The Temple Strikes Back

Three days had passed since the whole impromptu orphanage episode, and I was already regretting it. Not because I felt guilty — on the contrary, the kids no longer looked like scarecrows and smelled a hell of a lot less like death — but because my little act of kindness had triggered something I hadn’t planned for.

Rumors.

Bloody. Damn. Rumors.

It started harmlessly enough: a few inn patrons whispering while throwing me sideways glances. Then the chatter spread to the marketplace — merchants would break off conversations the moment I walked by. And now? It felt like the entire damn town was staring at me like I was some sort of exotic animal in a traveling circus.

"The healer of the poor," I grumbled, stirring a willow bark decoction in a bowl. "Healer, my ass. I’m a doctor, not one of those Temple frauds."

Pururun, perched on the table, vibrated in agreement. Lately, she had developed this habit of approving everything I said. It was both flattering and… slightly concerning.

Knock, knock, knock.

Before I could answer, the door flew open. Lena stormed in without waiting — because of course she did. Social conventions? She’s never heard of them.

"Ethan! We need to talk!"

"Well good morning to you too," I replied dryly. "Come on in, make yourself at home."

She was out of breath, cheeks flushed, hair slightly disheveled. Pururun, predictably, greeted her with a toothpaste blob that Lena deftly sidestepped. At this point, they were like two rival cats.

"People are talking about you in town," she said, cutting to the chase.

"No sht. I hadn’t noticed."

"No, you don’t get it. They’re REALLY talking. Mom overheard the butcher telling his wife that you might be… an ‘elect of the gods’ in disguise."

I almost choked on my own saliva.
"A WHAT?"

"An elect of the gods! You know, those legendary heroes who appear in times of crisis to save the world!"

"Oh for fck’s sake," I muttered. "All this because of the damn boar?"

She sat down on my bed uninvited, making Pururun vibrate in jealous indignation. Their dynamic was seriously starting to get on my nerves.

"The blacksmith said your ‘potions’ work better than the Temple’s blessings. His wife had chronic headaches for months, and your willow bark brew cured her in a few hours."

"It’s natural aspirin," I muttered. "Any halfway competent doctor should know that."

"Doctors? You’re forgetting — here, it’s priests who ‘heal.’ They wave their hands and mumble prayers. You actually give people real remedies, like an apothecary."

And that’s when the scope of the problem hit me. In a world where medicine was basically religious stage magic, practicing real medicine was tantamount to sorcery. And sorcery? Sorcery got noticed. Especially by the Temple.

"Do the priests know?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

Lena’s face darkened.
"Father Matthias came by this morning. He was asking questions. Subtly, but Mom noticed."

Of course he was. Fraudsters don’t like competition — especially effective, free competition. I’d stepped on their monopoly, and they weren’t going to let that slide.

"What kind of questions?"

"Where you came from. What exactly you do. Which Church you belong to."

"And your mom said…?"

"She told him she doesn’t know much. That you arrived a few weeks ago with your ‘familiar,’ and that you help people out of the kindness of your heart."

I grimaced. “Kindness of my heart,” my ass. I helped because it was second nature, because letting people suffer needlessly made my blood boil. But try explaining that to medieval peasants.

Pururun floated over and gently nudged my arm, vibrating soothingly. I gave her a light pat.

"And the orphans? How are they?"

Lena’s face brightened.
"Oh, they’re doing great! Clean, fed, and learning fast. Sometimes they even help out at the baths and the inn. Little Lysa said she wants to become a ‘hearler’ like you when she grows up."

"Fantastic," I deadpanned. "Inspiring the next generation of charlatans."

"You’re not a charlatan!" she protested, eyes blazing. "You’re saving lives!"

I got up and started pacing the cramped room, Pururun bouncing after me like an excited puppy.

"Listen carefully, Lena. In this messed-up world, healing is a business. A very profitable business controlled entirely by the Temple. Then I stroll in, heal people for free with methods that actually work, and make their ‘miracles’ look like cheap parlor tricks."

"Which is a good thing!"

"For us, maybe. For them? That’s a declaration of war."

That shut her up. She finally grasped the gravity of the situation. Pururun turned a worried orange and pressed against my leg.

"So… what do we do?" she asked softly.

"We? There’s no ‘we’ in this. This is MY problem."

"Are you kidding? After everything we’ve done together? The orphans, the soap, the remedies — "

"Exactly. The more you get involved, the more likely you’ll end up on the pyre with me."

She jumped to her feet, eyes blazing.
"You think I’m afraid? You think Mom and I are just going to abandon you now?"

"That’s exactly what you should do if you had a shred of common sense!"

"Well, we don’t! And it’s too late anyway. The whole town knows we work with you. If the Temple targets you, we’re in the same boat."

She wasn’t wrong, and that pissed me off even more. I’d tried to help a few people quietly, and now I had a mini-revolution on my hands.

"Sht, sht, sht…" I muttered, burying my face in my hands.

Lena stepped closer and placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Hey. It’s not that bad. We’ll find a solution."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"I don’t know yet. But we’re in this together now. You, me, Mom, Pururun… even the orphans if we have to. We’re a team."

A team. Holy crap. I’d always worked alone, and now I had a team in a fantasy world. What next, a quest to save a princess?

Suddenly, Pururun let out a high-pitched squeal and turned bright red. She shot toward the window, sticking to it like an angry suction cup. If she’d had fur, it would’ve been bristling.

"What’s wrong with her?" Lena asked.

I moved to the window and peered outside.

Three figures in pristine white robes were approaching the inn. Priests. And not the local kind — their garments were too clean, too ornate.

"Well, that was fast," I muttered.

Lena joined me and went pale.
"That’s Father Matthias… and the other two, I don’t know them. They’re not from here."

"From the capital, probably. Or at least a major city."

The three men stopped in front of the inn. One of them — a stern-faced man with gray hair — looked up and locked eyes with me.

And just like that, I knew we were neck-deep in trouble.

"Lena," I said calmly, "go warn your mother. Quietly. And tell her to prepare my bill. I have a feeling my stay in Lowstone is about to end early."

"You’re planning to run?"

"I’m planning to survive. Big difference."

She hesitated, then nodded and dashed off.

Pururun and I stayed by the window, watching the priests push open the inn door.

"Well, jelly," I whispered, picking her up, "think Her Divine Highness Being X will yank me back to her little heavenly realm for corrupting her religious monopoly? If this is the end, know that I have zero regrets. I’d do it all over again."

She vibrated fiercely, turning a deep violet I’d never seen before. She understood — trouble was here, and it was just beginning.

Downstairs, voices rose — polite, but firm. The kind of tone used by people accustomed to being obeyed.

The confrontation had begun.