Chapter 004 - Magic Isn't Required for That

  The infirmary was quiet at this time of day, a fact Silas Kael was grateful for. He enjoyed the work, simple and without interruption, without expectation. His current job was just that, the infirmary maintenance assistant, mostly he swept floors, occasionally replaced the glowing quartz crystal light fixtures or the older tube variants, and persuaded the piping to do what it was supposed to do. It was honest work, paid for what little he needed and granted him the dismissive presence of any other cleaner or maintenance staff. He cared so little for recognition these days, that time had long since passed, anonymity was now a comfort, something his previous Guild charter had never provided him. The last few years had been good to him.

  His quiet day was shattered with a scream, it wasn't the scream of physical pain these halls echoed with on a regular basis, this was the shriek of raw, undiluted terror. The newcomer in the private ward at the end of the hall, something was very very wrong.

  There was no hesitation, the broom falling in slow motion as he moved, to any observer he may have been just a blur. He covered the distance in a heartbeat, revealing a fraction of his true tier for just a moment, his worn leather boots thankfully making no sound. He was already in the room when the broom clattered to the floor at the other end of the building, he hadn’t bothered with the door handle, simply pushing through the frame with a surge of practiced force that popped the latch without splintering the wood.

  The catalog of events was obvious in an instant. Tori, the healer that was supposed to be helping the stranger had a face filled with rage, horror reflecting in her eyes as she stood over the cot. In her hands was one of the many medical textbooks found across the building, this was one of the heavier ones and probably belonged to the library. The grip she had as she was raising it above his head was already damaging the fragile book, her garnet level strength already several times that of the mundane victim before her. The victim he knew as Mark was bleeding from the first impact, his body limp from unexpected and immediate trauma, but probably stable.

  His calloused hand was already wrapped around Tori’s wrist before it started to descend for the second blow, one that he suspected would have ended her patience and given her something she would never move past. Even without his enhanced strength, he was a man who had moved stone his entire life. He didn't grab or squeeze, he didn’t need to, he simply held it.

  The book fell from her hands a short distance to the floor, the crumpling of pages echoing from the landing. Her arm had been stopped dead, trembling with the arrested momentum she had dropped it, thankfully away from Mark. That was enough for her rage to find a new target, twisting around as tears streamed down her face.

  "How Dare You!" she screamed, her voice cracking between sobs. "Get your filthy hands off me, you Guildless grunt!" Her free hand balling into a fist, faint blue light flickering around it. "This is none of your business! It doesn't concern a nobody like you!"

  His iron grip was completely unmoveable as she tried her hardest to break free, yet he remained calm. He looked from her furious face to the unconscious man on the bed, then back to her. He slowly, deliberately, pushed her arm down, his strength absolute. At that moment she had little other choice but to comply.

  "Let go of me, you brute!" she seethed, as he let go of her, giving her the briefest moment of self victory.

  Stepping back to give her some space, he relaxed as he gestured towards a chair, the chair she had previously been sitting in while everything took place, "Take a seat Tori," he said, his voice low yet carrying the weight of age. "Breathe and calm yourself. Then you can try to explain what is going on here."

  Tori just glared at him, rage tainted by disbelief, "Why explain to you? A Guildless brute has no right to demand things beyond them!"

  Silas met her gaze, a deep weary patience clear in his own eyes, no anger at her insults, just tiredness. The silence hung for a moment, Tori becoming uncomfortable by the lack of refute or mirrored rage. His voice quiet, cutting through her rage like a shard of ice from the dreamscape, "What did you really expect," he asked, "you attacked a stranger in his own mind?"

  Tori froze at the shock of his words, the impossible and vastly incorrect knowledge of events stunned her into silence. She recalled the feeling of another, someone else that Mark was aware of before she was, had they told Silas?

  "That’s not... Who told you that?" she stuttered, mind reeling as she attempted to salvage the narrative.

  Silas gave a heavy sigh, the sound full of a weariness that seemed to span centuries. Slowly he reached up, hooking a thumb into the collar of his worn tunic, pulling it to expose his broad shoulder.

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  There, etched onto weathered skin, was a tattoo. It was a Heart, not from the current Guild registries. She couldn’t help herself as she removed her glove and held her own hand up, lining her tattoo up with his own. There was no mistake that it was the Heart of Dreams, but there were differences. Hers was a delicate, precise pattern of soft, glowing lines of silver, the circles containing a complete pattern the full length, mirroring the training from the academy. His tattoo took a different path, the same core symbol but circles containing chaotic and organic shapes, lines not of silver but the color of raw iron. With a small push of mana the lines themselves pulsed with a solid, jade energy.

