In the furthest reaches of the castle’s third floor, Dimitry stood beside intimidating marble double doors. Enchanted stones embedded in the corridor’s floor and walls painted their reflective surfaces a deep azure color. When a yellow-robed woman pushed them open, they trudged inward with a heavy and prolonged creak, revealing a massive bedroom containing gilded furniture fit for royalty.

The court sorceress glanced back at him, nudging towards the room’s interior.

Dimitry’s cue to enter.

An aging queen with black-streaked gray hair lay under the blanket of a four-poster bed. A chair stood nearby. Red and gold with intricate embroidery, a royal mantle hung over its edge, and a familiar girl in a yellow dress sat on its cushion. Her indigo eyes trailed Dimitry as he walked inside. She gave him a broken smile.

Seeing her pale skin remain unplagued comforted Dimitry. He nodded to Saphiria and turned his attention to the queen.

“We’ve brought the surgeon, Your Royal Majesty.”

“Guard the doors and make sure no one approaches until I say. Not Klaire nor the ‘gift’. Is that clear?”

The gift?

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty.” The court sorceress turned around. As she marched out of the room, her piercing eyes shot Dimitry a glare.

He considered the gesture as a warning—Dimitry would suffer if he harmed the queen. Although the enchanted bedclothes hanging over his shoulder haven’t claimed any lives yet, he hoped the queen wouldn’t be the first. Dimitry walked towards the bed the size of a condominium living room. Suppressing a yawn that struggled to get free after five days of poor sleep, he knelt on both knees.

“There is no one here to impress. Raise your head.”

Dimitry stood up. “Yes, Your Royal Majesty.”

“Are those enchanted rags you carry intended for me?”

“Yes, Your Royal Majesty.”

“I’ve heard of them.” The queen pulled her arms from under a velvet blanket and lifted them towards the ceiling. “If you two would, I’m nauseous, and my back isn’t what it used to be.”

Saphiria rose from her chair to support the aging woman’s purple-tinted arms.

Dimitry wrapped a hand around Amelie Pesce’s waist. After he helped her to her feet, he spread a dark pink glowing cover across the bed’s surface. “Your Royal Majesty, how long has it been since your skin began to change color?”

“Three days.”

“Have you had any nosebleeds or anything else I should know about?” Dimitry signaled Saphiria to lay the queen back down.

“My nose bled for the first time earlier in the night, and my hands and neck are quite stiff.”

Relief flowed like a cooling wave through Dimitry’s body. He caught the queen’s illness early. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about the court sorceress outside stomping his face in for a failed procedure. Throwing the other half of the bedclothes, an enchanted blanket, over Her Royal Majesty, he examined her hand for inflammation and gangrene. Plagued skin peeled from extremities first.

“Dimitry.” The queen looked at him with unflinching red eyes. “What do you think of my city?”

He stopped palpating the woman’s fingers in search of rigid tissue, unsure of how to respond. Malten had many issues, but he didn’t want to offend her by listing all of them. Conversely, brown-nosing was foolish. Her Royal Majesty’s profession relied on manipulating and understanding people. He chose a diplomatic response. “It’s a fine city, but it has its problems.”

“I believe I told you last time we met. When we’re alone, you may speak freely.”

Saphiria gave him a supportive nod.

“Very well,” Dimitry said. “The streets are filthy, overcrowded, and infested with vermin, allowing the plague to spread unabated. Most of my patients, refugees, go days without proper meals as food continues to grow scarce. Poor nutrition makes them more susceptible to disease.

“The injured soldiers I’ve treated spoke as if they were fighting an uphill battle against heathens and bandits. Vol’s high price makes earning a living as a thaumaturge difficult. At times, both sorceresses and members of your army spoke of fleeing south.” He paused. “I’m afraid to say it, but Malten may not hold out long at this rate.”

The queen smiled as if satisfied by his response. “You seem as knowledgeable as my daughter claims you are, but you and I both know there’s more to it than that.”

“Your Royal Majesty?”

“Leandra, bring in the gift.”

The door burst open, and a middle-aged court sorceress dragged into the room five well-dressed men, chains binding their necks and arms, eyes abandoned by hope.

