News from the Front

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John woke up in what should have been unadulterated heaven given that Qhila was lying halfway on top of him. He also woke up to the mildly concerning combination of a damp spot against his chest and the sound of Qhila quietly sniffling. “What’s wrong?”

The cute kobold raised her head to look at him, smiling through the tears. “Not wrong anymore… I had forgotten how it felt to not wake up alone.” Her voice was wavering as she spoke and thick with emotion. “Thank you, John. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

“Uh, you’re welcome. I’m happy that you’re happy but I must admit that I’m a little confused by how much it means to you…” ’And I feel guilty about sneaking out while you were still sleeping last week, trying to get home before Mom woke up.’

“Kobolds sleep communally. Anything else is… Being **** to sleep alone is a punishment only one step below being exiled…” Though her smile persisted, a profoundly **** fragility crept into her whisper. It took a herculean effort on John’s part to resist the impulse to try to kiss it better.

Instead, he squeezed her tightly. “That settles it then. You’re sleeping in here with me for the foreseeable future. But we still need to be careful about Mom noticing.”

Almost as if on cue, the stone in her bracelet started softly vibrating before Qhila had time to respond. John also got a system message to the same effect about the keystone in his inventory. They shared a quick nod between them, then she vanished into a barrier to sneak back to the guest room.

“What is the meaning of this, Newman?!?” Moira barked the question in a commanding tone, hand halfway to the pendant that was her shield in disguise.

Upon reflection, opening a barrier just as he poked her in passing might have been an overly aggressive way to go about it. But putting her off balance had been intentional, and he wasn’t in the mood for pussyfooting and other bullshit after what’d almost happened to Qhila last night. Granted, Moira was unlikely to have anything to do with that, but on the other hand… “That’s my line. We’ve ‘happened’ to pass each other in the hallways more the past week than we did all of last semester. Are you spying on me?”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous! Why in the Lady’s name would I spy on you?” Her indignant exasperation seemed very genuine, and Observe did back it up with indignation as her most prominent emotion. But the third on the list was nervousness, so something was clearly up.

“Well, it sure as shit didn’t happen by coincidence. If you’re not doing it on purpose, then you must be doing it subconsciously.“ Suppressing the annoyed suspicion, he gave her a crooked smirk. ”Is it because you have a crush on me, then?”

“That is preposterous! Why in the Lady’s name would- For someone to even come into consideration, he must have the qualities of a future Warden-Lord. He must be an inspirational example of virtue and a natural leader. Not some perverted, slacking loner!”

’The lady doth protest a bit too much. I’m pretty sure crush would be overselling it still, but it looks like the compliment the other day made more of an impression than she wants to admit. I really should thank Qhila for helping me practice seeing through this kind of thing.’ Instead of saying that out loud, he just chuckled and let her cheeks continue to redden.

In about two seconds, they came to roughly match her curls. “If you absolutely must know, I have been very slightly worried about whether entrance into the Abyss would see you head down the path of villainy.”

’There we have it. But then there’s a way to both get some of what we want here…’ “I guess I can’t fault you for that.” He dropped the smirk in favor of getting serious again. “Actually, maybe you can help me with that.”

While the blush didn’t fade as quickly, her expression otherwise changed from indignant embarrassment to what he would characterize as proselytic enthusiasm in the blink of an eye. However, before she got further than opening her mouth, he held up his hand in a stalling gesture. “I’m not joining the Order. Anything else aside, signing up to go fight a war when I can’t even tell my mom about it is not something I can do to her.”

The redheaded paladin’s enthusiasm gave way to a tangle of emotions that John couldn’t read beyond them being complicated. This was further indicated by her RS dropping 6 points from the rejection and then climbing 7 from his reason why. No longer seeing a good reason to keep her off balance, John gave her a moment to collect herself after which her default expression of stern discipline returned. “What sort of help do you mean, then?”

“I want to become a doctor, like my grandfather. From what I can gather, the Apothecaries are the best in the Abyss, and while a lot of them aren’t big on the Hippocratic Oath, individual members have a lot of discretion for themselves and their apprentices to be better. Are any of the local Apothecaries known to have good ethical standards?”

