Rules of Biomancy: A LitRPG Healer Fantasy

‘The Madame’s Estate’ was a beautifully crafted building on the outskirts of the city. Located near the wall, just between the poorer and richer districts, it allowed people of all classes to enter and leave freely. A place of equality among the customers, one could say.

Not that anybody dared to complain about who the other customers were, seeing as they didn’t want to be recognized as frequent visitors of a brothel either.

Elijah personally didn’t care for those looks of shame as he met the eyes of several entering through the main entrance of the building. Not that they looked his way for long, as the lush carpets, the incredibly detailed paintings, and the outfits of employees that left little to the imagination distracted any and all who entered.

Mostly everyone, at least. After nearly thirty years of walking into the establishment every other Sunday, the sights barely registered in his mind.

“Oh, hello Elijah!” He was greeted as he went up to one of the counters on the side. It was rarely used as it was hidden over in one of the corners, but it was inhabited by one of the women regardless. “I thought you were meant to arrive tomorrow? In a hurry to see us again perhaps?”

He just stared blankly as Mia snickered at her own words. She’d said something along those lines every time she’d seen him for the past seven years. How she still found it funny was a wonder in itself. Maybe it was a hobby, for when those emerald eyes of hers didn’t captivate the strangers.

“I’m here to deliver the normal package and to speak to Cleo,” he replied. Maybe it was the way he talked or something else entirely, but Mia laughed yet again. Her voice, honed through countless hours of practice to sound just enticing enough to feel natural, even caught the attention of some of the other customers. When Elijah was seen alongside her, however, nobody approached. “It’s urgent.”

“If you want to speak to the Madame directly, it’s always urgent,” Mia agreed, first taking the bag that he had brought along before opening up the side of the counter to let him walk inside into the back, away from the eyes of the unwise. “Remember that you’re a lucky one. Not just everybody gets to meet her when they want to.”

Unless they have a bag of gold and the ability to go on their knees and beg.

“I know,” Elijah replied evenly, offering no more comments after that as they passed into the worker’s lounge. Sofas, chairs, and just about every other method of comfort filled the room, giving the men and women a chance to sit and relax while they were on break. Several waved his way, some shouting his name, but he just gave them a nod and continued on. It wouldn’t be good if he stayed in that area for long anyway, with how the floor had gained a layer of gray. “I can smell the Cana. It’s badly made.”

“That’s what happens when somebody doesn't want to grow them for us,” Mia chirped. “And it might not be up to your standards, but the effects are good enough to stop any complaints.”

He didn’t doubt that.

Moving up the stairs and through another set of hallways, they ventured back out into the ‘public’ areas, though the ones here were nowhere near what was a floor down. Rooms were larger, equipped to stop any sound from going through the veils in front of them, and there had to be less than twenty people on the floor in total. It was the highest of the highs, for those either disgustingly rich or a good friend of the former.

“Madame Cleo, you have a visitor,” Mia announced as they reached the end of the hallway, knocking on one of the few proper doors on this floor. “An old friend.”

Old friend.

Always the same descriptor for him and Aleksi. A little code to subtly make it clear who he was.

“Well, I can’t deny an old friend visiting,” the smooth voice of an older woman said, coming through the door with an unnatural clarity. It was like they were being spoken to directly next to their ears. Elijah never saw the point of such a display, but he couldn’t dismiss the effectiveness of her strategies overall so he just let it go like always. “Let him in, Mia.”

The younger woman did as asked, opening the door for Elijah and allowing him entry into the Madame’s room. He thanked her for the gesture before the door was closed behind him, and he was left in the room together with the leader of the entire brothel.

“Cleo,” Elijah greeted, seeing the woman before him. Even with sixty years on her, age had been kind. Though she carried gray streaks in her otherwise brown hair, her face was without obvious wrinkles. Not that it would matter if she had, with those sapphire eyes that had inspired half a dozen songs by visiting bards in the past year. “I need your help.”

She was sitting on one of the cushions next to her short-legged desk, skimming through a report a dozen papers long. Even when she was not far from his age, her eyes could move so fast without missing a single fact.

“Is there ever a time when you want to meet me, where you don’t need me for something?” Cleo questioned, her words harsh but her tone filled with mirth. She was playing with him, a soft chuckle leaving her as he settled down in one of the cushions. “I wouldn’t mind if you just paid me a social visit one of these days, Elijah. It’s been too long since you and Aleksi came around for tea.”

“Maybe another day,” he offered. “Right now, I’m working with very little time.”

“Stressed, are we?”

“You could say that,” Elijah confirmed, not bothering to hide that fact. “I need information about a Royal Mage by the name of Rubeus Hayes.”

“Rubeus Hayes, the second-highest ranking Mage in this fine country?” Cleo questioned with a bright smile. Elijah was quick to notice the new gold teeth since they’d last talked. “Entire books can be filled with that man’s achievements, so you have to be more specific about what you want to know. We have little time, as you know, so I need a guiding hand in this.”

