2.

Salt on the wind

Dominic slowly calmed as he followed the man through the strangely styled halls. He found himself glancing at the horns every once in a while, but regardless of how unbelievable it seemed to be, he had more pressing matters to focus on. He hadn’t yet made it out of the mansion, and instead was only being led deeper into it.

The man stopped and opened the door to a room, sending a look of mild disdain towards Dominic.

“You stare like a damn owl,” he remarked.

So he had noticed. Dominic didn't bother to respond, walking quietly in behind him.

It looked like an empty office, a thin layer of dust coating the tabletop. The man sat down at one end, and Dominic took a seat across from him.

“First, are you from Helwin?” he asked.

“…No,” Dominic answered honestly. He’d never even heard of a place with that name.

“So one of the bordering territories. Alobast?”

“No.”

He hadn’t heard of that either. The man just nodded to himself.

“That will work,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Dominic.”

“You’re a healer?”

“Yes.”

The man unclipped drew a small knife from his belt and put it on the table. He slid the weapon across to Dominic.

“Show me what you can do,” he commanded.

“Didn’t you already check that I healed myself earlier?” Dominic asked.

“Some servants found you and brought you in, so I didn’t see the original damage myself,” he replied. “Do it again.”

His tone wasn’t cold, but rather businesslike. As if hurting himself was a request anyone would naturally agree with.

“How much do you want to see?” Dominic asked. “It’s hard to recreate a broken arm with this.”

The man sighed, then stood from his seat.

“I’ll just do it,” he said, taking the knife. “Here.”

Without hesitation, he plunged the blade into Dominic’s chest. It sank in to the hilt. Dominic stared at it as it went in. Though the pain was sharp and uncomfortable, the first thought that went through his mind was noting how accurately it had been stabbed.

Dominic pulled it out, setting the knife on the table quietly. Red blood spurted down the front of his body, soaking his already tattered clothes.

“Heal.”

At a single word from him, the bleeding stopped. The muscles and tissue twitched, stretching back together, reattaching to where they belonged in seconds. The skin smoothed itself over, hiding that anything had happened to begin with.

Dominic looked up at the man.

“Is this enough?”

He stared a moment longer, then nodded.

“Good.”

He took his seat again, looking him up and down.

“In return for saving your life, shouldn’t you repay us somehow?” he said suddenly, crossing his arms.

As far as Dominic knew, nobody here had saved his life. He’d woken up in a dusty bed with all the same wounds he’d passed out with.

“How would I repay you?” he asked anyway, curious what the answer would be.

“Our lord requires a healer,” the man replied. “He is currently…ill. Your services would be appreciated.”

“Aren’t you a healer?”

The knife had been stabbed into him very precisely. Only a physician of some sort could do that so confidently.

The man narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue as if a chord had been struck.

“I’m not enough,” he finally answered.

Dominic studied him for a moment.

“What will I receive for my services?” he asked.

He had wanted to get out, but there were too many unknown variables now. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay in the castle for a little while so he could get his bearings before being thrown out into the unknown.

“Anything you need,” the man replied. “Our lord is no miser. If you can really help him, then you’ll be treated as an honored guest.”

“How long would I be employed here?” he asked.

The man was silent for a moment before his gaze flicked away.

“That depends.”

The mana around him fluctuated just a bit, like a ripple on a pond. Not a lie, but a crafted answer.

“How long do you think it will be?” Dominic pressed.

“I don’t know,” he snapped back. “It depends on how well you do. Just…”

His eyes narrowed as if he’d thought of something distasteful.

“…try not to meet the young master. That’s all. Now what is your decision?”

He was rushing the conversation. This was where the catch was. There was probably no determined employment period because nobody ever lasted long. Whatever termination meant, he doubted it was good.

“What’s your name?” Dominic asked. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet.

“It’s Silas,” the man answered. “I’m the lord’s personal physician.”

He had guessed as much. Dominic nodded.

“I’ll do it.”

It wasn’t a bad deal, for now.

“Good.”

Silas stood, taking the knife from the table, shaking the blood off, and sheathing it. He beckoned for Dominic to follow.

“Come with me. I’ll have the servants set up a good room for you, and…a change of clothes.”

He pushed open the door and continued through the hall.

“Can I ask one more thing?” Dominic said as he followed behind.

“Do it.”

“Does the estate have a library I can use?”

Silas gave him a brief glance over his shoulder before turning his gaze away again.

“It does,” he answered. “I’ll inform the servants to lead you to it after you settle in.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t forget you have a job to do.”

“I’ll come if you call.”

Silas snorted, tired of Dominic’s dry responses.

“You asked me about the employment period but…”

Silas looked down at him, a hint of amusement in his eyes. His horns glinted chalky white in the light coming through the windows—proud and conspicuous.

“…somehow I don’t think you’ll last long, Dominic.”

∞

The room he was given was more luxurious than he had imagined. It looked like Silas hadn’t lied about his status as an honored guest in the house. He bathed and changed into the clothes the servants set out for him—an unfamiliar style with a lot of layers. Although it was hard to put on, it was comfortable and warm.

