Gerard carefully watched over the engine as the pistons and cylinders pumped the oily red liquid into the container. Which began to completely fill up, as one could see from the copper framed windows in rows on the side of the container.

  "The words now," said Gerard.

  He began chanting words in a dialect that combined the tongues of ancient Norse and what sounded like Russian while Jack, his eyes still closed, began chanting something that sounded like something like archaic Latin. Honestly, Christofer wasn’t quite sure, it was all Greek to him. The random counterpoint chanting grew gradually louder, as if in an attempt to drown out the loud noises from the machine. Pale blue symbols appeared in the air, dancing along a sigil that looked more like a mathematical equation.

  “I still have no idea what is going on,” Christofer said, still annoyed about not having a clue what the strange men were doing.

  The sigils shifted to turquoise beneath the glare of the flickering gas lamps. The machine shuddered and rattled as it bounced off the compression effects of the machine, before going silent, along with the sigils fading completely.

  “Alright Gerard, I think this batch is done. It just needs to cool down a bit,” Jack said and closed his book.

  “Splendid!” Gerard said, took off his goggles, withdrew and opened a silvery pocketwatch, looked at it and tucked it away in the same pocket he put the goggles in, “A half hour from now. Hm”

  As Gerard exited the room, stumbling forwards with his cane. Christofer realized that he was holding something strange. It looked like a long tube with a needle, attached to a large round flat object framed with a copper hue, with a glowing sigil in the middle. He moved to the bed that Christofer’s stretcher was stretched out on.

  “This goes into your neck,” he said and waved for Christofer to turn his head.

  “Course it does,” Christofer answered, with an annoyed but dejected stare into nothingness before eventually turning his head. Gerard tapped the floor with his cane where a curving, reddish brown script engulfed the floor under the bed in a circle which then glowed red.

  Noting that the needle was coming, Christofer closed his eyes and felt a sting which made him uneasy. He had never liked needles; he realized that when he was younger. If you’re so focused on the needle that you need to breathe manually, to make sure that you don’t breathe too much or too little, then you know you don’t like needles. He began sweating. Suddenly, he felt a rush of energy sweep through his body, like a jolt of electricity. Following that was a series of snapping sounds from his right arm and his chest, followed by an echo of pain from those areas.

  “I have readjusted the broken bones to their right place and reinforced the joints, young man… You see, for your arm, you’ll be getting a splint as the bones heal. Oh! and for the broken ribs you need only sleep and limited movement. Now, the potions that your benefactor will pay for are more effective for lighter injuries, such as shallow wounds and torn muscles. Judging by how much it has healed, thus far.. two weeks, maybe three.. for everything to heal,” Gerard spoke, surprisingly lucid, as Jack moved to the captain.

  “That’ll be two silvers and ten copper coins, counting the injuries, we’re going with a heal one and get one healed free kind of deal. After all, you’re a regular. That’s the cheapest we’ll go,” Jack said with a grin.

  The captain said nothing, didn’t even turn his head, and just threw him a little brown bag with coins in it.

  “Oh! what is this? … Most fascinating,” Gerard hesitated for a moment then his eyes lit up, then waved towards the others to come towards him, “Jack, help me take off these excessive amounts of bandages.”

  Christofer watched Jack place the tip of a knife just below his neck, next to the uppermost part of the wrapped bandages before sliding it downwards in a swift motion. They could remove the bandages with no issues, despite having a somewhat panicked patient.

  Gerard studied the markings on Christofer’s body that went from his shoulder, down to his navel, faint lines of a fiery script which moved and writhed about as if alive, following a pattern laid out before. Tribal symbols and lines, mixed with various combinations of strange obscure magic sigils and obscure symbols resembling some sort of writing. All twisting around a symbol of a hand with a gecko twisting around it.

  “A Seidrman? No.. Trollkarl? Oh! Most fascinating..” Gerard continued and chuckled, “Jack, a potion if you could be so kind,”

  Jack produced a corked bottle, filled with a red liquid, sealed with a dark wooden plug. The mystical letters etched inside had a green glow. Gerard plucked it out of his hand.

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  “Trollkarl? but that’s a Swedish word?” Christofer said, still as confused as ever.

  “Trollkarl is a very special kind of mage. Also, a very banned kind of mage, most of them dead, which is very sad,” Gerard replied as he uncorked the bottle with a pop.

  “Now, drink,” he continued and poured the liquid into Christofer’s mouth, which burned its way down his throat. He could feel his body get warmer, easing pain, however he was still not able to relax just yet.

  “Oh, almost forgot,” Gerard said as he had taken two steps, intending to walk away.

