Chapter 86: Marina Awakens
Marina grasped Marhal's hand and rose to her feet. The next thing she saw upon opening her eyes were the grotesque earthen structures sprouting up all around them, and Ales sitting on the ground in a daze. The greedy middle-aged landlord looked twenty years older in an instant.
She wasn't much different. Though her loss of sight had been brief, to her it had felt like years.
"What the hell did you do? I heard something about demons."
"I used my trump card. Looks like the others escaped fine too, so let's go."
"What about that guy?"
"Leave him. He won't be a problem anymore."
Marina straightened her disheveled clothes. After sprinting across the wasteland, covered in dust, and rolling on the ground, her outfit was caked in dirt. But as she looked down at herself, she froze. Her clothes looked dyed in blood. If hers were like this, what about the owner of that blood?
Her gaze turned to Marhal. The moonlight was bright enough to make out the color staining his clothes. What had been brown was now soaked black with blood and sweat. Marhal's face was pale too. He wasn't in any condition to be moving.
Marina glanced at her own body. Blood stained her clothes, sweat beaded on her skin, and there were a few scratches on her face and hands. Suddenly, she felt utterly pathetic. She'd come to help, but she'd only been dead weight.
Pretending to stay calm, she brushed off the dust with a gust of wind and smoothed her wrinkled garments. Ales, clutching his injured leg and groaning a few times aside, stayed quiet.
"It's really quiet now."
"Told you so. Didn't believe me?"
"I filter what human trash says."
"Trash? That's harsh."
"You said you were trash yourself."
"Can't even take a joke. Not even a joke."
Marina narrowed her eyes and glared at Marhal.
"W-what?"
"Nothing. I have no words for trash who doesn't understand people. Let's go."
"Mm, that might be tough. I held out as long as I could, but... the bleeding's too much..."
"Marhal?"
Marhal's body pitched forward. Marina caught him as he collapsed. The moment she did, she could tell how cold he was. Her own face drained of color. Now she saw the arrows embedded in his back. Blood trickled from them. One arm hung limp at an unnatural angle. She wasn't a medical expert, but she knew the signs of death in a person. If left like this, Marhal would die.
But she had no idea how to heal someone. Marina snapped her head up. There was someone in front of her who could treat human wounds. A human who wielded what they called miracles.
Marina supported Marhal and dragged him in front of Ales.
"Heal him."
"Can't you see this? I'm about to die m—"
Ales, pointing at his grotesquely twisted leg in protest, shut his mouth at the fireball that appeared before him.
"Would you prefer dying like that? Or roasted by a lowly mage's flames? I have spells that can burn a person slowly to death. Don't give me excuses about not being able to. I know what kind of wounds you specialized in treating before you were defrocked."
Ales was a priest specializing in trauma care. His demotion and flight to the West surely had something to do with his miracles. Who knew that bit of overheard intel would prove useful here?
Under Marina's razor-sharp pressure, Ales hesitantly placed his hands on Marhal's wounds.
"I'm God's proxy... God's proxy...!"
"Cut the crap and heal him. Like I said, I know what kind of man you are."
Ales pulled the arrows from Marhal's body and treated the wounds. But it didn't last long. Sweat poured from Ales's brow. The wounds wouldn't close. Marhal's injuries were severe, but Ales had healed worse many times. This shouldn't be impossible.
"Want to be roasted?"
"I'm trying! What do you expect when it won't heal?!"
Who could play the victim with a fireball shoved in their face? His leg hurt like hell, and he couldn't even use his miracles properly. Ales felt wronged.
"Then how about emergency treatment?"
"That much, maybe..."
"Do it."
As Ales treated Marhal's wounds, he noticed strange traces. On the arms, legs, and several fatal spots, he found marks of miracles. It wasn't proper healing. The damaged muscles and nerves were left as-is, with only the skin regenerated to force movement. That explained how he'd kept going despite wounds that would kill a high knight.
Ales glanced sideways.
"Whining again?"
The Union's top mage could surely handle simple miracles—no surprise there. It was an open secret that some mages and high nobles learned them from the church. He continued the treatment. Full recovery was tough, but emergency care wasn't. The easily infected wounds were already partially healed, which helped. If left alone, it'd fester from the inside, but that was Marhal's problem.
"Done. Now get lost!"
"I'd go even without you saying. Let's never meet again."
Marina hoisted Marhal onto her back. Wrapping herself in wind, she began to run. She moved faster than a horse. Watching her go, Ales muttered,
"Monster bitch."
It was a night bathed in brilliant moonlight.
Marina ran without even realizing she was out of breath. Marhal's wounds were just emergency-treated. Without proper care, he was in danger. Her own condition wasn't normal either. Though only once, allowing that curse had taken its toll. Ales's curse had stripped away all the spells she normally wrapped around herself. Especially her eyes.
Her eyes were a perfect magical substitute for vision, a masterpiece she'd spent ages perfecting even with the Silanatiell name. Rebuilding the lost mystery of sight wasn't easy for her. Her vision was blurry. If her magic-made sight wasn't sharp, it meant her mind wasn't either.
But she couldn't pass out. In the true wasteland with no one around, sure—but this was a sort of road between cities. If someone with ill intent found her unconscious, even she couldn't cope.