“As I’m sure one of your girls told you, before I got three steps into your house, I have unsealed my Core,” Elijah explained, not surprised by the lack of denial coming from Madame. They both knew just how many eyes were hidden in the walls. “The apprentice of the Royal Mage, Grace Runner, noticed that and decided to extend an invitation to visit me and see my ‘late awakening’ for himself.”

“That sounds entirely innocent in nature,” the older woman commented, before leaning forward just a little. “What’s the catch?”

“We all have secrets we want to keep hidden.”

“Oh, nobody can deny that.”

“I need to know about his reach. I’d rather not accidentally meet the man ruling the criminal underworld without knowing beforehand.”

“Oh, there is no man on top anymore, I can promise you that,” Cleo assured him. “And this Hayes… I know of several old dealings he had during the earlier years of the city. Nothing too strange, since it was mainly the purchase of relief and some euphoric cigars. If he still trades for such things, he does it through a handler that hasn’t been matched with him, but otherwise, he is not known for being a cruel man.”

“His apprentice talked well of him,” Elijah commented.

“Most do, with how much leniency he has given out through the years,” the Madame agreed. “He has befriended many mages from the generation after him because of it, many in powerful positions, but what else can you expect of the Royal Mages? He’s not a man prone to violent outbursts, and he has not been involved in any warfare for the past thirty years if that is what you want to hear.”

“An old fighter who has moved over to research,” he mused. “Any notable battles I would recognize?”

“He helped free most of the northern villages and was one of the important factors in stopping the Charge on Kulvik during the final months of the war.”

One of the bloodiest battles that had been, on the level of what had occurred on the front lines during the peak of the war. Elijah was happy to have missed both of them.

“Of course he was.”

An old soul wishing to help. Maybe he is to be believed about keeping the so-called awakening quiet.

“I take it you heard what you wanted?” Cleo asked.

“For now, it’s enough to work with,” Elijah replied, receiving a smile from his words.

Always with the smiling around here.

“Now that you’ve asked questions and received answers from me, don’t you think it is time for you to return the favor?” Cleo said, putting a hand on his shoulder before he could start to rise. Her other hand reached for the glasses on the desk, a bottle appearing out of thin air as well.

“Is it from the same year as last time?” Elijah questioned, knowing better than to reject the crystal glass put into his hand. The smell of the clear-blue liquid was strong enough to make a weaker man cough outright.

“A year older, actually. I had to have it imported from across the sea after we started running dry of this divine drink,” came the answer. Elijah hummed in response, taking a sip. The instant scorching of his throat made him relax more than he thought possible in recent times, his shoulders loosening into a state that didn’t feel uncomfortable for once. “I’m seeing no complaints.”

“There are none to be voiced,” he agreed, taking another sip. It brought a dulled reaction compared to the first, but that was to be expected. The body could build resistance to the Drink of the Fae so quickly that it was a drink only meant to be experienced once a year at most. “You said you had questions of your own?”

He took a third sip in preparation for whatever she could think to say.

“A trade is best when both parties can walk away feeling they have received their fair due, is it not?” Cleo asked, voicing a common rhetorical question around these parts, though it was usually used in a different context. “And so it is only expected that I ask you a simple question. Just how involved were you in the murder of a Royal Mage and was it your own injuries, Aleksi’s, or those of the younger duo that made you unseal your Core?”

…

After a moment’s deliberation, Elijah sighed and downed the glass. He would need it if he was to deal with this in any polite fashion.

“Of course, you would put it all together,” he commented, putting the glass on the desk. Cleo laughed at the display. “Did you know before I walked in or was it what I said?”

“I had my suspicions about your involvement simply because it was in the slums,” she admitted. “Your wanting to know more about a high-ranking Royal Mage, and your incredibly foolish act of unsealing your Core made it clear that something very out of the ordinary had happened in your life recently. It was just me putting two abnormal incidents into one.”

“We knew the risks when I did it.”

“Yes, you’re not one I remember as stupid. Even more reason why your action had to be one coming from more than just the mind,” Cleo started. “Alas, you skipped over the answer to my question. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to know more.”

The mistress of secrets always yearns.

Knowing that she would spot any attempts at deceit, Elijah explained the past two days of his life. How he didn’t kill any Royal Mage but instead found the aftermath, how he saw two half-dead youths and decided to act foolish, how he brought them home and healed them through magic, and how he now had to deal with what was cooking up to be a problem he had trouble dealing with.

“I don’t suppose you have any information regarding who was behind it?” Elijah tried.

“Sadly not, which is a surprise to us both,” Cleo answered with a small huff. “Countless officials have been bedded and made stupid, yet none could say more than what we already knew. The swiftly withdrawn wanted posters came from ‘the royal guard,’ yet even they can’t say who ordered them.”

“Could it be the crown prince himself?” Elijah suggested. “It would complicate matters much further, but it could be possible.”

“I thought so as well, but our dear Prince Phillip was with his men that entire night, drinking and celebrating. He even drank slightly more than he might’ve intended that night, as several of his men confessed to him being… incapable of giving out orders around the hours before the Royal Mage was found.”

“Could the other Royals be behind it then? The Princess specifically, I mean.”

There is very little chance of the third Prince being behind anything complex like this.