“Dr. Breshnik.” The response was immediate, with time left for neither thinking nor hesitation. “I have only met her briefly, but Father has employed her to treat knights with ailments beyond our own healers’ expertise on more than one occasion, and holds both her competence and character in high regard.”

“Well, that’s a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one… I’ll look into it, thanks.” He gave her a nod. ’I should still check if someone else can confirm it, or at least see what Qhila can dig up on the Abyss Web, but so far it seems like we’re off to a good start.’

“Despite the rude way you started the conversation…” Moira crossed her arms. “You are welcome. I would rather help you keep from doing evil, than smite you for straying into it. One wicked deed prevented, is worth a hundred justly punished.” That last part had the tone of quoting scripture.

[John]: I am sorry if this is an inappropriate request, but I was wondering if you can tell me anything about which of the local Apothecaries maintain moral and ethical work standards similar to those of modern medical ethics or the Hippocratic Oath, and which do not? And what would that information cost?

John had typed the message while walking from Ashcroft to the Barrier Alley. He let the question of whether to send it or not simmer in the back of his mind while going through the Alley, then spent a few minutes staring at it after he was back in mundane reality. He was considering whether to send it to Lord Chastain-Wessel.

On one hand, the Abyssal nobleman was obviously well connected and had seemed so far to be the sort to be well informed about just about anything. If anyone John knew could dig a closet skeleton up that the Order had missed, it would be him.

On the other hand, John didn’t actually know how far he could trust what he got back. Or what it would cost. Lord Chastain-Wessel had an interest in John being friends with Christie, and providing rare candies for her, that much was clear. But beyond that, John had very little idea about his goals or motivations, and all he knew about his morals was that he was willing to spy on people, use intimidation, and had had at least one guy skinned by a Mexican cartel. Though by implication that last part might have been at least partially deserved.

In the end, though, he could see how much of it he could confirm from elsewhere, and make a call based on that. He sent the message. The phone was barely back in his inventory when he got the response.

[Lord Chastain-Wessel]: Christie and I use in-house medical services and as such, in-depth analysis of local Apothecarial practices and internal politics is not a priority. These are the records on hand that might be pertinent, should you care to do your own.

[Lord Chastain-Wessel]: No Charge.

The first message had a long list of file attachments. A quick look through the files revealed that each was an Apothecary member who had been part of the chapter at Springfield General Hospital within the last ten years, compiled with field speciality, names of apprentices, lengths of apprenticeships, and where the apprentices had gone, lists of known patients with some inferences about ailment, treatment outcome, and cost, lists of known connections, employment or otherwise, to other “significant” guilds, lists of known, owned slaves if any and so on.

For something that was allegedly not a priority, it was shockingly in-depth data. Even considering that the only listings that weren’t marked “incomplete” were the Apothecary names, specialties, and apprentice names. It was also much more than it would have been even remotely possible to put together in the time between John pressing “send” and getting the response. ’... I hope Qhila knows how to get rid of Abyssal spyware…’

He was in view of his house and about to put away his phone when another message rolled in.

[Marisa]: Guess who's back in town.

Attached was a waist up mirror selfie of a topless Marisa, covering her nipples, and squishing her decently sized breasts, with her free arm.

[Marisa]: Wanna hang?

[John]: Yes, especially if you’re going to be dressed like that!

[Marisa]: I already put a shirt on, hope that’s not a dealbreaker :P

John chuckled and altered course slightly towards her back yard instead of his own. As he did so, he sent a message to Qhila.

[John]: [Marisa is back from fighting the Emerald Order. Not sure if that makes it a super short war or where it’s at. In any case I’m gonna check in on her for a bit. And tell her not to be alarmed that you’re ‘visiting’.]

[Qhila]: [Okay. I doubt the war is over, as that would make it extremely short. I lost track of time a little, and will be stuck in the lab for another hour or so, absent crisis.]

