Chapter 2. In Sickness and In Health

Robert felt like his condition had improved slightly which wasn't exactly hard, considering he had been teetering precariously on the verge of death mere moments ago.

But it had improved, and he thought he knew why.

Putting two and two together gave four and Robert had at least learned basic arithmetic in his village, even if he couldn't read.

A man, sick with Ether Blight walked out of the tent completely fine. And unlike the doctor, Robert wasn't so sure it was a misdiagnosis. Because, unlike the doctor, he had heard the man wheeze as he fought for breath and felt his clammy hand on his.

In between the man miraculously recovering and entering the tent, only one thing had happened that couldn't be explained.

The strange feeling that flowed up Robert's arm. The same arm that was touching the sick man.

Two and two made four and Robert had somehow cured a person of a disease that was thought to be uncurable.

And in the process, he even healed himself, if only slightly. Now he could just barely move his arms and hands, although his legs were still strapped together, utterly useless.

What should Robert do with this information? The answer was obvious, he should heal the sick people here and, in the process, himself.

'Easier said than done,' Robert thought. 'If that Doctor finds out about my weird ability, he'll probably lock me up in some dungeon and try and turn my blood into an elixir,'

If the man wasn't shady enough just based off his appearance and the strange glowing medicine that burned Robert's throat every time it was administered. He had even overheard the creepy assistant say that they had been kicked out of the academy, whatever that was, for inhumane experimentation.

Personally, Robert would prefer not to be experimented upon, especially if wasn't going to be humane. He liked his unethical experiments above board thank you very much.

This left only one option really, 'I have to escape,' Robert thought grimly.

'It would be great if those two just left for lunch or something, then I could run around healing everyone and slip out without being noticed. But they never leave this shitty tent. All their food and supplies are brought right to them.'

Gazing up at his favourite patch of mould on the tent ceiling, he noticed that just beside it, a stream of water trickled in through a tear above one of the tent poles.

As an idea began to form in his mind, he closed his eyes and listened carefully. Through the groans and strangled breathing of the patients, he could just barely make out the doctor and his assistant talking at the far side of the tent.

Their words were unclear but from the tone, Robert picked up that the conversation seemed to be intense, they weren't likely to get distracted anytime soon.

Slowly, Robert stretched out his hand, pulling his limp arm along the ground to his right, where the nearest patient was.

His fingers felt leaden and the muscles in his arm were stubborn and unresponsive. It was only with some effort he finally managed to catch the edge of a filthy tunic on his fingertip.

But after that, his arm wouldn't move anymore. It was already stretched as far as it could go. Desperately, Robert tried to grip the loose tunic and pull the person closer. However, his fingers were feeble and barely managed to close at all, never mind pulling an entire person.

Grimacing, Robert clawed at the ground, dragging himself millimetre by millimetre towards the person beside him. He couldn't move his legs, so he just sort of wiggled and wormed his way towards the sick man.

In his chest, his heart stuttered and fumbled, trying to beat in an even rhythm and failing. He could feel something burning on his back and forehead, only this time the feeling seemed to give him strength.

Finally, he managed to cover the gap of a few inches and one pale, calloused finger touched the wrist of his sick neighbour.

The man's skin was icy cold, and he didn't even respond to the touch. If not for Robert, he might not have lived to see tomorrow.

But things were different, and this man was lucky.

Just as he expected, Robert felt a cold stream of energy trickly up his finger and through his arm, circling his body in a loop and disappearing into his heart.

This time, however, the energy was slightly denser and more powerful, and the effects were even more pronounced.

'Perhaps it's because he had the disease for longer, the other man I healed had only just entered this place after all,' Robert mused as he felt strength trickle into him.

After a few moments, he felt like he could even move his head if wanted to. And so he did, slowly turning to face the man whose life he was about to save.

This next part was important. Robert gazed intently at the man, his skin was bruised, and his chest was sunken, although these two symptoms seemed to be decreasing as time went by.

Very soon, he would regain consciousness and when he did, just like the last person did, he would attract the doctor's attention.

One person recovering from Ether Blight could be written off as a mistake, two could not. Especially, if they were beside each other.

As the man's eyes began to flutter open, Robert pulled his finger away. As though he was unplugged, the man whose condition had been improving froze and then slumped back to sleep.

