DB Lazarus
patreon
44. The Cost of Living
🕑 Added 2025-02-02 05:00:07 +0000 UTCI walked back from the Commons to my house as quickly as I could. I tried to keep my mood up, but my previous successes with the Ættir a few days ago no longer tasted as sweet. I had underestimated the toll from amplifying potions, mining, frequent blood draws, and a brewing infection. Brewing. I laughed to myself. This was beyond brewing. It was full-blown pneumonia—consolidated to one lobe, but still a pneumonia. I was functioning only because it was a walking pneumonia—an atypical microbe. Ha! Like that classification system still held. What microbe wasn’t atypical in this brave new world?
That brought another laugh. Then a cough. My body couldn’t handle rushing, and I didn’t really need to. While meeting with Kyria Rhaptis limited my time this evening, I didn’t need to get more water tonight. If I conserved, I had a stock of water to last the next few days. I also had a plan: try to convince an Oresian [Mage] to create a well. I could wait, but could I guarantee that a [Mage] would help me? How could I plan ahead when the world was against me and the end always felt near?
Life was resilient but also fragile. I had seen that in the hospital wards countless times. Yet, here life felt downright cheap…and precarious. One wrong move or piss off the wrong person, and you were done. If I waited for the perfect opportunity, I would never find it. Hell, even waiting for a good one would push my luck, especially since it had become open season on harassing the Human.
The Volki had collectively decided to make my life miserable. While the beatings remained limited to when I took water, I received random pushes and body checks when walking or waiting in line. Those acts probably weren’t even coordinated, just the norm after a few Volki started the trend. Fortunately, the Ættir never did anything so overt, though intentional or not, they had boxed me out of the Commons by their bulk more than once. The only respite came when an Oresian was around, but that semblance of civility was always short-lived. It was literally killing me not sticking to Dorian like glue, but what choices did I have? I couldn’t shake the feeling that crossing Kyria Rhaptis would have far worse consequences.
Of course, with safety just steps out of reach, a familiar, guttural voice called out, “You haven’t figured it out yet, have you, Human?“
I stopped, my longhouse only two hundred yards away. From the corner of my eye, I could make out the people streaming toward the grand hall, but it didn’t matter. My tormentors knew better than to risk possible witnesses. If they moved now, no one around would care enough about my plight to do something. While I could run, I would never make it to my cabin before they caught me, and the “punishment” would only be worse.
I turned around. “You know I need water. I don’t have another option.“
Backed by another three Volki, their leader smiled. The low light gave his sharp features even more menace. “I doubt that—not with the way you suck up to the Oresiani. I am sure you could ask your little pretty boy for some help. ”
I ignored the crude gesture he had made with his hands. “I’d rather not owe anybody.”
“Well you owe us.“ He advanced, cracking his knuckles.
It was clear what was coming next. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I stood there as he pulled back his fist, and for the first time, I paid attention to his Marks. I now had more practice reading them, and this guy had not cracked the third tier. In this place, people would consider him the dredges of the Volkski group, and here he was with his even lower-leveled friends picking on Tier-I Human.
How big and important they must feel. Bullies. Weak, but acting tough. How utterly Human. But what options did I have? If I run, I get beaten. If I beg, I get beaten. If I sit here, I get beaten. If I fight…?
A cool rush flowed back from my eyes and down my spine. I blinked—or tried to. The fist, once a blur, had slowed to a crawl. If I didn’t move, it would still hit me. Instinct flickered. I tilted my head back—or tried to.
Then the world snapped back to normal.
My head tilted back, and the punch flew past my face. Time slowed again, though this time without the cool rush marking the use of Energy. It was the slow motion that occurred when watching a plate slip from your hand to fall towards the floor or a car not slowing fast enough to avoid the one in front of it that had just slammed its brakes. Surprise covered the leader’s face as his momentum carried him off balance. Where the head goes, the body follows. Unfortunately, mine was going backward. My feet did not get the memo about the sudden dodge. I lost balance as I tipped backward, but one of my feet managed to slip between my assailant’s legs as he stepped forward in his follow-through.
