A Physician

Whistles surrounded the roof-thatched house. The atmosphere around there was cool. Just at that moment, Nero came out of the house holding a blue bowl from which vapor simmered.

It moisturized his face. He bent his back as he placed the bowl outside, and in his other hand was a soft-textured red piece of cloth. 

For a second, he stopped breathing because of the nauseating scent of blood. The metallic scent. But he had no choice – as it had been a few moments ago, too. Dipping the stained cloth in the content inside the bowl, he pushed it in more with the tip of his fingernails, wincing slightly. 

'I can't believe I'm playing with hot water because of one so-so guy.' He shook his head, finding himself unbelievable. 

Suddenly, he heard a fast-moving sound like that whenever he spread his clothes. His fingernails froze inches from inside the bowl. And he glanced forward. But nothing was there. 

Not minding it, he laid his focus back on what he was doing initially. He hummed as he soaked the cloth, using that to not feel sour when doing that kind of task. He…

In a sudden moment, he heard a step behind him. His chest tightened. Until now, those indistinct movements had been roaming behind him. But he hadn't taken them seriously. However, it was clearer and nearer this time around!

"Don't dare turn," said a cold, feminine voice. Nero froze in his actions, eyes widened. His heart raced. The voice relayed again, "Tell me… who're you? And why do I notice Lord Zmey's presence in your home?"

Silence stretched on like a fog. Nero bit his lips. Who was that? – he absolutely was clueless. 

But then he thought of it. He was entirely at a disadvantage here. Whatever name she said right now was unfamiliar to him. And judging from her tone; if he says anything dissimilar to what she likely was expecting, anything could happen to him.

He should at least see who it was – by the Divine Light on them. 

His hands released from the bowl rim. Somehow hurriedly, but with caution. As his back gradually straightened, he stared at the viewable part of the speaker.

The only thing he digested was that it was a slender female in a lotus gown with a white lining. 

"You aren't deaf, are you?" 

Nero froze as the question came. But the voice had grown colder. How could he possibly feel safe enough to answer her? And to begin with, she popped out of nowhere behind him like a ghost.

Aura stood boldly behind him, her eyes non-reverting to the bent figure before her. She could notice his desire to resist, even though she had clearly ordered him to stay put. At that moment, she widened her palm at Nero.

Green energy as fumes burned on it. 

Nero's eyes widened as he saw a glimmer of green light on the floor.

'Curse it… SHE can use magic!'

There wasn't anything as being safe anymore. But before he could finally see her face, Aura was faster. She used her telepathic power tied to the green energy to lift his whole, smashing his back against a set of planks silently leaning against the rough wall of the house. 

He landed on his ribs, toppling back to the ground. He grunted loudly. The planks of wood fell on him one after the other, each one finding a perfect mark to make him scream out in agony. In no time, the heavy planks buried him. 

Aura stood unfazed. She rested an arm behind her, and the other instantly got inflamed by the green energy again. Nero successfully waded off a plank away from him, which landed by Aura's side.

But there was still more that he couldn't lift on his own. It was as if the weight of the world rested on him alone. 

He gasped for breath, biting sensations coursing through him. "Who in the world are you? Why're you after my life…?"

Aura was about to reply when she noticed a movement inside the house. Probably, the loser here had accomplices. For a split second, she looked at Nero with a hint of warning. 

"Make a plea to your ancestors that Lord Zmey is still himself inside there." And then she kicked the door open. 

The door creaked open. Aura passed through the doorway, leaving it wide open. Her eyes fell on the clinical yet functional interior. The orange light from an oil lamp illuminated the room.

She first glanced left, seeing rows of wooden shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. Looking the other way, she saw a white-haired woman with glowing skin sitting on a narrow wooden bed pushed against the far wall. 

Her sight drew further.

And finally, she saw her Lord Zmey lying on the bed on his back. His chest was bare, marred with scars, as well as his face on which the woman applied something.

