Chapter 6: The Healer's Visit
POV: Adam
Ciri's fury filled the Golden Sturgeon's common room like heat from a forge, making every conversation pause and every head turn toward their table. Her green eyes tracked the blood seeping through Adam's makeshift bandages with the precision of someone cataloging each wound for future reference.
She's been waiting. For how long?
"You could have died!" The words came out sharp enough to cut glass, carrying undertones of an emotion she wasn't ready to name.
Adam eased into the chair across from her, wincing as movement pulled at fresh wounds. "But I didn't. I'm like a cockroach—hard to kill."
The joke fell flat, striking against the wall of her anger without making a dent. If anything, her scowl deepened, carving lines that shouldn't exist on someone her age.
"This isn't funny." Ciri's hands clenched into fists on the table. "Four drowners. You fought four drowners by yourself, at night, when any sane person would have—"
"What? Stayed safe in the castle while fishermen died?" Adam leaned forward, his own temper beginning to fray at the edges. "People were getting killed, Ciri. I had the power to stop it."
"You had the power to get yourself torn apart!"
The silence that followed crackled with tension that had nothing to do with drowners and everything to do with two people discovering they cared more than they'd intended to admit.
She's scared. Not angry—scared. When was the last time someone was scared for her instead of of her?
"Come on." Ciri stood abruptly, her chair scraping against worn floorboards. "We're going to the castle healer."
"I'm fine—"
"No, you're not." She grabbed his uninjured arm with gentle force, pulling him toward the door. "And arguing about it will just waste time."
The castle's healing chamber smelled of herbs and clean linen, a sanctuary of order carved from stone and determination. Olenna proved to be everything Adam had expected from a medieval medical professional—practical, unsentimental, and possessed of hands that moved with the confidence of someone who'd sewn up more wounds than she cared to count.
"Strip to the waist," she commanded, already laying out supplies on a wooden table. "Let's see what the drowners left you."
Adam obeyed, feeling exposed under the healer's clinical gaze and Ciri's more complicated attention. The damage was worse than he'd thought—parallel claw marks across his back, a deep gash on his forearm, and bruising that painted his ribs in shades of purple and black.
"You're either very skilled or very lucky," Olenna said, cleaning wounds with efficiency that suggested she'd done this countless times before. "Probably both. Most people who fight drowners alone don't come back for healing."
[Castle Staff Reputation +10]
[Total Castle Staff Reputation: +15]
"How did you know?" Adam asked Ciri, who'd positioned herself where she could watch the healing process without getting in Olenna's way.
"Word spreads fast in a castle." Ciri's voice carried carefully controlled neutrality. "Especially when someone does something spectacularly stupid."
There's more to it than that. She was specifically waiting for me. Which means...
The healing chamber's door opened with a soft creak, admitting a figure that made Adam's breath catch in his throat. Eist Tuirseach moved with the measured gait of a warrior who'd learned to conserve energy for when it mattered, his presence filling the room with quiet authority.
The man who'll die defending Cintra. The man whose sacrifice buys Ciri time to escape.
"So you're the boy who's been training with Ciri," Eist said, his voice carrying the warmth of someone genuinely amused by what he'd discovered. "And now killing drowners alone. Ambitious."
Adam met the older man's gaze, recognizing the evaluation taking place behind seemingly casual observation. "Ambitious or stupid. I'm still deciding which."
Eist's laugh rumbled from deep in his chest, rich with genuine appreciation. "I like you, boy. Come drink with me when you're healed."
[RELATIONSHIP ESTABLISHED: Eist Tuirseach]
Status: Friendly Stranger
Points: 10/50
The invitation carried weight beyond its casual phrasing. In a world where alliances meant survival and enemies meant death, earning the approval of Cintra's military leader was a currency more valuable than gold.
"I'd be honored," Adam replied, and meant it.
Eist nodded once, satisfaction flickering across his weathered features. "Good. Ciri, see that he doesn't do anything else suicidally heroic until those wounds heal."
He left as quietly as he'd entered, but his presence lingered in the sudden tension between Adam and Ciri.
