The Gate Traveler

When we reached the town again, I went straight to the inn. It was the middle of the night, so I wasn’t sure if an inn receptionist would work, but the innkeeper’s son was there, reading something. He was delighted to see me and greeted me like a friend. That was nice. I paid for the room and went straight to bed.

The following two days, I lazed about in town, read, took long walks through town with Stretch, and tried to teach him to fetch a stick, but he wasn’t interested, and mostly regenerated my mana—again.

On my second day, there was a frantic knock on my door. When I opened it, the innkeeper stood there, his face pale and eyes wide with urgency. He asked urgently, “You said you are a healer, correct?”

I nodded quickly, my heart rate picking up. “Yes, what do you need?”

“Not me,” he replied, wringing his hands anxiously. “The blacksmith’s apprentice had a terrible accident. Can you help him?”

“I’ll be happy to,” I said, stepping into the hallway. “Where is he?”

The apprentice was badly hurt. A crucible full of molten metal had overturned and spilled on his legs. They were burnt and had pieces of metal embedded in his flesh. The smithy smelled like cooked pork. I immediately took out and prepared my “operating table.” The blacksmith and I lifted him onto it, and I cut his pants off, revealing the extent of the damage. His legs had severe burns, and pieces of cooled metal had embedded deep into them.

I began by casting Diagnose, and the spell revealed deep tissue damage, multiple metal fragments lodged in the muscles, and significant blood loss. The next step was to prepare him for the procedure. I cast Anesthesia to ensure he wouldn’t feel any pain during the operation.

With the apprentice sedated, I split my mind and carefully started removing the metal fragments. Using a small knife, I made precise incisions around each piece of metal, extracting them one by one. Once the metal was out, I cast Clean to sterilize the wounds and prevent infection.

Next, I cast Stop Bleeding, but the apprentice’s legs were still a mess, with burnt flesh and exposed muscle tissue. I cast Heal Muscle, focusing on repairing the damaged muscle fibers. The spell worked quickly, knitting the torn muscles back together and restoring their function.

With the muscles healed, I turned my attention to the bones. Although the bones were not broken, they had sustained heat damage. I cast Heal Bone to strengthen and repair any micro-fractures that may have occurred due to the intense heat.

The burns required a different approach. I cast Regrow Flesh, slowly forming new flesh to cover the raw muscle beneath. The process was slow and exhausting, but necessary.

Once the new skin had formed, I cast Healing Touch to promote overall healing and ensure the apprentice’s body accepted the regrown tissue. The spell enveloped his legs in a warm glow, accelerating the natural healing processes and reducing the risk of complications.

I cast Purify to cleanse his body of any toxins that the molten metal might have introduced. The apprentice’s breathing became steadier, and his pulse normalized. Finally, I cast Fortify Life Force, restoring his body’s vitality.

After stopping the Anesthesia, I gave the blacksmith instructions for aftercare. “Make sure he eats, drinks, rests, and sees me at the inn tomorrow for a final checkup.”

Feeling lightheaded from the extensive use of mana—80/4200—I sat down to regenerate until I was stable again. The apprentice remained unconscious, allowing his body to heal and regain strength. When he woke, he looked roughly ten kilograms thinner than when I started, but his legs were whole again.

The blacksmith, deeply grateful, handed me three silvers as a token of his appreciation. Graciously, I accepted the gesture, knowing I had saved the apprentice’s life.

When I returned to the inn, the innkeeper approached me with a hopeful expression. His eyes were wide with a mixture of concern and anticipation. “Would you be able to see some other people?”

I nodded, but held up a hand. “Yes, but only in two days,” I replied, feeling the fatigue settle into my bones. “I need to regenerate my mana first. Direct all the people to the inn, and I’ll see them then.”

The innkeeper’s shoulders relaxed, and he sighed in relief. “Thank you,” he said, his face brightening. “I’ll let them know.”

