Princess of the Sky

TI'JI

Given Petrus could not see his daughter for himself, he was adamant about getting daily updates on her recovery.

The task was simple. Compile a report of Her Highness's motor functions, stability, and mental state, and present it to His Majesty in words he could understand. Since the princess was more or less passing with flying colors in all of those categories, Ti'ji would have liked to get away with the good old, "Oh, she's doing fine, Your Majesty!" line. But of course, Petrus would not have it; his family was his life—and lifeline—at this point, so perhaps he was justified in getting the details.

"Her bandages have been removed permanently just today," Ti'ji said, smiling at the portrait. "Of course, we will still need to treat what's left of her wounds, but she is definitely on the road to a full recovery, Your Majesty."

Petrus's portrait remained unchanged. "How is she handling the healing process?"

Ti'ji put his hands behind his back, standing on his toes for a second. "Jovially," he said. "And between you and me, much better than dear Luma would handle a minor scrape."

Petrus chuckled. "Good then," he said as the herald brightened. The colors in his portrait also became more vibrant. "I will expect similar daily updates up until the point she is no longer bed-ridden."

"You will receive them, Your Majesty."

"And before you take your leave, I wanted to ask you something, Good Doctor."

"Your Majesty?"

"How has your time been here?"

"I am honored to be indentured to your service, Your Majesty..." Ti'ji's face sunk a bit. "Not many slaves can attest to being paid the hefty sum you allot to me... I hardly feel like a slave at all." The words seemed to escape the Good Doctor's mouth like tar. But just because I'm treated better doesn't mean I'm still not a slave.

"I admire your honesty, but that hardly answers the question." A deep chuckle resonated from out of the herald. "Where would you rather be right now?"

Ti'ji cocked a brow.

"Here," Petrus began, "or back in the dire straits of Sarkans?"

"I—" Ti'ji gulped audibly. "May I... may I be frank?"

"Speak your mind."

"I had many people I cared about, back in my homeland," Ti'ji said sadly. "I was a miracle worker I suppose, for a time. People, sometimes from distant lands, would come with great tumors in their limbs. I had a few myself that would otherwise have been incurable."

"Go on."

Ti'ji's gazed turned to the ground, and he sidestepped a bit, nervous. "I worked with prosthetics, among other things." He tapped his metal foot on the ground. "Aether can act as a channel for information much like the setup you have here; we can study the nervous system and create types of bridges to the nerves and muscular structure."

Petrus remained silent.

"But it's seldom I get to use those skills here..." Ti'ji glanced to the side, trailing off. "I don't feel... needed here. I mean—"

"You are fine," Petrus said. "Continue."

Ti'ji nodded. "There's been the case of soldiers and staff coming through with ailments, and the risk with dabbling into aethermancy—such as in Her Highness's case—but I fear for all the people that are dying because I left them." Ti'ji's tried to blink back his oncoming tears.

"Do you want to help somewhere else?"

Ti'ji's gazed perked up. "What?"

"You didn't leave them, exactly," Petrus said. "And I will not send you back. But many people in similar circumstances are here in Civetia. I can allot you funds, and you can do so much more than you ever have in your entire life."