The young man led Aleria up a winding staircase, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. She trailed behind him, hand tightly wrapped around the handle of her trunk and strap of her pack.
They emerged onto a cramped landing; a heavy oak door set into the far wall. The clerk rapped his knuckles against the aged wood, the dull thudding reverberating through the hall.
"Enter!" a gruff voice barked from within.
The young man shot Aleria a sidelong glance, as if seeking reassurance, before grasping the iron handle and swinging the door inward. He stepped across the threshold, back stiff with deference.
"Sir, you have a... visitor."
Aleria followed a pace behind, ducking her head slightly as she crossed into the sparsely appointed chamber. A cluttered desk stood before the room's lone window, sunlight streaming in to illuminate the piles of maps and reports strewn across its scarred surface.
And there, bent over the desk with his brow furrowed in concentration, was Bernard. His once-dark hair had gone completely silver, cropped close in the military style she remembered. Faint lines mapped the contours of his face, betraying his advancing years.
At the clerk's words, Bernard glanced up, eyes narrowing as they swept over Aleria's hooded form. For a moment, his expression remained impassive, inscrutable. Then, like a sudden breaking of storm clouds, his craggy features split into a broad grin.
"Well, I'll be damned," he rumbled, the hint of an Estanian brogue still clinging to his vowels. "The ol' bitch herself, in the flesh."
Rising from his chair, he crossed the room in three long strides, pulling Aleria into a fierce embrace. She stiffened automatically at the unexpected contact before forcing herself to relax, tentatively returning the hug.
"It's...good to see you too, Bernard," she murmured, the words feeling clumsy on her tongue.
Releasing her, Bernard stepped back, eyes roving over her with an appraising look. "You haven't aged a day, have you?" He snorted, shaking his head in bemusement. "Should've known - you daft magic types never seem to grow old, do you?"
A thin smile played across Aleria's lips at the familiar gruffness. "And you're just as charming as I remember."
Bernard threw back his head with a bark of laughter. Clapping her on the shoulder hard enough to make her knees buckle, he grinned. "That's my girl. Was startin' to think you'd never take me up on that invitation, you know."
He waved a dismissive hand at the clerk, who still hovered uncertainly in the doorway. "That'll be all, lad. Me and the lady have some catchin' up to do."
As the young man scurried off, Bernard turned back to Aleria, an impish glint in his eye.
"Now then, how's about you tell me where the hells you've been these past couple years? Last I heard, you'd gone to ground after that business up north..."
Aleria nodded, her gaze dropping briefly, "I... intended to go home, after it was all over," she admitted, voice soft. "But when I arrived, there wasn't really anything to go back to."
Bernard's expression softened, a look of understanding passing over his weathered features. He gave a solemn nod, as though her words struck a familiar chord. "Aye, that is a common tale. For too many of us."
His gruff tones held no judgement, only empathy borne of shared experience. They had both seen too much, lost too much in those brutal years to dwell on such tragedies anymore.
Aleria lifted her eyes to meet his, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she regarded her old friend. "So then, Mayor Blackfist? I must admit, I never took you for a sovereign."
Bernard snorted, rolling his eyes heavenward as if beseeching some higher power for patience. "You and me both, lass." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a world-weary look stole across his features.
"After the Endlords fell, there were... decisions to be made, about what came next. This was a military outpost, sure, but then a whole bloody town decided to sprout up around it." He waved a hand vaguely, encompassing the very walls surrounding them.
"Folks started showin' up - soldiers with nowhere left to go, civilians fleein' the wastes, even a few daft nobles who'd managed not to get their fool heads lopped off." A rueful chuckle rumbled from deep within his broad chest. "Half of 'em near starved, all lookin' to me and the garrison boys to put a ruddy roof over their heads."
Aleria arched an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. She could practically see the situation unfolding - Bernard, that stalwart immovable object, gradually getting swept up and along by the tides of the powerless masses seeking shelter and security. It was almost comical, in a way.
"So, what was a good soldier to do, eh?" Bernard continued with a lopsided smirk. "Couldn't very well just turn 'em away, not after everythin' they'd been through. Next thing I know, I've got myself a town to keep from tearin' itself apart."
His gaze grew distant for a moment, drifting back through the years as he relived those chaotic first days. When his eyes refocused on Aleria, they held a look she hadn't seen before - a sort of gruff, world-weary pride.
"Somebody had to keep this ramshackle lot in line, I suppose. Figured it may as well be me."
Aleria listened intently as Bernard recounted his unlikely ascension, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. For all his gruff bluster, it was oddly heartening to see her old friend find purpose amidst the chaos left in the war's wake.
"So that explains the new title," she remarked once he'd finished. "But it doesn't answer why you called me here after all this time. Surely you didn't just miss my pretty face?"
Bernard snorted, rolling his eyes heavenward. "As if, you daft witch. I've had quite enough of your shite to last me into my dotage."
His expression grew serious, the familiar creases in his brow deepening. "Truth is, I need someone I can trust, 'Ria. Someone with...particular talents, if you take my meanin'."
Aleria felt her amusement fade, shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly. Did he mean to call upon the soldier he knew? The thought made her gut clench uneasily.
Before she could respond, Bernard held up a calloused hand, forestalling her objection. "It's nothin' like that, so you can uncork that look. I just need a skilled healer is all."
He paused, something sombre flickering across his weathered features. "You remember ol' Perchfoot, don't you? Scrawny little sod, barely came up to my knees?"
