Bandaged Up

Chapter 58: Bandaged Up

/The power of belief is a strong one. One's will is sometimes enough to conjure up mana and stamina where there was none, to bring out power no one has ever seen before, to move things that others may have thought immovable. Sometimes, it is even enough to bring something into reality.

This power is very real, and can be observed quite simply. To move one's mana, you must think it. It isn't moving it physically by pushing against it with your hand, but it's moving it simply by using the mind, by believing one can make it move. The more one believes, the more one can move it, and this is why magic is a lot about both willpower and confidence.

The same thing essentially goes for stamina, though that one has more tangible results, especially in combat, so some people may find it easier to move. The immediate response stamina gives when used for some people makes it feel more real than mana, so warriors that fight in close quarters often prefer it, since they find it easier to utilize.

However, this does not mean one is greater than the other, simply an observation on how the power of belief influences it.

Still, there are many more things that belief can achieve. It is especially crucial for beings that have specific organs. It has been recorded through dissection of the dead god, Röhn, that beings of a higher existence rely on belief to some degree.

Gods, through receiving belief from mortals, can gain energy which is stored and collected, and can then be used to make almost anything come true. It is the power of belief, after all, so it is only fitting, that it can be wielded to do nearly anything the user imagines.

Deductions from scripts of the time before the first book began let us realize many things. The gods used belief to shape continents and the land, to create mountains and rivers. It was used to create items of grand power, and give blessings to champions of the gods.

It is a system where they rely on each other. The mortals belief in the gods' ability to protect them, and because they are believed in, the gods have the power to do exactly what we think them capable of.

This has also led to theories that the power of belief can be channelled negatively, essentially meaning, that if someone witnesses a god fail, they then might belief that god to be weak, which the special collection organ of the god takes up. If that was true, gods could become sick and weak if mortals ever doubt them, and by extension, even vanish if no one believed in them.

Is such a trade-off truly worth it? To link one's existence to belief, to have the potential to be extinguished, just through a simple mistake?/

An excerpt from "What makes our World go on?" by the magical scientist, Roran Phillip Ceith.

- - - - - -

By the time Avery opened his eyes, the battle was already over. He had been out for barely half an hour after Rondo dug him out of the rubble, but the explosion had hit him poorly and he passed out.

It could happen to anyone, just a freak-accident. But Avery was still unhappy. He had heard from Rondo that Lucia had been cleaning up shop without proper gear, and that Iris was nowhere to be found. Rondo himself had gathered any potions he could find and created scavenging teams to collect both survivors and supplies.

The Mages' Guild had helped push the front of the northerners back in the east, and the godseekers had been scouring the city in search for wayward soldiers. Heck, even the Merchants' Guild helped, establishing supply lines for bandages and food. Count I'htar had mobilized his personal guard and thus taken out two enemy commanders.

And yet he was unconscious, knocked out as the city suffered under his carelessness.

There had been receptionists out in ransacked streets, while the guild master was taking a nap?

When Avery heard it all, he was more than frustrated. Seems his toughness needed some work, then. To think that he had almost single-handedly captured the enemy general, only to be knocked out by a prisoner.

It was a pathetic display of inability, at least to himself, and Avery was beyond determined to grow from this.

After waking up, he checked himself in a mirror, and while most of his wounds had closed up, there was a burn scar from his shoulder all the way up to his cheek, ending a couple centimeters above his jaw, where his skin was twisted and discoloured. It looked gnarly, and a little terrifying, but he decided to keep it. Treating scars didn't always work, and with the city's shape right now he certainly didn't want to hog the attention of a healer.

Beckham shook his head for a minute as he walked towards the Godseeker's Guild. Many of the buildings in Stormbraver were a mess, but he hoped that one had survived. It was built sturdy, well enough to withstand explosions to some degree, but one could never be sure.

Luckily, when he arrived, everything was intact. Maybe it wasn't a target, since it would hit the Godeeekers' Guild rather than Stormbraver, or maybe, because this would obviously not go over well with the seekers up north. Whatever the reason, he was glad it still stood, but when he opened the door, he was surprised to see bloody paw prints over the floor, and a very familiar mopaaw on the counter.

"Why are you dragging blood over the floor, Mercury?"

"It was cold outside. Also, the inn I lived in was busted, and my landlord brutally killed, so I need a place to crash," Mercury said, a bitter undertone to his voice.

