The young clerk led Aleria through the winding dirt streets of Last Gate, his steps hurried yet uncertain as he navigated the labyrinthine paths between the buildings. Aleria followed at a respectful distance, taking in her new surroundings with a critical eye.
Despite the town's haphazard construction, there was an undeniable vigour to the place - a sense of hard-won renewal amidst the rubble of the war's aftermath. Aleria could see it in the sturdy new timber frames being raised, the piles of repurposed stone stacked neatly for future building projects.
At length, they emerged into a small courtyard dominated by a stout, three-story edifice of solid masonry construction. Though the building itself was weathered, its thick walls and reinforced foundations spoke of a more permanent heritage amidst the temporary dwellings that had sprung up around it.
"This is it, milady," the clerk announced, slightly out of breath as he paused before the arched entranceway. "The old clinic."
Aleria's gaze lifted, taking in the worn wooden sign hanging above the door - a faded image of the caduceus staff, its serpentine forms almost indistinguishable beneath layers of grime and peeling paint. Even so, the ancient symbol of healing was unmistakable, a fitting emblem for the dilapidated structure.
Crossing the courtyard, she ran an appraising hand along the sunbaked stones of the outer wall, testing their solidity. Though eroded by countless seasons, the masonry was sound - clearly built to withstand far greater calamities than mere wind and rain.
"It will serve my purposes well, I think."
Stepping past the young man, Aleria ascended the shallow steps to the entrance and grasped the iron ring set into the weathered door. A firm tug was required to draw back the heavy oak panels, their rusted hinges groaning in protest at being roused from their long repose.
The heavy door however, refused to budge, no matter how Aleria strained against the iron ring. A low growl of frustration escaped her lips as she stepped back, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
Peering up at the elevated windows lining the clinic's frontage, she rose up on her tiptoes, trying to see through the grime-streaked glass. Even standing at her full height, the sills were just out of her line of sight - the building's solid construction clearly intended to deter prying eyes.
After circling the perimeter, Aleria returned to the entrance, craning her neck in a futile attempt to discern any signs of life from within. The place seemed deserted, its dusty windows staring back at her with cold indifference.
A sudden clatter of footsteps from across the courtyard made her whirl around, one hand straying instinctively beneath her cloak. The young clerk flinched back, eyes widening at her sudden movement.
"Easy there, milady!" a feminine voice called out. "No need for that!"
Aleria's gaze snapped to the source of the cry - a plump, rosy-cheeked woman emerging from one of the nearby cottages. She wore a simple night-robe, hastily belted at the waist, with a tattered shawl thrown over her ample shoulders against the evening chill.
"What's all this ruckus, then?" the woman demanded, drawing up beside the clerk with a deeply furrowed brow. "Trying' to break into the old clinic, are we?"
Before the flustered young man could stammer out a reply, Aleria stepped forward, squaring her shoulders.
"I am Aleria, summoned to take over these premises by Mayor Blackfist." Her tone brooked no argument. "And you would be...?"
The woman's eyes widened, her stern expression melting into one of surprise and relief.
"Oh! Oh, of course - forgive me, milady!" Clutching her shawl tighter, she bobbed an awkward curtsy. "M‘names Haddy - I was old Perchfoot's assistant here at the clinic. We've been awaiting your arrival..."
Aleria watched with raised eyebrows as the portly woman hurried back towards her small cottage, her shawl flapping behind her like a tattered banner. A moment later, she reappeared clutching a heavy ring of iron keys, making a beeline for the clinic's entrance.
"Here we are, milady," Haddy puffed, selecting one of the larger keys and jamming it into the rusted lock. "Should've checked if I had these to begin with, instead of leaving you out here like a pair of strays!"
With an almighty groan of protest, the ancient mechanism finally yielded, allowing the heavy oak door to swing open on its hinges. A musty odour wafted out, smelling of disuse and stale air.
Aleria wrinkled her nose at the unwelcoming scent but stepped forward without hesitation, brushing past Haddy to gain her first proper view of the clinic's interior. Though gloomy in the fading evening light, she could make out a spacious entrance hall with a high, vaulted ceiling supported by thick wooden beams.
