The day after I actually joined Deacon on his trip to a Melrose clinic. He was supposed to only need two more treatments with the right spell, and it was only supposed to take an hour. I had enough books in my Personal Library that I didn’t mind waiting on him, though I was more interested in talking with someone about the way the clinic worked.

  Supposedly, it was a part of the faith of Melrose to promote healing and growth, since it was the god’s domain. Everything I’d heard about them, though, had been about how expensive it was to go to them for healing. So much so, that herbalists and alchemists were usually the preferred option. There were even Melrose run apothecaries that were cheaper than the magical healing they could do, but they were more expensive than the non religious options.

  The idea seemed kind of backwards to me, especially when I heard it was 5000 PEC to heal a broken arm, and Deacon’s was exponentially more expensive. The fact that he could afford it, even with favors, was a sign of how successful he was. Or how much his hands meant to him.

  So, Deacon was with a healer while I was left alone to wander the building that smelled of plants and nature, but looked sterile. There were flowers and trees every so often, but more as a token plant to break up the cold hallways and lobbies painted white with floors shiny from some kind of wax or polish.

  It was weird, because the healers and staff themselves all wore greens and golds. They were a riot of color in the cold building. The building did wrap around a large courtyard though, which is where I found myself waiting.

  It held all the greenery I’d expect from a god who was responsible for nature. There were many varieties of trees grown in their own little sections and surrounded with flowers and herbs. It was all done in neat circular patterns, with benches and outdoor tables set up underneath them. Not for the shade, since the building was tall enough that the courtyard was always in shadow, but for some other purpose. It was all lit up by lamps with golden trim that held glowing stones within.

  In the middle was a tall statue, easily reaching the second floor of the three story building. It was done in marble that had been decorated with green robes that had gold trim. When I touched it, the gold was cool to the touch, but definitely metal. He held a staff that looked more like a miniature tree with the top spreading into branches with a little canopy. In the branches, a large crystal light was held in the branches, spreading shadowy branches throughout the courtyard. In his other hand he held a bottle that was held out as if offering to someone. The face of the statue was of a a young looking man with spectacles and hair swept back. Surprisingly unremarkable looking too, for a god.

  I looked him up and down, expecting some kind of memory to flash through my mind. Some recollection of who this man might have been to Alexei. Nothing came up though to my disappointment, and surprisingly my relief. The images from Alexei’s past were always so confusing and filled with complicated emotions that I had to work through, even though they weren’t my own.

  I breathed in the scent of nature surrounding me and sat on a bench that was beneath a tree with branches that formed a sort of curtain around the table the bench was next to. It was rather peaceful, with the twilight atmosphere making it seem unreal. The feeling was made more so, because if I looked I could see the lit up sky above.

  As I sat, I brought out a book from my Personal Library, the faintly translucent book serving as a medium for the system stylized text box that the book was actually in. The book was just a prop, something to let people know what I was doing. Deacon had said it was a good way to show I was uninterested in conversation.

  Which is why I was confused when about a half hour later, one of the healers joined me at the bench across from me. I looked up and vaguely recognized the man who was unpacking some food from a little metal box he had.

  He was balding, but not quite bald and the trim of his robe was more yellow than gold in color, but clearly had the green that marked him as a healer. He even wore their symbol, a tree holding a faintly glowing circle that I now knew represented the core of the world, where all the light came from. As his hands moved, there were a few rings that held green stones in them, that held an inner glow, but I had to look for it.

  “Ugh, I must of pissed her off coming home late last night. She put that fermented cabbage stuff on my sandwich.” He grumbled and took second bite from his sandwich, which was made from a long piece of bread. There were meats and cheeses and other things I didn’t know the names for in it. “At least the juice from the carts out front will drown the taste out.”

  I closed my book and it disappeared. “Do I know you?”

  “Did I make that little of an impression?” He clutched his chest as if wounded. The man then snorted and shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. I was in a big hurry to leave when we met.”

  It clicked then. He was the guy who had healed me when I found my way into Greg’s tavern. “Wait, I do remember you. You left before I got your name.”

  He smiled, “Rather rude of me, wasn’t it?” The man took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. After swallowing, he said, “You look better. A bit less blood, and pretty fit comparatively. Levels or training?”

  “Both…” I said hesitantly. “I managed to find my family and have been trying to put things together.”

  “Picking up the pieces. I understand.” He held out a cookie, “Want one? Think they’re just sugar, but if my wife was mad it could be spicy.”

  “Spicy?” I said, taking the cookie. “Does she often make food you don’t like?”

  He shook his head, “Not unless I annoy her. I’ve had to stay late every day for the past week, though. The swarm is causing enough problems most healers have to stay late.”

  I winced, “That’s unfortunate. Sorry to hear it.”

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  “Why?” He sounded genuinely confused. “It’s more experience. We’ve even lowered the average cost for service because of how busy we are.”

  “Wait, wouldn’t you want to charge more?” I was confused.

  “Ha, you’d think so, right?” He grinned, “It’s the grift of the clinics. We charge out the nose for things that aren’t serious and don’t need our attention. We’d be crushed by unnecessary treatments from people with more crystals than sense. But when something is actually going on?”

  “Lower the prices, so you help those who are actually in danger?” I asked, and absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie. It didn’t taste spicy, though it did have a strong flavor to it.

  “Exactly.” He said, smiling as he worked on his sandwich with enthusiasm, despite implying he didn’t like it.

