Author's Note: Originally, this was going to be a quick little fluff piece based on the sub-jobs I'd put everyone in, much like Rolling Thunder. But then I wanted to write some Dad Olberic, too, so the fic ended up expanding a bit, haha. Anyway, the first chapter's fairly simple, but it was still fun to write, so here we go.
Chapter One: Learning to Heal
Olberic frowned as he sat down on his bed at the inn in Saintsbridge. The party had stopped at the Shrine of the Healer on the way there, and, upon examining the altar, he'd been blessed by Dohter's spirit. He didn't feel quite as…different as he'd expected, if that was the proper way of phrasing it.
Of course, Olberic didn't think the new skills would come to him all at once. Like anything else, learning how to be an apothecary would take time and practice. Still, he'd assumed something more noticeable would happen after the light had faded from the dais.
Well, Olberic had someone to teach him. He was sure Alfyn wouldn't mind; the man seemed nearly incapable of refusing someone who needed aid, and Alfyn did everything with an easy grin on his face. There would be no judgment if Olberic wasn't perfect immediately.
He looked up at the door as he finished unlacing and removing his boots. It had just swung open, revealing Alfyn himself. He absently kicked off his shoes and set his satchel down near the other bed, glancing over at Olberic as he sat down as well.
"You're looking pretty distracted there, Olberic. Something on your mind?"
Did he look distracted? To be fair, Olberic was lost in thought. He rarely got such comments, however; if anything, Olberic had more often heard that he was hard to read.
He shook his head. "It is nothing. I…" Olberic paused, taking a deep breath. "Well. I would like to learn how to brew salves and tonics the way you do. If you don't mind…"
A look of understanding crossed Alfyn's face, and he nodded eagerly. "Course I don't mind! You wanna get started now? I can teach you something easy; it won't take long… Oh! I got something for you."
He rifled through his satchel, pulling out several small jars full of powder and crushed roots. Olberic blinked as he watched Alfyn organize everything, yet he couldn't help being slightly amused. It was exactly the response he'd expected, after all.
"Right," Alfyn continued, rolling up his sleeve and revealing a small cut on his arm. "Guess I got this in that fight we got into on the way here. It's small enough I didn't notice it until the damned thing started itching afterwards. I was gonna take care of it myself, but it's simple enough you can probably mix up a salve for it on your own."
He nodded at the jars he'd set out on the bedside table, and Olberic obligingly followed Alfyn's gaze as he started pointing at them.
"For an injury like this, a bit of essence of grape mixed with some soothing dust and a little water does the trick right up," Alfyn explained. "You just gotta add equal amounts of both and make sure you don't get too much water in there. If it starts getting runny, you can add some more grape to even it out."
Well, that really was simple, but Olberic had to start somewhere. He took another look at Alfyn's ingredients, adding the correct ones to a small vial. Upon getting them all mixed together, Olberic gave Alfyn a sidelong glance and held the jar out to him for approval. Alfyn took it, examined the mixture carefully, and grinned up at him upon handing it back.
"Not bad at all," he commented. "The color's real nice, and you got it a good consistency. Now you just need to pour a bit onto the wound and wrap it up good."
"I'd hardly call this a wound," Olberic mused as he took Alfyn's arm. "Though I've seen men fall ill from taking poor care of smaller ones."
"You're right on that! Half the work of an apothecary's making sure people don't get that bad in the first place. Spotting injuries and illnesses before they get any worse ain't always easy."
Olberic nodded as he carefully spread the salve onto Alfyn's arm. The cut was only an inch or two in length, but it was red around the edges. It didn't look too bad, but it had been a few hours since Alfyn had gotten it. If he'd gone too much longer without tending it, it could've been worse.
Finally, Olberic took the bandages Alfyn offered him and wrapped them around his arm. He leaned back upon finishing, examining his work. It really hadn't been hard, but Olberic still felt some pride at following the directions properly.
Alfyn checked over the bandages as well—probably making sure they weren't too tight—and flashed Olberic another smile.
"See, you're getting the hang of it! I'll keep you on small stuff for a bit, but I don't think it's gonna take you too long at all. Soon you'll be mixing up stuff for fevers and rashes like a champ."
Olberic managed a small grin in return. "You oversell my work, friend. But I'm glad I could be of some help."
"Nah, it ain't overselling at all." Alfyn raised an eyebrow in amusement. "But anyway, we can get some more practice in tomorrow if you want. Sound good?"
"Indeed, it does."
With that, the two proceeded to get ready for bed. When he lied down, Olberic turned to the side and raised his hands towards his face. He'd honestly lost count of the number of men he'd injured or killed back in his days as a proper knight, but…now he was learning how to heal instead of hurt.
There was a small tug of something in the back of his mind. It was hard to put a name to the feeling, but…it seemed important. Was this what Olberic was looking for? He still needed his answers regarding Erhardt, but maybe…
Maybe this was the start of something Olberic needed.
Then, Alfyn turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Olberic sighed and closed his eyes. He could ponder this more at a later time, but…somehow, sleep came more easily to him that night than it usually did.