little about hydra venom, it could cause clotting instead, which if he throws a clot he’s dead.”

“He’s going to die?” asked Quinn.

“Where’s Lady Adelade and the poison?”

Adelade stepped forward and took the vial from Quinn. The hero pulled out a small bowl from her bag and the dagger again.

“Put some hot water in this bowl. Hottest you can.”

Adelade was confused but complied.

“Boiling Water,” she chanted, causing the bowl to fill halfway.

The hero put the tip of the dagger in the boiling water and set the whole thing aside.

“We’re doing this a quick and dirty way, no helping that. Where was the wound that delivered the poison?”

“Here,” Quinn pointed to where Fang had been stabbed.

Taking another tool out of her bag that resembled eyeglasses, the hero placed it over her eyes. Eyeglasses were still expensive things that few outside of the nobility would recognize, thus why Phillippe had not recognized them when he had seen them.

“The potion healed all the damage,” murmured the hero as she examined the area Quinn had pointed at, “But the venom is causing massive hemorrhages internally. I’m surprised that we can’t see the bruising yet.”

She pulled the dagger out of the boiling water, flicking the remaining droplets off as much as possible. Taking the bowl, she threw the water at the empty hearth nearby, then placed it on the bed. With her empty hand, she held Fang’s hand over the bowl and slashed the palm with the dagger.

“I need syringes,” she murmured.

Blood dripped into the bowl, forming a small pool before she stopped the bleeding with a cloth bandage.

“The venom,” the hero said while holding out a hand.

Adelade gave her the vial, then stepped back again. The hero poured a single drop of the venom into the bowl with the blood, then recapped the vial and swirled the contents of the bowl.

“While that cooks, let’s get to work,” said the hero, “Don’t touch the bowl.”

With that, the hero glanced at Adelade and jerked her head as if to say follow me. The two left the remaining occupants both awed and stunned.

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“What is this?” asked Adelade as she gazed at the carriage-like thing before them.

“Perhaps I’ll tell you another time,” replied the hero, “For the moment, we’re getting in the back.”

She opened the back door, revealing a room that exceeded the dimensions of the carriage itself. Adelade looked around at numerous pieces of equipment within, most of which she had no idea what they did. The hero led Adelade over to a counter space where a setup for brewing tonics and potions was established.

“I don’t understand. Why am I here?” asked Adelade, finally able to speak again.

The hero was consulting a well crafted book unlike any Adelade had ever seen. The pages were thin, not made of parchment, and held words written in a language that Adelade knew nothing of. The uniformity of the sentences on the page made it clear to Adelade that the pages were not written by hand.

“I can’t use magic,” replied the hero without looking away as she started combining ingredients, “You’re going to supply the magic to this potion.”

“You can’t use magic? But how is that possible? You used magic items!”

“Well, I can’t use it yet I suppose I should say. I haven’t been taught yet. I know I possess the capacity to perform magic, and that my magic items draw from the magic within me, but I can’t do it myself.”

“I can teach you! You can come to the…”

“Right now we need to finish this potion. Pour magic in now. If these directions are right, it should work.”

“How much?”

“Until I say I guess. I don’t know.”

The two continued to craft the antidote potion for hydra venom, causing any further discussion to lapse as they concentrated. Thirty minutes later, the antidote potion was complete.

“Let’s return to the patient,” said the hero.

“Can I examine your items?” asked Adelade, desperate to learn about the equipment within the hero’s carriage.

“Not now.”

With that, the hero tapped the carriage with her fingertips and the entire thing disappeared, leaving only Adelade and the hero. Adelade followed with longing sadness written on her face.

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“Does she really know that His Highness is the prince?” asked Felicia timidly.

“I mentioned that it was His Highness guard that needed her skills,” replied Phillippe, “But she claims not to possess magic.”

“She what? No magic?” asked Wyen.

“Indeed. Not once since I have been watching over her have I seen her use magic like healers or Lady Adelade,” said Vivette.

“So she is not a hero?” asked Felicia.

“No, she is. She has already exhibited so many unique practices and items that it is impossible to refute that she is,” replied Wyen, “Every hero documented has had that be the case.”

“She refutes the claim,” said Vivette.

“Then she is no more than a commoner! She must face punishment for her comments!” said Felicia.

“No.”