A bearded man edged forward. “Your Royal Majesty, I—“

The court sorceress kicked the back of his knee to topple him and knelt on the back of his head, pressing his face to the floor.

The queen scowled. “These miscreants paid the peasants to harass you and bribed my watchmen to ignore the signs—a ploy to extort the populace and flee Malten after lining their purses with coin. For those who were once merchants and the noble physicians of the Barber Surgeons Guild, they have become a disgraceful sight. As you can see, corruption and vanity have spread through my streets as well.”

Dimitry froze, no longer palpating purple feet for dying tissue. He intended to curry the queen’s favor from the start, to attain safety through a demonstration of his skills, but while the queen mobilized her forces to defend his hospital as he had hoped, a delivery of the men who orchestrated his intimidation went beyond expectations.

The knowledge also brought new considerations to light. Why wasn’t Josef among the conspiring surgeons? The complexities of medical politics begged a question from him. “Your Royal Majesty, you say there are surgeons among these men, but when I arrived in your city, you mentioned the Barber Surgeons Guild wasn’t around anymore. Dealing with ruthless competitors I did not know existed made my job more difficult than necessary. Are there others I should be aware of?”

“I did not lie to you. The guild disbanded after many of my physicians fled the kingdom. These pests are the remnants. They formed a secretive coalition without my consent, and although there was another amongst them, he was murdered before I could capture him.”

Saphiria looked away, her expression similar to when she killed the thugs in Estoria.

A glance at those aversive indigo eyes told Dimitry the full truth. Saphiria had assassinated the last conspiring surgeon, meaning Josef wasn’t amongst them. He was just another intimidation victim. The stress of a mysterious adversary led Josef to blaming Dimitry, and he exacted vengeance by killing patients with grotesque procedures and attributing the horrific outcomes on Dimitry. A pointless tragedy.

“Now hand down their punishment,” the queen said.

Dimitry awoke from his musings. “Me?”

“This is my gift to you—the fate of those who have wronged you despite your attempts to aid my subjects.” She watched him with narrowed eyes.

Although the queen introduced her offer as a ‘gift’, her tone and calculating glare hinted it was anything but. Was she testing him?

“Imprison them,” Dimitry said.

“There is no need to be so reserved. If it is your desire, they shall be beheaded.”

“They are useless to me dead.”

“How so?”

“Only the living can help me secure medical trade, clientele, supply chains—“

“Oil of vitriol,” a plump man uttered. “Aqua fortis, acidum salis, aqua vitae, caustic soda. Any medical reagent! I can get—“

The court sorceress thrust her knee into his back.

Dimitry furrowed his brow. The mention of aqua vitae had captured his intrigue. If the people of this world could distill alcohol, perhaps they could manufacture other chemicals as well. He would look into ‘medical reagents’ sometime. “As you can see, they have their uses.”

The queen flashed a smirk and waved her hand as if shooing away unwanted pets. “Leandra, throw them into the dungeon.”

“Come, dogs!” the court sorceress said, pulling the chains like a leash. The five men followed her out of the room, and the door slammed shut.

Yet more terrifying women. This world overflowed with them.

“One who utilizes every resource is worthy of consideration...” The queen paused. “Tell me, is it true that your magic extends beyond surgical applications?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The enchantresses I’ve charged with serving your hospital have informed me of your obscure spells, which I presume were channeled into these rags.”

“You’re right about the bedclothes,” Dimitry said, “but I was told the head of the Sorceresses Guild sent the enchantresses.”

“And who do you think Mira answers to?” Amelie laughed. “However, providing the means and eliminating obstacles is the least I could do to support the man who is single-handedly healing my subjects. My true question lies elsewhere.”

Dimitry stood up. “I’ll answer to the best of my ability, Your Royal Majesty.”

“Is it…” The queen glanced at Saphiria. “Is it true that you possess magic that allows you to communicate with aquatic demons?”

Adrenaline spiked through Dimitry’s veins, and his heart skipped a beat. He stared into Saphiria’s indigo eyes, which looked back at him apologetically. Just how much did she reveal about him? Was she forced into it, or did she do so willingly? “If it wouldn’t be rude to ask, why do you wish to know?”

