Fingernails. What a bizarre concept. Lacking either the sturdiness of hooves or the sharpness of claws, they seem to exist for the sole purpose of getting in the way when I try to hold a pencil. Allison insists that they can also be used to gain purchase in small gaps and that they "look cute" but given how painful it is when they catch on things, I highly doubt they're all that effective. As for looks...these ones are rather chipped and worn, which even Allison admits is not the most appealing aesthetic.

The fact that this body has them on its feet as well is just further proof that the human body makes absolutely no sense. That said, these nails are just a distraction. A small obstacle in the war against my latest and greatest nemesis...

Division.

Allison had written out an entire sheet of division problems she wishes me to solve in order to practice and prove my understanding of the concept. It seems like a waste of paper to me, but apparently it's not as expensive as it was in my time.

Admittedly, drawing the problems and my solutions to them does help to keep track of things, but it's terminally boring. And that's before considering the sheets of practice letters I had to draw to warm up for writing. I don't mind those—writing is at least a valuable skill to learn—but they aren't fun, nor is solving division problems.

All while wrestling with these ridiculous fingernails!

It's a welcome reprieve when I'm drawn away from work by a knock at our door.

"Come in!" I call.

Lady Talla steps inside and greets me with a smile.

"Hey! Oh, am I interrupting your lessons?"

"No," I lie, shoving the paperwork aside. "How may I help you, my lady?"

"Oh, hey Evelyn! I was going to go visit my clinic and I wanted to see if Vi was feeling up to joining."

It's been a day since the most recent incident. I'm not sure which is more impressive—the fact that they can't seem to go more than a week without killing somebody, or their uncanny ability to hurt themselves in the process. Our [Burning Innervation] skill is taxing enough on its own, but the way Violet uses it in combination with her favorite spell is practically suicidal.

I can still feel a dull ache pervading their entire body. It was much worse yesterday, though.

"I think we are well enough to join you," I decide. "The others are inactive at the moment, but I was a healer myself. I'd be happy to help."

Especially if it spares me from math practice.

"Alright, let's go then!"

I still find it difficult to get used to Lady Talla's informal attitude. Even the fact that we're staying as guests of a noble family is hard to accept. I don't think the others understand how ungrateful they've been, to even be considering turning down noble patronage. They should be honored to accept such a sponsorship, but instead they look upon Lady Goa with naked suspicion.

"Will Sir Draga be joining us?" I ask as we make our way out of the estate.

"Afraid not," Lady Talla sighs. "Mother has him doing some sort of errand for her—which I'm very annoyed about. I think he feels obligated to agree because I'm pushing for the family to officially support him, and she's taking advantage."

"Ah."

It's hard not to feel a little disappointed. He's accompanied us on all our other trips, and it feels somehow unfair that I'd be the only one to miss out. I try to keep the dour mood off of my face as we leave for the temple district, but either I'm still not good at controlling the facial expressions of an unfamiliar body or Lady Talla is more perceptive than I thought.

"Something on your mind?" she asks. "I know we haven't gotten many chances to speak, but I'm here if you need a more familiar perspective than your usual company."

"That's kind of you to offer, my lady, but I'm afraid there are no familiar perspectives. Anybody who would remember the world as I knew it is either dead or out of reach."

"I suppose so," she grants me. "At least unless Rara manages to pull through with getting you a meeting with the Alchemist. I still can't believe you asked her that."

"I did no such thing," I huff. "Please don't attribute the others' actions to me."

"Right, sorry. How have you been getting along with Maev?"

I appreciate her using the collective name they've chosen separately from me, though I suspect that wasn't intentional.

"I try to interact with them as little as possible," I admit. "I do what I must to advance my [Student] class, but otherwise keep to myself."

"That sounds lonely," she muses.

It is. The others are careful to share their time, and Allison has repeatedly offered to give me a greater share despite my insistence that it isn't necessary. The truth is that I have no idea what I would even do with it. The goddess must have put me here for a reason, I have to believe that, but I still don't know what that reason is. I feel adrift. I lack the sense of divine purpose I once had when fulfilling missions at the behest of the [World Engine].

I wish I could say that I was using this outing as a way to search for that purpose, but I fear my reasons are far more self-serving. I'm just bored and lonely. No matter what I tell Allison, I need something more to fill my life than math lessons and arguing with Magdalena. It isn't that I don't want more time, I just have nothing to do.

It's rude to Lady Talla, but I wish I could share my thoughts with Draga instead. Our last discussion was so productive and insightful, and it's difficult to bring myself to be as open with a noblewoman.

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"It's difficult to be lonely when I am forced to share my existence with others," I say instead. "But I do feel a bit aimless at the moment. I don't question the Goddess, but I can't help wondering why I'm here."

"It's okay to question Her, you know," she comments. "There's nothing in the dogma that says your faith must be completely blind, nor does She command obedience from Her followers."

That feels wrong, but I'm not actually aware of any arguments to the contrary. The church itself certainly demands loyalty, and the inquisition is quite serious about shutting down the worship of Chaos or any of its many guises, but in the divine scriptures, the Goddess doesn't demand anything of Her people.

Perhaps rather than actual heresy, it simply feels ungrateful. If She has given me new life, who am I to resent Her for it? If I needed to know my purpose here, then surely She would see fit to reveal it to me.

"Questioning things comes more naturally to scholars than priestesses, I think."

"Well, sure," Lady Talla admits. "It's what we do. But you don't have to be a scholar to be inquisitive."