The name sparked a flicker of recognition. Aleria nodded slowly, the image of a grizzled, foul-mouthed halfling coalescing in her mind's eye. "Your medic during the campaigns, right? The drunk who was more likely to douse your wounds in rotgut than apply a proper dressing."
"That's the one." Bernard's rumbling chuckle held a hint of fond reminiscence. "Miserable bastard saved my hide more times than I care to count, for all his proclivity for the bottle."
His expression sobered once more. "Well, when this whole mess started comin' together, turns out Perchfoot had a mind to set up shop here in Last Gate. Figured with all the poor bastards rollin' in hurt and sick, he could ply his trade proper-like for once."
Aleria felt a pang of sadness, sensing where this tale was headed. "But, I take it the drink finally caught up with him?"
Bernard gave a solemn nod. "Aye, that it did. Six months back, the little sod just... didn't wake up one mornin'. Went peacefully, at least - more'n most of us can hope for, I reckon."
His gaze grew distant for a moment, no doubt reflecting on the countless brutal deaths they'd witnessed over the years. When he refocused on Aleria, his eyes held a look she recognized - that of a soldier readying himself for a difficult mission.
"Point is, Last Gate's been without a proper healer since then. We've got the basics covered - barbers, midwives, even Perchfoot's old assistant. But nothin' on Perchfoot's level, let alone yours."
Aleria felt her chest tighten as the words hung in the air between them. Nothing on the level of her own preternatural talents - the magic that had earned her a reputation. A tremor of trepidation rippled through her.
"Does... anyone here know?" The words slipped out before she could stop them, little more than a hoarse whisper. "About who I was... back then?"
Bernard's brow furrowed slightly at her reticence, but he shook his head. "Nobody 'round these parts would recognize you, 'Ria. All the soldiers who might've are long gone - moved on to greener pastures, or just gone in general, if you take my meanin'."
He let out a derisive snort. "Way I hear it told nowadays; The Emerald Witch was naught but a nursemaid's tale to frighten the young'uns into eating their veg. Not that any of the stories ever did you justice, mind."
A wry smirk played across his weathered features. "They do tend to leave out the part where you spent half your days caked head-to-toe in gore, aye? Probably for the best, I s'pose - wouldn't do to have the little tykes soiling their skivvies."
Despite Bernard's casual dismissal, Aleria couldn't quite suppress the tremor of unease coursing through her veins. Her grisly moniker may have faded into myth, but the truth of what she'd done, what she was capable of... that was something she could never escape.
Still, if anyone could understand the demons that drove her, it was Bernard. They'd fought side-by-side through the worst of the war's savagery. If he didn't recoil at the mere notion of her bloody talents, perhaps she could allow herself to entertain the idea, however briefly.
Aleria gave a slow nod, the weight of Bernard's request settling onto her shoulders like a heavy mantle. For so long, she had wandered aimlessly, seeking solitude and anonymity in equal measure. Now her old friend asked her to emerge from the shadows once more, to embrace the very skills that had made her a figure of dread during the war.
Yet what choice did she truly have? Last Gate needed a healer, someone capable of tending to the wounded and infirm. More importantly, Bernard needed her - one of the few souls left who knew her not just as the dreaded Emerald Witch, but as Aleria, the woman beneath the myth. Could she turn her back on him after everything they'd endured?
"Very well," she said at last, meeting Bernard's expectant gaze. "I'll do it. Though I can't promise to match dear Perchfoot's... bedside manner."
Bernard threw back his head with a bark of laughter. "Just so long as you go a bit lighter on the rotgut than that ol' sot, I'll consider it an improvement."
Aleria allowed a faint smile to tug at the corners of her mouth. "I'll have to make do without my usual cellar of bloodwine, I suppose."
Bernard's grin widened, the creases around his eyes deepening with mirth. "That's my girl. Knew you'd come 'round."
His expression sobered somewhat as he regarded her thoughtfully. "Now, as for lodgin' - Perchfoot had himself a little apartment above the clinic, so he could be on hand for any emergencies at all hours. Thought you could set up shop there, have it to yourself."
Aleria felt a pang of gratitude towards the gruff old soldier. Clearly, he had put some thought into her needs, ensuring she would have both privacy and easy access to her charges. A luxury she had seldom afforded during their campaigning days.
"That sounds... amenable," she replied with a nod. "Though I confess, running an entire clinic on my own seems a rather daunting prospect." Her lips quirked in a self-deprecating smile. "My talents may be unique, but I'm far from accustomed to the day-to-day drudgery of sawbones work."
"Which is why you'll have some help, lass." Bernard's gruff tones held a reassuring note. "Young Haddy, Perchfoot's former assistant? She'll be stickin' around to lend a hand - fetch supplies, take messages, that sort of thing. Lass has got a decent enough head on her shoulders, from what I've seen."
Aleria arched an eyebrow in mild surprise. An assistant would certainly prove invaluable in keeping the clinic running smoothly. Though she couldn't quite suppress a flicker of trepidation at the thought of having a near-constant presence at her side once more.
Still, she supposed it was a minor inconvenience, one easily borne in exchange for a place to call home, however temporary. With a faint nod, she replied, "Very well then. When can I take over the premises?"
"Soon as you're ready," Bernard assured her with an offhand wave of his calloused hand. "I'll have the lads air the place out, tidy it up a bit. Other'n that..." He trailed off with a shrug.
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