Chương 75: 10 – A Town’s Generosity

Pretyr didn't return to the woodshed, and I wasn't going to waste time waiting for him. Sooner or later, I'd get the opportunity. I suspected he'd returned, seen me, and left rather than engage me in conversation. That would be a problem if I let it fester, but I didn't really know what to do about it, besides visiting him or Owinda at their homes. I had more important things to do at the moment, though, and as always, I found myself heading back to the bar a little bit after noon, accompanied by Travis and Burnom.

Things were getting back to normal as more and more Mitoras refugees recovered. Discouraged from leaving by my return, a fair few of them were left lingering in the bar, helping out in whatever ways they could. Mostly, they just milled around, wishing they could return and start rebuilding their lives. Letters had begun trickling in from family that had returned, telling them Mitoras wasn't yet safe. The army might have survived, but they had not cleared out the goblins and trolls like they'd promised.

They had actually done that, but the aftermath of the battle south of Mitoras must've refilled the woods with fresh monsters.

"This place feels different now," I said somberly as Burnom and I walked in.

"War'll do that," he replied. There were open tables now, and most of the worst remaining victims had been moved to bedrooms.

"Evening Mera," Lupkep said sourly. I was a bit surprised to find him tending the bar, as that was usually Edra's place.

"Hi, Lupkep," I replied.

"Any stew for the evening?" Lupkep nodded.

"Price is going up, though." I nodded. The price was going to keep going up. I fished out the extra coins, feeling oddly guilty.

"And you, Burnom? Usual?" Burnom gazed at the wooden barrels before shaking his head and producing his own coins.

"Stew for me, as well. Water." Lupkep's eyes rose.

"Edra will be sad she missed this."

"Heh. Yeah. She will," Burnom said, his eyes lingering on the barrels as if he couldn't believe he was turning them down. The man chuckled.

"Where is Edra anyway?" I asked.

"Negotiating with some of the ranchers. They're going to be the only ones who come out ahead this year since the army took almost nothing from them. They're being pigheaded about sticking to the same price for meat."

"Will you have enough?" I asked, gesturing around at the people still recovering.

"No," he replied.

"We won't. But while we do have stock, we'll use it, best we can. Lots of fish and pig and venison this winter, and not much else." I frowned at that.

"Food is… really going to be a problem. Isn't it?"

"Maybe. It'll be bad, but at least the army didn't take every scrap they could find. Trusted us to give them our four parts in five, so most of us got away with barely giving three parts.

'Sides, you've got nothing to worry about, Mera. Winter like this, your stories will be in higher demand than ever." I sighed. Was that all he saw me as?

"How 'bout you, Travis? Bowl for you as well?" the brewer asked. Travis winced as his stomach growled, and suddenly, I felt guilty.

"I… just came for the stories tonight, Pub." Lupkep eyed him. He ladled a bowl for me, and another, smaller one, for the woodworker. Travis grew irritated as the bowl was placed in front of him.

"Lup, I told you, I don't–!"

"Pay it back when you can," the bartender interrupted. Travis eyed the soup before nodding soberly. The entire interaction confused me. Travis had cut down half a forest recently. He had more work than nearly anyone except Normuran. He should be swimming in coins! I glanced between the two, questioningly.

"Travis has been donating much of his coin to help pay for the refugees' meals already," Lupkep explained. Shit. I… hadn't been doing any of that. Mom had a whole gold piece, but I hardly had anything saved. I tended to spend everything I earned from my stories on supplies for experiments and commissioning containers and tools for them.

"Don't tell her that," Travis said abashedly. He did dip a spoon in the soup, though. I joined the two, taking a bite. It was good… but it was a tad thinner than it used to be.

"Any one person's generosity isn't going to be enough, and when the winter comes, you're going to regret that," I told him.

"Don't get me wrong. It's a great thing, but…"

"Naw," he replied.

"People around here don't forget a thing like that. That's what I love about this place. Just the other day, old lady Miller. You know her? She came up to me and brought me a whole barrel of grain. In thanks for the work I did on the mill last year."

"That old hag!? I hardly believe it," I said sourly. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"She's a good sort, as long as it doesn't involve your Mother. Fire and ice, those two."

"Seems optimistic, even for me."

"It's not. We'll pull through this, Mera. You'll see." I smiled.

"I feel like it's usually me saying that sort of thing."

"Everyone needs to hear it sometimes," he replied.

"I'd be dead without you, you know. That axe you made me. Saved my life."

"Normuran!" came a sudden shout from outside. Our heads snapped to the entrance. Cold air rushed through me as the door burst open.

"Is the healer here!?" cried Mularet Carpenter. Mularet's new need bubble was available. He'd first needed a vest for goblins that I'd made shortly after I got my talent. The scuffs in the vest told me he'd finally used it for its intended purpose. He and a woman were both carrying a wounded third man. I gasped in horror as I realized who it was.

"Tom!" I shouted, jumping out of my seat. Tom was covered in blood. Bits of his shirt were carved up right near his collarbone, above the leather of his vest. He was awake and visible, holding back screams.

"Normuran isn't here!" Lupkep called as he rushed around the bar, grabbing a drink.

