No-Rank Healer Betrayed by My Party Returns as the Archmage

Chapter 1 The Workshop Has No Stool

The mint has escaped its bed again.

I crouch beside the row and pull a long mint stem away from the healing herbs. I planted the two apart for a reason. Apparently I should have explained that to the mint.

I tuck the loose stem back over the stone. "Your side. Stay on your side."

Another stem pokes through beside my boot. Why do I bother with the stones?

I pick a handful of leaves and drop them into my pouch. Later, I'll use them to make ointment for cuts. For now, I brush a little dirt back around the roots and leave the smaller leaves to grow.

I stay crouched there a while, enjoying the cool soil beneath my fingers. Someone laughs beyond the fence. Inside, a cupboard closes, and I hear Lyra moving around our kitchen. I find myself smiling before I know why.

When did I last let myself do something this slowly? I reach for another leaf, then leave it alone. I've picked enough. I can sit here and listen to the village for a bit. I want to.

Movement at the garden's edge catches my eye.

Cali sits on the low garden wall, watching something beneath the leaves. Her breakfast waits inside, untouched. Whatever is under there must have offended her.

She lowers herself until only her ears show above the stone. "Mouse."

"You've been hunting that mouse for three days." I brush dirt from a leaf. "It's winning."

Cali hooks a paw into the gap beneath the leaves. "I nearly had it. Then you started talking."

I lift my harvest pouch out of her way. "You were asleep when I got here."

She withdraws her empty paw and licks it. "I was waiting."

The mouse bolts from cover and disappears under the herb bed. Cali's ears track its escape with visible disgust.

Cali moves along the wall after it, careful to keep her feet dry. "It has to come out sometime."

I look from her clean paws to the dirt under my nails. "You could go in after it."

She examines the damp soil beneath her. "You could mind your business."

I hide my smile and close my pouch. The garden is small and untidy, with herbs spilling over the stones and the Wall's vines along the fence. I like knowing which patch needs water and which one Cali has flattened by sleeping in it.

Tomorrow I'll come out and check on it again. That thought makes me happier than it probably should. I have things growing here. I get to stay and watch them.

The Wall notices my attention and rustles its border vines. Its greeting reaches me through our bond. GREGORI GOOD MORNING. GARDEN HAPPY. SMALL CREATURE STILL HIDING.

I pat a vine before lifting it clear of Cali's tail. "Don't catch it for her. She'll claim she did all the work."

A vine points toward the empty patch beneath Cali. WALL WATCH. CAT MISS.

[HUNT RESULT: Mouse escaped.Prey: Unharmed.Garden: Still occupied.Guardian contribution: Watched it leave.A remarkable performance from someone who demands fish for breakfast.]

Cali makes an indignant sound, but I'm already heading inside with my harvest.

The workshop fills the front half of Royal Health. Workbench against the wall, shelves crammed with supplies, a window over the bench and hooks for my tools. One repair waits on the intake shelf: a small wooden music box with a cracked lid and a note that says please help, it was my grandmother's.

I pick it up carefully.

Structural Analysis lights the damage in blue.

[SKILL ACTIVE: Structural Analysis (E)ITEM: Wooden music box.DAMAGE: Split lid. Hinge pulling against damaged wood.REPAIR: Restore the split and realign the hinge.Someone kept this because it belonged to their grandmother. Try not to turn it into firewood.]

The crack runs along the grain, the wood split where the hinge pulls against it. Someone's held this box thousands of times. The finish is worn smooth in spots from fingers finding the same places over and over.

I set the box on a clean cloth. Fix the lid, keep the marks. Nobody brought this here because they wanted a new one.

I stand at my usual place at the bench and steady the split lid between my palms. There is nowhere to sit without hauling over the customer chair. I keep meaning to make a stool.

The crack closes slowly under my fingers. I ease the hinge back into place, then open the lid to check that it holds. A thin little tune starts up, catches, and carries on.

I listen through the tune before closing it. My mother would have kept something like this. She kept every crooked thing I made her. Would she have put this on the shelf beside them? I have to swallow before I add a small charm to protect the wood.

[ITEM RESTORED: Wooden music box.Lid: Repaired.Hinge: Realigned.Playback: Restored.Wood protection: Applied.Original wear: Preserved.You left the old marks. Good. She asked for her grandmother's box, not a replacement.]

The little notice hangs above a lid worn smooth by someone else's hands. That part stays. Some things don't need fixing.

I set the box aside and glance at the familiar status display.

GREGORI | Archmage: Archon, LegendaryLevel 34 | Tier 2 of 4Maximum HP: 1,840 | Maximum MP: 15,200STR 18 | AGI 26 | INT 356 | WIS 312 | DEX 118 | LCK 24

No level gained for a little repair. Fine by me. Someone is getting their grandmother's music back today.

The door opens, bringing the smell of fresh bread and the sound of familiar footsteps.

"You're up early." Lyra crosses to the workbench and sets down a covered plate, her brown eyes warm with amusement. "Suki said you were arguing with plants before dawn."