Although Robert did note that his condition didn't reverse and become worse, simply remained as it was before he took away his finger.

Ignoring the man for now, Robert sensed his own condition. After the effects of the cool energy, he felt much improved. His temperature had returned to an acceptable range and although weak, his body could at least move.

He even thought he might be able to sit upright.

A few minutes later and Robert was wriggling along the ground, his legs still bound by a tight strap he didn't have the strength to remove.

His next goal was the patient beside the one he had just healed. Since he had figured out that the longer a patient had Ether Blight, the more energy Robert got from them, He had decided to aim for the sickest looking people here.

…

As Robert was worming his way throughout the tent, healing all their precious test subjects, the doctor and his assistant were staring, almost enraptured at a tall white metal cylinder, within which, vials of glowing green liquid span violently.

The silence between them was broken when the assistant opened his mouth and whispered harshly, "Why couldn't we just share the recipe with the academy board? Then at least we wouldn't be stuck here,"

The sunken eyes of the doctor narrowed hawkishly, "I've told you this a thousand times before, if we tell them the recipe without actually proving it works, they will take all the credit and leaves us with scraps. Even if we didn't get kicked out of the academy, they would have sent us on some rotten mission to the south,"

Shivering slightly, the assistant shifted in his worn wooden chair, "It's not like we created the recipe for… for…"

"Seraph's Bane," The doctor interrupted sternly.

"Yeah, yeah, Seraph's Bane, we found it in some old temple, we didn't make it so…"

"So what? As long as we prove it works and refine the recipe, we get the credit." The doctor interrupted again. "Maybe, we'll even get a spot in the cloud zone and tenure," He muttered quietly.

"The cloud zone…" The assistant parroted wistfully. "Is it true that part of the pantheon was brought…"

"Sh!" The Doctor hissed. Gesturing that his assistant should cup his ear and listen.

They both froze, listening intently for whatever it was that the hook-nosed man thought he had heard.

Quietly, through the rasping breaths and feeble moans, they heard the subtle shuffling of blankets, as though something was moving across them.

Carefully, the doctor lifted up a piece of precisely cut tent fabric and fitted it snuggly over the white metal cylinder full of glowing vials.

When he was sure the cylinder was covered, he listened closely again, only now, he couldn't hear anything at all.

Frowning, the doctor pointed at the door with a long bony finger. Noticing the gesture, the assistant tiptoed over, inhumanely light and quiet for someone of his size, crouching down and pulling one corner of the tent wall away to peer out into the room full of patients.

His beady eyes twitched as they flickered around every corner of the room. Finally landing on Robert, who had one hand leaning against one of the tent poles in the far corner and the other down at his feet, undoing the strap around them.

Instantly, the assistant recognised him, and he the assistant.

In a blur of motion, the assistant scampered towards him, hauling his bulging belly across the floor of the tent at a speed that shouldn't have been possible.

But it was already too late. With a grimace, Robert pulled the strap around his legs away, placing it behind the pole that held the tent up and grabbing one side with each hand.

It was made from some sort of leather and would hold. It had to. Or Robert was dead.

Groaning, his body still relatively weak, although much improved, Robert strained against the tent pole and yanked it towards him.

Up above, a small tear in the tent that water streamed through allowing mould to grow ripped further, until a gaping hole had appeared in the tent's roof.

The assistant froze, halfway to Robert and looked up, just in time to see the rest of the poles give way as the massive tent collapsed in on itself.

Behind him, in the laboratory, the Doctor was hunched over the white cylinder protectively as though it were his own child.

Outside of the tent, rain spattered down lightly. And since nobody wanted to be outside in the rain, Robert was lucky enough to avoid any curious gazes that might have come from slipping out of the tent right before it collapsed.

Without looking back, he ran through the dirty street that was quickly becoming mud and disappeared from sight.

Breathing heavy, he squeezed between the thousands of tents that soldiers slept in, making his way towards the edge of the camp.

Vaguely, he remembered what direction he needed to go. If he returned to the main entrance and got onto the back of a supply train heading for a pickup, he just might be able to make it to the dock he arrived here by.

After that… Well, he wasn't sure what came after that. Nothing good he expected.