Scalpel and Freedom

Lady Eleanore’s condition was critical. Her leg was twisted at an impossible angle, and that nauseatingly sweet smell hung in the air — the smell of infection setting in. Her waxy complexion and ragged breathing told me everything I needed to know: she was slipping into septic shock.

"Alright," I announced to the stunned assembly, rolling up my sleeves. "Brace yourselves. This isn’t going to be pretty."

I started by cleaning the wound thoroughly with Pururun’s antiseptic. The young woman whimpered faintly when the liquid touched her exposed flesh.

"Pururun, local anesthesia," I ordered.

My gelatinous assistant obediently applied the pale green gel around the fracture. Within seconds, Eleanore stopped reacting to my manipulations.

"Remarkable," Lord Aldwin murmured, unable to hide his fascination.

"It’s called medicine, not magic," I replied as a scalpel materialized in my hand. "Well… not exactly the kind of magic you’re used to."

I focused on my Chirurgia Arcana, feeling the energy flow down my arms.

"First, we clean out the infection," I explained while making the first incision. "The bone’s fractured in multiple places, and several fragments are displaced."

Blood welled up, but in a controlled manner. My emergency room instincts kicked in; muscle memory took over, guiding my hands with practiced precision, even in this unfamiliar body.

"Pururun, suction."

She positioned herself strategically and absorbed the infected fluids, keeping the surgical field clear. A few spectators turned away in disgust, but Aldwin didn’t flinch — his gaze remained fixed on my work.

"How do you know exactly what to do?" he asked, impressed despite himself.

"Experience," I answered curtly, repositioning a bone fragment. "I’ve seen and treated this kind of fracture hundreds of times."

But something strange was happening. Under my fingers, the healing seemed… faster. Unnaturally fast. The bone responded to my touch with a pliancy that shouldn’t exist, almost as if it wanted to return to its original shape.

What the hell…?

"Pururun, resorbable sutures," I said quickly, masking my surprise.

She produced a shimmering pearly thread that I grabbed to stitch the tissues. My movements became almost automatic, guided by an instinct I couldn’t explain.

The leg was aligning itself with unsettling ease. The infection visibly receded under my care, the flesh regaining healthy color.

"It’s… it’s magic," someone whispered behind me.

"No. It’s surgery," I corrected without looking up. "Technique, precision, and a bit of natural chemistry."

But deep down, I knew something was off. This recovery was too fast, too perfect. As if my Chirurgia Arcana wasn’t just providing tools — it was actively enhancing my healing abilities.

After nearly an hour, I stepped back. Eleanore was breathing normally again, her color had returned, and her leg was perfectly repositioned.

"There," I said, rubbing my neck. "She’s going to make it. Bed rest for two weeks and keep an eye on the wound."

Stunned silence filled the room. Then, slowly, Lady Eleanore’s eyes fluttered open.

"Uncle Aldwin?" she murmured, her voice weak but clear.

"Eleanore!" the lord exclaimed, kneeling by her side. "How do you feel?"

"Much better… the pain is gone."

She moved her leg slightly. The motion was limited but fluid — remarkable for an injury that severe.

Aldwin rose slowly, his gaze locking onto me with a mix of respect and disbelief.

"What you’ve just done… no Temple healer could ever accomplish this."

"Because the Temple’s healers are charlatans," I said, as my instruments dissolved into thin air. "They sell theater, not medicine."

"Where did you learn all this?"

"Years of training. And more years of painful experience. In my homeland, we’ve developed very advanced healing techniques."

Technically not a lie.

"And that creature?" he asked, pointing to Pururun, who was quivering proudly.

"A special case. A slightly temperamental slime that synthesizes natural medical compounds. Extremely useful for an ‘itinerant apothecary.’"

Pururun let out a smug little tremor, clearly pleased with herself.

"My lord," one of his advisors spoke up timidly, "the Temple — "

"The Temple doesn’t hold all authority here," Aldwin snapped. "What I witnessed today outweighs all their sermons."

Then he turned to me, his expression solemn.
"Master Ethan Russel, in the name of the House of Aldwin and as lord of Lowstone, I declare you innocent of all charges."

A wave of relief crashed over me. Finally.

"However," he continued, "I can’t protect you forever. Matthias has already left for the capital. Sooner or later, the Temple will return in force."

"What do you suggest?"

A sly smile crossed his face.
"Officially, you’ll disappear. I’ll declare that you escaped during the night, and after a week of fruitless searching, you’ll be presumed dead."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially," he said, pulling a scroll from his tunic, "you’ll head to the capital. Big city, labyrinthine streets. A clever man could vanish there and start anew."

He handed me the sealed parchment.
"This letter of recommendation identifies you as a foreign healer on an observation mission. It’ll provide temporary legal cover."

I accepted the document gratefully.
"Thank you. You’re taking a risk for me."

"I’ve always had a soft spot for lost causes," Aldwin said with a shrug. "Besides, anyone who saves my niece deserves better than the stake."

***

A few hours later, after collecting my belongings at the inn, I prepared to leave Lowstone. Marta had packed me generous provisions for the road. Lena handed me an address in the capital — her aunt’s place — along with a letter to deliver.

"We’re going to miss you," she said, her eyes shimmering. "No one’s ever cared for the poor like you did. You changed our lives — especially mine."

"Take care of yourselves," I answered simply. "And keep using soap and siwaks. Hygiene is everything."

As I was about to leave, Lena rose on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on my cheek.

"For the road," she whispered. "I’ll never forget you."

This girl just doesn’t give up, does she?

From my satchel, Pururun let out a jealous growl that made me smile despite myself.

"Come on, jelly," I said, adjusting my gear. "We’ve got a capital to explore."

As Lowstone disappeared behind the hills, my thoughts drifted back to the strange surgery. My Chirurgia Arcana was changing, evolving, growing more powerful. That accelerated healing…

I’m going to become the only real healer in your rotten world, you smug divine clown. You’ll regret looking down on me.

But for now, I was alive, free, and on the road — accompanied by my most loyal blob and my Chirurgia Arcana.

Honestly, I couldn’t complain.

The road to the capital stretched out before us, full of promise… and trouble.

But one thing at a time.