A Frigid Grasp - 3. Gather Around the Doctor

Who tended to a doctor? You wouldn't think a thief would. A familiar face rushed to the doctor's limp side as he stared daggers at the guardsman. “What the bloody fuck are you doing?!”

The guardsman stammered and stuttered dumbly, suddenly embarrassed with himself, still angry at the courtesan, guilty for hitting the doctor who helped him before, and many other emotions rushing through his head. He desperately sought balance but couldn't find it.

That was when the male courtesan steeped up and slapped him hard on the face. “Get your head on straight!” the courtesan bellowed, the deep baritone voice forceful enough to insight fear.

The guard blinked but it looked like sense returned to him. “Right. Forgive me, I was in the wrong.” He quickly knelt down and checked on the doctor. Nothing seemed outwardly wrong except a bit of a bruise. “Someone, fetch a doctor! Come on now, let's bring him inside to rest.”

The male courtesan carried Arden in his arms rather easily, and the shock on the man's face told them he was expecting something heavier. They stepped into the brothel and marched to one of the rooms to lay him down on. It was one of the premium suites of the brothel, left empty at the moment since there were no reservations.

Arden groaned when he was put down on the soft bed. A doctor came in with his tools and saw Arden. You wouldn't be able to see his face much since he wore a half-mask. The doctor dragged a chair beside the bed and sat down to get to work. “Dear lord, you people are impossible,” the doctor muttered. “Out, out! Let me work on this. It shouldn't be serious until I find a broken bit of skull.”

The guardsman swallowed and they left the room. He... needed to report this.

Arden groaned as he opened his eyes. It was a bit dim, but light was pouring in from the windows. Something moved in the corner of his eye and he saw an unfamiliar face. “Do I know you?”

“Just another doctor. Julius Tomag,” the masked man said warmly. “Do you remember what happened?”

Arden snickered, then groaned when the surge of pain ran through him. “I got decked by a guardsman fighting a courtesan.”

“Who clearly could handle himself. Why the fight?”

“The guardsman, maybe. Plus, I hate conflict.” Arden smacked his lips. “Do you have water?”

Tomag nodded and gently rose Arden's head up and packed more pillows underneath. While he held the glass of water up to his lips, he eyed the bedroom. Lavish, with erotic paintings on the walls. He knew right away he was in a brothel. Probably the Sultry Whispers itself. The doctor was speaking while he drank, and he listened quietly. “The guardsman Deter has reported in and expressed his most sincere apology. I believe the Captain will be making a visit to issue it formally to you and the courtesan. The courtesan, Dietrich, was sent home, from what I gathered. And your friend left a moment earlier to gather some simple breakfast from outside.”

“Did he take my coin purse?”

“Where do you keep it?”

“My satchel.”

Tomag nodded. “Then he has your coin purse.”

“I pray he doesn't use all my coin, then.” Arden grumbled as he finished the water. “Damn, I need my salve.”

“Salve?”

“It's a healing salve I made from various herbs. It's non-magical, but it does wonders. I found a certain water that would allow for easy absorption among other benefits and learned how to extract them. Helps with some aches and pains as well as infection.” Arden winced when his head throbbed. “Was my condition anything serious?”

“No broken skull bits, glad to report. The worst is feeling like shit for a few days.”

“Good to know.” Arden closed his eyes and felt his body surge with drawn power. He heard a gasp from Tomag as he concentrated the flow to his crown, feeling the pain subside as he studied his own injury. He mended the hurt and when he stopped, he let out a relieved sigh. “There, that's better.”

“You're a mage?”

Arden grinned. “A healer mage, though I abstain magic when possible. Medicine offers so many challenges.”

The doctor looked dumbfounded. “Magic was given to man to help make their lives easier. That's in the very plaque on the Mages' Hall. Why abstain?”

Arden shrugged. “People fear power. And it's different between every town and city. For me, it's best to be careful.”

“Not that of your kind. You're a miracle to everyone.”

“It's that point that makes me a complicated case,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Can we leave it at that?”

“Does anyone know?” Tomag pressed. “About your magic, I mean.”

“Not really. Most of the time, I can make the glow of my magic unseen so I can probe for further ails and injuries. Aside from that, maybe a few emergency cases.” He studied the other doctor's careful expression. “What is it, Doctor?”

“You might want to be careful around here. I condone the use of magic, so would the duke and the Hall. But the Templars here are led by a spiteful woman right now. I'm not sure she's too fond of mages in general. She'll find an excuse to kill one, I hear. I've seen her work, on a mage. I was called to the Hall to tend to one while other mages healed the poor girl. Sick woman, she is.”

