They helped the poor farmer who, after a time, made a mostly full recovery. In addition to giving them the rock that nearly killed him, he made very sure everyone knew these two were life-savers. He might be poor, but he was well liked by those around that area.
@internutter/challenge-04081-k063-willowfine-poppy-and-a-sharp-knife -- The New Guy
The operation took most of a day, careful work, and specialised tools to extract the starmetal fragments from Farmer Ansley's head, and all the problems it caused. They put new parts into his skull and sewed his skin back together. There was a wicker helmet to guard his head while the bone healed.
Farmer Ansley had to spend three days in his bed. In those three days, Vigor and Draco kept up with the farm maintenance. Feeding the animals. Tending the crops. Performing various maintenance that the buildings needed. Hiding whenever anyone normal passed by.
Even when Farmer Ansley got back on his feet, he was still slow and very fragile about it. He gave directions more than help.
By then, a few neighbours had come to gawk.
Some appreciated the joke on the side of the apothecary wagon. Some thought they were fraudsters. But it soon became evident that Vigor and Draco knew their business.
Word got around in a week, and the next month was full of the desperate who'd come from increasingly long distances for a remedy. Some carrying the sick with them. And, because Vigor was a Hellkin, there were some common misunderstandings.
"Please," said the latest supplicant. "I'll give you everything, and I mean everything. I'll-- I'll give you my soul!"
Vigor said, "I trade in cash or kind. Not souls. And I never said I wouldn't do it, I just said I have to finish this. I'll be with you in five minutes. Promise."
The patient was under a tarp , arranged something like a tent over the cart. There was a mattress for their comfort, and what little palliative care their caregiver could provide.
"We thought it was a winter cold," said the caregiver, wringing hir hands. "But it just kept getting worse. Kiri barely has any energy at all."
Vigor felt Kiri's pulse. Listened to their breath, as well as their caregiver's complete story of woe. Which included the attempted remedies.
Vigor lifted Kiri from their bed and carried them to the apothecary wagon. There, to sit up over an instrument that fed steam to their face. Herbs, dried, crushed, or brewed went into a different crucible to stew in a mixture of fluids over a low flame.
There was a lot of coughing. Eventually resulting in Kiri coughing something up.
Draco was quick to collect it for analysis.
Drii, the caregiver, was disgusted. "What are you doing? That's crazy!"
"It's natural philosophy," said Draco, moving lenses around in another strange apararatus. "The rejecta of an illness contains clues we can use against it."
They were not mages, so they were slower than anyone who could use magic. Nevertheless, they were just as effective.
[Photo by Conscious Design on Unsplash]
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