"The mint started it." I pull the cover off the plate and find bread, cheese, sliced apples, and what looks like the last of the bacon. "You didn't have to bring this."

Lyra wedges herself between me and the bench, one hand still on the plate. "I brought enough for two. Make room."

The bread is still warm. I tear off a piece and hand half to her, because sharing breakfast with Lyra is better than eating alone, especially when she comes looking for me.

She lifts the lid of the music box and waits for the tune. "It plays again?"

I straighten the cloth beneath it. "The hinge was catching. Listen. It gets past that bit now."

Lyra leaves it open while she breaks the bread. "She'll be pleased. She was worried she'd have to throw it away."

I push the box farther from the edge so neither of us can knock it off. "Glad she brought it. What are you doing today?"

Lyra steals a piece of my cheese. "Going to the market. Come with me. You can carry things."

I pull the plate between us before she gets all the cheese. "That sounds suspiciously like work."

She leans her hip against mine. "I'll buy you something nice."

I glance at the music box waiting for its owner. "I promised I'd be here when she comes back. Next time?"

Lyra rests her head briefly against my shoulder. "I'm holding you to that."

Cali appears in the doorway and sniffs toward the plate.

Cali plants herself beside the plate and inspects the bacon. "Move that closer."

I shift the plate toward Lyra. "Catch the mouse?"

Cali reaches across my wrist for a strip of bacon. "I don't want to discuss it."

Lyra laughs against my shoulder. I have bacon in one hand and a cat attempting to steal it, and somehow I want this moment to last. When did an ordinary breakfast become something I was afraid to lose?

I pull Lyra closer and kiss her, soft and unhurried. She puts her hand against my cheek and holds me there a moment longer.

Lyra catches the front of my shirt before I can pull away. "What was that for?"

I leave my hand at her waist. "You saved me some bacon."

She tugs me closer by my shirt. "I'll have to bring more tomorrow."

I kiss the corner of her mouth. "I'd come find you anyway."

She kisses me back, quick and warm, then steals another piece of cheese. "Good. I'll expect you."

Cali retreats toward the doorway with a gagging sound. "This is disgusting. I am leaving. The mice are better company."

I rescue the last strip from the plate as Cali turns. "Leaving without this?"

Cali stops in the doorway. Her ears turn back toward me first. "Bring it here."

Lyra shakes her head, still smiling. "I should go. Market won't shop itself."

I split the strip, give Cali her half, and wrap the rest in bread for Lyra. "For the road."

She squeezes my hand around it before taking it. "Next market trip. You promised."

I brush a crumb from her sleeve. "I remember."

Her laugh follows her out.

I finish breakfast in comfortable silence, watching dust motes drift through the sunlight. The music box gleams on the shelf, ready for its owner. Outside, I can hear village sounds: children playing, someone hammering, the general noise of people living their lives.

I'm reaching for my tools when Cali's voice cuts through the quiet.

Cali braces both front paws on the threshold. "Gregori."

Something in her tone makes me stop. She doesn't sound imperious. She doesn't sound amused.

She sounds worried.

I move toward the door and find her on the front path, her whole body rigid with tension. Her ears are flat against her skull.

She backs away from the path to leave it clear. "Someone's coming. He's hurt."

I see him then. A young man, maybe mid-twenties, stumbling up the path like his legs have forgotten how to work.

Dark hair matted with dust. Clothes torn and travel-worn.

His face is pale, his breathing ragged, and he's clutching something against his chest like it's the only thing keeping him alive.

A shield. Battered and dented, the metal scarred with marks I can't make out from this distance.

He makes it three more steps before his legs give out.

I'm running before I think about it. Suki appears from somewhere behind the house, her fox ears pricked forward, already moving to help.

"Easy," I say, reaching for him. "You're safe. We've got you."

He flinches when I touch him. Full-body recoil, like he's expecting a blow instead of help. His eyes are wild, unfocused, seeing something that isn't here.

He curls over the shield as my hand approaches his shoulder. "Don't touch it."

I spread my hands where he can see them. "I won't. Let us get you inside."

He doesn't answer. His grip on the shield tightens until his knuckles go white.

Suki braces him from the other side, keeping his shield clear of the doorway. Together we lift him, and he's lighter than he should be. Too many missed meals. Too much hard road.

We're halfway to the door when Cali hisses.

Cali darts ahead and blocks my foot. "Wait. Look at his shield."

I stop.

Cali is staring at the shield in the stranger's arms. Not at the man. At the metal. Her tail has puffed to twice its size.

She reaches toward a mark in the metal without touching it. "There. Under his hand."

I look closer. The marks on the metal, half-hidden by damage and wear. Not decorative. Functional. A seal pattern, carved deep into the surface.

My stomach drops.

I know those patterns. I know them like I know the scars on my own soul, because they match the damage that was carved into me years ago.

Cali lifts her eyes from the shield to mine. "You recognize it too."

The stranger goes limp in our arms.