"Fair enuff," Avery sighed. "Give me a second."

He disappeared upstairs for a moment, before he brought down a first aid kit, as well as a brownish towel.

"Looks dirty, I know. We gotta get you all cleaned up tho, so the liquid blood has to come off, and then you're taking a shower."

"Sigh, alright." Mercury said, jumping onto the towel and roughly cleaning himself up, before heading downstairs to the showers.

Finally washing all the dirt, blood, and grime off felt very freeing, and after getting his fur all shiny, he felt like he had reclaimed a part of his humanity. Maybe he wasn't doomed to hate water forever. Maybe.

Mercury dried himself off in a fancy air chamber, powered by cores of monsters, before stepping back out of the showers, where he saw Avery, doing a handstand.

"You're upside down," he said.

"Keen observation," Avery replied, giving a small smirk.

"Mh. So, how's it looking, do I need stitches?"

Avery quickly paused and flipped himself back the normal way around, stopping his workout. He had a slight film of sweat on his forehead, but nothing too horrible at least.

"Let me take a closer look. I'm not a doctor, but in my eyes, you should be good with a couple bandages. How are you feeling?"

"Bad. Clean, emotionally distraught, and in quite a bit of physical pain."

"Internal injuries?"

"Probably. Got kicked a couple times."

"Nothing much I can do about those," Avery said, opening up the small coffer he had brought. "I can bandage you up, but you'll have to take care of the resting yourself."

"You got a nurse who can chain me to the bed?"

"I'm sure you can manage on your own. But let's get you all fixed up for now, eh?"

"Sure."

It took a little while to say the least, and the disinfecting of his wounds wasn't as pleasant as Mercury may have wished, but by the end of it, he was patched up, largely. Avery had stabilized some of the cracks in his bones, though lucky nothing bad had broken entirely. Still, Mercury certainly was cut and bruised all over, so by the end of his treatment, he looked like a mummy.

"Thanks," Mercury said with a nod.

"No prob. You good to go with your own room, or do you need me to stick you in sickbay? Nurses won't be available much these next couple days though, emergencies take precedence, you know the works," Avery said, throwing a crooked smile at his feline friend.

"I'm fine with my own room. Don't worry, I'll be right back to normal after a couple days," Mercury said confidently.

"Whelp, let me take you there. We'll stick to the first floor, might not be good having you take too many stairs for now."

"I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of ascending the stairs," Mercury replied.

"Okay, huff, huff... let's never do that again... my fucking ribs oh god...." he said, after having walked up to the first floor.

"Warned you. Go, take a nap. You can do a report of what you contributed to the battle tomorrow. We'll deduct the cost of the room from there. How long will you be staying?" Avery asked, quickly scanning Mercury's new quarters to see if everything was in order.

"Couple months. Can I lease it over the next two seasons for now?"

"We got winter then. You sure you don't wanna go 'till spring?"

"You're right. Spring it is."

"Happy to hear it. See you later then, get some sleep, you earned it," Avery said turning to leave already.

"You too, man. Don't be too hard on yourself."

Avery stopped again for a moment and gave a sigh. "I know. I'll take care."

"I mean it, you dense sack of bricks. You think I'm not smart enough to hear the loathing in your voice? Look, if you wanna deal with shit yourself, you're free to do so, you're not stupid. But I'm your friend. If you feel bad about it, you can come here anytime. We can talk, work things out," Mercury said, determination flaring up in his voice.

There was a bit of a pause before Avery spoke again.

"Thanks man," he said, turning around with a smile on his face. "I really needed to hear that."

"Anytime," Mercury said, giving a nod. "But I'm heading to bed now. You got this." He gave Avery a small salute, prompting a huff from the guild master. Then, the door closed, and he was out.

"Sigh, what a long day..." Mercury muttered to himself. He felt like he had been trampled by a stampede of elephants. Every bit of his skin ached and complained, and now that the adrenaline wasn't coursing through him anymore, he felt how many of his muscle fibers he had ruined. With this kind of soreness, maybe tomorrow wasn't the best day to meet Esmeya.

Ah well, he had already given his word, and since he didn't exactly have the Mages' Guild on speed dial, he'd just have to stick to it. Jeez, when did he get into the habit of complaining so much?

Mercury shook his head as he looked around the room. It was fairly plain, polished wooden floor and bed, thought admittedly brighter than the one he had at the inn. The sheets were new, clean, and a warm orange colour. There was a tall cupboard and a small dresser for clothes and whatever else he needed to store, as well as a metal box under the bed. Classic.

