Another Perspective — Jord

Another Perspective — Jord

The name’s Jord, former HQ healer-cum-exorcist, current second-in-command to an S-rank healer you might’ve heard of and his Order of Healing. Just recently, I added “vice guildmaster” of the Yenice Healer’s Guild to my biography as well. That might seem like a demotion to people not in the know about Church HQ protocols, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I consider the decision to follow him to have been one of my finest, if I do say so myself.

I was in front of the recently completed guildhall with the rest of the Order, seeing Luciel off to his council meeting. Poor guy wasn’t fooling anyone with that smile, though. Everyone could see the rain clouds over his head, but no one could really blame him. We’d come there to revive a guild, and in just a handful of head-spinning days, he’d become a politician. Still, he only had himself to blame for how things turned out, if you asked me. On the upside, it was thanks to him that the people had really come around to accepting our presence.

I worried about him sometimes. Our work was technically done, the guild was up and running, but he never seemed to have any time for a break. He was a literal legend at this point, and just about everyone had some problem or another that they wanted their hero to solve. All I could do was take as much of the load off as I could.

“The guild’s with you.”

“You can count on us!”

Luciel’s shoulders relaxed. “I know I can. I’ll be back soon.”

We stood up straight and saluted, then he and his guard left to meet with the council, and I found myself reminiscing about the time we’d first met.

＊

I was a village boy, born and raised in Grandol. We were pretty much always at war with the empire, so when I became a healer at my coming-of-age ceremony, it wasn’t hard to find an apprenticeship with my hometown’s only clinic. Back in those days, the legends of Lord Reinstar fascinated me. I wanted so badly to be an icon, a revolutionary like he had been, and that singular desire fueled my passion. So, as one might expect, it didn’t take long for me to get the knack of holy magic.

I can do this! I thought. I can be like Lord Reinstar! Someday...

But my dreams were shattered when my master forbade me to practice any spells other than the basic Heal and Cure combo. And no, apprentice wages were not enough to offset the dismay I felt at the time. I protested as much as I could, but the terms of my position were that I had to obey without question. So I did.

My term finally ended when Grandol started to conscript healers for the ongoing war. My master, two others, and I were drafted as combat medics, and only then did I finally become a healer in my teacher’s eyes.

After five years of tutelage, he left me with a worn grimoire and money to found a clinic. A week later, we departed for the battlefield. And that was the last time I saw him.

After two grueling years, I was relieved of service and came back home, and what do I find but talk of my master and the hopes he’d held for me. The people told me how he had spoken of me, how he had said that with a strong foundation, I would become the greatest healer in all of Grandol.

His teachings flooded back to me. “Never slack on your fundamentals,” he’d always say. “Never forget the importance of basic magic control.” Then it all clicked. At last I understood how important a student I’d been to him and why he had taken on so few others. I only wished he could have told me himself.

My hometown was healer-less without my master, so I took it upon myself to take up the mantle and keep his clinic going, at least until he came back. But three years passed, my town became a war zone, and he never returned.

I was twenty-five and sick of fighting, so I fled to the royal capital, which I was sure the fighting would never reach. Choosing to believe in the potential my master was so sure I had, I opened up a small clinic there. An affordable one, for everyone. But I knew nothing about the rot that plagued the capital’s healers at the time.

Not a week after opening, hordes of patients flocked to my doors. Most came for light injuries, which I had plenty of magic to handle on my own, but I knew I wouldn’t last long if the pace didn’t slow down, so I requested assistance from the Healer’s Guild.

That was my worst mistake.

The healers I was sent were more than qualified, but they consistently healed wounds with disproportionately high-level spells and started to extort my patients. When I criticized them for it, they looked at me like I was the crazy one, and then they’d be gone the very next day. I was faced with a difficult choice: take it up with the guild or go it alone.

I ultimately decided to handle the clinic by myself, but the guildmaster didn’t take too kindly to that. Days went by without a single moment when I didn’t feel like I was being watched...until I received a letter from Church Headquarters. It was a summons for a young, talented healer and promised many things, like rare grimoires that couldn’t be found anywhere else. It never crossed my mind that it could have been a trap. I gladly accepted the offer.

I arrived at HQ three months later and wasted no time hitting the books. It was around this point when I learned about contracts, a kind of semantic magic.

My life as the labyrinth janitor began soon after. It soon became clear to me that I wasn’t going to be doing any healing. I spent days upon days down in the depths fighting zombies, surrounded by ridiculously talented yet passionless co-workers who couldn’t have cared less about helping people, and wondering what the Church could have possibly needed so many healers in one place for. To tend to injuries during the knights’ training? Not likely. My superior, Granhart, never gave me a clear answer on the matter.

Days turned to weeks, and nothing ever changed. Only the occasional memory of my master kept the doldrums at bay. Eventually, I lost the energy to even care if this was going to be my life forever.

Then something changed. Granhart reported to me that someone would be taking my place. A seventeen-ish-year-old boy. My first impressions? He must have been one talented kid, and someone must have really hated him. I was under a contract, though, so his fate was out of my hands. Still, I’d given up hope for myself, but the least I could do was help the guy when he needed it.

And that was how I met him. The beefiest healer I’d ever seen: Luciel. I figured he wasn’t a bad kid after talking with him a bit, but he was a little off for sure. Weird, even. I almost got the feeling he would enjoy the labyrinth.

I showed him to the dungeon, gave him the rundown, and took out a stray zombie as a demonstration, then booked it because I seriously couldn’t stand the smell of the place. Strangely enough, he didn’t follow me out.

Some time later, he still hadn’t returned, so I popped back in to check on him and couldn’t find the guy anywhere. I started to imagine the worst.

Half the day went by and there was no sign of him. Just when I was about to give up, I finally saw him strolling up with a bag full of magic stones like...like he’d actually had fun down there. I was appalled. Even more so when I heard how much he had brought back from former-captain Catherine.

I felt myself break into a grin for the first time in what felt like ages. This guy was gonna go places, do crazy things, and I couldn’t wait to see it happen. And you know what? My hunch turned out to be right. Luciel was not normal. He trained with the knights’ strongest regiment, the Valkyries, regularly left HQ without permission to visit the Adventurer’s Guild, and to top it all off, ultimately cleared the labyrinth and stopped a riot in a single afternoon, then became an S-rank healer for his trouble.

Suddenly, I felt a familiar kind of admiration—the same admiration I’d felt for Lord Reinstar. He had reignited the smouldering remains of my passion, so when I heard that he was recruiting for a team, I didn’t hesitate for a second.

From then on, I gladly followed wherever he led. Every day promised something new. Every day promised more lives to save.

＊

Life in a newly rebuilt Healer’s Guild with the dragonslayer wasn’t bad, even if Mister Hero could really stand to worry about himself a bit more.

“All right, folks, we’ve gotta be ready for whatever storm Luciel brews next. Batten down those hatches and let’s get to work!”

“Yes, sir!”

Whatever change he was about to bring to Yenice, I was glad to be here to witness it.