BleedingTears
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Arcanist - Chapter 89
🕑 Added 2025-05-04 18:34:30 +0000 UTCValens spent the rest of the night scribbling in his diary a list of things he would need in the clinic. Sanitary conditions were the first thing that came to his mind, though there was an inkling of suspicion in his mind whether they could find a decent place in the slums of Belgrave. Likely, the conditions would be harsh, and he would spend his time with damp, mildew, and dust keeping him company.
Mold was also high on the list, but for different reasons.
While the notion of treating every patient by relying on his skills sounded good on paper, chances were that not every case would demand his immediate attention. Therefore, medication would be the chief of his arsenal, which meant securing certain ingredients, of which mold was the most important.
He considered bread, as it was widely available in Belgrave. Milk and sugar would be enough to feed the mold. To adjust the medication's acidity, he could use limewater, and filtration could be done via cloths or glass jars. Lifemana itself could be used in the purifying process, but just for good measure, he added alcohol to the list, too.
To his thinking, there was no such thing as too much preparation when it involved people's lives.
Scalpels, knives, mortars and pestles, spoons, ladles, kettles, measuring cups, wax… The list went on and on so much that he had to eat his late dinner inside the room, which a rather curious Selin brought to him as she refused to sleep as well.
“There’s only so much I can do for people past a certain age,” Valens told her when Selin asked him about the details of her new job. “But something tells me the majority of our patients will be children. I will be counting on you when those little buggars start screaming into my face.”
“Children,” Selin swallowed, looking somewhere between surprised and mildly horrified. “I’m not sure if I can do it, Mr. Kosthal. You’re aware how I lost my last job—“
“Nonsense,” Valens waved her off. “We can’t let our past define who we are, Selin, nor can we consistently wallow in the regrets we carry on our shoulders. There’s only one way forward, and we must focus on that.”
“What if something goes wrong… again?” Selin asked, shifting nervously on her feet while Valens lay sprawled over his bed, munching on a freshly cooked sausage, fingers all dripped in sauce.
“I will be by your side,” Valens said to her, then wiped his fingers on a kerchief and continued with his list. “A uniform for you and me… And a table. A good one, preferably one that wouldn’t break on second use.”
“Do you really need all of these?” Selin asked after a moment, staring curiously down at the diary. “I thought you could heal people just by touching them.”
Valens had to admit it was looking rather crowded on the paper, but he was firm in his answer, “I could do that, of course, if the case is something trivial, but say the patient is suffering from infection. Cleansing that infection from the blood, or the wound, while keeping an eye on the patient’s body temperature and general state wouldn’t be an efficient use of my time. Not when I could just prescribe medicine to them.”
“Medicine?” Selin’s face creased with confusion. “But wouldn’t that make you a target of the Church? I seem to remember that you can only get medicine through certain infirmaries of the Church, and even then, you will need a paper signed by a Priest.”
Oh? I didn’t know that.
“Well, we have our permits secured, so you can rest your heart at ease,” Valens said, but silently added another matter to his list.
Speak with the Captain about the issue of medicine.
…..
The next morning, Valens brought Selin to the company, and they set out with a grumbling Garran and silent Dain to the East Drowning. It was good to learn that the former had the courtesy to wear an old suit rather than one of his fancy sets, which made him look like an underappreciated prince. Dain, on the other hand, was wrapped up in a simple leather coat.
They were tasked with finding an appropriate place for the clinic while Captain Edric secured the funds and permits for the operation. Part of Valens felt guilty that they left the most demanding part of the mission to the captain, but learning that Lenora would be lending him a hand eased his worries.
I also have an appointment with the Bishop by the end of this week. I’m not exactly looking forward to it, though. Dealing with a highly unstable patient is never easy.
That was the only way for him to keep things good between him and the Bishop. Valens had thought it through and decided to double down on his ties with the Church. No need to make an enemy of a whole religion right after he’d become a part of it.