Lastly, there was a desk in the corner opposite of the bed, as well as a door to a small bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. Overall, it was quite small, but felt airy enough. His standards for square meters had decreased ever since he had shrunk to less than a third of his previous size.

Yeah, this would certainly do well enough for now.

With that thought in mind, Mercury jumped onto the bed and closed his eyes. It was time to get some of the rest he so very, very badly needed.

Then he woke up in a large plain, with a fountain to the south, mountains to the east, a burning citadel to the north, and a castle of glass to the west.

Things were a little different this time though. He could see those things again, the shadows, crawling along the edges of the horizon, clouds of black, writhing smoke, shapeless and everchanging, fleeing when he looked at them, yet always watching. They hadn't been there for a little while, but now they were back, just waiting for him to give in.

But Mercury wouldn't. He practiced every day, improving himself bit by bit still, and his control over his mana was growing better every day. Yet, today he decided it was time to take a break, to take a breather from all of his exhaustion. Surely, he had earned it...?

'Well met again, young Cat,' Old Dreamweaver suddenly spoke, causing Mercury to take a long look at them.

'Greetings, old Dreamweaver,' he replied after a pause, doing a slight bow. He was certain he could hear his conversation partner chuckle at it.

'A strange movement doth have done,' they said, and Mercury could read amusement and respect. 'Is it a way to greet?'

'Yes, it is as thee say. Both a greeting, and a show of respect, done to respected equals or superiors,' Mercury replied, sending old Dreamweaver a few memories for context.

'Mh, this one sees. It depends on uqir. "Context", perhaps "Setting". Is this one correct?'

'Yes,' Mercury replied, writing a nod of affirmation. He was also sure that he read perhaps a sliver of pride from old Dreamweaver.

'Mh. How are thee studies of ihn'ar faring?' old Dreamweaver asked, a slight hint of curiosity.

'Coarse,' Mercury said, unsure how else to put it.

'Coarse?'

'Yes, coarse. It is... "rocky", the opposite o "smooth". In a way "abrasive",' Mercury thought, thinking of sandpaper and tiny stones.

'Mh,' old Dreamweaver thought back. 'This one ahns. Thy path has been difficult, has it not? Mh, I see. Loss, once more. Young Cat, thine world has been cruel to you at times.'

Mercury paused. He didn't have the words to reply, only wanting to swallow heavily.

'Would thee allow this one to see?' they asked, a question that Mercury understood more from the implications he read. To allow old Dreamweaver to "see" would mean to open up his inner thoughts. It would be like showing his very soul to someone else, an experience he instinctively knew was reserved for people who were close, sharing bonds of deep trust.

Did he trust old Dreamweaver that much? That existence that was so much greater than him, that could perhaps wipe him out within mere moments?

'This one sees, young Cat. Take thine time, think it over. If thou has any questions, this one will wait and answer. Il nir a trikko en leyren. "The secret to teaching is patience." It is a saying.'

Mercury nodded at this, and then locked his thoughts behind a veil. It felt a little like pulling the curtains shut in front of a window, blocking the light form outside. He was alone in his thoughts, the world around him losing its colour, as it was trapped by shades of grey.

Then, he thought about things. What truly was old Dreamweaver? They were so... big, much bigger than he could have ever imagined, and much bigger than they seemed even now. An existence that, if he were still on earth, he would have no choice but to call a god.

Could he really even hide his thought form that thing? If they wanted, couldn't old Dreamweaver just rip apart his veil, and tear into his mind by force? Were they being courteous or were they playing a larger ploy, that somehow involved Mercury as a puppet?

In essence, his question was but one: Could he really trust old Dreamweaver?

There were so many things to remember, their patience, their power, their teachings, their kindness, their secrets, their origin. So very many things he didn't know, and couldn't fit into a puzzle with the pieces he already had in his mind.

If this is what it came down to, could he really make an educated choice? No, he certainly couldn't make a choice where he was 100% safe. It was borderline impossible to ever do such a thing. In the end, he would just have to take a leap of faith, wherever it took him.

With a long sigh, Mercury pulled the veil open again, watching as the shadows that had crept closer vanished to the edges of the field once again.

'This one has decided,' he thought. 'Decided to let old Dreamweaver see.'