Chapter 43: The Saint of West Street (2/2)
Healing Services for Sale
1 gold to heal any injury
2 gold to cure any illness or poison
”So it looks like you do have enough money now.”
By this point the old man was crying. ”Bless you sir, you're a saint. A true saint.”
Mike once again felt that sense of foreboding.
[I hope this is not going to cause me to gain another strange title. It's already painful enough looking at my [Status].]
”Now, now. I'm just a man getting paid to do a job. Why don't you lead me to the poor woman, and we'll see about what can be done for her.”
The old man led Mike through the confusing tangle of Wyrport's streets, taking him into what he assumed to be the Craftsman's district. The sounds of industry and labor filled the air. The scent of leather, steel, and sweat seemed to saturate the very walls of the buildings they passed by.
Mike was enjoying his quasi-tour through a section of town he had not explored yet, but was starting to feel that this was a bit too much work for a single gold piece.
[I'm going to have to establish a No House Call policy in the future, so I'm not traipsing across the city.]
He also noticed that a large number of the people who had gathered around his stall had taken to following him from a distance. He wasn't precisely sure what they wanted, but their high tension was setting him on edge.
After a good half hour of walking, the old man directed Mike into a crowded tenement building and up to a sparsely furnished apartment.
”She's right in here, Sir Mage.” He said while pulling the door open. ”Mary. I've brought someone who will help you. I've brought a healer.”
As Mike entered the room, he saw the old man kneeling painfully next to a simple wooden bed. A pale and emaciated woman was lying there, shivering almost uncontrollably. Sweat stood out on her forehead, and it was clearly from the glazed and unfocused look in her eyes, that she was suffering from a terrible fever.
He stepped over to the other side of the bed, and laid one hand on her forehead. With an effort of will he started channeling mana into the poor woman. A soft white glow suffused the room, and the old man watched with expectant eyes.
Mike felt some resistance to his magic, almost as if the disease was trying to fight the intrusion of his mana, but he was able to swiftly crush it by adding a little more power. After a few seconds, the woman stopped shivering, her face regained some color, and her breathing grew easier, although she remained unconscious.
Once he could no longer direct mana into the woman, a sign that he had done all he could at this time, he lifted his hand. The woman opened her eyes, blinked once and glanced around the room before settling her gaze on her husband.
”Harold? What's going on?”
The old man, Harold as it turned out, burst into tears again. ”Oh gods. I thought I was going to lose you, Mary.” He looked up at Mike, eyes full of reverence and awe. ”Thank you, Sir Mage. You are truly a saint.”
While he was glad to be able to do a little bit of good with his abilities, Mike was starting to feel a little bit uncomfortable with the whole situation. He decided it would be best to make a quick getaway before the man did something like swearing to become his follower.
”We've been over this. I'm just a man getting paid to do a job. No more, no less. Speaking of payment, if you would be so kind as to hand me the agreed upon fee, I'll be on my way. I'm sure the two of you have some catching up to do.”
”Oh, of course Sir Mage. You are probably very busy. I don't want to hold you up any further.” He said while fishing out the requisite coins.
Mike nodded his thanks and headed back out of the building, hoping that he can put some distance between himself and the overly grateful man.
He had managed to exit the building and cross the street, heading back towards the Adventure's Guild when he heard Harold shouting from above.
”Thank you again, Sir Mage! You saved my wife. I will never forget your generosity. You are a true saint!”
[Argh! Why does he keep calling me that? Is he trying to give me a title? I better get out of here quick.]
He waved at the old man, and started heading away again, but was quickly surrounded by a clamoring group of people.
”Sir Mage. I have sister that can't see. Can you help her?”
”Sir Mage! My knees have been bad for years, can you do anything about them?”
”Please, Sir Mage, my son has been coughing for weeks, and I'm worried it might be something serious.”
A chorus of voices threatened to overwhelm Mike. [Well, I guess I've done it now. Might as well make the best of it I suppose.”
”Alright, that's enough! Form a line, and one at a time, I will listen to your problems.”