"You're doing a good job, Bell."
"Thank You, Lord Miach."
Bell is quite new to healing, but he tries his best and that's enough. In addition, he has a very good memory – it took only once to explain the principle, and after a couple of attempts, Bell is already quickly preparing the necessary mixtures for Naaza to mix medicines from them.
The boy works from dawn to dusk – first running into the dungeon Until his hands start to fall off from the strain and pain, then to the Guild to exchange magic stones. And then, without stopping for a moment, he runs home to work again, help and study. Naaza periodically catches him at the entrance and forcibly puts him on a bench to check his injuries-Bell has a bad habit of trying to hide them. "It'll heal, don't waste potions," the boy demurs timidly as Naaza pours a viscous salve over the worn skin and bruised knuckles. "Miach's Hound " taps the boy on the nose and wraps a bandage around his wrists. "If Lord Miach has the means to distribute medicine right and left, then there will be a share for his family as well." Miach was usually there at this time, making sure that the broth didn't boil off, and smiling guiltily to himself.
Speaking of wounds and injuries - Bell awkwardly presses his elbow to his side as he pours dry grass in a mortar. Miach frowns and sidles up behind him, carefully sliding his fingertips under his clenched hand – Bell immediately squeaks and tries to pull away.
"You probably have a cracked rib. Put down the mortar and take off your shirt. "
Bell tries to refuse help, but Miach is persistent. Just yesterday, a monster that had escaped from the Colosseum had thrown his child against the walls, shaking it like a rag doll, and only Bell's sharp rise in stats had kept him alive. Bell won that day – the sounds of his battle still echo in the alleys and people's conversations – but it would be too optimistic to believe that the boy could have walked away from such a deadly encounter without injury. But yesterday, on a wave of adrenaline, Bell, apparently, did not feel pain – and today the battle injuries made themselves felt. And he, of course, decided to keep quiet instead of asking for help. So now Miach will not let him escape – if there is really a crack, then at the slightest pressure, the bone can break completely. And a broken rib might well pierce a lung – and Bell, even without someone else's influence, could easily choke on blood. Miach often saw adventurers neglect their health, naively believing that the divine blessing would prevent them from dying of their wounds. But all mortals bleed and die the same way – and even high-level adventurers dropped dead when their bodies couldn't take it anymore. But how do you get it into the head of Bell, who is sure that he has to carry everything on his own? Miach would have talked to his grandfather, rightly assuming that everything grew out of childhood.
Bell carefully pulls off his shirt, revealing a dark purple bruise with an ugly green tint on his pale skin. Miach crouches down and gently presses his fingers into the center of the bruise – Bell flinches and lets out a small cry.
"Is it hard to breathe?" - Miach goes up and takes the salve from the shelf – Naaza added ice leaves from the tenth floor to it, so it will also ease the pain. Bell fumbles quietly behind him, but answers, apparently realizing that he can't get away from the answer.
"Y-yeah…I just thought I had a bit of a cold."
"And that's how you're going to run to the Dungeon in this condition?" - Miach sighs and turns back to his sweet but stupid child. He notices again the ribs still protruding under the thin skin and frowns – Miach would like to give his children more than he can now. Perhaps he could have gone with his children to Ireland, which still sang sweetly in his head at night, but he had a duty, and his precious child had a dream as clear as a mountain crystal. So he'll just keep doing what he can.
"I'm Sorry, Lord Miach."
Bell shivers under the touch of the cold ointment, but soon his convulsions recede and he can take a deep breath. Miach runs along the edges of the ugly bruise, smearing the remnants of the ointment, and runs her knuckles along the back, checking it as well. But everything seems to be all right – Miach stands up and helps pull the shirt back on.
They are about to continue when Bell suddenly and almost weightlessly tugs at the sleeve of Miach's robe, hiding his eyes.
"Is something wrong?" - Miach looks out of the corner of his eye, not turning his head. Bell sometimes needs to be treated like a frightened animal – yet he has been pushed away too long and too much, and is constantly waiting for a kick in the ribs instead of an outstretched hand. So Miach waits for Bell to get up the courage to tell him. Bell is more talkative with Naaza, but she's not around right now. It remains only to listen to what he has to say and try to help.
"Yesterday… Yesterday, when it all started, " - Bell mindlessly rubs the herbs to dust, again and again, as if trying to hide behind these movements from his anxiety, - " I felt as if someone was looking at me. So intently. I felt like my whole neck was covered in ice, it was ... " - he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words, - "Scary and creepy. It's like I'm caught in a web with no way out."
