Rules of Biomancy: A LitRPG Healer Fantasy

After skimming through the rest of the files, not going any near as in-depth as the first but just making sure he knew the general idea of who they were, he asked his assistants when the first patients were to arrive.

“Oh, I believe that some are already out in the seating room waiting to be seen by you,” Mary reported, looking up from her work. While he had been busy reading through the documentation, the two had started out on their duties in the meanwhile. There had apparently been a larger batch of Polkweed that had finished drying, so they were busy cutting it into smaller parts so it could be heated and ground down for long-term storage. “If you want, I can go fetch one of them while you familiarize yourself with the examination room.”

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Elijah replied. Oscar took over Mary’s part of the cutting without comment, as she led him to a side door that allowed direct entry into the examination room.

The difference between the two rooms was like night and day. While the laboratory was made for function above all else, with everything easy to find and even easier to clean, this area, where a patient could come in, had a higher focus on elegance.

The seat and table where a patient could sit and lie down were still easy to clean, the hard surface allowing disinfectant to be used without issue, but the areas in the room that weren’t often touched were rather… extravagant.

“Before you ask, I can’t explain the painting either,” Mary said, while showing Elijah where many tools for examining patients were located before she went to the next room to fetch a patient.

Looking up at the ceiling, where he hadn’t even seen the painting, Elijah could only sigh. Tiled walls, a floor smooth enough that he could see his own reflection in it, and ornaments hanging around as some form of decoration that the high class probably enjoyed looking at. While he could see the beauty in diamonds and gems, Elijah didn’t think they had a home in a place like this.

And what is that painting supposed to be anyway? A circle with wings? A dog on its head? A waterfall?

The more he looked at it, the less it made sense, the cluttered mess impossible to comprehend at any level. And when he began to hear footsteps coming from the door Mary had hurried through, he turned his focus to something that had to make more sense.

Steady clicks were heard as a cane and a prosthetic hit the floor, becoming louder when Elijah saw an older man coming in. An old face, shaky hands, and an unwillingness to accept help from his assistant who looked on with mild worry as the patient hobbled over to the center of the room to greet Elijah.

“So you’re the new Healer?” the old Baron questioned in a rough voice, sounding like he was halfway to a cough at any moment. One of the man’s eyes looked Elijah up and down, while the other lazily tried to follow, likely another condition that’d come from the sizable scar that ran down the left side of the man’s head. “Thought they’d hire a young one so they’d last longer.”

“Gotta take what they can get,” Elijah said, accepting the already-shaking hand. “Elijah Caede. I take it you’re Baron Fletcher?”

“Handsome face give it away?” Fletcher asked, half-laughing half-coughing a lung out as he got settled on the table, sitting with a slight hunch and with his cane at the ready. “Metal leg of mine causing trouble, not sitting as it should. I hope you can do something about it. Didn’t want the young ones touching it and making it worse.”

Elijah eyed the ‘young one’ standing behind the Baron, Mary’s expression a clear indication of what she thought about such a claim. Since she’d clearly dealt with the old man before, along with the strange piece of machinery attached to the stub, she could probably do a better job than he could.

Patients were easier to deal with when they didn’t despise you, however, so Elijah kept his tongue in cheek as he skimmed through the Baron’s folder once again. The old history was skipped through in favor of the newer chunks, which repeated the difficulties already mentioned by the old man.

A lack of properly fitting it in the morning causing it to chafe. Ointment to treat the irritated skin which isn’t applied, and the request to not use the prosthetic is ignored as well.

The model patient, all in all, with an inability to follow instructions and blaming the issues that came from it on others.

“Let’s have a look at it, shall we?” Elijah said, bending down to inspect the metal limb and the area where it was strapped onto the organic body. “I can’t say much about the prosthetic, but I can already see that there is obvious irritation. Would you mind if I take off—”

“If you put it on again, I couldn’t care less,” the Baron said, cutting him off. A glance at Mary had her moving over to help him figure out the straps and various pieces of enchanted metal that pressed against the stub. Elijah realized that it must’ve been a custom one, with how similar it was to the remaining limb. “How’s it looking?”