Arden frowned. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Roland was nervous walking in the Red Lantern District. And not because of the usual reasons. It was broad daylight, and he'd come with a small company to formally apologize to the management and to the doctor who was caught in the fight. He was allowed in by a reluctant courtesan and guided to the management's office. A fairly old woman in finery sat behind a desk. She gestured for Roland to sit. “Have a seat, Captain. We have matters to discuss.”

He sat down quietly. “Mistress Gavel, I want to express...”

“We all know you came here to apologize, and I understand you've already administered a proper punishment. Since all is fairly well, my concern is the business I lost because we had to give the man medical care on short notice and use one of my premium rooms. Will the Guard be shouldering the cost?”

“I'm sure we can come to an agreement.”

“Good. I'll send a letter to your treasurer. Now, I suggest you see to the doctor. He might not be so inclined to forgive.”

“Of course.” Roland rose and his men marched out of the office. They were guided to one of the closed rooms. Roland was worried what kind of damage this doctor sustained, and wished to all hell he understood what the bloody hell happened. Last night, he was given a poor account of what transpired, mainly because his guardsman was too riddled with guilt. He knocked on the door before a voice called out to come in. “Excuse me, is the—“ he paused when he studied the man in bed. “You again.” The two words came out as a whisper.

Arden smiled shyly. “Sorry you should see me like this.”

“It's fine. I...” Roland's gaze turned to the other doctor, the one who tended to Arden. The other doctor took his leave and left the door shut. He eyed his men and gestured them to leave, as well. When he was sure they were out, he chuckled nervously. “I...I'm sorry about what happened to you. I'd like to let you know Guardsman Deter has been suspended for his actions.”

Arden nodded solemnly and patted the chair next to him. Roland moved to sit next to him, turning the chair to face him. “I suppose it can't be helped,” Arden sighed. “Did you learn what was the reason for the fight?”

“He got baited by an insult.”

Arden smiled ruefully. “I threw myself into a petty fight?”

“Didn't seem too petty if he was willing to throw such a punch.”

“You should have seen the courtesan. He was a massive wall of muscle, let me tell you!”

“You seem well enough, though.”

Arden felt the side of his head with a hand. “Nothing too serious, thankfully. I've got a headache but that's subsided some. And I'm a bit famished. Damal should be coming back soon with breakfast.”

“The Keep will cover whatever expenses you had for the room, just to let you know.”

Arden let out a relieved sigh. “Good. I wasn't so sure I could afford it without raising the prices for everyone.”

“Worse comes to worst, they'll make you work the floor.” Arden was absolutely disheveled at the remark, but then he saw Roland grinning. “Calm down, I was just teasing.”

“Good. Because I'm not exactly the kind to sleep with anyone, for business or pleasure.”

That made Roland thoughtful. “What do you mean?”

“I like the closeness of an emotional connection. Intimacy without connection sounds... empty. Like it's just something for maybe eating. It's basic, but optional. And quite frankly, I'm the one who sort of engages his heart, so...” Arden made a gesture with his hands. Roland assumed he meant flighty or something similar. “It's just not my thing, these sort of places. The throes of passion are nice, but there's nothing else after. Plus, I'm dirt poor, so I can't exactly establish a proper connection.”

“I understand.” He didn't really, but he didn't want to make Arden feel uncomfortable.

But Arden saw right through him. “That's a bald-faced lie. Your face tells it all.” Roland was pouting, but Arden continued. “I appreciate you're trying to make me feel better, though, Captain Gallahad. I thank you. Do you have any other business here?”

“Not really, but given I'm expected back around noon, I was hoping we could talk more.” Just then, the door behind him opened and they turned to the visitor. Damal had a basket of fruit in his hands and Arden smiled when he saw his satchel. “Ah, Damal. What a sight for sore eyes.”

Damal's cheery demeanor soured so fast Arden didn't have time to register it when he lashed out with a venomous insult. “Ah, the city's hound dogs. Brilliant. I heard you would come by to issue an apology but I expected some letter of bullshit from your department.”

Arden frowned between their scowls. “Um, am I missing something?”

“We're acquainted with each other, you could say,” Damal scoffed as he marched over and sat on the edge of the bed, offering Arden an apple. “I've been known to give them grief.”

“Hard not to forget someone who punches you outright without second thought,” Roland countered. “This hooligan is a menace to society.”

“Better than a cutthroat.”

“He's more like a mild rash, if you ask me,” Arden humored. The outraged look on Damal drew laughs. “I wouldn't mind scratching you, though.”