He went down. Somehow I didn’t.
The three goons stared at their boss face down in the muddy grass before looking back up at me. Nobody moved, not even the leader of this gang, from the shock of the scene.
“Crap,” I whispered. I was gonna pay for this one…if they caught me.
I ran.
They caught me.
Claws bit deep, hooking under my right clavicle. My pursuer stopped me with ease. He spun me around.
I came face to face with the gang’s leader. His smile widened revealing his far too pointy teeth. Mud covered his face and sharp nose.
“Finally some spine. I should thank you. The thrill of a hunt makes things so much more fun. Of course, it also makes it harder to control our aggression.“
He cocked his arm back. A cool rush cut through the throb in my skull. The world slowed again, but I had no chance of dodging now. I had no strength, no leverage. I tried to block, but whether a miner or [Miner], he was used to moving heavy loads. His fist hit like a hammer. It shattered my guard, and I was out.
***
I couldn’t remember what came next. I didn’t want to. I had been on the other side of this before—not a beating like this but rather its aftermath. The memory of my report to the surgery fellow came back to me. A twenty-three-year-old male with no past medical history presenting with severe traumatic brain injury, multiple rib fractures, lung and liver contusions, a ruptured spleen… There was more. It was a messy course. I never found out why or how he found himself on the wrong side of a bat, not that it mattered. He didn’t make it. Neither would I—
Something opened my mouth and jammed a bottle in it. I didn’t resist. I knew what would follow. Not my first rodeo.
I swallowed the tangy mixture, trying not to choke. When a second vial pushed against my lips, I drank its contents, too. As soon as it hit my mouth, the regenerative liquid had an immediate effect, clearing much of the haze from my mind. It let me judge in my current state. Based on the Energy radiating out from my stomach, I had consumed close to three-quarters of a whole potion. My bottle had less than half in it. He used somewhere from a quarter to half of his or one of his underlings’ potion on me. He wanted me alive. Almost flattering in a sadistic sort of way. My continued torment was worth up to half a potion.
Why not just end me? Were they afraid of the Alfa’s wrath? Or was I just entertainment? A convenient outlet for their pathetic frustrations?
They laughed as they walked away, leaving me lying in the dirt. They may have wanted to prolong their fun, but this potion was doing the opposite. Seconds after swallowing it, the infection in my lungs had begun lapping up the potion from my blood, spreading to other lobes and, more concerning, my blood. I didn’t need the feeling of “wrongness” that now pervaded my body to know this was bad.
My heart found another gear. Thank goodness for all the practice with those two Ættir. I had one shot at this, and though the trauma added a new element, I flexed my dwindling reserves to shunt all the healing to the places I needed it. With the infection spreading, I wouldn’t be able to block its metabolizing the potion. I had to take another tack: resource denial. I need to use the potion before it, or I could become septic.
The effort taxed my strained mind and body. A chill deeper than the cold from the mud I rested in blossomed in my chest. Hammers struck the inside of my skull. Yet, bones knit. Internal bleeding stopped. My breaths deepened. My burgeoning fever broke.
When I had ensured all traces of infection remained localized to my lung, I dragged myself to my knees, then my feet. I wheezed, then coughed. The pain in my ribs almost brought me back to the ground. They may no longer contain fractures, but aching ribs would plague me for some time.
The price for preventing a raging infection.
I staggered a few feet towards my longhouse before I noticed that I was not alone. Rægnor stood in the distance, watching me stumble toward my home. He shook his head before he turned and walked away.
A heat built inside my chest making the pain fade. Emotionless as the Ættir were, the disgust on his face was plain as day. Disgust! Over what? A Human too weak to defend himself? Had he watched the whole thing or just the aftermath? Either way, he had done nothing—which also had to be what he thought of me.
I hate this world.
Every indulgence cost me. I paid the price today because I had gone on an extra water run so that I could take a bath a few days ago. And why? I had gone less than a week without a bath. Everyone here was filthy. Except, it was just too much. Too much for my civilized tendencies.