“Don’t misunderstand. Aquatic demons have been attacking our fishing boats for months, and Saphiria suggested you can help. It would do a great deal for our food supplies if you could quell their rage. I guarantee that no one but us three knows of your sacrilegious spells, and no one else would learn of them unless you wished them to.”

Could Dimitry trust her? Although the Church’s physical influence vanished, their teachings remained carved into the local culture and beliefs. People hated corrupted creatures, so how would they treat someone who could communicate with them?

But that was the general populace.

The queen and Saphiria were victims of the Church. One lost her husband and sons, and the other all that and her childhood. If there was anyone who hated the Church as much as Dimitry did, it was them.

“It’s true,” he whispered so the court sorceresses standing outside couldn’t hear.

“That makes my decision easy.” Amelie gave Dimitry a demanding look. “I want you to be my personal doctor.”

The offer stumped Dimitry. He stared into the aging woman’s tired yet unflinching red eyes, ones that looked like they had seen the world crumble around them but survived on sheer willpower alone. It was a while before he broke free from their grasp. “I apologize, Your Royal Majesty. As overjoyed and privileged as I am to receive such an honor, spending my time here while patients die in the hospital would be irresponsible of me.”

“There are two rulers in this world: those who wish their subjects to kiss their feet while whispering honeyed words, and those who demand their wisdom. I am the second. I’m not requesting your presence at the castle—only your knowledge.”

Lying with hands on her chest, the queen turned her gaze to the carved oak canopy of her bed and watched it as if it were a rolling sky. “In less than a week since you arrived in my kingdom, you’ve returned my heiress to me, lifted the plague’s curse, and impressed every enchantress I’ve sent you with magic known to none of them. I would be a damned fool to let you slip by the wayside.”

Dimitry sat on the edge of a mostly vacant bed, speechless. If he had his say, would he be able to manage the city’s health care? The tidiness of its streets? Could he gain the trust and support of other high-level officials? He desperately wanted to agree but pushed his luck further. “On one condition.”

Amelie’s red eyes flickered. “Oh?”

“My hospital is struggling to fit every patient. I need a bigger one.”

“Of course. It is a mere church. Would a cathedral suffice?”

“C-cathedral?”

“For over a month, I’ve allowed migrants to take shelter in it from winter winds. However, less than two weeks ago, my attendants sealed it off when watchmen discovered inhabitants with cursed purple skin living within. That’s no longer a problem for the efforts of the Jade Surgeon. It is yours if you accept my proposal, but my resources are stretched thin as it is, so upkeep would be entirely your responsibility.” The queen grinned. “As would collecting payment for your services.”

Processing her words proved difficult. The cathedral’s towering spires hung in the distance, visible at all times from anywhere in Malten. Its size rivaled the castle. Could Dimitry maintain such an enormous structure? Hire enough workers? Teach them? He accumulated hundreds of gold marks by treating wealthy patients, but never imagined that he would spend them building a proper hospital.

“I’ll give you time to think on it.”

“May I visit the cathedral tonight?”

“I’ll see that no one stands in your way.” The queen smiled pleasantly. “Now that we’ve wasted precious time prattling, would you cure my plague?”

“It won’t be long now, Your Royal Majesty. Try to sleep.”

The queen pinched the dark pink glowing blanket. “Surely, there is more to it than this. What surgeon works without astrology charts and healing sands?”

“An efficient one,” Dimitry said, examining the queen for peeling skin one last time. “Rest for a full night, and by the time you wake up, the medicine will have started to take effect already. You won’t need the enchanted bedclothes after that. If it isn’t too much of a bother, I would like them back. They’re quite expensive.”

“I’ll be keeping them. Klaire will leave fifty gold marks under your guest room bed as recompense. You may leave now.”

Dimitry uttered a dumbfounded laugh. Although he borrowed them from the hospital where they were desperately needed, the queen’s payment would be enough to produce several more sets. He threw his medical bag over his shoulder. “I see. Pleasant dreams, Your Royal Majesty.”