No, if there was a way to go about these things, then the sensible thing to do was to try to change the Church from within. Perhaps ask the Captain to fetch him a group of Priests and see if he could teach them a thing or two. They could already use life mana, which meant that they at least had some experience manipulating the source of the world.
What they lacked was a true teacher, which resulted in them having a crooked set of fundamentals. The main problem, though, was their mindset. Could he have the Priests admit how much of a failure of a system they had in the Church? Or was there another reason he wasn’t unaware that made them turn out like this?
For all he knew, religious organizations saw the world through a different lens. Add hundreds of years of history behind it, and you’d have a giant mechanism that had some archaic parts that were not working anymore. Mas was one of those parts, and he sure wasn’t the only one in the Church.
I wonder what their Pope looks like? Perhaps I should skip the minions and go directly to the head. Tell him about the practice. Lay the details out in front of him. No need to worry about the labels. A Priest can become a Healer, too, right?
But then, there was a thing called divine power in this world. A strange sort of mana that Valens had never seen before. The Templars used it. The Bishop even tried to force his will upon him by flashing a Divine aura from his body.
It’s… complicated.
“Never mind,” Valens muttered as they trudged out from an old street, into a fork leading to three different paths. A look from Garran settled their route, and they continued on toward the Knuckle Alley.
“We’re not rich, are we?” Valens said a moment later, while Selin and Dain settled to the back of the group, finding company in their joint silence. Valens was left alone with Garran, who, for some reason, wasn’t in the mood today. “Hey, cheer up. I don’t like that look on your face. Is it the suit?”
“Comfort is such an important thing,” Garran said, sighing loudly. “You have to appreciate it whenever you can. It only takes the word of some fool who thinks himself clever to go back to this woolen abomination they sell in the streets. Who buys this, anyway?”
“I did, apparently,” Valens said, peering down at his suit. They matched colors with Garran today by a stroke of luck, which seemed to have only further agitated the man, as not only could he not wear his silken shirt, but also had to suffer from looking a lot similar to Valens. “And I’d say it’s rather a novel change from those tattered robes. The shoes, however, are a bit tricky. I could use a better pair.”
“You should invest more in Endurance in the future,” Garran suggested. “And some Strength, too. These things are important.”
“I was just thinking about it the other day,” Valens said. “But I’m not sure if it’d be worth it for me. More mana seems like a better option.”
Garran shook his head. “You say this because until now the only things you have had to face are a bunch of Hollows and Shriekers. Handling that Remnant Terror was impressive, sure, but you had us keeping the path clear. If it was a Dreadmare, however, you’d be dead before you knew it.”
“You think a dozen points into Strength or Endurance will save me from that?” Valens doubted it. “I’m still at Level 100. I don’t have nearly enough points to invest in Strength or Endurance even if I started now.”
“Then you better learn a Mana Shield or something like that. The Magi are awfully inept at dealing with the physical side of the combat. You can’t throw an Inferno at every problem you face.”
“It did work, though,” Valens smiled.
“Until now, yes, it did,” Garran said. “But you don’t invest in those stats to make your skin harder like steel. You invest because little things can save your life in unexpected situations. Once we find a place for the clinic, we can use the Cathedral’s secret practice rooms. I’ll show you what it means to face a true dweller.”
“You?” Valens arched an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to teach me?”
“Dealing with a mindless beast is hardly worth celebration,” Garran said, his face darkening. “But in the Broken Lands, there are beasts and creatures who can make the sword sing. You have to be careful about these things. Work on your flaws when you can.”
“An exercise, eh?” Valens muttered. “Sure, let’s do that.”
“Oh, we will,” Garran said, and this time his lips spread wide with a grin. “But don’t go crying to the captain when I’m done with you. Hear him, Dain? This little Mage thinks he can handle a Templar.”
“Sool,” Dain grunted.
“Really?” Valens gave him a look over the shoulder. “We’re out for a few minutes and I already miss Percival.”