Olenna finished her work with professional efficiency, leaving them alone in the healing chamber with nothing but herb-scented air and carefully unspoken truths.
Ciri sat on the wooden stool beside Adam's bed, her posture speaking of someone trying very hard to appear casual while her eyes betrayed the depth of her concern.
"Why did you do it?" she asked finally. "The drowners?"
The question deserved honesty, even if the complete truth would sound like madness. "Money. Experience. Needed both."
"You're going to get yourself killed." The words came out softer than her earlier anger, carrying the weight of someone who'd already lost too much to believe in happy endings.
Adam looked at her—really looked—seeing past the royal bearing to the thirteen-year-old girl who'd learned that the world was dangerous and that the people she cared about had a habit of leaving her behind.
In twenty-eight days, she'll lose everyone. Again. Unless I can find a way to change that.
"Maybe," he said, his voice carrying the honesty she deserved. "But I'd rather die fighting than live running. Wouldn't you?"
The pause stretched long enough for the castle's evening sounds to fill it—distant conversations, footsteps in corridors, the soft whisper of wind through stone windows. Ciri's expression cycled through emotions too complex for easy naming.
Finally, she nodded. Slowly, reluctantly, but with understanding that spoke of shared recognition.
[Relationship +10]
Current Points: 40/50
Status: Friend → Close Friend (approaching)
She gets it. The choice between safety and purpose. Between surviving and living.
A familiar blue shimmer materialized in Adam's peripheral vision, invisible to everyone but him.
[MISSION ALERT - Choose One:]
Option A (BLUE): "Protect the Merchants"
Escort caravan to nearby village
Rewards: 200 XP, 30 crowns, +15 Merchant Reputation
Difficulty: Medium
Option B (RED): "Intimidate the Debtor"
Collect debt for loan shark using force
Rewards: 250 XP, 50 crowns, -20 Good Faction Reputation
Difficulty: Hard
Option C (YELLOW): "Scout the Forest"
Map unknown area for cartographer
Rewards: 150 XP, Map Item, +10 Explorer Reputation
Difficulty: Easy
The choice was easy this time. His body needed time to heal, and antagonizing local criminals or risking merchant lives seemed like poor decisions when recovery was the priority.
[Option C Selected: "Scout the Forest"]
[Mission Accepted: Forest Mapping]
[Objective: Chart unexplored regions northeast of Cintra]
[Time Frame: Flexible]
"What are you thinking about?" Ciri asked, noting his momentary distraction.
"Recovery plans. And wondering when you'll stop pretending you don't care whether I get myself killed."
The words hung between them, carrying implications that neither was quite ready to examine too closely. Ciri's cheeks flushed pink, but she didn't look away.
"I care about all my friends," she said, the formality of the statement undermined by the slight tremor in her voice.
"Good to know where I stand."
Friends. For now, that's enough. It has to be.
Two days passed in a haze of healing and careful activity. Ciri visited daily, ostensibly to ensure he didn't undertake any new acts of suicidal heroism, but her presence felt like something more precious than simple friendship.
They talked about everything except the growing tension between them—her frustrations with royal protocol, his observations about Cintra's politics, shared jokes that revealed personalities beneath the roles they played for the rest of the world.
She didn't have to visit. The fact that she chose to spoke of a bond growing stronger with each conversation.
Some things are better left unsaid. For now.
The healing progressed faster than expected, magical enhancement to his constitution making Olenna shake her head in professional amazement. By the third morning, Adam felt ready to face whatever the forest northeast of Cintra might contain.
Low-risk exploration. Time to heal, earn experience, and prepare for whatever comes next.
Twenty-six days until the invasion. Twenty-six days to get strong enough to matter when the black banners appeared on the horizon.
And maybe, just maybe, to figure out why a princess keeps finding excuses to sit beside his bed and pretend she's only checking on a friend.
The forest waited, patient and green and full of mysteries that might prove more dangerous than drowners.
But that was tomorrow's problem. Tonight, he'd count his blessings and plan for survival.
One day at a time. That's all anyone can do.
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