As he walked away, it suddenly dawned on me—I hadn’t considered offering my services when I arrived in town. I shook my head, a wry smile playing on my lips. I was still thinking in Earth’s terms, where you go to a doctor, and the doctor doesn’t go around offering his services. But I realized then that I wasn’t just a doctor anymore; I was a healer, and my role here was different.

Reflecting on this, I knew I needed to adapt and recognize that I had the potential to contribute beyond the boundaries of a clinic or a hospital in this world. I needed to be more proactive and make myself more available to those who needed my help. This wasn’t Earth, and my approach had to change to fit the new reality.

I approached the innkeeper, who was busy polishing the bar. “Do you know a good carpenter around here?”

He looked up, wiping his hands on his apron. “Yes, indeed. Go down the main road, take the second left, and you’ll see his shop. Can’t miss it.”

I thanked him and headed out. The carpenter’s shop was easy to find, a modest building with various wooden items displayed outside. I stepped inside and saw the carpenter, a burly man with sawdust in his hair, working on a chair.

“Hello,” I said, catching his attention. He looked up, wiping his brow. “Can I order a table from you?”

“Yes, what do you need?”

“I need a special table for healing. It needs to be long enough to hold a person lying down and narrow enough so I can reach them easily. It should also be a bit higher than a regular table.”

He nodded thoughtfully, scratching his chin. “I can do that. Anything else?”

“Yes, I also need three standing partitions with four panels each,” I continued, noticing his confused expression. “Let me sketch it for you.” I grabbed a piece of paper and began drawing, explaining as I went. “The frames should be sturdy, with fabric stretched over them like this, and hinges here so you can open or close them.”

He leaned over, eyes lighting up with interest. “I see. And the fabric?”

I took out a thick, dark blue fabric roll. “I brought this for the partitions,” I said.

He took the fabric, feeling its texture. “This is excellent quality. I’ve never worked with something like this before.”

I smiled, glad he appreciated it. “So, do you think you can do it?”

He grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely. This is a great idea. Can I use your idea to make more to sell?”

“Go ahead and make a lot of money,” I chuckled.

He laughed heartily. “Thank you! For all this work, it’ll be seven gold and three silver. But I’m only charging you for three partitions; the fourth is payment for the idea. Everything will be ready in two days.”

“That’s very nice of you,” I said, shaking his hand. He was genuinely excited, and I felt confident that the new setup would make a big difference in my work.

I asked him where I could buy a tent, and he directed me to the general store. The general store was… well, general. It had a little of everything in a very confusing placement. The front of the store was full of fruits and vegetables that looked quite similar to the ones from Earth, but not exactly—there were always minor differences—placed in big baskets that resembled bamboo, and interspersed between them were baskets with books and clothes, all sizes together in the same baskets, and a bucket, a bucket! With swords that looked used—they looked chipped and quite rusty. I’m sure there was some logic behind it, but I didn’t see it. Further in, there were shelves with a jumbled assortment of household goods like candles, linen, cookware, some toys, soap, etc.; it was a neat freak’s nightmare.

The shopkeeper, a stout man with a broad smile, looked up from behind the counter. “Hello there, stranger. Looking for something?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Yes,” I replied, scanning the chaotic display. “A big tent.”

His eyes lit up with understanding, and he nodded. “Ah, a tent! Just a moment.” He disappeared into the back. Moments later, he returned with leather sheets, poles, spikes, and rope. “Here you go. 2 gold.”

I stared at the heap in front of me, feeling a headache coming on. “How do I assemble it?” I asked, scratching my head awkwardly.

This “tent” resembled nothing I was familiar with. My tents either popped open or came with numbered poles with corresponding numbers on the tent. I just had to thread the poles in according to the numbers, place four spikes to tie the tent so it wouldn’t blow away, and I was done. If I opened the canopy, I had to place two more poles, tie the canopy to the poles, and tie another two spikes.

The shopkeeper gave me a look that let me know exactly what he thought about my intelligence. “It’s simple,” he said, demonstrating with exaggerated patience. “You just lay out the leather sheets, assemble the poles like this, and then use the spikes to secure it.”