To her left, an arched doorway led further into the building's depths. Straight ahead, a broad staircase rose up towards the upper floors. Despite its neglected state, the place had an undeniable sturdiness - built to endure, much like its new mistress.
Turning back towards the entrance, Aleria regarded the young clerk who still lingered on the clinic's threshold, his eyes wide with curiosity. With a curt nod, she dismissed him.
"You have my thanks for guiding me here. That will be all."
The lad seemed to shrink back slightly at her brusque tone, his gaze flicking towards Haddy in wordless appeal. The other woman simply shrugged, shooting him a look that suggested he ought to scarper while the going was good.
With an awkward bow, the clerk retreated, his footsteps rapidly fading as he scurried away across the courtyard and back into the maze of Last Gate's twisting streets. Aleria watched his departure with a faint smile, feeling a pang of something almost like pity for the poor, bewildered lad.
Aleria turned her attention back to Haddy, the plump woman shifting awkwardly under her scrutinising gaze. Despite her unassuming appearance, there was a forthright earnestness about the younger woman that Aleria found strangely reassuring.
"Well then," Haddy began, clutching her shawl a little tighter. "Shall I give you the tour, milady?"
Without waiting for a response, she bustled forward, leading the way through the vaulted entrance hall. To their left, an open archway revealed a spacious chamber with rows of hard, backless benches lining the walls.
"This here's the waiting area," Haddy proclaimed, making a sweeping gesture to encompass the sparse furnishings. "Used to get right packed out, this room, back when old Perchfoot was practising. Folks came from miles around for his healing."
Aleria's gaze swept over the uninviting benches, her lip curling slightly at the thought of anxious patients huddled together amidst such austere surroundings. Still, she supposed simple practicality was the order of the day in such rustic environs.
Moving on, Haddy led them through a narrow corridor branching off from the waiting room. A series of low doorways lined either side, each one opening into small, cell-like chambers containing little more than a rudimentary wooden pallet mounted on rickety trestles.
"The treatment rooms," Haddy explained, almost apologetically. "Not much to look at, I know, but they served us well enough."
Peering into one of the cramped cubicles, Aleria could well imagine some wretched soul lying upon that crude gurney, their face contorted in pain as they awaited Perchfoot's ministrations. The very thought made her shudder - such primitive conditions would never do, not for the kind of work she had in mind.
They climbed a tight spiral staircase to the clinic's second level, emerging into a dimly-lit gallery overlooking the entrance hall below. A row of closed doors lined the upstairs corridor, each one leading to a tiny sleeping chamber containing just a narrow cot and washbasin.
"For patients requiring more... extended care," Haddy murmured, her normally bubbly tones subdued. "We did what we could for 'em up here, but..." She trailed off with a troubled shake of her head.
Aleria could only nod, her throat tightening as she contemplated the poor souls who must have lingered in these cramped quarters, slowly wasting away despite Perchfoot's best efforts. No, this place would need a great many changes before she could consider it up to par.
At last, they ascended to the topmost floor, Haddy leading the way down a slightly wider hallway with evening sunlight filtering in through the elevated windows. She stopped outside the last door, fumbling with her keyring once more.
"And here we are - your new quarters, milady." The lock released with a solid thunk, and the door swung open to reveal a modestly-sized chamber, the ceiling sloping up towards a small dormer window set into the eaves.
Aleria stepped inside, her boots raising puffs of dust from the bare floor as she surveyed her new lodgings. It was hardly the epitome of luxury, but the room was larger than she'd expected, with adequate space for a simple cot, washstand and writing desk. A small hearth occupied one corner, while an open doorway hinted at some sort of rudimentary kitchen area beyond.
"It's... sufficient," she pronounced at last, turning back to face the hovering Haddy. "I can make do here, until I have the chance to arrange renovations."
The younger woman's face broke into a relieved smile, her shoulders visibly sagging as the tension bled out of her.
"Oh, that's a relief to hear, milady! We'll have this old place feeling like a proper infirmary before you know it..."
Aleria stepped into the centre of the modest chamber, depositing her travel trunk and pack onto the bare floor with a muffled thump. Straightening, she turned to face the hovering Haddy, offering the younger woman a curt nod.
