Aren surfaced from a shallow, restless sleep, the rough texture of the inn-provided pajamas grating against his skin. Sunlight streamed brightly through the window, indicating the morning was long gone. He shifted, a map of aches immediately reminding him of the fight. He was alone in the large room. Where did Theron go?

  The answer arrived as the door opened. Theron entered, looking refreshed in a clean set of clothes. Behind him followed an older man dressed in a simple green robe. The man’s face was etched with weariness, his expression carrying a hint of annoyance, as if he too had spent a sleepless night, though likely for different reasons.

  "Good morning, Sir Aren," Theron began, his tone formal. "Or perhaps, good afternoon. While you were getting some much-needed rest, I located the most reputable healer in Silon." He gestured towards the man in the robe. "This is Master Kaelos. Please, examine Sir Aren."

  Kaelos offered no reply, merely walking towards the bed Aren occupied. He snagged a nearby wooden chair with one hand, dragging it across the floor with a scrape before sitting beside the patient. "Pleasure to meet you," he stated flatly, his eyes assessing Aren with a practiced detachment. "Let’s see the damage."

  "The pleasure's mine," Aren replied, pulling back the blanket covering his legs. He watched intently as the healer prepared himself. Kaelos’s hands became enveloped in Ether. He slowly passed his glowing hand over Aren’s body, starting from his head and moving down towards his feet, pausing occasionally. It felt strangely impersonal, reminiscent of the diagnostic scans back in Chronos labs, yet undeniably organic.

  "Broken tibia," Kaelos announced, his voice monotone. "One fractured rib, another badly bruised but likely cracked. Multiple small fractures across both forearms." He glanced briefly at Theron, who stood silently nearby. "Whoever set the leg bone did commendable work. Clean alignment."

  A flicker of pride, quickly masked, crossed Theron's stoic features.

  "First things first," Kaelos continued, already reaching into a worn leather bag at his side. "Need to replace that makeshift splint with a proper cast. Then re-bandage the ribs and arms properly. Allow me."

  He worked with speed and precision. The rough wooden splint Theron had fashioned was carefully removed. From his bag, Kaelos produced a fascinating object – a wide mesh grid made of a dull grey metal. It looked flexible, but held a distinct structure. He positioned it around Aren’s lower leg. With a quiet click, the ends locked together. Instantly, the grid seemed to tighten, conforming perfectly to the shape of Aren’s leg from ankle to knee, immobilizing the broken shin while leaving his knee and foot free to move.

  "This is quite something," Aren remarked, flexing his ankle cautiously.

  "It’s an artifact. Elite rental for bone setting," Kaelos replied matter-of-factly. "I’ll need it back when the treatment is complete."

  "Of course," Aren agreed, fascinated by the blend of magic and practical engineering.

  Kaelos then removed Theron’s bandages from Aren’s ribs and arms. He applied a thick, cool gel from a small pot in his bag onto the bruised areas and over the scrapes. The gel felt soothing initially, then began to generate a gentle, penetrating warmth as it absorbed into the skin. New, clean bandages were wrapped firmly in place.

  "Alright," the healer instructed. "Lie still now. Try to quiet your Ether flows. Don't resist, just… relax."

  Aren closed his eyes, doing his best to follow the instruction, focusing on his breathing, trying to achieve that meditative calm he’d been practicing. Kaelos placed both hands, still glowing faintly, directly over the break in Aren’s leg. The gentle warmth intensified. Aren could feel the external Ether seeping into his limb, a subtle pressure, like water soaking into dry earth. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was distinctly other – an energy source working on him from the outside. This continued for what felt like a long time, the only sounds in the room the healer’s quiet breathing and the distant city noises filtering through the window.

  Finally, after perhaps thirty minutes, Kaelos removed his hands, the glow fading. "That's all for today," he announced, already packing his supplies. "Even with Ether assistance, mending bone takes time. Significant time." He looked directly at Aren. "If you require accelerated healing, I can visit daily to perform this treatment. However, it will be costly."

  "How much?" Aren asked immediately. Time was a luxury he didn’t have. The academy visit was one thing, but the Golden Ursai mission pressed heavily on his mind. Lycas’s deadline felt impossibly close.

  Kaelos named his price without hesitation. "Forty silver per session. And the cast is five silver per day rental. It is an artifact."

  Forty-five silver a day. He definitely knows his value, or thinks he does, Aren calculated quickly. Darius had provided funds, but dipping into Lycas' coins might raise unwanted questions for Theron to report back. Based on what Darius gave me personally, I could cover maybe two days.

  Before Aren could formulate a response, Theron stepped forward smoothly. "Sir Aren, His Grace provided generous funds specifically for contingencies such as this. We can certainly afford five days of treatment to ensure your swift recovery."

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  Five days… Lycas’s deadline is in four. Aren felt a knot of frustration tighten in his gut. There's no way. Even two days is too long. He pushed the thought of Lycas aside for a moment. Completing the mission was paramount, but the timeframe might have to be adjusted. Failure wasn't an option, but neither was walking into the Golden Ursai half-crippled.

  "How long," Aren asked Kaelos, keeping his voice even, "would it take for me to heal enough for strenuous activity, with daily treatments?"

