All right, he will admit it, maybe this hasn't been the greatest idea he ever had.
Sure, rooting out the Knight's presence from Valkenheim was all well and good, but he definitely could have thought of better ways to do it rather than sneaking in on his own. He underestimated the bulk of their forces, and they didn't hold back.
He had cuts and bruises basically everywhere, his shield arm was close to unusable from the strain of blocking so many strong attacks and he sported a lovely tear in his sword arm. Now he just had to check one last room while Helvar and the rest of the troops dealt with the cowardly commander of the garrison.
They weren't happy to see him looking like a bleeding pig, but it's not like he could have just told their enemies to "please don't hit him with their long pointy sticks". He reached the door and kicked it open, expecting an ambush.
What Stigandr the Warlord ended up finding was… puzzling to say the least.
He was no warrior. Not at first glance, at least. Short blonde hair, eyes green like the forest and a tunic of the same color, with something stitched to the chest above his heart. It was a familiar symbol, something regarding the Knight's Pantheon of gods. The only question was whom, exactly.
"The mark of Asclepius, our god of healing. You can put down your sword, Warlord. I am not a soldier. Well, come in, what are you waiting for? Those wounds are not going to heal themselves".
A healer! How lucky! And he didn't even have to threaten him!
… wait, he didn't?
And he spoke in Icelandic too! With a bit of an accent, for sure, but he knew his language. What a curious young lad…
"Don't give me that look. This is just me doing my job. As long as you promise that I will not be killed, I can easily patch you up. Do we have a deal?"
"I'll be damned! We sure do! Where do I sit?"
The young man gestured to a coat right beside him and Stigandr gratefully took a seat, starting to strip out of his garments. His gaze though, was completely focused on the healer.
"May I ask your name, if you're going to dirty your hands with my blood?"
"Ah… right. My name is Corvo, healer of the Blackstone Legion".
Yup, as he had guessed… wait a minute, did he just say…
"Blackstone?! You are part of the group that destroyed Svengård?!"
Corvo merely nodded, face neutral. But the sorrow in his gaze was unmistakable.
"Yes. I was there. I did not pick up arms against your people, but I witnessed the destruction and the consequent famine that came after. For what it's worth, I am sorry that it happened. They were innocents…"
He scuffed.
"Spare me your pity, healer! I have no no need for it!"
"It is not pity. Call it… kinship. After all, I know what it feels like to watch the place you call home… burn to the ground, along with the people that you love".
Stigandr calmed himself down, relaxing his hands that he had unconsciously balled up. This boy had nothing to do with it. He was just a medic, probably doing his best to save as many people as he could. Taking his anger out on him would only make him a monster, just like those that actually destroyed Svengård.
It helped that the lad actually seemed to understand.
Either unaware of his thoughts, or more likely willing to let him digest everything at his pace, Corvo had started treating him. The sting of his wounds gradually started diminishing, until they became a dull throb.
The guy's hands must have been blessed by Eir herself.
Speaking of…
"Why are you healing me? I should be an enemy, especially after I killed so many of your compatriots to get here…"
Corvo shrugged.
"You did. But I do not feel particularly sorry. Julius Salavander was nothing more than a sniveling manchild pretending to be a Warden… and his men were all assholes and monsters in their own rights. As for you specifically… well, I have been sent here to heal everybody who may need it. There was no specifications on them having to be Knights".
The healer winked and Stigandr laughter bellowed out. He also took notice of the sheer venom in his voice when talking about this 'Salavander'.
"I like you kid! You got stones! I'm sure that the others won't mind having you around!"
"Having me around?"
"Well, yeah, of course! Where else are you supposed to go? Just because me and my troops are honorable enough to not harm a medic, doesn't mean that it's like this everywhere! You go on by yourself, you might get killed!"
The boy mulled over his words for a moment.
"I… suppose you have a point. I'll be in your care then, at least for a while".
A bit of silence stretched. The lad was focused on his job, the more his hands glided over his wounds, the more he was allowed respite from the pain.
Until he reached his arms.
"How are they looking doc?"
"The sword arm can be healed fairly easily. The cut is deep, but not debilitating, luckily for you. The shield arm though… it's barely salvageable".
Stigandr winced at that, both from the words AND the sting.
"It will heal. But you'll be out of commission for a good while. Couple of months, at least".