"You have my thanks for showing me to my quarters. I would appreciate the opportunity to rest after my journey, if you would be so kind."
Haddy bobbed her head, hands worrying at the tattered shawl still wrapped about her ample frame. "Of course, milady, of course! Here, let me get you those keys..."
Rummaging in the depths of her apron pocket, she fished out the heavy iron ring, its multitude of keys clinking together as she extended it towards Aleria. Their fingers brushed briefly as the healer accepted the offering, Aleria's grip firm and decisive.
"I'll return on the morrow to assist with opening the clinic," Haddy continued, shuffling backwards towards the open door. "If that's agreeable? I can also bring some bread and broth from my kitchen to break your fast."
Aleria inclined her head once more, her expression unreadable. "That would be most welcome. I shall look forward to your arrival."
Bobbing another small curtsy, Haddy retreated into the dimly-lit corridor beyond, pulling the door closed behind her with a dull thud. The sound of her retreating footsteps gradually faded, swallowed by the pervasive silence that seemed to envelop the entire building.
Alone at last, Aleria turned in a slow circle, surveying her modest new domain with a critical eye. It was hardly the lap of luxury, but she had endured far worse conditions during the war.
Crossing to the small window, she pulled back the tattered curtain to gaze out over the darkening rooftops of Last Gate. The town seemed to hunker low against the encroaching twilight, a ramshackle sprawl of makeshift dwellings and half-repaired structures.
Her grip tightened on the curtain's frayed edge as her gaze drifted towards the horizon, where the last bloody rays of sunset bled away into inky shadows. Out there, amidst that vast gloom, lay the shattered remnants of The Demon King's domain - The Dead Lands, as they were now known.
A place she had hoped never to revisit, after the horrors she had witnessed during the long, bitter years of The Demon War. And yet here she was, almost within a stone's throw of that blighted territory once more. The cruel vagaries of fate seemed to mock her at every turn.
A dark scowl settled over her features as memories bubbled up, unbidden - the cloying stench of scorched flesh and burned sulphur, the deafening clash of steel against corded muscle and gnashing fangs, the shrill, keening cries of the wounded and dying as they fell beneath her blades, their corrupted blood splattering the—
With an abrupt shake of her head, Aleria banished the unwanted recollections, her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ached. Those days were behind her now, she reminded herself sternly. A new path lay before her - one of healing, of atonement for the grim necessities of her former life.
Turning away from the window, she busied herself with unpacking her meagre belongings, arranging them with crisp efficiency in the corners of the chamber.
Aleria pulled the leather strap holding her bedroll and unwound the tightly-bound bundle, letting it unfurl onto the narrow cot with a soft whump. Eyeing the questionable sheets and coverlet already adorning the rickety bed frame, she decided against using Perchfoot's old linens. Who knew what unsavoury remnants might still linger there from the halfling's tenure?
Perching on the edge of the bare mattress, she bent to unlace her sturdy leather boots, tugging them off with a weary sigh. Her stockinged feet already felt refreshed, freed from the sweat-stained confines of her travelling footwear. Next came her hardened leather breeches, shucked down over her hips and calves before being kicked aside in an unceremonious heap.
Finally, she grasped the hem of her linen blouse and pulled it up over her head in one smooth motion, tossing the crumpled garment atop the discarded trousers. Clad now in just her simple smallclothes, Aleria ran an absent hand through her tousled auburn locks.
She laid back onto the bed, the thin mattress yielding beneath her weight with a protesting creak. One hand strayed, as always, instinctively to the iron pendant resting between her breasts. Her fingers traced the grooved patterns absently as she stared up at the sloping ceiling, following the shapes like a solitary spider spinning its gossamer web in the shadowed eaves.
Closing her eyes, she willed her mind to stillness, beckoning the blessed oblivion of sleep to claim her at last. Yet even as her breathing slowed and her muscles gradually unlocked, a nagging tendril of tension wound its way through her subconscious.
At last, Aleria surrendered to the leaden weight pressing down upon her. Her fingers fell away from the talisman as her arm went slack, the cold pendant clattering softly against her breastbone. Uneasy darkness taking her.
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