War of Dawn

Chapter 22: Report

Once more, Hilda finds herself in the infirmary. At least it's not as bad as last time – only her hands are in dire need of healing. The burns didn't feel as bad when the adrenaline was rushing through her but, as things calmed down, it feels like she shoved her hands into a smelter. Through and through, her palms are covered in blisters and torn skin, more than a little swollen, all compounded by a smorgasbord of red, white and purple colors. It hurts as bad as it looks, too: like dozens of nails have been jammed into her flesh and a particularly sadistic craftsman is trying to hammer them in. Hilda's been regretting her desperate – and ineffective – attempt at escaping that Valnr's spell for the past half hour.

Matu's been hard at work since she arrived, a spell conjuring streams of green lights around his fingers. He's been running them over every square centimeter of burnt skin, slowly but surely restoring it all to its normal state. Doing so means popping those blisters and Hilda needed to bite down on a piece of cloth to keep her pained roars under control. With all those gone, however, it has been smooth sailing.

"You got lucky – those were only second degree burns," Matu says as he wraps both her hands in bandages. "Had it been worse, healing would have been a lot slower and much more painful. Or parts of your hand might have needed amputation."

Hilda cringes at the thought. "I kinda need my hands whole to do this work, you know..."

"Well, Alterium can be used to make small replacements, so losing a finger or two won't end your career as a warrior. It takes a while to get used to it, however."

Matu punctuates his words by lifting the left cuff of his white woolen pants. Hilda's gaze widens immediately, as she sees a chunk of Alterium replacing the outer half of his calf. It is melded directly with the flesh, as though it is a naturally occurring part of the doctor's body, glowing with green energy veins across its smooth red surface.

"How did that happen...?" she gapes at it, though Matu doesn't seem bothered by her staring.

"Occupational hazard, you know how it is. All it takes is one attack in the wrong place," he answers without a pang of hesitation, likely used to telling this story to other Novitiates. "Legs are easily replaced, same as fingers, flesh and bone – but not the hands. The seals of the body are located in the palms and if they, or their vessels in the elbows and shoulders, are damaged enough, there is no fixing them."

Hilda can't even find it in herself to say anything, a chill running down her spine as she think what'd be of her were she to lose an arm. Between fighting with a two-handed blade and waitressing, everything she's done over the past years has been dependent on the things. Matu notices the worry in her narrowed lips and curved eyebrows, a satisfied huff leaving his nose as his point has been made. With a few more finishing touches, the bandage wraps around her hands are finished.

Cleaning his bloodstained hands on the piece of cloth Hilda was using, he raises his index finger in warning. "I say all that because you've been quite the regular client here – more than the usual Novitiate. From what I've heard, you're rather reckless in how you fight, so you ought to tone that down before it is too late."

"Blame it on fate for getting a kick out of screwing me over, doctor." Hilda shrugs as she moves her stiffened hands around.

Matu raises an eyebrow at her. "Oh? You believe in fate?"

"I want to." Hilda takes in a deep breath and closes her eyes, the words that come out of her lips bearing a dark, rueful tone. "Couldn't have made it this far otherwise..."

"You did not answer my question," the doctor asks, staring at her like she's a sample he's studying.

"Truth is, I'm still trying to convince myself..." she lets out a light scoff. "I'll let you know how that turns out."