“Got it,” I said, trying to hide my annoyance. “Thanks.”

Trying to shake off the feeling of inadequacy, I looked around at his inventory and asked, “Are you interested in buying some things to sell?”

He perked up, curiosity piqued. “Sure, show me what you’ve got.”

I moved to a clear area in the store and summoned one of the shelving units with glassware. He examined them, nodding appreciatively. “These are beautiful, but those are rich folk things; we are simple people. They are too fancy for us.”

“Okay, next,” I said, storing it and summoning a more “down-to-earth” collection, mostly plain plates, mugs, and cups. “How about these?”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t think anybody in this town can afford those things; they are too fancy.”

I summoned the cheapest pots, pans, and bowls from the flea markets. He chose a few pieces, but the rest were still “too fancy.”

I could feel my annoyance growing. “Those cost me $1-2, and it’s still too fancy?” I muttered under my breath.

Baskets of clothes. He chose a few, the rest—too fancy. Linen and towels—too fancy. I was beginning to dislike this phrase.

Simple, cheap silverware—“Nobody uses those fancy things here.”

I sighed, summoning sharp cooking knives. He liked those and bought one for his wife as a birthday present. The rest—too fancy.

Rolls of fabric—he chose one roll of simple chocolate brown cotton—the rest too fancy, but he couldn’t stop complimenting the quality of the weave and colors. “This is excellent work but too fancy for our folks,” he said almost apologetically.

I offered to sell it to him for cheap, but he refused, shaking his head firmly. “Everybody knows I’m honest. If I cheat you and buy expensive goods for cheap, folks will stop trusting me.” You had to admire an honest businessman, even if it was frustrating.

Thread, needles, yarn—again, the quality and colors surprised him, but he took only a few rolls of white and brown thread and a few needles—the rest were too fancy.

Toys—he bought a bunny plushie for his daughter, but the rest were too fancy.

Empty copper pouches—he bought one for himself—the rest too fancy.

I need to delete this phrase from the Shimoorian language!

Finally, I had nothing else to show him. He checked everything he chose, thought for a minute, and said, “I can give you 47 gold, 6 silver, and the tent. Is that acceptable?”

My Merchant Profession told me it was a fair price, but I could haggle to raise it—I decided not to. We concluded our business, and I returned to the inn, relieved and exasperated.

After a pleasant lunch and asking for a bath, I spent the rest of the day regenerating, petting Stretch, and reading. With his bushy tail wagging happily, Stretch leaned into my touch while I read.

The following day, the apprentice knocked on my door for his checkup. He looked much better, a hint of color returning to his cheeks. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gesturing for him to sit down.

“I’m okay,” he said, rolling up his pant leg to show me the healed skin. “Just some soreness.”

I cast a general heal, feeling the minor issues melt away under the spell. “You should be good to go back to work,” I said, patting his shoulder. He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face, and returned to the smithy.

Later, the innkeeper approached me with a curious look on his face. “I heard you were selling some fancy rich folks things in the general store,” he said, his eyes glinting with interest. “Sometimes nobles pass through town and expect to be served according to their station.”

I nodded. “Yes, I have some items that might interest you.”

“Would you mind showing me some of what you have?” he asked eagerly.

I took out some serving glassware, each sparkling in the light.

The innkeeper’s eyes widened in amazement. “These are exquisite,” he exclaimed, picking up a delicate goblet and turning it in his hands. “Ooh, look at this craftsmanship!”

He continued to examine each piece, a series of appreciative “ah’s” escaping his lips. Finally, he selected a few items, his face glowing with excitement. “These will be perfect for when the nobles visit,” he said, handing me the coins. “Thank you.”

At least I emptied my storage a bit, but looking at everything I had there, I saw that the stuff I sold didn’t even make a dent in the total amount of stuff.

“Yeah, I might have gone a bit overboard.” I thought, scratching my head.