John chuckled to himself at the fortuitous timing, and went inside. He found that the “shirt” Marisa had put on had been an oversized black t-shirt once, but since had been cropped so high that when she raised her hand in greeting it rode up enough for a sliver of pink areola to peek out. This, in turn, had John doing the mental equivalent of a loading icon for a moment.

“Could ya grab me a beer from the stack, and something for yourself?”

It took a moment to convince his eyes to look at the stacked boxes of beverage cans instead of the skimpily dressed, athletic blonde. Still, he managed, grabbing their drinks and handing them over for magic cooling. “Welcome home. Is the war already winding down?”

“Winding down?” She laughed briefly. “Not exactly, if anything it’s still ramping up. But the mission was a success and all three friendly casualties are expected to make a full recovery. In no small part thanks to a merc heavy hitter we got deployed with. I had my doubts when the only weapons she brought were guns, but I’ll gladly eat crow on that one. Embers is fuckin’ badass.”

“I’m glad it went well in any case.” He took a sip of his cola. “Why would her only bringing guns be a red flag though? From what I can tell they’re pretty effective.”

“Right. That’d be news to ya. Well, the short version is people who wanna make it big in an Abyssal combat role typically don’t use guns as their main weapon. While working with or against guns is the standard every other way of fighting is measured by when you’re talking grunt level, they can’t keep up with Abyssal elites. There’s a bunch of magic theory mumbo jumbo about why that I’m not enough of a nerd to make heads or tails of, but the short version is they don’t play well with Qi channeling and the ways to work around or make up for that all sum up to either old school breach loaders or being horrendously expensive.”

She took a swig of beer. “Or being the one in a million person with an Innate Ability that works better with modern guns than with anything else, which I’m guessing is where Embers is at. If someone who isn’t just rank and file pulls up with modern guns, it’s usually a safe bet that they’re primarily something non-combat like medical or divinations. If it looks like something from the Civil War, they’re either a complete wannabe or you’re about to see the most bullshit trick shots imagineable.”

“I guess it’s good luck that I haven’t put a bunch of stuff towards getting gun Skills while you were off then.” He chuckled. ’While “crafter with a firearm” isn’t too far off from where I’ve been heading, I want to project enough of an impression of “dangerous if crossed” that people leave my family alone and it sounds like guns isn’t how to do that.’

“Speaking of that, what have you been up to in the meanwhile? Anything exciting?”

“I’ve gone Level grinding, helped a friend with some rat ogres, she’s staying over for a bit by the way since they trashed her old place, knocked Frank on his ass, made Moira’s face turn redder than her hair and disc-” He was stopped by Marisa holding up a hand.

“I need ya to go into more detail about lil’ miss Warden, that sounds fun.”

He proceeded to tell her first about flustering Moira with his parting remark on the day he nearly broke Frank’s arm, drawing some giggles, and then about the conversation today. Hearing about Moira’s spluttering protests when he had suggested she might have a crush on him set Marisa roaring with laughter and slapping her knee. Slapping it exactly once, at which point the laughing very suddenly turned into a wince.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine.” Her voice was slightly strained with pain. “Just forgot to be careful with that leg for a moment.”

Rather than try to decipher that line, John just used Observe and found her to be down 12% HP. Without further ado, he started casting Accelerate Recovery.

Error. Level+INT too low to heal remaining damage.

Marisa chuckled sardonically. “Thanks, Johnny, but I’m one of the three casualties I mentioned, and if that was all it took, I wouldn’t have been sent on medical leave. The Goldie healers may not be Apothecaries, but they’ve got plenty of experience with combat injuries.”

His face must have made his questions clear, because she continued before he had managed to put them into words, “I got hit with a minor wound curse. All it does is stop stuff like what you just tried. It’ll go away when the injury is healed, but breaking it early takes a bunch of mana or a pile of cash for people with the right expertise, and the bigwigs figured those resources were better spent elsewhere. So I’m recovering mundane style.”

“Well, shit. If there’s anything else I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Weeellll…” In her usual quick-change way, Marisa flipped instantly from sardonic annoyance to a mischievous smirk. “My usual ways of relieving stress need a fully functional pair of legs.