Thorold Hafnon played around with his tea cup. The spoon made small whirls in the liquid as the three before him watched him and waited for him to speak. This was something his family had wanted for a while, but had never gotten enough of a voice to make it happen.
“So, we overthrow the governments and…”
“No,” interjected Edwin with a frown. They had been over this for twenty minutes now, and the Hafnon always tried to come back to this point. “We create a syndicate and enforce freedom of action for all healers.”
“That is an adorable idea,” snorted Thorold. “But it won’t work. Just imagine what the rulers will do when a healer stands in their way. If you want to see this through the end, healer, you have to get your hands bloody.”
Thorold regarded the idealistic youth before him. The man didn’t want to hurt anyone, even though he did so occasionally. He was an ok fighter, if his eyes were crimson, the sign of a sire killer, and not a different color. But was he a schemer?
The third son of the Hafnon family somehow doubted that. So, he graciously decided to take over the whole operation. The backing of various Boliarins would be a welcomed help. And those tended to follow a top dog from among themselves. Which meant that the healer before him had to prove himself to his fellow corpse desecrators.
“What do you have in mind?” The warrior, Daniel, asked. He seemed to be reluctant to be here. Mostly because his normal duties included stabbing things, Thorold guessed. This cloak and dagger delicate work was something entirely new for him.
“We start from Duria. Must it have more than one Boliarin?” The suggested hanged in the air. Edwin’s eyes widened, and he began to shake his head.
“Duria needs a Boliarin who can stay with the king at all times and I need to travel,” Edwin had a hundred more reasons why challenging the office of the second necromancer in Duria was a bad idea. Thorold didn’t want to hear any of them.
“You ran away from home and are now a vampire. Go home, healer. Take the second office, the one made because of you in the first place, and make sure no one takes it. Whisper in the ear of king Valyr. You are already the protector of his son, are you not?” These three required a secure base of operation. And to prove themselves. Thorold had just the thing in mind.
“But, before you go, there is a dungeon in need of leveling in the Surian Theocracy. The Asylum of Blood. If people see you destroying dungeons, you will be viewed as a hero. You don’t want a bloody revolution? At least not bloody, concerning human casualties? Then do something to make yourself known.”
“I have already destroyed three dungeons, but the idea did cross my mind,” it had done more than that. Before Fernand had come, it had been his way forward. A world without dungeons. One less cause of suffering for the people in the world.
“Wonderful, I’ll get the cemetery clearance for you today. But, make something flashier. A shadow maybe?” Thorold expected to be denied. After all, shadows were numerous souls bashed together. They were permanent and had to be fed other souls. A step below a Lich.
The already poisonous mana of the healer will turn into an even worse of a poison after the first shadow. He would need another person’s mana to do something as simple as a checkup. But then again, he might find a way around that. Thorold’s eyes traveled to the other vampire, who was making a face as he ate something red. Roberts was good with finding loopholes.
“If I make a shadow, then I will be crippled when it comes to healing!” Ah, there was the protest. Thorold sighed and finally stopped playing with his tea.
“Yes, well, what can you do? Maybe you can utilize mana in a bottle? I know that there is a wide research done on the properties of condensed mana. You just need to make sure you don’t end up with another necromancer’s mana, I suppose,” honestly, why was Roberts even in the business of healing?
That was a mystery Thorold couldn’t decipher. With his power, he could become a one-man army. Karl Lambert of Duria had only fought his entire life, and he had died with honor. Why couldn’t Edwin do the same?
Then there was Aleric Stormcrow, who had weaponized his mana and had created the coughing sickness and who knows how many more besides. The other necromancers to let their mana type define them. So, why was Roberts so bent up on healing?
“Think of it this way, if you get your way, it won’t matter that you will need a plethora of assistants to heal. The hands of other healers will be untied. Many want to enjoy your level of freedom, you know. But they are not Boliarins and are not second-in-line for a throne. The king must really think you will never make a grab to place you in such a position, by the way.”
“And I won’t. The throne will go to Elidys. But what you are saying…healing brings me fulfillment, but if others can actually heal without carrying about politics, the world will be a better place,” Edwin bowed his head. His eyes traveled down to his pig blood with beer. It tasted passable, but he had no appetite for it now.
“Eddy, there won’t be any going back. If you choose to be a Boliarin full time, then that is what you will be,” Hadrian looked at the Hafnon who smiled at him. There was mischief in his eyes. Like the man was not telling them about the whole picture.
“Look, Edwin,” began Daniel, who felt he owed it to the healer to speak now. Before Hadrian’s words came true. “I am certain that if anyone could find a way to heal with condensed mana, it is you. I mean, you will still be able to heal some things, even without it. Like cancer.”
Memories of Helena and her pain during the treatment flashed before Edwin’s eyes. The purification process after the cancer treatment sessions had been just as painful. Done by professor Nari. Edwin didn’t have the luxury of such an assistant here, but, if he went back to Duria? He did have a license now.
“Singular healers can be silenced. But royalty? Think on it,” Thorold stood up and left. Edwin noticed that the man hadn't drunk any of his tea.
