I've put up another free chapter to announce the release of the second half of the hard copy of this book, "Raising a Hero!" In two books because Amazon can't make that big of a paperback book. I made it as cheap as possible, so enjoy the entire story in delicious, fresh paper format!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F18GLMFC?ref_=pe_93986420_774957520

Or just Amazon search "Raising a Hero by T.S. Lowe"

(Quirky author's notes not included)

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...Okay, the amount of attention I'd attracted from men since getting to this world was ridiculous, but this was just too much. Screw decorum.

I shot to my feet.

"Thanks for the tea. You look just like your son. Happy travels. Good-bye."

And I was out.

I was never as happy to be walking into the licorice-smelling doctor's office as I did then. I made sure to close the door tightly behind me.

Dr. Mustache jumped a bit, even though the sound wasn't that loud.

"What's got you in a tiffy?" he asked.

"Alarm. Freedom. Relief. What's on the docket for today, Doc?"

And with his usual nature of always floating around at the mellow median for his moods, he went with the flow as though nothing happened.

"The soldiers the duchies been training all winter just arrived. We get to check out the few of them with questionable health. Though why that matters when they're going to get stabbed through."

"Weren't they knights?"

"Knights, soldiers, same difference."

"Not really. There's also cavalry and archers and—"

"Men of violence, that should be general enough. We're going. We see, we poke, we treat, and get back here in time for lunch."

Dr. Mustache's rare, albeit dry and distant, expression of irritation just reminded me of my own, and the next problem I had.

I swore. "Crap, my face."

Dr. Mustache just looked at me, not even bothering to ask.

"Do we have a mask? Or a hood? I need to cover my face?"

The doctor gave a slow blink, then opened a drawer beside him and pulled out a simple cloth mask, the kind that was scented for particularly smelly patients.

But it would hardly do enough. I still had eyes and hair, and—ugh. Why couldn't the doc have assigned me some cool medieval robe-like uniform that came with a hood so I could sulk around like the silent monks?

Once again, procrastination was biting me in the ass. If I had just taken care of covering up sooner like Gus had suggested only half a billion times, I wouldn't have had to deal with mister whats-his-face/brother of my employer asking for marriage. Ugh, and if the soldiers saw my face...

"They're only stopping by here for a few days, then they're moving on," said the doctor, with a tone that said he really didn't care what I did, as long as it didn't interfere with his work.

Still, I put on the mask, hoping it would at least dull the effect.

It didn't. Even when I kept my eyes bowed I still met one too many interested eyes as we walked up and down the main cafeteria of the barracks, which had been cleared for the purpose of our checkups. Most who had been sent here just had a cold or flu, which made sense as it was about that time of the year for it, to which we could only give medicine and tell them to ride in the carriages. Some, however, actually had more serious diseases or injuries that hadn't healed right.

Dr. Mustache left those to me to decide what to do with, especially since there were a dozen or more runny-nosed individuals that needed tending to.

So I was left in a separate room, more like an unused stall off the side of the barracks, with five men I'd really would rather not be with. I'd left the wide window, where the horse would usually poke its head out, wide open to let in the crisp breeze of early spring. It helped sweep out the remaining smell of manure.

I eyed each one of them. Two of them looked particularly miserable. The three that didn't have the miss-healed injuries took turns looking at me or at each other. Thankfully, only one of the five was looking at me as though he had lost his mind. I even thought I could see some drool.

So, sighing, I gathered my thoughts.

"As you lot know, I'm a healing magician hired on by the duke."

One man started to "ooo," to which I only just refrained from throwing my clipboard at.

"Not 'ooo,' I'm nothing remarkable. Even so, injuries are the easiest for me to heal, so you three line up here. Once I lecture you a bit about not being idiots, I'll heal you. If you touch me while I'm doing so I'll break you further instead of healing you. If you don't believe I can do that, hand me a finger. You'll be amazed at what pretty shapes it can make once all the bones are snapped."

The guys said nothing. I expected some of the admiring looks would have dimmed down, but the drooling one just smiled and another just looked ready to follow along drooling with him. Freaking, creepy-ass masochists.

One of the men had to sit because it was his leg that was messed up. He'd torn his knee and it had only gone back to normal enough to not get him kicked out. I healed that without so much as a blink, which reiterates just how easy injuries were healed compared to diseases. All the body needed was extra energy and some magic to speed it up most of the time.

The other two also had torn ligaments that weren't given that appropriate time to heal up, and so they simply didn't. I gave them the promised lecture "rest, ice, cease movement, elevation! The new RICE motto!" The smirking drooly one gripped my hand a little too creepy like so I snapped off one of his nails as a souvenir. He left looking properly cowed, though he held the nail a bit too favorably. Ugh.

Leaving me with the last two: one which had only glanced at me out of politeness with a raccoon-like face, and the second which had joined the drooler club.

The second had a disease I wasn't familiar with, which, after a closer look, turned out to be gallbladder stones along with syphilis. That was quickly dealt with, and I told him to stop being a baby and eat his veggies and fruit more unless he wanted to die, oh, and to stop being a manwhore. Despite basically calling him out for playing around with his weenie in the wrong place, he gaped at me as though I'd spoken the word of god.

"How did you know?" he said.

I just gave him a flat look for being stupid and kicked him out. Frankly, I suspected more of the men hid syphilis since my belief in the chastity of soldiers was at an all-time low. It wasn't that high to begin with.

Which left me alone with the dark-colored, five-o-clock shadowed and dark circled eyed raccoon.

I was a little nicer to him as I set my hand on his since he hadn't gawked at me once. Even now, he just slumped on the overturned pail, radiating misery. His skin had a yellowish hue, which just added to the look of something furry that liked rolling around in the trash.

Once I'd gotten a look, I couldn't help but frown.

"Sir...just how much alcohol have you drunken for your liver to be this bad? And your kidneys and...oh my god..."

He jumped a bit. His dull eyes blinked and looked up at me, clearing for a moment.

"Drinking...?" he said.

"Yeah. You have severe cirrhosis of the liver, dehydration—that's probably why you look so bad too. And your kidneys are suffering from what I guess to be chronic dehydration. You know alcohol is a diuretic, right?"

The dark, sad eyes just blinked, nice and slow.

"I don't understand," he said. Even his voice had a groggy, slow tone to it.

I ran a hand down my face.

"How did you even get this far in the army..." but maybe he had kept his addiction under control.

"I just have a stomach ache," he said. "And I can't sleep."

"No kidding. You have ulcers too." I bit my lip as it became more and more obvious that something had this man under extreme stress. "Can...can I ask what's going on in your life? Is there a reason you drink so much?"

He took a second or two to register that. Then he sighed heavily and bowed his head, wagging it back and forth like a heavy stone that just happened to hang off his neck.

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Yay! Husband forgave me. And long before lunch. We got to cuddle for a nap and it was heavenly. But now I don't want to do anything else today but lounge on his lap like a cat. Still have writing work to do, ugh.