Quinn had not moved from the bedside as he watched over his friend.

“She will not be punished. What she said in the moment needed to be said. I was interrupting her process. As a hero, she is my equal in rank, regardless of whether she acknowledges it or not.”

“It shall be as you say,” Wyen replied with a slight bow.

Phillippe and Vivette joined Wyen immediately, shortly followed by Felicia.

“The things that have occurred in this room will not be spoken of to anyone outside of those present,” continued Quinn, “For the sake of the kingdom we must convince the hero to work with us...”

Wyen sensed the change before anyone else, having been Quinn’s friend for so long.

“...and make her my queen. She is…”

In a panic Wyen ran over and slapped his hands over Quinn’s mouth, muffling whatever further statements he might make. Felicia looked extremely confused while both Vivette and Phillippe shifted awkwardly.

“Lady Felicia, I think it is safe for you to leave until morning Please get some rest,” Wyen said as he struggled to keep Quinn’s mouth covered.

“R-Right,” she stammered out and, with a bow, left the room.

“You two can resume your work.”

Phillippe and Vivette likewise left and melted into the shadows.

Left alone with only Fang’s unconscious form, Wyen finally released Quinn.

“Why did you do that?”

“You were about to make yourself look the fool again. We need the hero to like us, remember? What if Lady Felicia runs off and tells her what she just heard?”

“That’d be great!”

“No it would not. You nearly shared a bed with Lady Felicia just hours ago and now you were talking about making the hero your queen. Not to mention, and I cannot believe I am saying this, despite your minimal interaction Lady Felicia seems taken with you.”

“So I have a mistress already then!”

“What is wrong with you?” Wyen cried as he smacked Quinn upside the head.

The two continued to bicker until Adelade and the hero returned. Though not necessarily intentional, Wyen used it as a distraction to ease Quinn’s worries about Fang. Upon the women’s return, Wyen stuck very close to Quinn, something that Adelade observed and acknowledged silently to him.

The hero glanced into the bowl of venom and blood, swirling it around again.

“Mostly hemotoxins. Bad, but better than if it caused coagulations instead,” she murmured.

“What does that mean?” asked Wyen.

“Broadly speaking, snake venoms come in two types: hemotoxins and neurotoxins. I’ve never seen a hydra, but from what I’ve read they are serpentine in nature, so I’m guessing they’re comparable,” replied the hero as she careful fed the antidote potion to Fang, “Neurotoxins hit the nerves and cause pain to overload the brain. Hemotoxins break down the blood and tissues to destroy. At least, that’s how I understand it. Venoms aren’t my specialty.”

The three listening to the hero’s explanation were stunned. To them, poison was poison. While it was clear to them that there were different kinds that had different appearances, efficacy, and sources, in the end it was just poison.

“Where did you receive this training?” Quinn inquired.

“That’s... complicated.”

“So you are a hero,” concluded Wyen.

“No. I’m a doctor.”

“What is a doctor? Is it like a physician?” Adelade interrupted.

The hero laughed.

“Your physicians are amateurs compared to a doctor. But yes, I suppose you could say they are roughly the same. If you consider a child learning to walk the same as a sprinting adult, that is.”

The hero gave Fang another healing potion that she had picked up as she was returning to the room. She then went about cleaning up from her work. The other three gathered in a corner to discuss what to do.

“It goes without saying, and we’ve said it numerous times already, but we must get her to join us,” Wyen whispered.

“Agreed. I’ll name her my queen,” Quinn said and attempted to turn away.

“No. You’ll frighten her away right now,” chastised Wyen again, glancing over to ensure that the hero had not heard.

“I may have a way to convince her to return with us,” said Adelade.

“What is it?”

“Though she’s a hero, she can’t use magic yet. She said she has the capability, but just hasn’t been taught. If I become her teacher, then she’ll come back with us,” said Adelade.

“Do it,” Wyen stated, “If we can get more of these doctors because of her, our political influence over other countries will rise, not even counting the other benefits.”

“Just keep Prince Pervert in line and let me handle it,” she whispered.

Adelade left and returned to the hero’s side. Quinn watched as both of these women, who he considered to be very beautiful, sat near the bed and started talking.

“Let’s just leave it to Adelade. She knows what to do.”

Together, Wyen and Quinn silently left the room to get their own rest.