Miach sets the half-finished potion aside and turns to Bell, cupping his face in his hands and lifting his head up so that he can no longer hide his eyes. Bell is usually not afraid of anything – so Miach needs to know everything.
"Have you ever felt this way before?"
"Ah… Yes. Sometimes when I go to the Dungeon, I feel like someone is watching me. And this is not like you, Lord Miach, or Naaza. But yesterday… It was different. "
Miach shudders heavily and pulls Bell closer, letting him rest his forehead on his shoulder. No matter how much he hid and sheltered the boy, one of the gods already had their eye on him - and if he compare everything with what happened yesterday, it must be a God or a Goddess of Beauty. It is their beauty and charms that are still unshackled by the divine ban – and they use them constantly, getting everything they want. Miach remembered the patient from the previous day, a girl from the Ganesha family, and frowned again. It wasn't exactly poison, but something a hundred times worse.
- I can't… I can't take it anymore!
The girl arched and screamed again. Her body was feverish, as if she were on fire, but Miach couldn't recognize any illness. Naaza wiped the sweat from her shoulders and neck with a wet towel and held her wrist so that the adventurer wouldn't scratch her entire body in agony.
Charm is a mean beauty. It robs you of your will, crushes your bones into jelly like a drug, and makes you want more and more until its influence runs out. But even then, the body and mind, broken and crippled, must come together again, experiencing pain on the verge of ecstasy.
"I'll change the water." Miach found comfort in her calmness, for She was quite warm. - "I'll be back soon, Lord Miach."
Miach shook out the damp cloth and placed it over the sufferer's eyes. The girl screamed again before the God of healing would let her hurt herself.
Only two goddesses in Orario possessed such charm that they were not afraid of any punishment – Freya and Ishtar. And both of them were goddesses above all else – if Ishtar told his Amazons to attack, they would attack. But if Freya tells her men to kill their comrades, they will. Each of them has no other purpose than to serve her.
Bell gradually calms down – his thin trembling shoulders stop shaking, Miach puts a warm hand on the back of his neck to warm it, and the child calms down. Many gods would call this overprotective, but they, the eternal, unchanging gods, forget that often their children's lives are only a brief moment. Naaza and Bell are still so young that he should take care of them, which seems to be what the gods should do.
"Are you feeling better?" - Miach runs his fingers through her snow-white mop of hair and Bell nods softly, pulling back and wiping his eyes. - "Leave the care of the gods to me."
"Thank you, Lord Miach," - Bell smiles back at his God and returns to the mortar, - "I just … I don't really
understand what they want from me. "
"Are you referring to the time when you were caught by a crowd of bored goddesses, or the times when Hestia visits us?" - Miach looks up and smiles, watching Bell's ear tips turn a soft red.
"About everything at once," - his child sighs and shrugs in a nervous gesture, - " Grandpa said that a real man should always meet girls. But now…"
"They scare you a little, don't they?" - Miach puts the stopper on the bottle and puts it in the rack, picking up the next one, - "Besides, someone else is targeting you. It doesn't sound so good to me. "
"Not that they're intimidating, but-" - Bell frowns again, as if the playfulness has faded - "When I asked, when I begged, no one offered me a hand. And now many gods are trying to find out what Familia I come from and whether I would like to go to them. Especially after yesterday. And my skill… They haven't noticed him yet, have they? "
"I hope so," - Miach leans down and touches hi forehead to Bell's, soothing his child, - "But I'm glad to see you grow up. It seems that someone is going to be a hero soon. "
Bell just nods and closes his eyes, handing the crushed hypericum to Miach.
"I hope I become as much of a hero as you and Naaza have become to me."
Miach doesn't show it, his heart squeezes every time Bell says such words or when Naaza thanks him for her hand again. He did only what he had to do, but the tender faith of his children seemed to give him powers comparable to the divine Arcan.
"I'm glad my dear child thinks so highly of a small God like me."
Bell blushes again – he does it in a way that is unimaginably gentle and beautiful. Miach remarks a little smugly that each of his children is beautiful - Naaza, calm, like a wise goddess, and Bell, naive and young, like the breath of spring.
"I'm back, Lord Miach, Bell."
"Naaza! " - Bell immediately rushes to help his named sister sort out the purchases and arrange the ingredients. Miach leaves his children alone and goes outside. He feels a ghostly chill and looks for a long time at the tower of Babel, crowned by the disk of the full moon.
The start of something else. But by not taking Miach seriously, many gods make a mistake.
Even the best medicine in the right proportion turns into poison.