He swept his fingers through his still damp hair, stepped out of his room, and nodded to the maid who had been patiently waiting there. She turned away and began leading him to the library.

They stopped at a set of big, black doors emblazoned with intricate gold designs, and Dominic had already known from some distance away that this was his destination. The smell it gave off permeated through the halls. Paper and ink. Binding glue and old wood and the lingering scent of tea. This was undeniably the library.

“Thank you,” Dominic said, nodding to the maid. “You may leave now.”

The maid bowed to him, hands clasped together, then turned and headed away. He put his palm on the door and pushed.

The scent of books flooded his senses. The library was huge, shelves lining every wall and every corner. If he needed to find out anything about where he was and what was going on, then the answers would be here.

An elderly librarian was manning a desk at the center, engrossed in a novel.

“Excuse me,” Dominic said, breaking the silence.

The librarian, an old woman, glanced up at him, briefly studying his head. Her eyes quickly turned glaring.

“What?” she replied, curt.

“I’m looking for basic books on the region,” Dominic answered, “and on history, as well.”

She clicked her tongue.

“Right,” she said.

He had no idea why she was so mad at him for just being there, but he didn’t care as long as she did her job. The old woman begrudgingly pushed herself up from her chair with a huff, then hobbled through the arrays of books—irritated the entire way.

“Here and here,” she said, pointing quickly to two spots on one shelf. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Hmph.”

She stalked back the way she came, glad to be done. Dominic turned and looked through the spines of the books on display before his eyes quickly narrowed in confusion. He picked a random one up and flipped through it. The ridge between his brows only deepened.

He couldn’t read it at all. He had half expected it, knowing that everybody spoke a different language, but the script was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The words had been split into characters, each complex yet unique. They were organized in an orderly grid across each page, and he wasn’t even sure which way to start reading.

Dominic shut the book and placed it back on the shelf with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes, trying to think. Dealing with the lord on absolutely zero information was dangerous. Dominic looked up and glanced around with no aim in particular when something on the far wall caught his eye.

He could see, between the shelves, the edge of a huge map. He walked toward it, but as he approached, as more and more of it appeared in his view, his footsteps only slowed.

In the center of the map, in a gap where only open ocean was supposed to be, was a continent that shouldn’t have existed. Cities, territories, trade routes and paths were all drawn in immense detail on its surface, and yet Dominic couldn’t make sense of any of it. The landmass which arched around it on both sides—Vaine: the continent he had set sail from—was almost blank in comparison. There were only simple, sweeping sketches of deserts and mountains and forests, with no labeled names. It was like the only continent he had ever known to exist, and the only continent that anyone thought existed, was the mysterious one here.

Dominic had assumed he’d drifted to some foreign country after the ship sank. He’d guessed wrong.

He was no longer even in Vaine.

He took a step back, inhaling deeply. No matter how unbelievable it seemed, the circumstances he was in remained the same. He couldn’t read. He didn’t know what having horns meant. He had to act as a healer for the lord, and the lord was probably not going to be kind and gentle. The castle felt like ice. He needed to get out.

Dominic walked over to a window, quickly unlatching the lock on the window and pushing it open. The scents of the outside came floating in. He closed his eyes and let them fill his senses.

There was the cold water chill of the mansion, the earth and fallen leaves of the gardens—but past the metal of the gates, bustling activity. Footsteps and unintelligible conversations. The scent of food, oil, cooking smoke—something like street stalls. He focused, reaching further. Clotheslines and drying laundry. The smell of bread baking, fading into stale stores of food, fading into damp stone and weeds. The slums. He could just barely spy them in the distance, a ring of makeshift homes among ruined buildings that spread outside the city. Scratchy blankets and low whispers. Voices no one would ever hear.

And over every building and every street, there was a thin veil of mana that blew in on the wind. The scent was like ash, but with something else mixed into it. Seawater. Salt and brine. A stinging, grainy, harsh white. It led from the slums to the city to the castle to the shore behind, where it gathered like a stronghold. It was the fog that blanketed the horizon, the fog that he’d stumbled out of. Instead of smelling like vapor, it smelled like cracked earth.

Dominic retracted his senses, relaxing, simply glancing over the grounds outside. Everything was just a little bit wrong, but the details would come out in due time. As long as he had food to eat, clothes on his back, and a place to sleep, he could make it work. He had always managed to survive.

The breeze continued to float the scent of salt and ash, covering even the chill of the mansion, through the window. He could feel the fog without even having to focus—rolling in from the ocean, settling on the land, obscuring the shore entirely in a thick white haze and extending thin tendrils around the estate. The castle, the closest building in the entire city to the water, was like a wall protecting everything else from that huge mass. No—it was more like the bow of a ship sailing into it.

It wasn’t a bad scent. He was sure it would be better than whatever was to come.

The librarian was still sending him stinging glares from her desk, watching his every move. He sighed quietly to himself. It wasn’t going to be easy. Not that it ever had been.

Dominic closed the window, latched it shut, and turned away from the city.