  "I saw you girl," Silas said, letting his tunic fall back into place. He looked at her, and for the first time, she saw not a simple laborer, but something ancient in comparison to her youth, the look an adult gives to a reckless child. "You had the fineness of a wolf in a chicken pen. And as the uninvited you proceeded to have a tantrum and break the toys…"

  His voice dropped lower still, barely hiding the sarcasm. "Your arrogance, girl, will get someone killed, and heavens be grateful if it's just yourself. You've yet to see half a century, and you think you're an authority? You now know firsthand that the great academies of Tethys can only teach so much of the truth."

  Tori flinched, words landing like physical blows against her already bruised ego. All her life, her training, her station, her power, she was Garnet, for a dreamer that was seen as impressive at worst, and she was a prodigy. The dismissal by a Guildless nobody was threatening her momentary calm, her instincts crying out for her to put him in his place.

  “Maybe after four centuries, after feeling the crushing dreams of those around you, their shattered hopes, their memories of moments so dear they may shatter in an instant.” Silas continued, fighting back a tear as he allowed himself to experience a moment of his past life.

  The tear Tori missed as her rage boiled over, "You don't understand!" her voice rising, fighting with herself to regain control. "That... thing... he’s a monster! What he did, the things he created... it's not natural! He’s the only reason I lost control!"

  Silas actually let out a short, humorless laugh. "A monster? No. He's no less normal than you are. Probably more so." he sighed, “But you showed him a monster today.”

  Monster, Was that… but he continued. “He was lost, and needed help! The Sentinel State probably treats people better than this.”

  Crossing his huge arms, he leaned into the doorway, his size almost blocking the entire thing. "You saw a mundane victim and assumed your magic gave you the authority. You were wrong. He never needed to win, because you were never a threat to him. He was already the master of his own dreams, long before you ever crashed through his door."

  Silas paused, giving time for the words to sink in. "Magic isn't required for that, Tori. Just discipline. It's a skill very few people in this world ever bother to achieve, which leads me to believe that he's more lost than you think."

  Tori stood there, speechless, she even dismissed the obvious line he left for her. She was too busy, her foundation of her worldview, her countless hours of training, of learning, the practical experience of her trade, all in question within minutes. The possibility, the idea that any mundane, no less this magic-less stranger possessed a form of mental discipline so profound that it could overpower her was unacceptable, just impossible. She looked from the unconscious and bloody Mark to the imposing giant that was Silas. Finally her rage collapsed, all the pent up energy leaving her tired as she slumped in the chair questioning her life choices, the shame that perhaps she was wrong for taking this path with an unwilling patient.

  Mark's shallow breathing, broke the silence, more of a wheeze against his obvious broken nose.

  “Think you should probably fix that?” Silas questioned as he nodded towards the cot where Mark lay, “I’m sure your colleague will be along soon from that scream of yours.” He gaze turned towards mark, for the first time realising the damage she had done, “maybe at least make sure he doesn’t expire while you get your story right”

  This truth hit Tori harder than any physical blow, she briefly wondered if even he could have hit her harder with his raw physical strength. Still scrambling at her side of the story, she couldn't fail as embarrassment washed over her, in this he was right. She recognised she had lost control and in at least this there was a victim bleeding in the cot beside her. Frustrated by accepting she moved closer towards him.

  "I... I was wrong to hit him," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper, the words tasting offensive in her mouth. She held her hands over Mark's face, channeling the familiar red-tinged light of her healing magic around her palms. The broken cartilage of his nose began to mend, and the split skin of his lip slowly knitted itself back together. The blood absorbed as the wounds sealed, leaving a deep ugly bruise, a reminder to the force of the blow and her healing could accelerate, but not in any quick time.

  Silas watched over her treatment, his expression resigned from memories of old, satisfied that Tori had regained her composure and Mark was safe, he turned to leave. "This guildless brute prefers his quiet life," he said, without looking back. "I'd see no harm if our little talk was kept just between us. I have no time for Guildmasters and their petty games."

  He stepped out into the corridor, taking a deep breath while cursing himself for becoming involved in the games once again. He pulled the door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Tori alone with her patient and her thoughts.

  Mere moments later, the door burst open again. Valerie ran in, her face a mask of concern, her eyes wide. "Tori! I heard a scream, what happened? Is he.."

  She stopped short, taking in the scene. Tori was at the bedside, hands glowing with healing magic, face streaked with tears. Mark was not sleeping but unconscious. Valerie gazed around the room for answers before falling to the heavy medical text lay beside the chair, its cover bent and its pages stained with a dark, still-wet splatters of blood.

  "Tori..." Valerie asked, her voice laced with a dawning dread. "What happened to the book?"