Chapter 5 - Killing Time

The infirmary is my second least favorite place in the camp. It is not only crammed, stinky and miserable, but you can clearly see the products of our profession here. Maimed, lacerated, burnt and sick men lie around on makeshift stretchers while the doctors and nurses scramble to treat everyone with limited supplies available. The infirmary is especially busy today thanks to the heavy casualties our forces endured during the assault on the town yesterday.

Even though I've long become numb to violence and shit like that, I barely tolerate being in the infirmary. As I walk Paul through to get him some medical aid, I observe the surroundings. Many of the injured mercs cannot afford magical treatment and only get basic first-aid treatment, which is not nearly enough to heal their horrifying wounds. Those who can't afford treatment or that have wounds too bad to be treated, have no choice but to lay there helplessly and die slowly. Groans and miserable cries are heard all around. Death looms.

I often have nightmares about this place, in which I am mortally injured during combat and doomed to suffer the same fate as all these poor men. In the nightmares, I appear on one of the stretchers, limbs missing, and I bleed slowly to death without receiving any help at all. Thankfully, Jason is always up for going to the bar to help me calm down whenever I have these stupid nightmares, no matter what time it is. Heather does too sometimes.

I glance at Paul. He doesn't look as disturbed as me, probably because he is focused on the crossbow bolt piercing his lower back.

We approach the chief nurse. Her uniform is soaked in blood from having to attend to all these people.

"Hey, I need some help here… 'got hit by a Sulostan bolt..." Paul explains between pained groans.

"Yeah... I can get it removed and patch it up for you, but I recommend getting magical treatment to recover faster." She says.

"Sounds good..."

"That would be 150 Stracian credits."

"Ughhh... I don't have cash right now... do you accept loans?"

The chief nurse extends her arms and points at our surroundings. The infirmary already has hundreds of patients.

"Sorry. We've taken plenty of loans already. We can't take no more."

I offer to pay for Paul's treatment since it was partly my fault he got injured. Besides, I have a bit of money to spare since my wages got raised and I need Paul to be fully operational to go on with my plan to breach the walls.

After the payment is complete, the nurse calls someone over to treat Paul's injury.

An off-duty support mage shows up. Many support mages know how to cast healing spells, so they offer their services when on their free time to gain some extra money.

Paul lays face-down on a stretcher and the support mage removes his chest plate with the help of a nurse. I just stand back and watch.

"Okay, this is gonna hurt like hell, but you must stay still." He instructs Paul.

They then use an arrow extractor to dig into Paul's wound and remove the bolt head without causing more damage. Paul yells loudly.

"AH FUCK! SHIT! IT HURTS!"

Once the bolt has been extracted, the nurse cleans the wound using some vinegar and soap. Then the support mage takes out a wand, a magical instrument often used as a side arm to cast low energy spells. He points it at Paul's wound. I watch curiously as he casts a basic healing spell and Paul's wound disappears in a couple minutes. All that remains on his skin is a faint scar.

"Thank you...that's a lot better..."

The support mage and the nurse fuck off somewhere else without saying anything, they have dozens of men to attend.

"Feeling better, Crow?" I ask while folding my arms.

"Yeah, actually. It stings a bit, but at least I can move better now."

Paul puts his shirt and jacket on again. They are stained with blood.

"What? Do you have any more reckless 'missions' you want to drag me to?"

"Not yet. You should go and get some rest now. We'll continue tomorrow. The Overseer demands results."

"Alright. I still don't get what this is all about, but whatever."

Paul gets up and heads off. However, I'm worried that he might grow resentful of me because it was kind of my fault he got injured. I can't afford to be on his bad side, I need him to proceed with the operation and I don't know if I could replace him. There are not many stealth specialists in this camp.

"Crow." I stop him before he goes.

"What now?" He stops and turns around.

"I'm sorry."

He grins slightly.

"Well then, if you're truly sorry, then don't fucking do that ever again. And consider what I said earlier about that drink."

He goes on his way. I sigh.

Even though every fiber in my body wants to leave the infirmary as soon as possible, there's one more thing I have to do. Heather has been stuck here since she broke her leg in the failed assault, so I decided to give her a visit. I search for her among all this chaos and find her resting in a stretcher. Her leg is covered in thick bandages, and she looks bored out of her mind.

"Hey."

"Look who finally decided to show up!" She greets me.

I sit beside her.

"How are you?"

"Fucked. Completely fucked. I won't be able to work until my leg heals... if that ever happens. I won't get paid either and I can't afford the surgery nor the magical treatment."

"Yeah..."

Heather inspects me head to toe.

"What's with your uniform? All those insignias and the arm band?"

"I struck a deal with the Overseer. I'm a sub-officer now."

Heather laughs out loud but forces herself to stop when her leg pains her.

"You? A sub-officer? Really? You couldn't even lead livestock around if your life depended on it. How do you plan to lead people in battle?"

"I will break your other leg."

She chuckles.

"Okay, I'm joking! But really, I thought you hated the commanding wing of the company."

"I do. But I have my reasons."

"Pft. You do you, I guess."

Heather is visibly in pain from her injury. I offer to pay for the surgery and everything else to help her get back on business, but she is suspicious.

"What? Didn't you say you needed money for treatment?" I ask.

"You never struck me as a philanthropist, Thorne."

 I am confused.

"I don't understand?"

"Come on! We both know you are a cynical bitch. Like me, actually. If you're offering to pay for something so expensive, then you must surely want something in return."

I would love to slap her, but she's right. I decided to come clean.

"I need your help. I'm putting together a strike group after the Overseer's orders. You're one of the few artillery mages I trust enough to do this. Your skills are also indispensable."

"Hah. I don't know, Thorne. I don't wanna get involved with anything related to the Overseer."

I continue persuading her. I can't afford to not have her help. She's one of the few mages here that knows how to use thermobaric spells fully. I find casting those quite difficult sometimes.

"Please."

"Alright, you win. I'll do it." She says after thinking for a minute.

"Great. The-"

"But I want you to do something for me before that." She interrupts me.

Heather then pulls me close to tell me about the details without anyone in the infirmary eavesdropping.

"There's a certain merc named Allan Southset in this camp, he's a combat mage. I want you to help him meet the gods."

I'm a little shocked. I stare at Heather and blink at her.

"Why?"

"Old family feud. That bastard insulted my family's name; he kidnapped my sister and ran away with her a long time ago. We never saw her again. I was itching to kill him when I realized he worked in this company, but I haven't had the opportunity."

"Why not challenge him to a duel with no quarter? Wouldn't that be easier?"

"Thorne. He's a combat mage. I do not wish to commit suicide like that."

 Combat mages are entirely specialized in close quarters combat. They're extremely deadly, as they not only employ magic weapons, but also melee ones. In a traditional Stracian duel, an artillery mage stands no chance against a combat one. The combat mage has superior mobility and would fire first.

"Good point."

"Kill him and I'll partake in whatever bullshit you want me to do without asking questions and with a wide smile on my face."

"I don't know, Heather..."

"Do you want my support or not?"

It's risky. I could straight up get killed or arrested and thrown behind bars. However, I'm well aware that it's extremely easy to hide corpses in the frontlines.

"Deal."

Heather and I shake hands to settle the deal. I then toss her the money needed for the surgery.

"I'll bring you his weapons when I'm done with him." 

Heather grins.

"You're such a lovely person, Thorne!"

I hastily leave the Infirmary. I can't stand it anymore. 

It seems it's time for me to do some murder again. Good thing I have some experience with that. I try to reassure myself; I have already taken so many lives. What's one more?