“You can tell him all about it when we’re done with this,” Garran said.
……
Valens scrunched his nose up as he peered up at the house. A bedraggled, broken piece of a building that seemed to be leaning sideways as if it were about to break. A familiar face in the dreary stretches of Knuckle Alley.
It was Martha Bell’s house.
“A state-owned murder house.” Garran glanced over the house and gave a quick nod. “You’re not going to find anything cheaper than this.”
“Are we poor?” Valens repeated. He hadn’t gotten an answer to this question, even if a part of him knew the answer. Still, another part of him refused to believe Sun’s Church didn’t have money to spend on an important mission.
“Poorer than ever,” Garran said in a low voice. “The changes to the state… Well, the businessmen have other ways to secure their rights than knocking on the Church’s door now, so you can take a few guesses.”
No bribes or taxes. It feels like the new King, Majesty Edmund, really has a bone to pick with the Church.
“I suppose if we use this place it can serve as a message as well,” Valens said, one hand propped under his chin. “Good things are happening too, right?”
“Or,” Garran mused loudly. “You’re out here for another dark work. A Healer’s clinic is not something you’d expect to see in the East Drowning of all places.”
“Then how am I supposed to—”
“Desperate don’t ask questions,” Garran said. “The second they hear you’re fixing people for nothing in this place, they’re going to come flocking round the house. And the sick won’t be the only ones. That’s why the Captain even considered your offer. We will catch the strays here.”
“The strays?”
“Evil classes,” Garran said, and smiled. There was something in that smile that rubbed Valens the wrong way. “Not every attempt at striking a deal with a Damned leaves you a withered corpse. Some manage to live on after a failed attempt, and some others suffer from success. The real job here will be weeding out the irrelevant. We have to find the ones who’re related to the murders in this district.”
How naive I was, eh? Thought I’m using them, but here they’ve already mapped out a plan. Still, I can work with that.
“So?” Valens then asked when the group stayed silent. “Should we send someone to fetch the cleaning personnel? Miss Martha’s room was a bloody crime scene while the house was left unattended for too long. We need professionals for this case.”
“Well, we have you,” Garran said, eyeing him. “I’d say that you’re professional enough to get the job done. What good are your spells if you can’t even clean a damn house?”
“Me? You’ll have me, the new recruit of the Golden Ward, clean this house? What happened to those perks before I signed the deal?”
“It’s honest work,” Garran shrugged. “Hard, but honest work fighting the evil, and not always it’s pretty. Sometimes you have to get some dust into your clothes to do the deed.”
“Is that so?” Valens said, frowning slightly. “What about you, then? Surely you don’t think that suit of yours is too noble for a broom?”
Garran gave him a long, dramatic sigh. “I’m the supervisor in this case. Supervisors supervise.”
“You mean stand around barking orders,” Valens muttered, but already he was rolling up his sleeves.
Selin stepped forward uncertainly. “Should I—?”
“No,” Valens said. “Not this time. You’ll have your share of chaos once we open the doors to the sick and dying. For now, leave the ghosts of this place to me.”
The building groaned as he entered, dust curling in the air like long-forgotten breath. If this wreck was to be their starting ground, then so be it. Healing, after all, did not begin in the halls of grandeur—it began here, in the damp and mold, one soul at a time.
Outside, he saw Garran leaning against the wall and chuckling. “He’s taking this rather seriously.”
Dain said nothing. Selin just watched the crooked door creak mindlessly after Valens, fingers tightening around the tails of her coat.
At least there’s plenty of mold.
He quickly crossed that off his list.
.....
Here's the chapter! I'll see you tomorrow :3
(By the way, we picked the wedding dress for my fiancé; that was the 'important' business I've mentioned, and we found the perfect one!)
Comments
Symon X
Congratulations are in order!
Apatheism
To make penicillin
Louis-Marie
Thanks for the chapter! And why would a healer needs mold?
Stephen Pearson
Thanks for the chapter, and congrats!