The moon set, and light slowly rose from the wasteland horizon. The long night ended, dawn breaking. In her exhausted ears rang a familiar voice.
"Union mage? Job done safely?"
"That knight."
"Is he alright?"
"Severe injuries. Emergency treatment done, but he needs a priest again. Take him to the city..."
Those were her last words before blacking out.
Marhal woke to his whole body burning in pain, grimacing fiercely. Opening his eyes, he saw a horse's flank. His limbs were bound, immobile.
Daytime at least. We escaped.
Before Marhal could speak, a frantic voice pierced his ears.
"You! You're awake!"
Holy Empire tongue. Woman. A voice he'd heard once. Ultekan's wife. The horse halted. In his unfocused vision appeared dark, tanned skin.
"Ultekan?"
"Awake? Sun's just hit its peak."
"No days passed, right?"
"Nope."
"Untie me first."
Ultekan swung his chakram, slicing the bonds cleanly. Marhal stood on his own feet.
"Any dead or injured? Why? Who died?"
"...You're something else. No deaths. Injured are all recovered."
"Good."
They'd drawn Ales's attention by literally demolishing his house—no way they'd been in danger. Ultekan's men combined wouldn't match half Marhal's wounds. He knew that. How many could ask about others' injuries first in his shoes? Even Ultekan wasn't sure he'd do the same.
"Ultekan's wife, right? Must've worried all night."
"No, it's fine."
Ultekan's wife was a bright-smiling beauty. She didn't look like someone who'd fled the city at night. Even in casual clothes instead of nun's robes, she fit perfectly. Unlike most clergy helpless outside church protection, she'd clearly handled rough work even inside.
"That your daughter over there? Cute, takes after her mom."
"Right?"
"How'd you end up marrying a guy like Ultekan?"
"What kinda talk is that?"
Ultekan bristled and shot back, only to get smacked on the back by his wife. The slaps weren't light.
"He was so good to me before marriage. And down there's big."
For a split second, everyone's eyes fixed on Ultekan's lower half. He clamped his mouth shut and mounted his horse.
"Whipped completely."
"He deserves it for what he did."
Ultekan's wife's name was Shavel. In the best way, she wasn't your typical Holy Empire nun.
"You finished treating me, Shavel? Thanks."
"I just wrapped up. The urgent wounds were already treated."
"Were they?"
"Very clean work."
Marhal looked for Marina. She was slumped over a horse like him, still out cold. Unlikely she'd used miracles. Even Mar, versed in all the world's magic, had no knack for wound healing. Simple scratches maybe, but Marhal's were beyond ordinary priests.
Only one person there could've done it: Ales. He could heal Marhal.
Threatened him or something? Hope he doesn't hold grudges and stir trouble.
He'd heard bandits hired mercenaries to snatch deals. He knew Ales meddled from behind, but not to that extent. Hugo handled most business management; Marhal just got reports and set directions. Details needed direct questions to Hugo. He'd be in the West awhile, so he'd sort it out.
Clap! Marhal smacked his hands.
"Since we're stopped, let's eat!"
Ultekan ordered his men to prepare food. They lit a fire with dry grass and stolen wood from the city, adding water and grain to a small pot. A bit of spices and jerky, and a savory aroma wafted up. Marhal and the group hadn't eaten properly since last night, gulping dryly all around.
Ultekan's daughter clung tight to Shavel. Leaving a comfy home for the wasteland full of rough men—Marhal knew best how scary that was for a kid.
With the bubbling pot before him, Marhal asked Shavel,
"Got any plans, Shavel?"
"Gotta do something. You're pretty high up, right, Marhal? Can't you give me a job?"
"What do you want to do?"
"Doctor... won't work, huh?"
Shavel eyed Marhal cautiously. Seeing her mom tense, the girl did too. Without nun status, no miracles—or inquisitors would come knocking. Still wanting to heal people showed her true nature. Marrying Ultekan, called a barbarian by Holy Empire standards, took guts and an open mind. Ultekan was one thing, but Shavel was no slouch either.
"No reason it can't. My village needs a doctor."
"Eh, can you decide that on your own?"
"What can't a landlord do? If I say yes, it's yes."
Hic? Shavel let out a squeak. Eyes wide, she covered her mouth with both hands. Then cautiously asked,
"Landlord... that landlord?"
"That landlord, yeah."
"Uh, um... I didn't realize I was speaking to someone so esteemed..."
"No fuss needed. Landlord or not, I'm just a person."
You could see how much authority Ales put in the word. Probably same in all West villages and cities. They chased lordly or noble airs, blind to how the title trapped them. Landlords had value because they were landlords. Different league from lords.
"Waking up and already charming women?"
"Marina, you're up?"
"Head hurts like hell. Any water?"
Marina undid her ropes with magic and dismounted. Kaban, understanding her imperial tongue, handed over the waterskin from his horse. Marina drained it, conjured more to refill, and emptied another.
"Phew. How's your body?"
"Ultekan married well. Reaped some benefits."
"What about my reward? I'm here empty-handed."
Marina sat beside Marhal and scooped finished porridge into a wooden bowl.
"So, what'll you give me?"
"What can you even take?"
Marina turned her head. Her mystery-filled eyes stared straight at Marhal.