Aura knew what that was – a scar-removing ointment. 

But ignoring the details of intense treatment, she widened her palm. As soon as the green energy dissipated, a short sharp-pointed sword materialized there. She gripped it tightly, the metal cold to her touch. 

"Get your hands off him now!" Aura groaned. Although the woman still maintained her composure, she didn't go against her. Obviously, she didn't comply out of dread or anything.

As a matter of fact, Aura silently imagined her attitude. 

She gently reverted to the few-inch stick at the end of which she had attached a meager quantity of wool. In her other hand was the small container inside which she returned the stick to. 

Experience and intelligence brimmed in her. She looked at Aura with a hint of understanding, smiling softly. 

"How may I help you, my lady?" she asked, her tone formal. 

Aura stepped closer, her expression focused and detached. "Are you a physician?"

The woman chuckled softly. She rose from the bed.

"What else can I be, my lady?" she asked rhetorically. "A kidnapper can't perfectly work bandages on an injured person and apply ointment in the perfect order. You…"

Aura cut in. "If you are, then how do you account for those behind me? A physician needs cursed wrenches and boring tools?"

She pointed behind her towards the opposite wall, where a sturdy workbench stood. Metallic tools, scattered gears, and a partially disassembled mechanical arm glittering cluttered the workbench.

Above it, tools of various sizes hung, their positions suggesting years of habitual use. 

The woman lingered a little, seeing what she was inquiring about. Again, she chuckled. 

"That's my second life responsibility. Stubborn kid needs his arm fixed whenever he gets in too much trouble." She tilted her head gently towards the outside position.

Aura creased her brows when she did so, probably imagining her suddenly mixed tone. She glanced in that direction. At first, she didn't get it. Until she saw the material composing the imprudent guy's left arm. 

'He lost an arm, and she's the one repairing the mechanical one when damaged.' 

"I think I'm done answering your questions…" the woman tried to conclude things, perhaps, asked hers. 

But Aura cut in instantly. "Being a physician, folks who serve for five years under a priest in a trusted church, why would you become a petty treatment deliverer in such a small kingdom? That you…"

"Oh, my lady," the woman interposed, still managing a smile at the end. "Umm… I don't think I'm attuned to tell you why I chose a particular path for myself. But I understand you, my lady. You seem to worry a lot about this young man right here…"

"Young?" Aura imagined loudly, cutting her off. "You should watch what you say instead of making a deadly mistake with your perception."

"… Pardon me then. I understand you're only worried about him. And I promise to withdraw immediately if you feel unsafe about me continuing to treat him."

Aura paced herself forward, stopping at a few inches behind the woman. She pulled a long glance at Zmey. She looked here and there, seeing pieces of cloth stained with blood. They could reach up to twenty if she tried counting.

She felt a knot tighten in her chest as she imagined just how injured he was to lose that much amount of blood. 

'He bled a lot. No wonder the concentration of his blood scent was very strong to lead me here directly,' she thought.

Looking at his pale face, drenched in slight sweat, she turned to the woman. She said in an authoritative tone, "Cost of borrowing your house for a few minutes?"

The woman blinked. "What…?"

Aura interposed again, "I want you and that fool out of the interior. A few minutes is enough for me to treat him, unlike you who calls herself a physician.

Folks like you were said to have healing magic too, if not that the rumor seems a fib seeing an incapable one like you. Or so, you're the only dent to their rep-"

The woman said immediately, her voice not rushed though, "A few minutes it is then, my lady. The house is yours. Duo guests stay around the house till you're done." 

With a last smile, she turned, pacing herself towards the door. She closed it afterward. Aura looked there for a few seconds, ensuring none of them were on the lookout around the windows. 

Afterward, she glanced at Zmey. Her chest tightened. Looking at him for a bit long had a toll on her, a hint of a tear lining in her eyes. She sniffed, nuzzling her face. 

"Poor you, Lord Zmey."