"Here though, get this in him." He handed Ret a mug, and the man immediately poured the drink down the injured hunter's throat. I knew it was one of the brews Lupkep could make that would buff Vitality. It wouldn't heal him, but every point in vitality would help. I did not like how close that wound was to a lung or an artery.

"What happened!?" I asked as Lupkep got some shears and began cutting the shirt around the wound.

"Goblins," Mularet said, even as he leaned over Tom and pressed his hands down into the wound. Tom screamed in agony, but Ret did not let up. He was making Lupkep's job harder, but he was losing a lot of blood. I… wished I were less inured to the sight than I was. Seeing bleeding women and men was becoming almost common.

"It would've been worse if not for the Lieutenant," the woman said. I recognized her, suddenly. She was Istara, the same woman who'd saved Haddy and me during the attack on Pemolar's Hill. I barely heard her as I stared down at Reid's dad in shock. A lump of guilt lodged in my throat. Korlotom was one of those people I hadn't run into often enough. He came to the bar occasionally but spent much more of his time on patrols ever since the rift break. That was no excuse. I'd seen him three days ago!

His need bubble had surprisingly large requirements of wood logs, iron ingots, leather, ether dust, soot, and a few other obscure materials I didn't remember. We knew each other somewhat, but I could've gotten to know him better! I had told him what I needed to craft for him! I'd told him! There was no way I could've gotten all the supplies myself, but it wouldn't have been hard for him to get most of them! He hadn't made it a priority! No… I hadn't made it a priority. This could've been prevented.

His need bubble was entirely different now. I turned away, intent on running down the road to get Normuran when the door opened a second time, admitting the man himself, followed by Colevrin, another hunter I barely knew. It seemed he'd already run to get the healer. Lupkep finished exposing the wound, and Normuran didn't even hesitate to kneel down next to Tom, taking the spot I'd just vacated. I screamed when Mularet removed his hands, taking the torn fabric with him and exposing the wound. It was bad. Bloody.

Green light erupted from Normuran's hands, as it had hundreds of times over the last few weeks. I noticed them shaking and felt a pang of sympathy for him. If anyone had suffered more Mana deprivation in the past few weeks than Normuran, I'd be surprised. Almost immediately, the claw marks raking down Tom's collar began to knit themselves closed. Before he could finish, the light faded, and Norman slumped against the back wall.

"Gods…" he said, gasping.

"I'm wearing myself thin." There was blood in Tom's throat, but the healing seemed to reinvigorate him as he wiped desperately at his mouth. The wounds were still open, still bleeding, but not as deep as they had been. Normuran raised his hands again, but Tom pushed his bloody hand into the healer's face.

"No!" he insisted, through bloody teeth.

"No. Norman. You've… you've got the inside. That's enough. That's enough for now. The rest will get better on its own." Norman seemed to be struggling to breathe as much as Tom was.

"You buffoon! You'll be bedridden for weeks if I don't do more!"

"Then… weeks it will be. It was my own stupidity," he said softly, turning to me.

"I should've listened to my daughter-to-be." I let the implication flow over me, ignoring it for now. I'd have time to get mad at him when I knew he'd survive long enough for me to yell at him.

"Normuran… is he okay?" I said, voice breaking. The old man's eyes softened when they fell on me. Gods, I hated this. I hated being helpless. How could I still be helpless?

"He'll be alright," Normuran said shakily. Relief filled me, but the quaver in the old healer's hands rekindled my worry anew.

"Will you be okay?" I asked. He grimaced.

"I'll… I'll be alright, too. I just need a bit of rest. A bit of time to recover my mana naturally. That's all." He was lying.

"Normuran… I want to learn how to heal," I told him. He sniffed, immediately affronted.

"What makes you think–!"

"I have an elite talent!" I snapped.

"The moment I learn the skill, I can dump enough points in it to at least get myself to the point where I can help you. Okay?" He jerked back. I turned, glancing around the room. One more wounded added to the pile. I wasn't any better myself, as I needed his help to be sure I'd be able to walk normally again. Everyone in the bar was watching.

"These attacks aren't going to stop," I said.

"They're going to get worse. We need something more than just a few patrols and one healer working himself to the marrow. Please, Norman?" He grimaced.

"Can't say you'll have any talent, but if you've got that many free points banked already, you might well be able to help after all," he said. His hands were still shaking. His need bubble's requirement decreased, ever so slightly. Tom had lain back down, breathing heavily. He was still bleeding, but Lupkep had already pulled out alcohol and a long bandage. One of the many Hadra had sewn before she left. Mom had said learning fire magic would make it harder for me to learn healing.

That might be true for normal people who had to earn most of their points the old-fashioned way, but I didn't think that really mattered if I had enough free points to brute force high rankings in both skills. I'd have to talk to her about it to make sure, but I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity. My squemishness about healing from before had faded. If Reid's father had died while he was gone, and I could've done something? I'd never forgive myself.

I hardly noticed the next burst of cold air as the door opened once again. I did notice the heavy clank of greaves on the wooden floor. I blinked. There in the bar stood the bloody, dented gold armor of Lieutenant Berkenem.