The Country Healer

The next day marked a new beginning. A breakfast, finally warm, and a roof over their heads, somehow clean after Alric’s scrub sessions. Ilara was almost comfortable, and ready to fix their extremely dire finances. Fortunately, when it came to healing, Ilara didn’t mind helping.

How much could she help, and what new things could she learn?

Nothing, apparently, as the coming days were full of townsfolk with problems ranging from mundane to nonexistent. Still, Ilara would get gifts for healing them. Most were useless given that she couldn’t travel with them, but she could at least sell some of them back, or donate to the guild.

She would prioritize the farmers over anything else. After all, farmers were the pillar of society, or so she would claim. In reality, she was hoping to trade her services for a fresh batch of meat jerky, but unfortunately it was off season. She dreaded relying on dried fruits and pickled vegetables for a long time.

After a day or two of sparse… patients? Customers? Long lines started to form to see Ilara, comfortably sitting behind a guild table, staff in hand.

“Leave your contributions in that corner as you leave the building,” said Ilara to every person she had healed successfully.

The red-haired brat, guild assistant Helly, viciously eyed Ilara as the gifts piled in the corner of the guild’s main room. She had no right to glare, as she was being well paid. Brats will be brats.

“Why don’t you go on an adventure or something, for example saving that missing boy like everyone else is?” Helly asked as she unenthusiastically stacked more gifts.

“I’m just a healer.” To Ilara, that answer was sufficient. The reality was it was unlikely she could do anything about a situation like that. Things were just dangerous that far away from the main cities and that close to beastfolk territories. It shouldn’t be surprising.

“If you say so.” The assistant went back to her current task: begrudgingly piling Ilara’s tributes.

There was still a lot of healing to be done.

An elf of a mere 500 years by Ilara’s estimation stood in front of her. “I’m fatigued…” he said in Elvish. Of course, they think everyone speaks Elvish…

“I’m afraid you have a mild case of getting old, everything will start hurting until it doesn’t. You’re what, 400?” answered Ilara in perfect Elvish, intentionally under-calculating the elf’s age. Elves usually liked both of those things. Happily, the elf deposited elven snacks in the corner on his way out. Were those cookies? Better than whatever leafy plant the townsfolk were dropping there, but unfortunately, no jerky, yet. Please, she would even settle for sausage at that point.

A nervous couple with a child showed up. “Our boy has been sick all week, feverish, coughing, looking pale…” The boy hid behind their parents, and Ilara wondered why they were hiding him and talking instead of him. But there were too many people in line to dwell on that particular mystery.

She took a quick glance at the missing child poster they had at the guild. It was definitely not him, but the boy didn’t look particularly sick, either. Oh well, no harm in healing a healthy boy.

Ilara tapped him with her staff. “Sana—”

“Wait!” The mother interrupted. “We don’t believe in modern healing, do you have anything herbal?”

Ilara opened her mouth, but stopped. She remembered her teacher's words: Ilara, if you don’t have anything positive to say, don’t say anything.

Ilara felt her face tense up before heading to the corner with all her gifts. For a second she thought about spitefully handing the family a placebo, but instead she trimmed a herb that she thought could help, if the parents’ words were to be trusted, anyway. She stared at her red-haired assistant, napping in the corner, slacking in her gift organizing duties, before heading back to the parents.

“Drink tea from this plant twice a day. Drink and rest a lot, eat lightly seasoned ototos until he gets better. If he doesn’t, I’m afraid you’re going to have to… trust modern healing.”

“Thank you, healer.” The whole family bowed and left the guild.

To Ilara’s surprise, next up was the guildmaster who walked up to her, child in hand.

“Ilara, this child from my orphanage hasn’t been feeling well.”

Her orphanage? Being a guildmaster and managing an orphanage was really admirable, prompting Ilara to stand up and take a longer and closer look at the girl with her. The girl's muscles were weak. A quick glance showed her nails were brittle, too.

“Do you play with your nails a lot?” asked Ilara.

“She spends most of her time in bed, tired,” intervened the guildmaster.

Ilara ran her hand through the girl’s hair; she tore off strands by accident. She hugged the girl tightly.

“Sanae… You’ll be fine.” Ilara stood up and forced a smile, which given the girl’s reaction, was likely an awkward one. She’d have to improve that skill. “Go get some rest.” Ilara called the guildmaster over before she left. “She needs animal food. Milk, cheese, meat…”

The guildmaster sighed. “That makes sense, the donations were lower this year, and the town sold a lot of it…”

There it was. The heavy feeling that no matter how good Ilara was, she knew she wouldn’t be able to solve everyone’s problems, even if she wasn’t meant to.

“I’ll try,” said the guildmaster as she left, resigned.

So it wasn’t just Ilara that was short on meat…

Eventually, increasingly bizarre customers appeared in front of Ilara, making her actually use some of her training and magic.

“Sanae.” A basic healing spell was insufficient to heal a specific boy’s rash. “Hmm. There’s nothing in this area that can cause this sort of reaction.” Ilara looked at the boy’s parents. Their hair was too clean and their skin was too smooth, with no scent floating around them. That couple had never seen manual labor. Their shoes looked worn, but not from use—they seemed to have deliberately scraped them to feign usage.

“Come here, boy.” Ilara wanted a closer look. There was no doubt about it, those were some sort of nobles or aristocrats. She called the parents over, who hesitantly walked towards her. “I’m afraid your child has a bad case of being a wealthy out-of-towner trying to exploit a talented healer for free.” Seriously, just how much were the wealthy willing to do to keep being wealthy? She didn’t blame them, though.

“Forgive us, great healer Ilara.” She liked the sound of that, and they seemed apologetic. “What payment do you desire?”

“A crate of the finest meat jerky.” The couple looked at her, dumbfounded. After all, elves—which Ilara was usually bundled with—were not known for being serial carnivores and they extended that assumption towards half-elves like her. “My traveling companion needs meat for his muscles.” With Ilara’s carefully chosen words, normalcy was returned to the conversation.

“Anything you ask, great healer Ilara.”

Ilara stood up and tapped the floor with her staff. “Purae!” Orbs of light swirled in the adventurers’ guild main room and they descended on the boy slowly. It was a purification spell only one level higher than the most basic healing spells, but it made sense that they couldn’t find someone who could perform it in a remote town like that. Especially if they wanted it for free. Might as well make a nice light show while she was at it. The rash on the child’s skin dissolved into his normal skin as soon as the orbs of light descended onto it.

There were rumors that, before leaving town, the grateful noble family were seen walking into every shop, hoarding every last piece of meat jerky in a crate as an offering to Ilara.