“I hate to say it, but I fear you may have to seek the aid of a Maitre… Though I don’t believe his condition to be life threatening, there is sore little I can do to ease him of it…” The healer confessed, apologetically. It was clear that saying such hurt him almost as much as it worried the young Sorcerer, but sometimes the truth was unavoidable.
Mzenrich folded his arms, and leaned his back against the doorframe, his eyes settling once more on the ill man. Any and all attempts at healing him, magically or otherwise, had left little to no impact, and that was even with the adjustments made in accordance to the man’s seemingly Elven nature. Nonetheless, Mzenrich couldn’t help but feel that they were giving up too quickly; that they had missed a piece in the puzzle that would have easily provided the answer. Maybe it was time for him to try his own methods, as unconventional as they were.
“Sir, if I could be so bold as to make a suggestion, I think taking a sample of the patient’s blood might be in order. I have a few pieces of equipment that can help us analyse it better. It believe it’s worth testing before we send them off to Florinye or wherever else that they might find a Maitre.”
A look of pleading came into the young Sorcerer’s eyes at this suggestion. “If you can, please do! Travel even to this part of the city was difficult enough with T’anasis in such a state, I’m not sure how we’d ever manage to get to Florinye..!”
Mzenrich looked back at his superior, as if awaiting permission. The healer folded his arms, his expression one of thought. After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded slowly. “I suppose it can’t do him any harm, we can at least try. Though, Mzenrich, please be careful if you’re going to start dabbling with burners and powders again…”
The would-be Alchemist could only smile wryly. “I will. All right then, can you pass me the syringe please?” His request was quickly granted, and though his approach earned him a growl from the yellow-eyed man at the Sorcerer’s side, the patient himself seemed to have no objections to the needle.
“Be careful it doesn’t…touch your skin…” the pale man said, weakly, his eyes half-lidded from weariness.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re contagious.”
As the blood was drawn into the syringe, something about it struck Mzenrich as odd. Although that was due to be expected, given the nature of the situation, he did not think it was simply illness that caused this peculiarity. No, instead he half-suspected that the patient was not an Elf at all, and that this was the blood of a race that they were entirely unfamiliar with. His mind immediately began to race with ideas and possibilities, just what revelations might await them once he’d placed this under the microscope?
“Is that all you need for your tests, Mzenrich?” the healer asked, noticing the peculiar look in his assistant’s eyes.
Mzenrich’s attention snapped back from the syringe as if with a visible jolt, and he nodded sharply. “Yes, this is all I need. I’ll go and test this now, but I think I might already know where we’ve been going wrong, even if not how to make it right yet.”
The healer nodded, slowly. “All right, you do what you must and let me know anything you can. In the mean time, young master Aubin, is there anything I can do for you?”
Mzenrich did not stay to hear the Sorcerer’s response, he was far too eager to begin his experiments. The more he considered the syringe’s contents, the more he began to contemplate what approach he should actually take.