“None of them can send orders through the Royal Guards, so it would be unlikely,” Cleo rejected. “Truthfully, whoever is behind the murder was either an opportunistic powerhouse who has since fled without anybody’s notice, or it’s by a group hiding so well that it’s not worth the costs to find them. Instead, Elijah, I suggest you spend your time figuring out how to move forward.”

Wise words. They were ones he had already deliberated on for a long time now, since the night when he had been certain they would live until morning.

“Having them flee the city is something I’ve considered,” Elijah answered. “I’m guessing you could help with that if needed?”

“Officially, we stopped smuggling people out ten years ago, but we can always make exceptions,” Cleo replied, both knowing fully well they’d never stopped. “Since I’m guessing you have little networking outside these walls, I can also give you several suggestions on where they can be placed. It would be better to separate them, though I’m guessing they’d prefer staying together?”

“On that, I can’t say,” he confessed. While the two had been on talking terms, he wasn’t sure there was any lasting connection past that. Neither had known of the other until very recently. “Though, if leaving the city means a lesser chance of returning to their world, I’m sure the woman would reject the idea instantly.”

“Preferring to stay where the danger is highest, on the off-chance that an act meant to be saved for legends can be reversed,” the Madame concluded, not hiding the thin smile well. Elijah always knew her as one who enjoyed drama. Came with the job. “I can respect the tenacity, though it is dangerous regardless. Do you think the man, Jack, would prefer to stay as well?”

“Maybe,” was all Elijah could say. “He’s idealistic enough that he’ll probably support her choice.”

“Foolish youth, you could say,” Cleo joked, copying words muttered several decades ago. “We weren’t too different back then.”

“No… No, we were not,” Elijah admitted. “But, if the time comes, can I trust that they can hide here if my house becomes unsafe?”

He could see it clearly, as Cleo’s back straightened and her eyes became focused once more. That old look of strength and ferocity that had allowed her to climb from a street urchin to one of the richest and most influential people in the capital.

“I have not closed my doors to a single boy or girl in need since the day this establishment opened up, and I will not close them until this establishment has been turned into dust,” Madame Cleo, practically worshiped as a goddess by her workers, promised. “Bring them in from the back when you need help. Until then…”

Their conversation was halted as a ringing came from Cleo’s desk. Opening up one of the drawers revealed a peculiar servant bell. Elijah could see how it glowed, a red color growing stronger and stronger before a small burst of fire came out of it, leaving behind a small piece of paper.

“Oh my,” Cleo commented as she closed the drawer with the paper in hand. “Prince Louis is visiting in a few minutes.”

That was a surprise, Elijah’s old brows rising at the announcement.

“I didn’t think this place attracted the local royalty,” he said, as the bottle and glasses were hidden away once again. “When did the young Prince become a customer of yours?”

“Since he got old enough to order away his guard last winter,” Cleo replied, adjusting her hair and clothing by the mirror that hadn’t been on the wall a second before. “And, before you ask, yes, the whispers surrounding the third child do him justice.”

He hadn’t thought to ask, but that tidbit of information wasn’t something he minded knowing. Being four years younger than the Princess who was 24, he was an adult in lawful terms but little better than a child in terms of temperament. Maybe it was because of the complicated situation regarding his birth, or maybe it was due to being third in line to a throne he would likely never sit on, but it hadn’t taken long before the Prince had become known as an unruly troublemaker who knew how little punishment he would receive for his actions. Where the other Royals had been seen as calm and collected, the youngest was known as rash and violent when prodded the slightest amount.

“If that is the case, I will be taking the other door out,” Elijah said as he rose from the cushion, brushing off his clothing for any residue that landed on him since he entered this place. “I’d rather not anger royalty before I meet with one of their more powerful servants.”

“I don’t blame you,” Cleo replied, skipping past the entire spiel about the hidden door only meant to be used in emergencies. “I trust that you know the way out without help?”

“Of course,” he promised, going through the door that had been one with the tapestry until the moment Cleo had reached for the handle. “I hope we don't need to see each other for the next few weeks.”

“On the contrary, I wouldn’t mind you and Aleksi visiting when we’re all under less pressure.”

As if it will ever relent.

Elijah simply nodded as he walked through the narrow passage. In stark contrast to the colorfully detailed decor of the rest of the establishment, including the sections mainly used by the workers, everything in the hidden hallways was built for function and little else. Magical lights were present every two meters to allow for visibility, and stairs and random steps were marked to avoid accidents, and everything else was removed to make the space smaller.

Wouldn't want somebody to question how thick the walls were in some places.

Without seeing anybody else, Elijah was able to navigate through the maze of hidden hallways and over to one of the backdoor exits. A few of the workers were outside smoking, waving to him as he passed by, but nobody too noteworthy was spotted. He could return to the main street and walk to his shop in peace.

And good that he did. As he took a turn down the final street, the front of his shop coming into view, he saw that it had gathered a small crowd. Not because of would-be customers hoping for the place to be open, but because of a man wearing a purple robe in front of it.

The Royal Mage by the name of Rubeus Hayes, accompanied by Grace herself.

An hour earlier than promised, as expected.