  I took another bite from my cookie and started to cough. Some kind of powder had been in the center and I’d gotten a big bite. It was spicy, but more importantly dry. It felt like I’d stuck my face in one of the sandbags at home and breathed in.

  The guy got up and slapped my back a few times. I felt some kind of magic go into me, and I felt whatever it was come back out from my mouth. Which was… uncomfortable. When I saw it, there was a small, mushy pile of brown dust.

  “Really? Cinnamon?” He frowned as he went back to his seat. “I should probably get her some flowers. Maybe a new pendant…”

  I set the cookie on the table and rubbed at my chest. “That felt like it could have killed me. I couldn’t breath.”

  He nodded, “My wife’s pranks are a little more… dangerous than some people can tolerate.”

  “Sure she isn’t trying to kill you?” I asked, looking down at the cookie. Despite the danger, it had actually tasted pretty good.

  The man shook his head, “No. They’re not lethal, just damaging. I can usually heal whatever problems it causes. I did get her to stop outright using poisons, though.”

  I shook my head at this man’s ridiculousness, “So… is every healer here a follower of Melrose? You don’t seem very… pious.”

  The healer rolled his eyes, “No. That’s for the church, and the church is in the temple district where they offer free healing.”

  “Wait, really? That’s an option?” I perked up.

  “For those who can’t afford it, yes. The lines are long, though, and they can’t get everyone.” He brushed crumbs from his hands, having finished his meal. “What brings you here, though? You don’t seem injured.”

  “A friend is getting his hand regrown. He’s got another session after this one.” I explained.

  “Oh, the Dirgesinger. He a relative?” The healer eyed me up and down, “Or something more intimate?”

  I shuddered, “Bodyguard. He works for me.”

  The man laughed, “You didn’t need to look that disgusted at the idea. He’s not bad looking.”

  “Not interested.” I said, flatly.

  “More of a ladies woman? Nothing wrong with that.” He nodded sagely.

  There was silence as he pulled out a glass bottle of purple juice and took a swig. It continued for a minute of slightly awkward silence before I broke it. “You’re different than I remember. A little more… boisterous.”

  “Well, you caught me at the end of a long day and interrupted a meeting with old friends. I was a little… grumpy.” He admitted. “That, and you have a pretty controversial trait.”

  I nodded, “I’ve gathered, but most seem to think it’s not that bad.”

  “Maybe, but you also have someone from Carrion’s flock watching over you, if Deacon is really your bodyguard. I suspect you’d find him a lot less friendly if you started abusing it.” The healer replied, his tone becoming far more serious than it had been.

  “Carrion?” I tried to think who that was. I’d read a few books listing deities, but there were literally hundreds and many of them for specific things.

  “Memory never come back?” He asked, brow furrowing. “My condolences, it can’t be easy rebuilding from that.”

  I shrugged, “It was suspiciously easy. I was apparently a huge bitch from what I’ve gathered, and no one was eager to get that version back.”

  “Harsh.” He frowned, “Regardless, Carrion is the goddess of death and comedy. Her clergy are often running festivals and circuses to celebrate those who have passed.”

  “That… sounds weird.” I thought about it and asked, “What if someone wanted a more serious service for their passing?”

  “They’d get it. Most people like the idea of celebrating, as it provides a sort of catharsis for the emotions. It’s not uncommon to see people smiling while they cry at a performance. They do more somber performances as well, but it’s not common.” His waggled his hand back and forth, “It depends on the person who died.”

  I thought about that, “And you think Deacon is… what, watching me on orders from them?”

  The healer shrugged as he put the bottle back in his metal container. “No idea. But he was involved with them for years.”

  Something occurred to me, then, “How do you know all this? It doesn’t sound like something the average person would pick up.”

  “I’m a former Tier 4 adventurer.” He shrugged, “And I run this clinic. It was a pleasure seeing you again.”

  Before I could say anything, he stood up and waved goodbye before heading off. I just stared after him, baffled by the man’s behavior. “Are all high ranking adventurers weird like that, or just the ones I’ve met?”

  “Just the ones you’ve met.” A familiar voice said behind me. I whirled around and saw Deacon, looking after the healer I’d just talked with. “Though you do need to be a certain crazy to be an adventurer in the first place.”

  I jumped in surprise as I whirled around in my seat and saw Deacon standing there, just past the curtain of branches covering the table. I tried to settle my breathing, “How long were you standing there?”

  “Not long, though I heard the part about Carrion.” He pushed through the branches and took the other guy’s old seat. “I take it Second Chance came up?”

  I nodded, “He’s one of the first people I met and was there when I found out what it does.”

  “And let me guess, he said I was watching over you because of it?” He set his hat on the table, and I realized this was a serious conversation.

  “Yes… Though regardless, I don’t think it matters.” I said, honestly. “Not like I plan on dying a lot.”

  He nodded, “I know. He’s even partially right.”

  “Wait, you’re really watching me because of that?” I said, surprised and weirdly hurt.

  Deacon shook his head, “I was leaving the Circus and they suggested a position as your bodyguard. Still not sure why, but I’ve a few suspicions.”

  “Weird…” I said. I thought about it, “Want to go ask them?”

  The suggestion made Deacon scoff out a laugh, “Really? You don’t want to avoid them, but instead just ask directly?”

  “Would it work?” I asked.

  The bard smiled, “I don’t know. Even if it doesn’t, we could always catch a show. I’m sure they have something interesting going on.”

  We got up and left the clinic.

  Should I make all intermissions going forward in third person?