Stupid.
I had left all pretense of civilization behind when I went through that portal. I need to learn that, or I would get myself killed—and not just from more beatings. This world wasn’t safe. I needed to hoard every resource and grow eyes in the back of my head. Yet I struggled to forgo the simple luxury of a bath.
As soon as I entered my house, I kicked off my boots and barred the door. I headed straight to the back. I eyed my dwindling stores of water. Worse, tonight had done more than injure me. It guaranteed that I would be getting water sooner because I needed to see Kyria Rhaptis, and I could not appear before her with mud-caked clothes and hair. Or could I? She wouldn’t care too much, but if Dorian found out…
I should save this. I should. But I couldn’t—I needed this, even if I paid for it later. I would just have to expedite finding an Oresian [Mage].
I poured water over my head to wash off the dirt. I stifled a groan as the cold water hit my skin. Goosebumps sprouted all over my skin, and my body shivered. With the majority of the grime gone, I moved as quickly as I could to pour water into the tub until the runes caved into the wood glowed. They would heat the water over time, and I willed them to go faster.
I dropped in and let my body soak up the heat. It really was a waste, but it was a delightful one. It also afforded me the chance to see the toll I paid for this luxury.
Brown, green, and purple spots speckled my chest. The healing had left the multiple contusions at different stages of resolution. They provided a good example of how the potions worked. The potions just accelerated the healing process. The bruises went through the typical transformation of colors as the blood products broke down. It was fun and quite informative to watch the process. The research applications of accelerated tissue growth and recovery…
I let out a sigh and leaned back. Out of reflex more than need, I pushed on my ribs. They hurt, but they weren’t broken. I knew that for a fact. I could perceive everything about my body. I had a literal map of my body in my mind.
When did this happen? I could now rotate my entire body—or parts of it—along each axis, zoom in or out, or page through slice by slice. It was as if I was looking at images from CT or MRI, though far, far better.
It was as amazing as it was unnerving.
I touched my temple. Had my Mark grown? It had to make all of this possible. Images of the sliver of my Mark dancing in the solution Kyria Rhaptis created flashed through my mind. It grew. It changed. It responded to my thoughts...my thoughts!
Just how deeply connected were we?
When I pushed my limits, my brain hurt. It didn’t matter if I was manipulating the images from an internal scan or enhancing potions. When I overdid it, it let me know. It also seemed to adapt. Something had happened with the first punch in that fight, but what? The world slowing down wasn’t natural, yet it happened at just the right time. Something inside me had acted. I wasn’t controlling it, but could I?
I needed a specimen to study. I snorted. That’s not happening anytime soon. I sighed. I would just have to figure out how to scan someone else’s body. Imaging was one of the keystones of modern medicine. If I could reproduce it…
I rested my head back on the edge of the tub. I needed to go to Kyria Rhaptis soon, but this was so relaxing. It would stay at this perfect temperature as long as the water stayed in the tube even when left overnight. I had experimented to confirm. Mornings were much better when you could wash your face with warm water.
I coughed, and this time, I finally cleared my chest of some sputum. If only I could justify staying in this bath. Unfortunately, while heat did help clear the lungs, its benefits didn’t outweigh the pain of skipping my other task. All good things had to come to an end.
I dragged myself out of the tub and got dressed in one of my dwindling number of sets of clean, borrowed clothes that fit. For so many reasons, my situation wasn’t sustainable. Maybe Kyria Rhaptis would have a way out. I could only hope.
Comments
Ruben B
Nah, people who are down to surviving, aren't going to be at their best mentally. I reckon with enduring the beatings, being sick, and unknown threats is part of why he's making these choices. Plus, he already owes his friend for a lot already.
Ruben B
Thank you for the chapter!
tibbish
Hrrm. Feels like he is being made stupider over time. Enduring the constant beatings, while also very sick, is doing him no favors. He should just have that guy bring him some water from time to time. Its no big burden on that guy and its not like anyone will start trouble with that guy over it either.