"An interesting choice of words," I say. "When I was growing up, the senior sisters would often remind me that asking questions was for inquisitors. Either way, I trust Her will. That's enough."

"Is it?" she insists. "Because it sounds to me like you're dying for something to do."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" I reply with a shrug. "Maybe giving aid to the sick will help me find some of my lost purpose."

"Maybe..."

We make our way to the clinic, a well-placed little building on one of the more traveled streets of the temple district. While the building itself is humble, I can only imagine how difficult it was to secure such an ideal location. Anyone in search of healing would naturally be drawn to the temple district, and a street like this gets a great deal of foot traffic from people just crossing the city on regular business. Even if they aren't in search of healing, hundreds of people will walk by this place every day and at least see the signs.

It may be a small and humble clinic, but its location combined with the fact that it's owned and operated by a noblewoman almost certainly means that it receives as much business as it can handle and then some.

"You don't have any healing skills at the moment, right?" Talla asks as she leads me inside.

"No," I confirm. "Will that be an issue?"

"We'll see."

I expect the inside of a clinic to have an unpleasant atmosphere. Sickness and injury are not pleasant, after all, and it's an unfortunate fact of life that the places dedicated to treating them are filled with all manner of disturbing sights, smells, and in many cases sounds, as people in pain are seldom quiet about it.

Instead, it's surprisingly quiet. The lobby is filled with patients awaiting their chance to be seen, but few of them are visibly injured, and it lacks the distinct smell I usually associate with clinics and hospitals—a heady mixture of body odor, vital fluids, and medicinal herbs. Rather, the smell is almost unnaturally sterile. A skill at work?

A single receptionist begins a well-rehearsed greeting as we enter.

"Hello and welcome, do you have—oh, hello professor."

"Hello Katia!" Talla greets her. "How are we doing today?"

"Swamped," the receptionist replies frankly. "There's something going around. It's mild but infectious. The usual doctors are booked solid and I've had to call in help to handle the walk-ins. Please tell me you're here to work."

"Yep! I've also brought a volunteer," she says. "Katia Foren, this is Maev Evelyn."

I would have preferred to be introduced as Evelyn Clanless, but non-Fa'aun aren't typically called clanless unless they are accepted into a clan and then subsequently exiled, which is...rare enough that I can't actually think of a single example. I just have to accept that I am no longer seen as Fa'aun.

"Katia Foren. I am pleased to meet you."

"Maev Evelyn. Likewise," she replies with a nod. "I hope you've got skills for handling disease, because you're going to need it today."

"She's a thaumaturgical healer, like me," Talla says, surprising both the receptionist and me. "Give us ten minutes to get ready, then send your worst walk-in case to my office, alright?"

"Yes ma'am!"

"By the way, did you inform the church about the potential plague?" Talla asks.

"They've been made aware," Katia says with a nod. "I'm not sure what kind of actions they're taking to manage it, but they assure us that it's handled."

"Okay, good. I'll have to double-check with them later, but they usually know what they're doing in these situations. Come on, Evelyn, let's get set up."

I follow her into a surprisingly simple office that consists of little more than a cot and a cabinet full of tools and medicines, many of which I don't recognize.

"I hope you're not counting on my magical healing skill," I hedge. "I no longer have access to that now that Maev has fused their main class."

Talla nods. "I figured as much, but you do have their thaumaturgy skill, and Vi wouldn't have a skill like [Revitalization] without another healing skill further up the class tree."

"There is one," I confirm. "[First Aid]."

[First Aid]

Increased Awareness and Ego when treating recent injuries.

Simple, in the typical way of tier zero skills. A small benefit with broad application.

"Do you want to try combining that with your skill?" Talla offers. "Just don't burn down my clinic, please."

I know she's joking, but that's a real danger with fire-based thaumaturgy. Honestly, I've never even heard of a mage that focuses on something as dangerous and unstable as fire of all things.

"I don't have much practice with thaumaturgical skills," I hedge. "And I'm not licensed."

It was one thing to practice these skills out in the frontier, but magic is much more controlled in populated areas.

"If anybody asks, you're my apprentice," Talla waves me off. "Just give it a try. The Goddess doesn't give us skills just so we can ignore them, right?"

"I suppose not," I sigh. "Very well."

I close my eyes to focus for a moment. In my old life, I had very few of these skills, and they were quite basic. I worked better with more direct, single-application skills like my [Reverse Entropy]. Still, I do know how to do this, even if I'm a couple hundred years out of practice.

[Pyrothaumaturgy] is the base. In the past, I would imagine the main skill as a cauldron or poultice, but for this one it feels more appropriate to think of it as a small cooking fire. The skills I add to it are like ingredients. Thankfully, I don't need to worry about complicated recipes here—it's just a matter of choosing one ingredient and adding it to the fire to see how they affect each other.

Sprinkling a bit of [First Aid] into the fire turns it from a soft reddish-orange to a bright green flame with yellow edges, the new spell taking form in the back of my mind.

[Control Fever]

Raise or reduce the body temperature of a creature you touch.

Interesting. It's common for healing spells to be double-edged like that, though weaponizing them is often more difficult than one might think.

"It's a spell to cure fevers," I explain for Lady Talla. "Or cause them. I suppose I could also cure or cause hypothermia or heat stroke, but knowing how these things usually work, that would be more difficult."

"Sounds perfect," she replies. "If there's a sickness spreading in the city you're probably going to get a lot of use out of it today. You ready for our first patient?"

"I think so."

"Then let's get started!"

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