  Kaelos considered for a moment. "For a full recovery, assuming no complications, I estimate one month. However," he added, nodding towards Aren, "I understand you are an Ether wielder yourself. If you actively focus your own Ether on the mending process during meditation, combined with my daily treatments… perhaps fifteen to twenty days for functional recovery, depending on your aptitude and dedication."

  Fifteen days? Still far too long. The deadline seemed to evaporate. He wouldn't make it. But he didn't need full recovery. He just needed to be mobile enough, capable enough to handle potential trouble inside the casino. Enough to move, fight if necessary, and get out. Just enough.

  "Alright," Aren decided. "Let's proceed with the daily treatments for now. We'll see how things progress."

  A spark of satisfaction lit Kaelos’s tired eyes, undoubtedly fueled by the prospect of steady payment. "Excellent. I shall return tomorrow morning, then. That will be forty-five silver for today's session and the first day's cast rental."

  Theron promptly produced a single gold coin from a pouch at his belt. "This covers today and tomorrow," he stated, handing it to the healer.

  Kaelos efficiently counted out 10 silver pieces in change, his fingers moving quickly. With a curt nod, he gathered his bag and departed, leaving Aren and Theron alone once more.

  "Isn't that a rip-off?" Aren asked Theron, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to test the new cast. It felt remarkably supportive, much lighter than he'd expected.

  "Not entirely, Sir," Theron replied thoughtfully. "While Ether can facilitate healing regardless of a user's specific class, individuals capable of directing it effectively for others are rare. True healers are highly sought after. Though," he added with a slight frown, "this one does seem particularly motivated by coin."

  Aren stood up carefully. The metal grid held his leg firm, preventing painful shifts, yet the articulation at his knee and ankle allowed for a relatively normal range of motion. He took a tentative step, then another. There was still an underlying ache but he could walk without the crutch, albeit with a noticeable limp. Progress.

  "Seems I'm mobile again," Aren declared, a surge of determination cutting through the lingering pain and frustration. "Let's go check out that academy."

  Theron looked concerned. "Are you certain, Sir? Perhaps resting today and focusing on recovery would be more prudent."

  "No time like the present," Aren countered, already moving towards his backpack to find fresh clothes. "This artifact works wonders. Let's get moving."

  "As you wish, Sir," Theron conceded, retrieving a small bag of his own.

  Aren changed quickly, selecting simple trousers and a tunic that wouldn't look out of place in the city. Leaving the relative quiet of the Sovereign's Rest, they stepped back out into the vibrant energy of Silon. The afternoon streets were even more crowded than the previous evening. A constant stream of people flowed through the narrow thoroughfares, a mix of merchants, laborers, shoppers, and families. The air hummed with activity. Hammers rang rhythmically from a nearby smithy, the clatter of looms drifted from open upper windows of a weaver’s shop, and the low whir of a potter’s wheel could be heard from an alleyway. Vendors called out their wares. The general murmur of conversation, haggling, and greetings formed a constant backdrop. It was a city focused on work and trade, less formal than Stormia, with fewer uniformed guards visible patrolling the streets near the Baron's fortress, suggesting either a high degree of civic order or simply a less overt security presence.

  They walked towards the northern part of the city, following Theron’s lead. As they drew closer, the Ether academy complex came into view, confirming the impression Aren had from the distant hilltop. It was a sprawling collection of sturdy, red brick buildings, connected by covered walkways and surrounding several large, open yards. The architecture was solid, well-crafted. Students in distinct dark red and brown uniforms moved about the grounds. Some sat cross-legged in groups on grassy patches, faces serene in meditation. Others engaged in sparring exercises on designated training fields, their movements quick and precise, occasionally marked by faint, controlled flashes of Ether – a glowing fist here, a burst of speed there. Aren watched them, curious. Are their methods truly different?

  They entered the main building through a wide archway without being stopped. The entrance hall was vast and echoing, paved with smooth grey stone. In the center stood a large wooden desk, behind which sat a middle-aged man engrossed in a thick book. Aren approached, Theron remaining a few steps behind.

  "Good day," Aren began, keeping his tone polite but confident. "My name is Aren Stillbrook. I've heard impressive things about this academy. I'm interested in potentially joining, or at least seeking some guidance regarding my own Ether development."

  The man looked up slowly from his book, his expression neutral. "Aren Stillbrook?" He repeated the name, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. He paused, brow furrowed in thought, then his eyes widened slightly. "Ah, Aren Stillbrook!" He stood up abruptly, his demeanor shifting from indifference to attentive respect. "We are honored by your interest, Sir Aren. Welcome to the Silon Ether Academy. However," his gaze dropped pointedly to Aren’s metal-encased leg, "we maintain strict admission standards, applicable even to nobility. Prospective students must undergo an entrance examination, and a prerequisite is perfect physical health. Your current condition, unfortunately, precludes you from taking the exam at this time."

  Aren had anticipated this possibility. "Understood about the exam requirement. My reason for coming is actually more specific, though. It's about my Ether. I had Veridian diagnostic tests done recently, and the results were... unusual. They showed some kind of irregularity. I was hoping an instructor here might be able to offer some insight."

  The man behind the desk hesitated, tapping a finger on his book. "Hmm. Direct enrollment is impossible right now. But a simple consultation regarding an unusual Ether signature…" He seemed to weigh the rules against the potential interest of a noble visitor. "That might fall outside the standard examination protocols. Allow me to escort you to the Director's office. He will make the final decision."