Leonidas sat on a bench, staring out to the stables a distance from inn itself after Cid and Ben moved the man Jeanne subdued to there for interrogations. The doors were closed, and little noise or light came from there.

  The shock of the horror had finally begun to ebb away from the doctor’s mind as the sun finished setting into the sea of shadowed pine and elms. Leaving behind only the old familiar sting, a dark presence which he tried to tuck away into the corner of his mind where he could hide it away forevermore. But like an old illness clinging to the body it returned to every thought. He had hoped it was buried back in the Outlands when he returned from his exile. The trials of that land untouched by laws and civilization; tilled with blades, sowed with bones and watered in blood. There were days when he marveled at having survived a day let alone years there.

  Tribes, villages, small towns barely scraping an existence from the earth on one day. Only to be wiped out without a shred of evidence to show such a place ever existed on the next. Sometimes by beasts born by waking nightmares, sometimes wrought by forces of magic and the divine wielded by few who hardly understood such things. Sometimes by those fighting each other for reasons which boggled the dullest sensations of logic and reasoning. Yet all felt were masters in the craft, simply because they believed that they were.

  It was a hard land, and every day it tested him to his limit. Goading him to be the very thing he stood against, to slowly succumb to this darkness he fought to stay with every fiber of his being.

  And what was his reward? Graveyards filled with friends and comrades. Branded a knave, a criminal and hunted by those whose lives he saved for false accusations born from inflated egos. The burning anger began filling his mind with somber thoughts. Even the slightest memories caused him feel the urge to give in to ill deeds, now more than he had wanted to in a long time. So deep was he in these thoughts he jumped up when he noticed Jeanne taking a seat next to him.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” she said, handing him a flagon of mead before sitting down next to him.

  “Thanks,” he said weakly before taking a short sip of the mead inside.

  “I heard what happened at the farm. I’m … I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice now cracking.

  “I’m not even going to ask how you’re holding up.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “How well did you know them?”

  “Moire was a good friend. I knew her husband before I was sent to The Outlands. They were the first to give me work when I got back. Helped me get back on my feet. I tended to him when he had phthisis. I was there when he died, doing what I could to make his passing easier, I even tended to his burial as his wife mourned while carrying their child. When Siomon was born, I helped her deliver him. Tried to be something of a father figure to Siomon as I watched him grow from babe to being on the cusp of manhood. And she treated me with a kindness I could never begin to repay. In some ways I saw them as kin. And now they’re gone, just like everyone else.”

  Leonidas looked up, seeking succor for this terrible pain in heart and found none. “I used to think I had a blessed life. For all the times I stared death in the face and yet was graced to see the light of the dawn one more time. Now I wonder if this was nothing more than a mere trick to keep me from a bitter truth.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That I’m truly cursed,” he said with his voice breaking.

  Jeanne placed a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t act as if I can speak on the gods’ behalf. It’s not my place, and frankly I’m not certain I’m on good terms with mine. Though I’d wouldn’t be surprised if a few wouldn’t even give me a moment of their time at this point. I doubt I’d give them the same courtesy if they sent me something nice. But … I do not think you’re cursed, Doc. I think you just have a caring heart.”

  Leonidas looked down, taking in the words. “That means a lot, Jeanne. Thanks.”

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  “Hold off until you know how much you owe for the talk,” she said, giving him a cheeky smile.

  “Prick,” he said, chuckling. His demeanor became less serious as the laughter ebbed away, “I can assume you and your friends are going after these outlaws?”

  “That’s the plan, yeah. Hunt them down until they’re all put to the sword.”

  The doctor nodded. “Count me in. I owe Moire and Siomon that much.”

  Jeanne turned to Leonidas, taken aback. “You sure? This … this may get ugly.”

  “I’ve dealt with ugly before,” Leonidas replied. “It’s a road I’m more than familiar with.”

  “Well,” Jeanne said, wrap her arm around his shoulder, “It’ll be nice to have someone who can actually do some healing. As well as a few of those odd bits you know,” she said, taking a sip of mead.

  “I can’t just rely on my devilish good looks all the time,” he replied.

  “I’m letting you have that one,” Jeanne said, shaking her head and nudging his shoulder.

  “I’ll thank you for your magnanimous boon.”

  “You very good welcome, good sir,” Jeanne said, bowing her head towards him.

  Cid and Benkei emerged from the stable. Shaking the fingers loose and rotating their shoulders and looking worn as they neared the inn.

  “You two don’t look thrilled,” Jeanne said to them.

  “It wasn’t as productive as I had hoped,” said Cid they reached the other two.

  “Did you get anything out of him?” Jeanne asked them.

  Benkei shook his head. “Not much, mostly insults and a few slurs to us and our kin. So, you know, the usual.”

  “Same thing when you brought up the farmhouse?” Leonidas asked.

  Cid shook his head. “He showed little remorse about that.”

  Jeanne turned to Leonidas. “I don’t suppose you know of any pressure points that might help them?”

  Leonidas took a deep breath, rose to his feet, turned to Ben, “I might, mind if I borrow that knife on your belt?”

  Ben, lifting an eyebrow up at the request, cautiously handed Leonidas his knife. “Don’t dull it.”

  “Won’t be an issue,” Leonidas replied as he began calmly walking towards the stables.

  “What are you going to do?” Jeanne asked, now concerned, slowly rising to her feet.

  Leonidas did not even turn to her as he replied. “Just be a little chat,” he replied coldly.

  Inside the stables, Leonidas found the bandit tied to a chair. Bruised and bloodied all over his face, his shirt torn in many places, and his breathing was heavy as he looked up at the doctor. “The fuck do you want?” the bandit asked.

  Leonidas turned to the door and ran his fingers over the slabs. Thin slivers of light emerged on the grain as he wrote runes on the wood. The wood tightened shut, with a snap, causing some of the dust to fly off. “Just want to play a game. I ask, you answer. You give me something within your current antagonizing manner and … you know what, why spoil the surprise?”

  The man spat at Leonidas. “Fuck you and your mother.”

  Leonidas nodded. “This is going to be far easier than I thought.” He moved around behind the man, asking, “Which is your dominate hand?”

  “The fuck would I tell you for?”

  “And there you go just keep digging that hole,” said Leonidas as he used the knife to lacerate the man’s left hand.

  The man growled in pain before turning back to Leonidas. “You think a little cut like that is going to make me talk?”

  Leonidas grabbed a large iron bucket resting next to a wall and moved it underneath the man’s cut hand. “No, actually. And that isn’t the point. I’m not going to make you talk. Though I do know how , even if your mouth was gagged, waxed and sealed, even with runes and incantations to bind your voice into silence, I can make you talk. But I’m not here to make you talk,” the doctor said with menace. As he spoke, Leonidas’s hands began to glow red, frm his finger tip all the way up to his elbow. Throughout the bones thin rivers and streams of violet flowed along, now visible from the inner light through the skin. Veins beneath his skin turned black as his eyes disappeared, leaving only dark abysses where they once sat, he held up his left fist and the man found to his horror his mouth was forced shut and the bandit’s arm began to snap and crack. “I’m going to make you sing.”