Annnnd there's the catch. For the love of Odin, the more time passed the more his idea seemed stupid in hindsight.
"It would seem your friends finished seizing the port and there's nothing more that I can do for you at the moment. Would you like to go meet them?"
"That sounds like a good plan. Here, help me. I'll vouch for you, I promise you won't be harmed".
"Your word will be enough?"
The Warlord barked in laughter.
"Little lad, if the word of Stigandr, the last remaining Jarl of the Warborn won't be enough, I would be very disappointed in my people. Come with me, most of them aren't as bad as they would seem".
The meet and greet went… surprisingly well. Most of the Warborn were actually glad to finally have a proper, professional healer among them, even beyond his origins. Their own medics did their best, but their training paled when compared to Corvo's.
Their Raider leader gave the okay for the young man to stay, as long as Stigandr agreed to look after him. Paranoia was the automatic response to almost anything… and honestly, who could bla!e him.
But still, the Jarl was all too happy for the job. Runa gave Corvo the side eye most of the time, just waiting for the slightest excuse to just skewer him and be done with it. Helvar was willing to give him a chance to prove himself. But him...
Oh, the Warlord took to the healer like an old uncle. Having seen past his neutrality, Corvo was obviously someone who didn't appreciate the conflict that was brewing. He was a friend of their people, even if he belonged to the opposite side.
The lad was smart, quiet and respectful. He knew most of their traditions and habits as a population. When asked how, he would just smirk and say that it was a secret. And so, things went smoothly for a bit, until they found helmets belonging to the Samurai.
As was obvious, the prospect of a raid made the Vikings go haywire. What better way to make up for all that they missed than to take them from the Dawn Empire itself?
That night, they were all seated for dinner.
Stigandr remained close to the healer, like usual, surrounded by their group. Jokes and laughter sounded everywhere, their spirits once again soaring high. Until Corvo spoke.
"I have heard that you all intend to invade the Myre. Is it true?"
He nodded.
"We sure are! Why do you think everyone is so excited?! We are preparing a raid, and there is no more worthy target than the Samurai, for the moment. Why the question?"
The healer hummed.
"Then… I offer you all an accord".
Dagur the Raider, who was in charge of the whole operation, leaned forward, ready to listen.
"I want to come with you. I'm supposed to meet up with my Warlord at a certain spot in the Samurai's territory. Accompany me there and I will put all of my healing skills at your service. I promise that you will have much better chances at succeeding with me to patch up your wounds".
The Warlord grinned more and more widely the more Corvo spoke.
Dagur nodded, looking at his companions.
"Let's put it to votes then. Stigandr? You are the one who benefited the most from his presence. Are you in favour?"
"Absolutely! While he may not be the most companionable person, his skills are beyond doubt! Having him around could prove to be a boon for us".
The Raider accepted his response.
"Runa?"
"I do not trust him. He's still a Knight, soldier or healer makes no difference, which means that we cannot put him in a position where he can betray us more easily. I vote against".
"Also true. Helvar, your response?"
The Berserker took a moment to think about it.
"Favour. The potential benefits outweigh the risks, in my opinion. If he is as good as Stigandr seems to imply, we would be fools to not make use of it".
Dagur nodded one last time.
"Very well. We have a deal then, Blackstone. Do not make us regret this trust we're giving you".
Corvo bowed his head.
"You will not be disappointed. I promise".
Stigandr felt even more giddy. A proper raid after centuries with a proper healer to back them up. Sure, the young man wouldn't be able to save everyone, that was obvious… but even just some lives were better than none at all.
Those Japanese bastards better be ready, for they were about to feel the wrath and bloodlust of the Warborn!
Hello?! Is this thing on?! It is?! Noice.
Welcome back, dudes and gentleladies to another episode of A Healer's Oath, the show where being a healer is somehow more stressful than being a soldier.
The Viking campaign has officially started with… not the Raider! Surprised? I'll bet, but let me explain.
While going in order of class would have been nice, the most important thing that I have to respect in the case of this story, are the chronological events. There would have been no feasible way for Corvo to be present while the Raider went through… "convincing" Ragnar and Siv to join him.
So I decided to switch the hero order and make something more realistic. The Raider will come, but later on in the story.
Having changed campaign, though, also meant that some set up was required. Stigandr was slightly robbed this chapter as a consequence, but it was a necessary evil.
That's all folks! Ta-ta for now!