Putrid.

“It could be better,” Elijah said, whispering for his assistant to bring spirits, some concoction to lower the pain, and a healthy dose of high-quality healing ointment. “How long have you been feeling uncomfortable in this area?”

“It’s been troubling for years, though that was my mind not letting go of the war more than anything else,” Fletcher explained as Mary returned at a quick pace, the labeled bottles in hand. “Got worse a month ago, though. Was supposed to visit Reynold, but he kicked the bucket so I just ignored it until somebody proper could look at it. How is it, by the way? Pain’s fading already.”

“That would be because of the local anesthetic acting fast,” Elijah said, cleaning the scalpel before he scraped away what shouldn’t have been allowed to fester in the first place. From the discomfort, the nerves somehow hadn’t died out from this rot, but the fact that the Baron was still able to walk around and complain was a showing of extreme pain tolerance. “You should’ve allowed my assistant to have had a look at the area regardless of what you might’ve thought best. If you’d waited another day, the best scenario possible would be removing the last chunk of the leg.”

The baron complained, but it didn’t matter to him. Elijah cleaned up the rest of the wounds and disinfected them to the point where even the local anesthetic didn’t stop the muscle tensing, before finally putting on the healing ointment.

“You’re lucky that I can help with this, or you’d be without the ability to do anything but lie in a bed as this mess healed,” he added through the complaints, connecting to the applied ointment and accelerating the process.

He ignored the shocked murmurs from his side, as the wounds closed up within seconds, briefly leaving scars before those were removed as well. A few black spots that the body rejected did reach the surface after another few seconds, falling into the prepared tray.

Otherwise, it was all completed, the stump as healthy as a stump could possibly be.

“You had several fragments embedded in there, but they’ve been removed together with the wound,” Elijah explained, letting the Baron feel at the stump. The mild shock on the old man’s face caused a similar level of satisfaction. "You lost a finger-width of flesh from this ordeal, so you’ll have to contact whatever artificer made the prosthetic to have it refitted. If you want to wear it in the meantime, you will put it on properly. Understand?”

“You realize who you’re talking to?” the Baron questioned, voice low as he finished inspecting the healed area.

“A patient that has a habit of not listening to simple orders,” Elijah dryly replied, getting a staredown that he matched with similar tenacity.

He was half-prepared to accept lasting a day in the position before a roar of laughter left the Baron, Fletcher clutching at his stomach without that coughing sound from before. It seemed the enhanced ointment had reached further than originally intended.

“Finally a man who isn’t scared to talk back!” the Baron exclaimed, rising from the table without a care about his missing leg as he wrapped an arm around Elijah. “You know how long it’s been since somebody was so blunt with me? Forty-three damned years! You get a title, and suddenly you’re a fragile thing that’s going to burst if anybody says anything rude to you. Doesn’t matter if you’re right or wrong either. Any rudeness is avoided no matter how inane I might be. You, Elijah Caede, Royal Healer and a man with a mind, are a good thing for this place.”

“That’s… good to hear?” Elijah replied, looking on as Mary helped get him back down onto the table. Since the prosthetic was still somewhat fit for short-term usage, it was fitted on properly by his assistant before the Baron was herded out of the room. “Is this how I should expect every treatment to go?”

“I think I might quit if it does,” Mary said with a blunt tone that made him shake his head. “Sixteen more to go. Are you ready?”

He wasn’t, but when had that ever mattered? At least time could pass without as extreme reactions as what the Baron had shown off. There were some comments about Elijah, his age, and where he’d come from, but most of the patients were just happy to be looked at. Most had relatively minor issues as well, ranging from a knee that was acting up, trouble sleeping, or just a headache that had persisted. Each took less than ten minutes to check on, three minutes to find the proper prescription for, and then they were all on their way.

The issue was that the number of patients did add up in the end, and sixteen ‘quick’ inspections still ended up taking hours of work and making most of the day go by before he could breathe.