Doctor.

“You know, I could have been a [Doctor] back on Earth. Sorry, a doctor,” I tell the hot woman as we track down the idiot who threw a knife at Princess Bianca in the market.

“I couldn’t have not been one,” she replies back.

“What?” I say, crossing my eyes.

“My father’s influence on my life was too big. I was destined to be a doctor from the day I was born to my mother. Could have never become an architect like her. Did not have a knack for beauty like she did. But, as luck goes, I had my father’s knack for wanting to fix stuff.”

Daddy issues?

“What kind of doctor were you?”

“Cardiothoracic surgeon,” she says with a smirk. “At least I one-upped my father in that. I worked for Doctor Without Borders for most of my life. Worked in warzones as well.”

“Oh, what kind of doctor was your father?”

“Orthopedic surgeon.”

“Well, could have been a good [Necromancer].”

“God,” Penelope says with a sudden shiver. “Don’t even say that.”

“Why? Wouldn’t a bone doctor be good at skeletons?”

Or boners, hehe.

“Good? My father would make it his life mission to be the strongest [Necromancer] ever to live.”

“Why? Wait, was he a good orthopuppy?”

Penelope tches and shakes her head.

“Good? He was considered the best. Did a couple of heart surgeries to prove to me he could do that as well when I made fun of him for being a second-rate surgeon.”

“What? Can you do that?”

“Not really. Not if you are not him.”

“Man, I imagine the comparison with him must have been terrible for your boyfriends,” I say, mmming to myself. “You know how the boyfriend always wants to be better than the girl’s dad and the other way around?”

“We are almost there,” Penelope says as we near a residential area of the citadel. It looks like a very boring place. It’s not like the lair of the Fellows, the Snack--Snake Bar? Wait. The... Poisoned Snake? No. Maybe? JESUS.

“Wait, what are you doing?” I take Penelope’s arm as she goes up to a door with her hand already raised to knock.

“Knocking?”

“Mh, right?” I say, embarrassed.

Penelope knocks on the door. For real, this time.

A plain-looking woman, middle-aged, with a child on her shoulder opens the door for us. I can feel the blood pumping in my ears as I anticipate the upcoming shitshow. As my mother always said, I’m not great at confronting problems. Probably not even decent. Especially with people. Either things go very smoothly, or I fill my head with too many questions and abstract thoughts to do something practical.

“Are you the--”

“Excuse me,” Penelope says, stepping forward and gently pushing back the woman. “[[I’m Here To See A Patient]], miss.”

As if by magic, the woman instantly nods and moves to let us both in. She doesn’t utter a single syllable in protest, switching from a slight scoff to an apprehensive expression.

I enter a house that is a bit messy but that clearly presents signs of housekeeping. And children. Two things that don’t go well together. I hear two very young voices talking and screaming, mostly laughing out loud, from one of the rooms. The place is a bit cramped if I have to be honest. It’s like a tight corridor that brings us to a kitchen-cum-living room.

I see a man with pale skin and a lot of sweat on the couch. It’s the same piece of crap who threw a knife at Princess Bianca; he’s now taking deep breaths and trying to look over a piece of parchment, clearly distracted by the leg he’s trying not to rest his weight on.

“Who’s it, darling?” he manages to utter right before his eyes zoom in on me.

“You?!” he raises his voice, but the agitation has him not thinking clearly as he tries to stand up. In response, a sharp jolt of pain makes him hiss like a snake and fall back on the couch while his face contorts in pain.

Penelope ignores the man and moves over to him, simply uttering.

“[[Soothing Touch: Pain Relieved For A Day]],” as she touches him, the man takes a second to widen his eyes, relaxing immediately.

“This should help with the pain, Sir,” Penelope smiles at the now confused man, “I’m a [Doctor], and I take care of injuries and diseases. Your leg is broken, I gather. If it was because of the small pig, there might be multiple fragments swimming around in there. Do you mind if I check it out really quickly? My friend has come to apologize, and you can hear him out in the meanwhile.”

“Uhm?” he looks at Penelope with a frown, but he also realizes there’s no more pain in him, but something was clearly bothering him before. He shoots a pained look at the parchment and shrugs.

“Do what you must,” he says, defeated.

As Penelope gently moves his leg on the couch, having him lie down, I scratch my head at a loss for words. I don’t know where to start, honestly. Do I say that I apologize but that he was a massive dick for trying to knife down Princess Bianca? Do I also tell him he was being a racist pig? Meh. That wouldn’t be an apology.

Something my father told me a long time ago comes to my mind.

“These Americans can never say sorry,” the old man roared, furious, “even when they make a huge mistake, there’s always a goddamn excuse. St. Peter’s grace, Joey, never do that! Children and idiots do that! When you apologize, especially if it’s a senior you are apologizing to, just say that you are sorry for what you did and shut up! If the other person is smart enough, they will apologize back if they have any fault in it. Otherwise, you have done your stupid part, and you can go your way. They won’t better themselves just because you did the right thing, but at least you will have done the right thing.

“Hey man, I’m sorry about my pig,” I say, “I’ll pay for whatever she broke.”

I almost add ‘at normal market prices,’ but then I bite my tongue. Let’s not add anything to avoid a meaningless conflict.

The Elf looks at me, ruminating on a response, while Penelope is moving her fingers around his knee. I see some weird stuff moving under his flesh, but the guy’s gaze is clearly focused on me, and he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to his body.

“We got word that you tried to assault Princess Laura.”

As soon as I hear those words, I can feel the blood rushing to my ears. I have to take a deep breath to avoid shaking or shouting because this is just preposterous!

That conniving little bitch!

“She came to me because she wanted to go on with the engagement,” I tell the guy. “But wait a second. You know what? Do you have a truth stone, maybe one that is lie-proof?”

“I have a normal one,” he says, fishing it out from his bag of holding.

“Perfect, put it on the table. Fuck personal relationships.”

He cautiously moves it to the table, where everyone, even his wife, can see it.

“[Princess] Laura refused to talk to me after those cunts in the arena tried to kill me. The fact that I was considered a criminal for months stopped her from pursuing the initial agreement we had. And the original conditions were that if I won the duels, she would accept the engagement. Marriage would come after more conditions had been fulfilled. And I had the highest-ranked member of the Royal fucking Family guarantee that. So, she reneged her promise and then came back as soon as I got myself out of my problems with the [Archmages] by agreeing to teach them and the academy what I know about magic. They agreed. When she came back to me – and we are talking about the same woman who did nothing when Marcus wanted to fucking kill me – I told her to fuck off. So, I gather that she took offense and started spreading rumors about me. Well, fuck her. I’m not just a better [Mage] than her sorry ass will ever be, but I’m also more fucking honest.”

Green. Green. Green. And guess what? Motherfucking green!

I’m raging inside as the man looks at me with wide eyes and looks back and forth between me and the stone.

“And man, if you don’t believe me, please get a better truth stone. Or even get people with fucking truth stones for all that matters. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll prove it to anyone who doesn’t believe me. I surely made a couple of mistakes with [Princess] Laura, but she’s lying her ass off to save some face.”

I turn to see that the woman has a palm covering her mouth, and the small child in her arms is stirring.

“Your leg is ok now. I set the bone. Drink some health potion, and it will be all right. It will take a few weeks before the bone is as strong as before. Try not to overdo it. You can move weight around, but don’t push it. You might break the bone again.”

Penelope winks at me right before asking: “Anyway, do you happen to have any tea?”