Curious about the commotion, Nero got up and went out his tent.

“Stay here and be on guard,” he told Lion and Rius, both obeying him.

With numerous tents blocking the view, he couldn’t see what was happening. The darkness near the gate was painted orange and grey with what seemed to be a massive, dancing fire. People ran to-and-fro the place of incident—the incident obviously was that an explosion happened.

Nero strode towards the incident. He asked a man who was running away from the fire what happened. The man said, “A cart full of oil exploded!” He wanted to ask the degree of damage, but the man proceeded running away.

Fearing that there would be multiple casualties, he quickened his pace.

At the gate: a cart was being consumed by fire engulfing it in its entirety, and seemed to leak flame on the ground—the burning and flaming oil was spreading. Other carts were either being pulled or had been pulled away already, and some were also burning, though burning only superficially that a few blanketing extinguished them. Numerous injured individuals were being dragged away from the incident; the four imperial soldiers guarding the entrance and the prior gatekeeper who was tasked to call names weren’t spared. All five of them were being pulled away; their blood tracing their trails, their writhing screams echoing out to the blazing night.

Five individuals clad in white leather, probably imperial medics, were treating the affected, while two imperial soldiers were pushing away the crowd who was just curious and gawking stupidly and not really helping at all. Soon, another three imperial soldiers rushed in, assisting the medics and other soldiers with crowd dispersal and treating the injured. These three used force and slight violence in pushing the troublesome crowd away.

And among the crowd they pushed was Nero.

“Get the hell away, fools!” the soldier screamed to his and the others’ faces. “You want to get burned?”

“I’m a healer! A healer!” he shouted, to make his voice rise above the pandemonium. “Let me help you!”

The soldier pushing them away caught his words, but said, “Healer, my ass!”

The soldier was about to push him again, when suddenly another soldier, an older one, approached them and tapped on the former’s shoulder pad.

By the light of the blazing cart the older soldier seemed menacing, his black hair and trimmed full beard seemed shining and burning, too. The shades of dancing shadow on his face emphasized his deep eyes, yet his calm expression and thin lips balanced this menace and made him look stoic.

Turning towards the man, the soldier straightened his back and banged his right arm on his chest.

“Sergeant, sir!” the soldier saluted.

The ‘sergeant’ waved his hand, making the soldier rest. Then pointed at him with a nod. “What’s with this kid?”

“Sir, this young man,” the soldier said, “says he’s a healer. He’s volunteering to help.”

“A healer?” He sized him up. “Show me your signet.”

“I’m yet to get mine,” Nero answered, “and my master’s in Breeston now. But I’m stuck here, so…”

The sergeant frowned. “Then you can’t help. Now, get lost.”

“I can help,” he insisted. “Of course, with the capacity of your medics you can eventually treat everyone. But can you bear the lack of personnel at this moment?”

The sergeant raised his eyebrows. “And you think you being a healer is a credible statement?”

“I’m just trying to help, sir.”

“Blab your delusion somewhere else.” The sergeant turned away and walked towards another soldier who was struggling with other rowdy onlookers.

Nero sighed. One of his master’s teachings is actually not to force helping anyone who doesn’t accept it. And so, he resigned and returned to his tent. Before he went in, he saw the injured being carried towards where the Imperial Army had set their camp and into a long white tent, mana lamps lighting their path.

“What happened, sir?” Lion asked when he entered the tent; Rius whimpered when he sat down.

“A cart filled with oil exploded,” he said, “and injured a few. I tried lending a hand, but the soldiers didn’t believe me and shooed me away.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Well, can’t help it.”

Nero lay down on his right side and closed his eyes.

He tried not to hear the commotion and the desperate plea of the people. But his heart was pounding so hard that it made his chest tight, and sleep had eluded him completely. So, he sat up again.

He remembered something. In one of the last instances of his master’s actual healing (as part of his training), a rich father refused that his daughter be healed. But his master went for and healed the bed-ridden and unconscious young lady. There were some nasty businesses revolving around this incident, but his main takeaway was that a healer cannot be stopped by others—as long as he is powerful and strong, like his master was. Unfortunately, at present he’s too weak to go against any authority, much less a sergeant of the Imperial Army.

A crazy idea popped to his head. “Should I sneak in and heal them?”

Lion answered, “Sneak in? What are you, a thief?”

“But it’s only the sergeant and his soldiers who don’t believe me—the injured ones who actually need treatment didn’t really push me away. They need all the help they can get, you know.”

“Do that and you’ll end up in prison, sir.”

Nero pondered for a while. But sighed, eventually giving up. He lay down again, his head resting on his hands, shutting his eyes off.

Then he dreamed about a particular night.