  He spun around and removed the needle from Christofer’s neck with a light yank. This resulted in a grunt from Christofer who finally exhaled and breathed heavily to calm himself down now that the needle was gone, although sweat was still covering his forehead. The knot in his intestines that were slowly relaxing made him to look around as all of his senses returned to his body. His right arm had been fitted with a splint and his chest, bruised purple from the torn pectoral muscles, responded to his slight movement. Outside hundreds of flowers bloomed and trees waved their lush green branches that were full of life.

  Christofer attention inward shifted and he noted the still rhythmic beating of rain on the windows and the crackling of wood in the fireplace. It was cozy. The rain hissed like viper snakes outside and splattered in the gutters, scurrying away in streams and rivulets down the steep hill that the building stood on and amassing into a small river that split the farm landscape below in two. The river surged with the increase of water as waves flowed through it down into a larger river that stretched in the distance through the flat landscape.

  Christofer turned his head as he stared through the window and over at the stable. He didn’t remember passing it in the night. The Captain's pale brown horse looked up from its oats and gave the captain a little whinny of greeting. As if it was greeting a friend.

  Christofer couldn’t make out what was said, but he saw the captain pat the side of the horse gently with a smile on his face before placing a blanket on it and fitting a saddle on the horse. The captain made sure that it was secured with two tugs before jumping up on the horse’s back. The captain’s gambeson was completely soaked, and the same went for his dark pants and boots. The horse happily started to trot in the direction of the entrance and disappeared from view of the window Christofer was looking out of. Ike grabbed his spear and paused in the doorway, Jack patted him on the shoulder, shook out his umbrella and opened it over them both outside. It’s structure of wood and leather was enough to shield them from the rain.

  “We’ll return in a few days. Keep a watch over the wounded.” the captain ordered.

  Frank sat behind the counter reading an old book. A panicked shout made him glance up from his book. His face scrunched up in annoyance, he slowly turned the page while looking at the patient and looked down on the book again.

  Christofer looked into the room. Most of the wounded were still sleeping soundly, but occasionally a light sleeper would make some noise. Most were used to it. Some were bedridden like himself and found themselves next to a window. Zoning out. Looking at them, their appearance reminded him of the past, when he had to take the bus through the city. Staring out on the passing scenery of the frozen concrete forests, the gray and dull scenery amidst the glass and chrome. Occasionally businessmen stepped onto the bus so that they could escape never-ending cold and return to their job after a long vacation with fresh, re-energized hatred of their job.

  Noise generated from an odd direction made him snap out of his thoughts. It was the creaking of the wooden door to the strange machinery from earlier. Gerard shuffled his way out of the room and pulled the door shut with a hand clutching a washcloth. He threw it into a bucket next to the door and moved to the tinderbox that lay on the counter, fumbling with it to light the unlit lantern next to it. With the wick blazed with light, he picked up the lantern and moved with it dangling with him as he steadied himself with the cane as he walked. He came to a stop and tapped the cane on the floor three times.

  “Patients, it’s time for breakfast. Those that can’t move, follow me… Oh.. oh that’s.. No, please bear with me and I’ll bring some food to you shortly,” Gerard said with a loud voice.

  “Hey Frank, can you grab me the brown flask on the desk?” echoed through the west door.

  Christofer recognized the voice as something said by the man known as Jack. Frank closed the book, placed it on the counter and walked out to the door with the flask in hand. The door closed behind him. Christofer glanced outside. A young blonde woman stood there, fidgeting in a gown embroidered with complex golden patterns. Most likely a nobleman's daughter.

  “Ah, the love potion is ready,” Jack said and grabbed the flask. Frank raised an eyebrow.

  “Will it work?” the woman asked, worried.

  “I guarantee it will make you seem more interesting and enhance your beauty to your lover! Just make sure he drinks it all! That’ll be 75 coppers,” Jack said as he stretched out a hand.

  The woman quickly pulled out a little bag from her pocket, placed the bag on his open hand, grabbed the flask and ran out of the shop happily, with a skip in her step. Frank waited until he was sure the woman was gone.

  “What was in that thing?” he finally asked.

  “Vodka,” Jack answered with a smile and threw the bag spinning up into the air before grabbing it and stuffing it in a pocket, “The machine at the back is perfect for making it.”

  Frank was just about to say something when he heard Gerard yell for him from the inside.

  “Frank! I need some help over here!”

  “Damn it guys, I’m supposed to be your guard, not your assistant!” he said while he frustratedly chewed on his cigar shaped object that he wasn’t allowed to light up,

  “I’m coming,”

  He took a deep breath, then walked inside and slammed the door.