Elise looked ragged. Her gown had been torn at the thigh, and the wound she bore there looked nasty. Mireille seemed to have managed to stop the bleeding, but the larger issue may have been the tar the woman had been dropped in. Fayette wasn’t too keen on finding out what it would do to a human after seeing the rats.

She accepted the healing potion from Mireille and saw that the level of the fluid had not dropped at all. She turned to Mireille, frowning. “You didn’t use the potion?”

The [Seamstress] shook her head. “No, we can’t risk using it with who-knows-what getting in her body. It might enhance whatever she’s been infected with. Elise, can you walk?”

The [Labourer] was breathing heavily and winced as she took a step forward. She almost stumbled down, but Mireille held her up. The woman gritted her teeth. “If you can support me just a bit, I think I should be able to move.”

Fayette nodded, then picked up their remaining lantern and began leading the group forward, back the way they had come. “You said something about seeing a [Doctor]? Where are we headed?”

Elise coughed into her hand, and after a quick struggle managed to speak up. “[Doctor] Nightingale. She’s the one who’s been looking after mother, and a lot of the other sick folk in our district. You saw her before. For just a moment at least.”

She looked nervously between her escorts. “She might be a bit... eccentric. But she has a good heart! She really does know what she’s doing. I think.”

“Well, this Doctor of yours sounds like quite the character.” Mireille said as she supported Elise’s walk down the mineshaft.

Fayette stopped to pick up the monster core left by the rat monster, and put it in her bag, among her other shiny treasures. Her collection had been growing a lot recently, but thankfully her [Apron of Holding] was making it a lot easier to carry around.

They were soon back in the catacombs and speeding back down the way they had come. Fayette kept a watchful eye out, but no enemies made an appearance. She wasn’t sure what she thought of that. Did we get enough of them, or did getting the big one do something, or are they just now wary of us? I wonder. I would like to make sure they are actually cleared out. Never let the rats spread.

Their path back was an easy one, though they had to hop over the odd wire here and there—traps Mireille had set for the rats if any tried to circle back on them. Fayette was just a tad happy that the rooms were noticeably cleaner than on their arrival. She would have liked to stay behind and do a proper deep-clean, but, well, some things could wait.

She felt a bit of guilt as she observed Elise’s hobbling gait. I don’t think she would have come here if I didn’t want to do this rat-clearing mission, and I had a large part in making sure she came along. If Mireille alone could have decided, would she have left her behind? Well, whatever. What’s done is done—it would be better to channel my energy into more useful things.

She gripped her broom tighter. Like this damn factory situation. Seriously, what are they thinking? Is this an accidental thing, or do they know? This has to have been going on for a while, right?

Fayette began growing more and more annoyed at the textile mill, which was behind this whole affair, and barely noticed the rest of their trip out the catacombs. It was just such a stupid thing—even level 1 [Maids] knew to not dump trash in the neighbourhood. They were soon standing back above the streets, and Elise began guiding them to their destination.

It was late evening, and their group drew quite a few stares. A [Maid] and [Seamstress] with blood and signs of fighting on their clothes, and the injured, tar-covered woman they were helping along—it made for quite the unusual group.

Fayette had [Maid’s Poise] to compose herself against the stares, but the others did not. Mireille visibly grew skittish, keeping her head down while occasionally casting quick glances around. Elise meanwhile began groaning, not in pain—well, not in any physical pain at least.

“Oh, no—this is going to be the talk of town for months.” For her, many of the stares were familiar faces. This was her district, and she visibly grimaced at every familiar face.

Fayette felt reassured by that—if the woman had the energy to be annoyed by something so mundane, and was hearty enough to get some blush on her cheeks, her injury couldn’t be that bad, right? Their path through the streets only took them a bit under ten minutes, mainly due to Elise’s slow pace. Soon they were standing by an unassuming house.

Fayette had expected some sort of more official place, one with a plaque proudly saying “Dr. Nightingale” on the front. This house, however, was downright decrepit. It looked like it had been abandoned to the winds for a good while, before someone had moved in and began fixing things up. Flaky paint revealed the rotted wood under it, and the window was a cracked mess—still somehow intact.

It wasn’t exactly the type of place Fayette had pictured for their [Doctor] of choice. Mireille looked at Elise, a disbelieving look on her face. The [Labourer] only shrugged. “Look, I know what it looks like, but this is the place. She does really know what she’s doing. The more... official types don’t come down here.”

“Alright...” Mireille said, looking apprehensive. Still, they had a patient in need of treatment, and Elise’s face had been growing more pale as they had walked. They couldn’t waste any more time, so the [Seamstress] knocked on the door.

At first there was no response, but soon sounds of clattering could be heard from inside. The crashing came closer, and the door opened. Fayette’s nose was overwhelmed by a strong smell of alcohol.

She had briefly seen her before, but this was the first time Fayette got a proper look at the [Doctor]. The woman who looked at them from the doorway looked young, but Fayette’s first impression was just how... dark she seemed.

