After the destruction of the monster nest, it took every adventurer in the city less than a week over day and night to clear the city of its infestation. Tales traveled lightning fast through the canopy of the battles being fought in the city below, and the people found a new hope they hadn’t seen since the infestation began. Even better, none of the masked men had shown their faces since.

  Benedict heard all of it, yet experienced none, as he spent time in the infirmary with his cursed wound elevated on its own pillow. Potions, patches, spells all worked on it like trying to douse a wildfire with a garden hose. He moved the blanket until he could see his leg. It was only recently the black tendrils had withdrawn enough that he couldn’t see them extending past the bandage wrapping the wound.

  A knock came at the door. “It’s Amalyn! We’re back.”

  Even in a fantasy world, the hospital gown reigned supreme, except on Benedict it was a simple long, thin tunic. He flicked the blanket back over himself.

  “Come in,” he said.

  Amalyn walked in with Celica following her. She carried a steaming wood box on the end of a rope. Dirt covered both their faces, as well as the remnants of scrapes and bruises not serious enough to waste a healing potion on. Amalyn placed the box on the table beside Benedict’s bed and opened it to reveal some choice pieces of grilled meats.

  “We know infirmary food isn’t the greatest,” she said with a sheepish smile.

  Benedict smiled back and started eating. “It’s appreciated.”

  “Would you mind if I looked at the curse?” Celica asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  Celica lifted the blanket, considerately avoiding anything that might expose him, and unwrapped the bandage. While the black had mostly retreated, there were still tendrils winding around the wound itself. When Celica brought up the formula, she let out a relieved sigh.

  “It should only last another day or so, if I have the decay rate right. I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out a way to break this curse.”

  “Is it that source you can’t identify?”

  “It is. I was worried this one might be permanent.”

  “Even with high intelligence, could a monster do such a thing?” Amalyn asked.

  Celica furrowed her brow. “Unlikely via the normal techniques, but this Source is unknown. It may be more able to create permanent curses than normal.”

  “What are the normal techniques?” Benedict asked.

  “A curse requires enough power to work. That power slowly dissipates as the curse is in effect until it dissipates. To curse someone permanently, you need to have it refresh via its own Link, which is very difficult to do. Such thaumaturgy is outlawed, but you can always find those willing to do evil out of sight.”

  Yet Shiyo had just such a permanent curse. Who could have done such a thing, and could it even be broken?

  “How is Shiyo?” Benedict asked.

  “Worse off than you,” Celica replied, staring at the floor. “As far as the doctors can tell, the curse gets more intense as you use your muscles.”

  Benedict winced. “So even breathing is going to hurt her.” A cane leaned on the table. Technically, it was to help him walk around the room. “Let’s see her ourselves.”

  Celica and Amalyn glanced at each other and sighed, then stood on either side of Benedict as he moved off the bed. The moment the muscles in his calf flexed, the pain came back. It was less intense than the past couple of days, but that didn’t make its existence any less unpleasant. The women took one arm each and helped him stand without putting too much force on his bad leg. They only needed to help long enough so that he could get his cane underneath him.

  Shiyo was next door, laying under a thin sheet. Her breaths were ragged and accompanied by pained grunts, with her fingers gripping the sheet until her knuckles were white. Regardless, she managed something of a smile when they walked into the room.

  “How’s your leg?” she asked, voice little more than a pained whisper.

  “Better now,” Benedict replied. “What about you?”

  “Awful.”

  “I’m sorry,” Celica said.

  “I’ve been in worse shape without protecting someone. Don’t worry about it.” Shiyo’s eyes went to Amalyn. “You’re uninjured?”

  “My brother didn’t hit me with a curse.”

  One of the doctors, a young woman in the kind of robe Benedict associated with wizards, walked through the open door. “I didn’t realize she had visitors.” Her eyes locked onto Benedict. “Especially ones who should be in bed.”

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “I wanted to see how my comrade was doing,” Benedict said.

  “Your curse, like hers, hasn’t dispelled yet. Sit!”

  “It’s fine, see?”

  In an inadvisable moment, Benedict briefly lifted the cane and put his weight on the cursed leg. All attempts to hide the pain failed as it stabbed through him. The doctor walked around, moved a chair behind him, and pushed him back. Having no real balance with only one good leg, he toppled backward and landed perfectly in the chair. Then his bad foot struck the ground, causing more pain.

  Celica and Amalyn held in giggles as the doctor settled Benedict into the seat, including propping his foot on a stool. She finished by blindfolding him, then tying his arms down.

  “Is this necessary?” Benedict asked.

  “You need to stay in place to avoid causing further pain,” the doctor replied.

  “I mean the blindfold. It itches.”

  “If you had stayed in your room, I wouldn’t have to protect her dignity.”

  Amalyn finally broke and let out a laugh. “You really know how to handle men, don’t you?”

  “You’d be surprised the number of stubborn adventurers who don’t take enough healing potions with them.”

  Benedict sat with the torture of being unable to scratch everywhere around his eyes. The doctor spoke to Shiyo in a low, calming register he could barely hear. When the doctor finally removed the blindfold and restraints, he scratched the horrific itch.

