Raising a Hero

Chapter 77

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(Quirky author's notes not included)

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...Okay, the amount of attention I'd attracted from men since getting to this world was ridiculous, but this was just too much. Screw decorum.

I shot to my feet.

"Thanks for the tea. You look just like your son. Happy travels. Good-bye."

And I was out.

I was never as happy to be walking into the licorice-smelling doctor's office as I did then. I made sure to close the door tightly behind me.

Dr. Mustache jumped a bit, even though the sound wasn't that loud.

"What's got you in a tiffy?" he asked.

"Alarm. Freedom. Relief. What's on the docket for today, Doc?"

And with his usual nature of always floating around at the mellow median for his moods, he went with the flow as though nothing happened.

"The soldiers the duchies been training all winter just arrived. We get to check out the few of them with questionable health. Though why that matters when they're going to get stabbed through."

"Weren't they knights?"

"Knights, soldiers, same difference."

"Not really. There's also cavalry and archers and—"

"Men of violence, that should be general enough. We're going. We see, we poke, we treat, and get back here in time for lunch."

Dr. Mustache's rare, albeit dry and distant, expression of irritation just reminded me of my own, and the next problem I had.

I swore. "Crap, my face."

Dr. Mustache just looked at me, not even bothering to ask.

"Do we have a mask? Or a hood? I need to cover my face?"

The doctor gave a slow blink, then opened a drawer beside him and pulled out a simple cloth mask, the kind that was scented for particularly smelly patients.

But it would hardly do enough. I still had eyes and hair, and—ugh. Why couldn't the doc have assigned me some cool medieval robe-like uniform that came with a hood so I could sulk around like the silent monks?

Once again, procrastination was biting me in the ass. If I had just taken care of covering up sooner like Gus had suggested only half a billion times, I wouldn't have had to deal with mister whats-his-face/brother of my employer asking for marriage. Ugh, and if the soldiers saw my face...

"They're only stopping by here for a few days, then they're moving on," said the doctor, with a tone that said he really didn't care what I did, as long as it didn't interfere with his work.

Still, I put on the mask, hoping it would at least dull the effect.

It didn't. Even when I kept my eyes bowed I still met one too many interested eyes as we walked up and down the main cafeteria of the barracks, which had been cleared for the purpose of our checkups. Most who had been sent here just had a cold or flu, which made sense as it was about that time of the year for it, to which we could only give medicine and tell them to ride in the carriages. Some, however, actually had more serious diseases or injuries that hadn't healed right.