Oh, she was rather pale truth be told, but she was wearing a stark all-black dress, and the gloom from inside the house almost made her fade into the shadows. Her dark hair was tied up in a tangled mess, but Fayette felt the most notable features were her eyes.

Her eyes were sunken. Surrounded by deep rings of dark, they hinted at many restless nights. Those eyes took in the scene quickly, and the woman’s face instantly turned serious when she saw Elise.

“You brought a patient? Alright, inside. Don’t touch anything.”

Her speech had just a hint of an Albian accent to it, which Fayette had expected based on her name. Nightingale. Not a surname from this side of the channel. Still, Fayette felt reassured at the curt, professional tone. As a very professional [Maid], she could of course recognize the tone of a professional. Her relief did not last long.

As she stepped through the dark doorway, it was like she was stepping into her worst nightmare. Everything was splayed out everywhere, with no rhyme or reason to the order. Plates with half-eaten food left on them were on the floor, and bottles filled with dubious liquids were strewn all about. She was pretty sure half of the cutlery in use here were actual surgery instruments, and not proper knives.

Worst of all, the [Doctor] had just instructed her to not touch anything. A messy place she was not allowed to clean up at all? Fayette stepped further into her own personal hell.

This is for Elise—I will bear with this! She focused on using [Maid’s Poise] to its fullest extent and took care to keep her gaze forward. The less she saw, the better. Focus on Elise, focus on Elise, focus on Elise...

The mantra she ran through her mind helped her calm down. A bit. Just being aware of the mess all around made her skin crawl and prickle. She was only dimly aware of them being led into a dim room that was marginally clearer than the others, where Elise was laid down on a bed.

Fayette felt like she was in a trance as she watched the [Doctor] start undressing the wound. She carefully opened up the stitches Mireille had made, then peered in. Her grimace was answer enough as to the state of things. She took up a clear bottle and splashed some of the liquid within on the wound.

Elise flinched slightly at the stinging but did not cry out. The [Doctor] then took out some measuring instruments, tried Elise’s pulse, listened to her breathing using some queer instrument, took a swig from the clear bottle—

Wait, what? Fayette’s trance was broken as she doubted what she had just seen. Did that woman just drink from... no, it must’ve been my imagination. Fayette almost fell back into the trance, before Mireille tapped her on the shoulder.

“Did you see that? Did she just drink from that? The same thing she put on the wound?”

Fayette blinked her eyes, slowly regaining focus. “Oh—I thought I saw something like that. It smells like alcohol in here, do you think she—”

The [Doctor] whirled around from Elise and gave the two a glare. “No backchat in my clinic! I’m the professional here. I need to focus.”

Fayette and Mireille nodded silently at her, and after looking at them for a few seconds, the woman turned back to her examinations. She took another swig from the bottle.

Mireille could not stay her tongue. She leaned over and kept her voice quiet and low. “There—you saw it too, right? She really did drink from that.”

Fayette slowly nodded, then whispered back, even quieter. “Is she really a [Doctor]? I’ve seen a few—they visited the old [Lord]—and they were very different. All fancy talk and noses held up. Do you think she’s really licensed?”

The word “license” seemed to trigger some deep, instinctive reaction in the dark-clad [Doctor], and she again whirled to look back at them. Fayette and Mireille both did their best to look innocent, and after a few moments the woman turned back.

Fayette and Mireille looked at each other and nodded. Yep, definitely not.

Still, they didn’t talk more. The woman was evidently sharper than she looked. Despite the disorder in the room, she never hesitated in her movements. She walked in one corner, grabbed an instrument off the floor, made some measurement with it, grabbed some cylindrical tube on the way...

Her motion was practiced and efficient, and Fayette could recognize that the woman did really seem to have not just skills, but also actual, genuine skill. She has to be above level 15, or at least very close to it. License or not, she is no novice.

Suddenly, the [Doctor] stopped her measurements, stood up and looked around the room with a grave expression. Her voice was ice-cold. “Looks like a bad case of mana corruption, blood poisoning and various other nasty afflictions.”

Fayette shivered as She met the gloomy woman’s eyes. “It starts off mild, then growing fever followed by internal bleeding, eventually causing massive hemorrhage. Death in around 36 hours.”

Fayette felt a shock go through her. Elise didn’t look that bad, is she going to die or something? That can’t be! She started standing up. “What can we d—”

“Shush!” The [Doctor] hissed as she whirled at Fayette. Fayette shut her mouth.

“Do not interrupt me.” The [Doctor] said, maintaining the stare. After a moment, the [Doctor] nodded. “I can of course cure it.”

Fayette felt herself slip back down to her seat. She slowly drew her gaze back up to the stoic [Doctor]. Why didn’t she open with that? She made it sound so ominous!

“Probably.” The Doctor added, returning to work.

Elise met Fayette’s eyes and shrugged. For a moment they shared that silent connection of workers, and the Maid could almost read her thoughts. It is what it is, but she does usually do good work.