  “You didn’t peek, did you?” she asked.

  “He know what would happen if he did,” Shiyo murmured.

  “Three times over,” Celica added in the sweetest possible voice.

  “How could I?” Benedict asked.

  The doctor sat on the edge of Shiyo’s bed. “There is one advantage to you both being here. Near as I can tell, your bodies have healed completely from the initial injuries. All this curse is doing is causing pain, but no further damage. At its decay rate, both of you should be clear within a day. I believe I can ease the pain until then with a relatively simple blessing. I need your permission to do so, obviously. Doctor’s code and all.”

  “Yes, plea—ah!” Shiyo grabbed herself and held in the pain of speaking.

  “Careful, Shiyo,” Celica said.

  “I think I’ll give it a shot, too,” Benedict said.

  The doctor immediately started writing a formula in midair with one hand while pulling out a wand with the other. “This will only take a moment. She will receive it first, as it seems more urgent. You understand.”

  “Of course.”

  Once she finished the formula, the doctor placed it in the wand then motioned to the women behind Benedict. A pair of hands flew over his eyes; something he should have expected. When they pulled away, Shiyo sat up, feeling her torso where the wounds were. That was when the doctor moved on to Benedict. The moment it touched the black on his skin, the wand flashed.

  “Try to walk on it,” the doctor said as she pulled the wand away. “Tell me how it feels.”

  With trepidation, Benedict stood, first using the cane to support his cursed leg. The pain didn’t come back, so he settled himself more until all his weight was on the bad leg. Something felt off, but there was no pain. It was almost like his entire calf had fallen asleep, but his foot had not. Everything still worked, though. Shiyo stood and breathed deep, something she seemed to take great pleasure in, then felt around her body. Benedict looked away when her hands neared her breasts.

  “How does it feel?” the doctor asked.

  “Your blessing took away all the pain, I think,” Benedict replied.

  “It feels strange, but there’s no pain,” Shiyo said.

  The doctor began writing in a notebook. “Excellent. You two may leave, but if the pain reappears, come back quickly.”

  “We will make sure they take care of themselves,” Celica said.

  “Please do.”

  Outside, Benedict finally saw the cheer instead of simply hearing about it. Individual bards walked up and down the canopy’s streets, singing about the victories of the past week. Random citizens—from the lower classes, nobles, and adventurers alike—joined in their revelry by dancing and singing along, and many knew the words. The bards must have been singing those same ones for a while. Even those who didn’t join in directly enjoyed the festivities with food and general enjoyment.

  A woman came up to them, stopping in front of Benedict. “Please, sir, I need to know, are you betrothed?”

  Um… I… no, ma’am,” Benedict stammered.

  “Married, then?”

  “No.”

  “Then you are in need of a good woman like my daughter. She’s young, beautiful, and knows everything there is to know about keeping a home; quite worthy of a man such as yourself. Even the best adventurer needs someone to come home to.”

  “I’m flattered, ma’am, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

  “One look at her, and you’ll change your mind. Trust me. She is waiting nearby.”

  The woman pointed, and Benedict followed her gesture. At a corner stood a woman around Benedict’s age wearing a flattering yet modest dress. Her hair fell all the way to her waist and was a distinct red. She looked at Benedict over her shoulder, shyly turning away when she noticed him looking at her.

  Amalyn latched onto Benedict’s arm and snuggled close to him. He felt her bare skin on his, belatedly realizing that she had shoved that arm between her breasts. His face warmed and he looked away from her.

  “Your daughter would be fortunate to have such a man; believe me, I know,” Amalyn said, squeezing his arm.

  The woman gasped. “I apologize. I didn’t realize you and he were…”

  “Do not worry, ma’am. There are other adventurers worthy of your daughter, I’m sure.”

  “You have found a good man.”

  “I know.”

  With a significantly more dejected voice, the woman apologized a second time and walked to her daughter, who hung her head. Still, the daughter waved as they departed from sight completely.

  Amalyn pulled away and patted Benedict on the back. “You’re welcome.”

  “What is going on here?” Benedict asked.

  “They’re calling us heroes,” Celica answered.

  “How did they know?” Shiyo murmured.

  “It was one of Astei’s party, for sure.”

  “You should see the place they gave us to stay,” Amalyn said, leading everyone down a side street.

  At the end of said street, taking up its own platform, was a two story circular building surrounded by a covered porch that reminded Benedict of the antebellum South, with columns along the edges supporting the roof. A pair of windows decorated the double doors at the entrance. Ordra stood in front of it, leaning on the railing around the platform.

  Kirion came through the doors, standing tall. Behind him came a woman who looked to be in her thirties at least. Her dress hung off her shoulders, despite her continuing attempts to put it up there. She turned to Kirion and bowed before walking away. Amalyn grumbled something Benedict didn’t hear under her breath.

  “They survive!” Kirion shouted.

  “Doctor gave us a blessing to keep the pain down,” Benedict said.

  “And none too soon,” Ordra said. “We’ve been invited to the magistrate’s home for a party. It happens in two days.”