Finally, his purchase was presented to him:

In group of threes: the Ridians had red rope, Sanga’s was yellow, Argustians’ green, and Daphal’s’ orange. All of them costed, in total, exactly 18,000 Pirasos.

Nero expected that his purchase would cost high, as pills generally are expensive. But, that high? However, of course, he dared not question the old apothecary’s credibility.

“Why?” the old doctor asked suddenly. “Can’t pay for all these?”

His disbelief might have been obvious.

“No, I can,” he said, then took out the pouch of Philip’s payment he received yesterday. With him taking out nine out of the ten pieces of the Platinum Plates from the pouch, the store owner’s countenance showed a bit of surprise. Mocking the old man’s previous comment, “Why? Can’t believe I’m this rich?”

The old man just laughed.

He gave the nine pieces of platinum plates, as the old man packed in a small wooden box all the twelve bottles, three for each quadrant separated by two diagonal crossing sheets of plywood.

Laiz wrote him a receipt for the payment, but before he gave it together with the packed box, he first took out three platinum plates, probably from the nine Nero paid, and gave it on top of the wooden box and the receipt.

“What’s this?” Nero didn’t know how to react to that. Was the old man giving him back the three platinum plates? Had he actually been scammed by him, but just pitied him so he’s giving back what he swindled from him?

“I just remembered,” the old man said, “I’m giving a free bottle for every two bottles purchased.”

Nero stared at Laiz…which, eventually, confessed, “You’re going far away. Just think of these as gifts from an old friend.”

Now that he understood, the young healer shook his head. “I can’t do that!”

But the old man just waved his worry away. And, to stray away from the topic (obviously), he asked him, “Where do you plan to stay after getting your signet? With your genius, you might be able to make a name for yourself in a great city—even in the Metro Sol’aris.”

Nero, though knowing Laiz was just avoiding his refusal of the “free bottle”, went with his question. He shook his head, stating, “I’ll be a travelling healer.”

“A travelling healer? Bah!” The old man’s confusion, maybe even disgust, manifested in his grumbling mumble and on his slightly twisted expression. “Who gave you such voided dream?”

Though a bit extreme, Nero expected such a reaction—of course, as the title “travelling healer” had been stigmatized for longer than he remembered. It had something to do with its association to the infamous “Kod”, a “travelling healer” who—though successful in healing—asked for massive payments for his treatments. His anonymity, and the nature of him being a “traveller” in essence, made him elusive, that not even the Imperial Government could even pinpoint wherever he was. When news of him healing in a certain place came, it tended to be late for anyone else to see him.

With such reputation, many people loathed him—even some of the patients he had healed. And so, healers tend to either join guilds or put up their own clinics and establish a place where they can be reached either by their patients and the government.

But, when Nero started to learn healing, the life of Kod made more impact—and sense—to him than that of a typical healer. That is, a life of ultimate freedom—free from place, reputation, money, the government, the world. He witnessed how typical healers operate, that they are sometimes hindered by some laws, or some persons, or some desires, or by their own reputation in healing certain types and race of individuals. He didn’t like that. Deep in his soul, he believes that everyone deserves healing, especially if one wants to receive it, asks for it, regardless of whatever circumstance the patient is caught up. A life like that of Kod, like that of a travelling healer—that’s what Nero liked. That’s what he aspired to gain.

Now, to answer the pending question of the old apothecary, he said, “A cook, a good one, told me once that a cook’s job is to feed a person, whoever he is. I want to be like that: a healer than heals anyone. And it’s possible only if I become a travelling healer.”

Laiz frowned even more. “You sure about that, Nero? Maybe, you’re just looking for an adventurous life? You can become an adventurer-healer, you know.”

He sighed. If he said he doesn’t want to be bound by anyone—like that of an adventurer-healer, who is someone bound to serve only the guild where he belongs—the old man might not understand him. So, he just said, “That’s even worse, doctor.”

“Worse?” His confusion was expressed. But he ceded ultimately, shaking his head. “I hope you the best, kid. I’ll pray you wake up from that delusion of yours. Such a waste of talent, tsk.”

“I’ll visit you. Someday,” he said, as he expressed his farewell. Laiz was still very much disappointed but didn’t do anything anymore but sigh, and even gave him his blessings—proper blessings.

“Godspeed,” said the apothecary.

With that, Nero felt that he had no more loose ends here in Siedsy Town. He cleared all his responsibilities here (not that there were many) and attachments (which weren’t that strong, if he’d be honest). And so, after beckoning Rius and Lion who were both patiently waiting for him outside the pharmacy, he fared towards the Breeston Gate.

However, he was met with a large crowd who was stuck near the gate, where in some unfortunate circumstances soldiers from Imperial Army itself were stationed, checking thoroughly every person that wished to cross the massive city gate.