“Hear ye, hear ye! Everyone is to remain in their houses. No one is to enter or exit the city. By order of the mayor and Boliarin, Edwin Roberts!” Repeated the city’s crier for what felt like the thousandth time today.

What a mess Myrna was these days. First the coughing sickness, then the charlatans who tried to make a profit out of it, and now people were going to be growing tree bark on their skin.

And he, rather than staying safely in his home, had to travel the streets and make sure no one broke the lockdown. And all that because some warrior, who was totally getting blacklisted if he survived getting flayed alive, had skipped the organ transplantation waiting list.

Or, at least, that was what Jerry, the friend of a friend of cousin Karl, had spread as a reason for this new calamity. Many wanted the Dead ogre inn burned to the ground, with the warrior inside.

But the Boliarin, and wasn’t it scary that they had someone like that living among them, peaceful folk? The Boliarin had set his foot down and had promised to control the sickness. This tree man syndrome.

And wasn’t this a silly name for something that stopped business and life in general for an entire city? Who came up with such a name? Were they retarded, or did they want to joke with the sickness?

The city crier shook his head and repeated his lines again, passing by the cursed inn. He heard a scream from inside and a loud crash. Man, getting flayed willingly sounded like something straight out of a nightmare. The crier did not want to be in the place of the warrior.

Inside the inn, Edwin took the warts one by one and placed them in a glass jar. There was a leather band in Daniel’s mouth, so he didn’t bite off his tongue. They had tried anesthesia, but it had not taken with the warrior.

Which meant he had more mana than most. That was something he had thought of as a blessing formally, but now, as the scalpel worked on his arm, probably cursed to high Heaven.

“Not much longer now,” said Edwin as he continued the bloody work. The fingers, which had sprouted their warts by the time the gloves were delivered, were rather tricky to flay. With each cut, Edwin had to borrow Hadrian’s mana to close the wounds immediately. He didn’t bother trying to save the fingernails. Daniel would regrow them. Hopefully, bark free.

Daniel managed to hiss something that sounded suspiciously like darn you, charlatan. Edwin frowned at that and dug the scalpel deeper than he should have. Blood poured out of the cut, and he returned to flaying the man.

“Eddy, after this he will be fine, right?” Asked Hadrian. For all that Daniel had the charm of the dragons he hunted, Hadrian did not wish him to die or become a cripple.

“He will need regular operations and skin freezing. Once his skin begins to regrow, I will need to freeze it. There is little anyone can do with the poison already in his bloodstream,” said Edwin. It was not an easy admission to make, but it was the truth.

Daniel began to grumble loudly, and Edwin cut off the last wart. The crumbling turned to a loud howl and the man spat out the leather.

“Darn it all, couldn’t you have been gentler?” Screamed the warrior.

“I did my best,” said Edwin, not impressed. “Now, take your medicine.”

He nodded at Hadrian, who took out a bag with different glass bottles with pills in them. The vampire put them a safe distance away from Daniel, but still within reaching distance.

“I will. Can I get some ale with them?” Asked Daniel, hopefully. After what he had been through, he required a drink.

“You can’t drink alcohol for the rest of your life. Since you can never stop taking these pills,” said Edwin, and he had a moment of satisfaction from the defeated look Daniel gave him.

While it was unprofessional to dislike one’s patients, Daniel had been nothing but rude to him ever since they met him. A little payback, that was done for the man’s own good, was well overdue.

“Kill me now and be done with it,” said the man, dejected. Edwin placed a pitcher with water and a glass next to him and pointed at the glass bottles with a raised eyebrow.

“To a life with no happiness,” said the warrior, and he began to take a pill from each bottle and drink them.

“Eddy, I have something to ask you,” said Hadrian, shifting from one foot to the other.

“No,” answered Edwin simply. “Think of the children.”

“It is murder to leave him. He will need further treatment. You said so yourself,” said Hadrian pleadingly.

“There is an entire clinic in Myrna. As long as he drinks his medication, he won’t need to be flayed anymore. Just monitored,” said Edwin with a shrug. Ok, maybe he disliked Daniel a bit too much for him to call himself professional.

“Yes, but none of them are you. What if they hand him over to the cleaners? They burn contagious people alive, Eddy. Have you ever gotten burned?” Asked Hadrian.

Daniel pretended not to pay attention to them, but he shuddered at the last one. He sends Edwin a pleading look, his eyes large and scared. Edwin looked at the bar area of the inn.

There were people there who were getting checked for tree man syndrome. Mostly the staff as, once the news had spread that the cleaners could get involved, the guests have scrammed.

It took a lot of bravery, or possibly, desperation, on Daniel's side for him to have stayed. A kernel of trust in Edwin’s abilities, too. All tied together in a neat bow by hope and the desire to stay alive.

“He will never go with any skin uncovered, and he will not touch the children. Not even with gloves on. He will eat from specific plates and use his own cutlery. And he will do his own washing.” Said Edwin finally.

At the end of the day, a murder was a murder, even if it presented itself in not helping someone. And Edwin didn’t murder outside of self-defense.

“Thank you, healer,” said Daniel meekly, and Edwin snorted. Just wait until he forced him to give up smocking. He’ll be back at calling him a charlatan in a heartbeat.