After a lot of back and forth, the king performed some ink transfers of different documents and Michael read them for the Prince to make sure that they accurately represented the deal they’d already agreed to verbally. Once they were done the Prince made another attempt at a smile and King Marlo returned it and stood again to hold out his hand. The King and Prince shook hands.

  Aza turned to Michael and bowed, surprising him. “I owe this to you.”

  Michael shook his head. “No. You and your people earned this.”

  Aza shook his head, but didn’t disagree. He looked to King Marlo. “I wish to sleep. This has been a long day for me.”

  “Of course,” replied King Marlo, gesturing to a servant. “Please escort him back to his chambers.”

  The servant bowed and led Aza out of the room. Michael noticed several royal guards following him as well.

  With Aza gone, Marlo turned his attention fully to Michael and Ollie.

  “I don’t know if Hume would still have two cities if you hadn’t been here,” he said to them. “I never would’ve expected two takers that deserted from Stent would wind up helping us here.”

  “It was-”

  “The will of the divine?” asked King Marlo with a smile.

  “Yes,” replied Michael, a bit of the wind taken from his sails.

  “I’ve been collecting reports about both of you since you were first mentioned by the Knight-Captain. I know how powerful you both are, I know the names of the gods, and I know of your claims that worshipping them is the key to ending the rifts.”

  Michael frowned, not wanting to speak until King Marlo was finished making whatever point he was headed toward.

  “I’ve had dreams recently… A person in the guise of someone I love telling me to protect what I care about. My Kingdom, my children, my people.” He paused. “I don’t like it. Being told to do something I was already going to do.”

  Ollie nodded, clearly empathizing.

  “That said, I have seen the impact you and your gods have had on our battle against the rifts. I am not blind to the effects it has had on our people and our morale.”

  “So you’ll support it?” asked Michael.

  “I will not only support it. I will sponsor it. If it keeps my people alive and my Kingdom intact I will publicly convert to encourage it.”

  “But you do not care for the gods yourself?”

  “They’ve been gone a long time and I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

  Michael cocked his head. “Would you appreciate being healed?”

  He scoffed. “My illness isn’t a wound. It’s not a simple disease a man can catch from drinking the wrong water. It’s not even a lost limb that you can recreate. My ancestors have had healers, doctors, alchemists, and madmen attempt to cure my illness. I have combed texts left behind by takers, and torn apart the library in my youth looking for something that would help. Some panacea that could cure my illness. I learned that what ails me is genetic. A weakness caused by generations of close couplings between my ancestors. It is why I chose my queen, that and her companionship. The only cure will be generations of correcting the mistakes of my ancestors. Same as the cure for many things here…”

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Bren frowned behind him. “Sir. May I speak.”

  King Marlo clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

  “Why not let him try? Even if it simply alleviates things, won’t that be worth doing? I have read the same reports as you. If he can heal as well as they say, there’s a chance, isn’t there?”

  Michael could hear the gods encouraging him to try, but he felt that mentioning that to the King might not have the effect he was looking for.

  Michael kept quiet. When he’d first arrived in Hume and heard that the King was sickly he’d immediately seen this path. He himself wasn’t certain that he’d be able to heal him. From what he understood the man was at least severely anemic, but likely had a host of other issues as well. The fact that he could move as well as he could was likely due to the slew of Titles and Deeds he had as the king of Hume. He remembered the vision of a mage and a king standing with him alongside an army of the faithful. Based on everything he’d seen, the king next to him was likely Marlo. Beyond all of that though Michael wanted to heal the man. It was the right thing to do.

  Marlo let out a breath and shook his head. “I’m being petulant for no reason. If it doesn’t work then it costs me nothing to have tried.”

  Michael nodded, stepping forward as he began to channel healing energy into his hand. He held it out to the king, who reached out and took it. Michael began to push healing energy toward the King, feeling what was wrong with him. He could sense the thinness of his blood, ulcers, muscle weakness, and a host of other problems. The man must be in some form of pain almost constantly based on what he could feel. He knew that wasn’t everything though. He began to push further, sending more healing energy into the king’s body as he sought to find every problem, every imperfection he could. He could feel his focus straining as he looked for smaller, and smaller problems. He began to add cleansing fire along with the healing energy. Rooting out a number of viruses and infections that were nested within the King’s body, and then he pushed deeper.

  Ollie, sensing his strain, and knowing a lot about his healing from what he’d seen before, stepped up behind him and removed his hat, placing it on Michael’s head.

  Michael’s concentration improved massively the instant the hat went onto his head. He could feel the issues in the king’s body on a cellular level, and then even further than that. It wasn’t a perfect sense, he wasn’t a doctor or a geneticist, but his healing gave him a sense of what was right and what was wrong, and the gods guided him as he began to push more healing energy through his hand.

  He and the king glowed gold for nearly an hour straight. On one occasion Bren attempted to stop it, but King Marlo raised up a hand to stop him.

  Michael had never healed anyone at this level, at this depth before, and it felt as if he was healing one hundred men at once. Sweat was dripping from his forehead and onto the fine carpet on which he stood. Finally, he pushed a final burst of healing energy and cleansing fire into the king, golden light blinding everyone in the room for several moments as it exploded outward from them.

  As the light faded and everyone’s eyes adjusted, Michael could only hear the sounds of his own breathing. He released the King’s hand and stepped back, taking a moment to remove the hat from his head and hand it back to Ollie.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem, mate.”

  King Marlo stayed still for a moment. His color was better, his eyes less sunken, and his cheeks a bit rounder. He lifted a hand and looked at either side of it. He clenched and unclenched his fist several times.

  “Interesting,” he said as he reached into his doublet and pulled out a small knife.

  “Marlo!” yelled Bren as he stepped toward him, but it was too late. The King pricked his finger with the knife.

  “It’s okay. If I bleed too much he can heal me again.”

  They all stopped, and watched as several drops of blood landed on the carpet, mingling with where Michael had been sweating only a moment earlier. They waited for several minutes, then the bleeding stopped.

  Marlo smiled.

  “I’m hungry too. I don’t think I’ve felt genuinely hungry for years.”

  Bren was looking at his King with wonder in his eyes and a smile across his face.

  “I will have the servants prepare a meal for you my lord.”

  “Have them prepare one to eat with the children.” He turned to Michael. “Is this permanent? Will my body fail again?”

  Michael shook his head. “I’ve healed every part of you. You won’t be immune to illness, but what was affecting you up until this point has been removed.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “This isn’t why I called you here, I never expected this to be possible.”

  “What did you call us here for then? Just the congratulations?”

  “I called you here to bestow new titles on you both, make sure that the Prince was well protected, to hear first hand about your understanding of the rifts, and to introduce you to someone who needs your help.”

  Michael frowned. “Who?”

  Marlo turned to Bren and nodded at him. Bren walked over to the entrance and opened it to let in a man with thick black hair and a wispy mustache. There was no armor or weapons on him, but he radiated danger and in his hand was a small black book.

  “Bayle?” exclaimed Ollie.