“First time I heard someone flirt with an insult,” Damal conceded, half-smiling. “Here, a fan of fruit or would you prefer some bread? I have a few here.”

Arden took the apple and snagged a bite, giggling. “I understand if you both have something against each other, but can't we save it for later?”

And somehow, the situation was diffused. Arden ordered Roland to call in the doctor and his guardsmen to join them, seeing that Damal had bought a fair amount of food. He looked put off by it, though. Knowing Damal, Arden thought he hoped to keep the leftovers or help himself without restraint, but with the guardsmen with big appetites, it was a little hard to manage. Arden kept conversation on light terms, juggling between Damal and Roland's attention.

“So you're the traveling doctor everyone's been speaking of?” Roland asked after Arden relayed a few moments of his treatments. Arden nodded. “Well, you're doing the people here a service. I never met someone so dedicated.”

“I'm sure you have. I'm just adhering to my vows as a doctor.”

“Most people forget,” Tomag muttered. “There are about five doctors in the city alone, excluding you and myself included. The prices the other doctors set are rather high. I live humbly so I don't charge as much as they do. And you? You're the biggest bargain in the market, and for a season or two depending on how long you plan to stay.”

“I planned maybe three months, until the winters come.”

“Won't it be more dangerous?”

“It needs to happen. I don't think I'll be any more welcome here than I will be anywhere else.”

“That can't be true,” Damal argued. “You're a very lovable guy, and who doesn't want a doctor who charges less?”

“I don't know. Business? Merchants?”

“They're jealous. They probably just want you to work for them.”

“That's the thing. My services are to the people. I wouldn't have it any other way. I want to provide my services without threatening or being threatened.”

“Those words are the opposite of what a traveling doctor would offer.” Roland's words made Arden's lips thin to a line. “Did I hit the mark?”

Arden mustered a nervous smile. “A bit. I've learned to not bother too long in a town before people think I'm a mainstay. I'd like to think of myself a short reprieve from the daily grind. I like working at the slums and lowtowns. People really need me there. The nobles give me extra coin for food and fare. It's why I try to squirrel away as much coin as possible without compromising my patients.” At that, he gave Damal a pointed look. “I sometimes skip luncheon and settle for an apple or two. At least I haven't gone weak yet. But I wouldn't say I could handle a bar brawl much.”

“Clearly. So, what happens now? I'm sure the Mistress wants you moving soon, and I wouldn't want to trouble our treasurer too much with these new expenses.”

Arden moved to stand on his own, wobbling but managing. “Looks like I can make it back to the Strangled Siren to rest. I'm sure Sven's a bit worried about me. He knows I had no plans to stay at a brothel. I promised him a game of cards.”

Damal just looked appalled. “Sven? Never pegged him for sociable.”

“He's only a prick to troublemakers,” Arden said with a wry grin. “It's too late for your case but stay on his good side.”

“Good to know.” Damal held an apple to his mouth and moved to support Arden. “You rea-y -o go?”

Arden looked over his shoulder. “I'll take my leave now, Captain. If there are concerns with the brothel, let me know. Hell, drop by for a visit, if you wish.”

Roland smiled. “Sure. Now get some rest.”

Arden and Damal trudged slowly out of the room. When they were out of earshot, Roland let out a frustrated breath. “Captain?”

“Maker, what's wrong with me?”

Tomag, the doctor, snickered. “Looks like you're infatuated with him.” The scandalized look on Roland brought about laughs from everyone. “Look at you! Beet red! You must have been a church mouse when you were young!”

“Oh, he was!” one of the guardsmen spoke. He was a man who drew attention, not just by his dark complexion but also the tattoos on his bare head. “I remember when he was young. I'd watch him get dragged into the chapel and abducted by the clerics!”

“Enough, Lieutenant,” Roland warned through gritted teeth.

“Come on, it's been ages since we had fun like this! And ever since the mage we captured from that raid, you've been a sore spot. I personally think you should pursue him.”

“Me? With him? That's not even possible.”

“Why?”

“In case you haven't noticed, we're both men.”

“And?”

Roland wasn't sure how to go further. “Wait, it's possible?”

The grin was off their faces at the clueless look on the Captain. “Maker, you really don't know?”

Tomag just whistled and walked over to a bookshelf, spotting what he needed and tossing it to the Captain. Incredulously, Roland opened the book and gawked at the sight of the illustrations. “I can ask Madame Gavel to lend you that book while I supply her a replacement. Consider it a gift.”

“Maker, what on earth did I get myself into?”

