A young woman, on her knees, screaming in agony. Black veins snaked up her arms and legs. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, showing whites .

People pointed and whispered. Some had their hands clasped over their mouths.

Suddenly a loud, clear voice rose up. "Please make way. " The crowd shifted and a man emerged . He wore the dark blue, gold-embroidered robes of a mystic and brandished a wooden staff.    In contrast to his otherwise pristine appearance, however, his dark hair was utterly disheveled.  He could not be older than twenty-two.

He approached the woman without a second thought.   

She now lay curled up in a ball on the ground, her breaths ragged, still clutching at her temples with her hands.  Her legs were tangled in what was left of her tattered skirt.

 Soren - for that was the his name -  laid a hand on her forehead. Her body temperature was so high that he was surprised the fire that was undoubtedly consuming her from the inside hadn't burst outward.  Her aura was thrashing violently.

"Wyrmskin poisoning" he muttered to himself. There had been many of those lately, particularly in cities like Samnaria  in the westernmost Huzonrean Empire.  Though, in most cases victims displayed just one or two symptoms, not all of them at once.

Riffling through the pockets of his robe he produced a small vial of a brownish liquid. 

Flipping the girl over so she lay on her back, he gently gripped her jaw and poured a few drops into her mouth.

The entire square had fallen silent.

"Wh-what did you do?" an older woman finally asked, her breath shaky.  She had the same curly auburn hair as the girl on the ground.  Her mother, Soren guessed.

"Just gave her an antidote. It will take about five days for her to fully recover. "

Immediately the girl's mother walked up to him and embraced him tightly. "Thank you for saving my Merry " she told him, her voice dripping with so much emotion that it made Soren uncomfortable. "Just doing my job, Mrs -- "

"Thorne. Clarissa Thorne. You two, please bring her to the bakery''  The latter sentence was directed at a duo behind her, a boy and a girl who, judging by their clothing, were Mrs. Thorne's assistants at the aforementioned bakery.

"Mrs. Thorne "  He gave her an awkward nod. Before he could exit the scene Mrs. Thorne grabbed his wrist. She smiled . The expression was clearly intended to be warm and inviting, but in this case it only added to his discomfort. "Please do visit us sometime. " 

"I, er , will. Yes, I will", he replied, hoping his body language conveyed that she really should let him go.  Thankfully she did just that.  "Thorne bakery, opposite Rine the shoemaker's" she called after him as he made his way back to the humble tavern he had stayed at the past week.

Tomorrow morning he would start his investigation.