Dawn seeped through the infirmary's arched windows in thin bars of amber. Lucian had just finished tying off a fresh bandage when Finley bustled in, cheeks pink with the first morning chill.
"You didn't sleep at all," she scolded gently.
"Spent two years sleeping on stone," he said, rolling his shoulder. "Feather beds make me restless."
"Stubborn mule," she muttered, but the smile that tugged her mouth ruined the rebuke. "Come—porridge first, then rounds."
The Sisters served wheat-and-barley gruel laced with honey. Lucian devoured two bowls before Finley plucked the spoon from his hand.
"Patients," she reminded him, tapping her ledger. "Half the garrison limps in today for their monthly 'routine beating.'"
"Marvelous." He wiped his chin and followed her between cots.
Their first case was a broad-backed mercenary named Veneris. He sat hunched on the edge of his bed, eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights.
"Back's been fired for years," he rasped. "Heal-mages smother it for a few hours, then it screams worse."
Finley turned pleading eyes on Lucian. Show him, they seemed to say.
Lucian obliged. Touching the man's wrist, he triggered his Blessing. Letters shimmered above the mercenary's head:
❰Status – Veneris❱
Habitual pelvis twist · Chronic lower-back strain · Rhinitis
"Your pelvis is crooked," Lucian announced. "Left side rides higher, pinching the spine."
Veneris blinked. "Can you fix it?"
Lucian indicated the floor. "Lie flat, face down."
Finley watched wide-eyed as Lucian knelt astride the mercenary's hips. He planted his hands along the lumbar vertebrae.
"Breathe in, count to three, then let it go."
Veneris inhaled. On the exhale, Lucian drove his palms downward.
CRACK–CRACK.
The mercenary howled—then abruptly fell silent, eyes round as moons.
"Saints above," he whispered, flexing his legs. "The fire's gone."
Finley clapped a hand to her mouth. Green text drifted across Lucian's sight:
Healed: Veneris' Back Pain — Essence +10
Veneris sat up slowly, awe morphing into delight. He seized a small purse from the bedside table, counted a shining silver coin, and pressed it into Lucian's palm.
"Worth ten times that, but it's all I've got," he said. "Buy yourself a feast, Bonesetter."
Lucian's throat tightened. "Thank you." One down—only twenty-nine more to replace.