The lieutenant patted him on the back. “Don't think too much about it. If you wanna see the doctor, just follow your heart. With a man like that, I'd say honest and straightforward is the way to go.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“He reminds me of my darling Lina. In the end, what makes us different is a schlong and a pair of tits. And maybe horns or pointed ears. And magic.”

“Maker, don't start.”

Arden got back an hour before noon and sat down with Sven to tell what happened. Damal hovered somewhere around the bar but didn't stick close, since Sven kept sending him the evil eye while the daytime barkeep kept track of him. Sven was a large, muscular man, rivaling the muscular courtesan Arden saw at the Sultry Whispers. He had a rough beard and the makings of a bruiser. Scars littered the arms and there was one down across the corner of his lip to his cheek. “Looks like things were smoothed out easily.”

“Hope things smooth easy on Captain Roland's end.”

“I'm sure they will. Anyway, someone was here to see you last night. It didn't seem serious, but it was a message.” Sven presented him a letter sealed with wax. Arden eyed him suspiciously when he noticed the seal was already broken. “I had to check if it was a threat.”

“Most tenants would complain.”

“You're not most tenants, and the landlord has the right to know if you've been doing shady dealings in his property.”

“You're fortunate I'm a considerate and understanding man. And that I have not much to hide.” Arden opened the letter and read through it. He read it aloud, but not enough the whole room would hear it. “Mister Grey, It has come to my attention that your talents in the art of medicine are rather unprecedented. We are also aware of your reputation in Bassan. I would formally request you to come visit the Mages' Hall on the city outskirts. If you are not aware, we are reachable via ships on the harbor. We await your favorable response. With regards, Morpheus Ozwald. Master Enchanter.”

“You're a mage?” Sven pointedly asked.

“Barely,” Arden scoffed as he returned the letter to the envelope. “Healing magic. It's how I find minor injuries and save people from major ones. I know a handful of other spells but I've barely been seen using them.”

“Not too much of illegal dealings then.”

Arden jerked a thumb at Damal. “Every time I patch him up is an illegal dealing.”

Sven chuckled and gestured Damal over. “True enough.” When Damal sat down, he turned his attention to him. “Damal, could you send word to your guild master?”

Arden glared, and not in any way adorable. Well, he tried to. Something about Arden made things less menacing. “Sven, what do you think you're doing?”

“I'm just having the thieves' guild watch things from afar. Make sure you don't get thrown into trouble. The Hall is literally a hall in where you're going. One side is the Mages' Hall, the other side is a hall for the Templars.”

Arden could already tell that was a disaster waiting to happen. “I understand they're not on the best of terms.”

“They'd have a go at it if not for the Home Guard,” Sven snapped. “It's beginning to make me sour. All the talk is either Mage this or Templar that. You don't know how much a relief it was when focus changed to you. But if the Mages' Hall is calling you out, I'd expect some ferocity from the other side. The Knight-Commander's a worse bitch than my mother, and she sold me as a slave.”

“I'll try not to pry on that. And if what you say is true,” Arden studied the crest on the wax seal. “It would be dangerous to go. If I chose not to, would they pester?”

“First time this has ever happened. I imagine they'll just come to you if not the other way around.”

Arden groaned. He wasn't and never will be in the mood for politics. “It's rather early to be using me as a pawn, wouldn't you agree?”

“Word of you is spreading fast. The nobles had a luncheon and you were discussed. They were in an uproar, I heard.”

Arden knew he should have said no to the Flavells. But could he really? He never recalled once saying no to a patient. Not unless it was necessary for them. He figured he should leave maybe earlier, but the thought of leaving, as always, brought about an ache inside him. Thoughts raged in his head as he stared down at his glass of ale. There's too much riding on this. I'll be a tool again. I can't stay.

“Why can't you stay?”

Arden swore under his breath when he realized that last bit slipped. Better to take it casually. “I'm not one for politics.”

“None of us are, yet one way or another, we're always dragged into it.” Sven stood and stretched his back. “But I can't tell you what to do. It's your decision to make. The best I can do is have people keep an eye on you.”

“That's comforting,” Arden muttered. “I'll be blunt. I'm terrified.”

“Of what?”

“Does fear need a form? Uncertainty's a big enough thing, isn't it?”

“Uncertainty is a train of thought. Not exactly a valid argument.”

“I won't debate rhetoric with you, but you have a point.” Arden stuffed the letter into his satchel. “I'll drop by the Hall tomorrow. Do you know anyone who could accompany me?”

“I can send word to the Captain. It might help.”

“He's a busy man, isn't he?”

“Not as many seem to believe. And believe me, he hates being behind a desk.”