Chapter 96 - Loss After Loss

Holding the ointment bowl in my hand, I followed Mama to Room#2 where lay Hector sprawled on the bed in the most awkward position I had ever seen. 

"Are you okay?" Mama asked as she approached the bed.

He groaned in reply and turned to look at Mama's face, his own twisted in pain. 

"Oookay," Mama mumbled as she placed the bowl on the nightstand and turned to examine Hector's wounds. "Where do we need work, eh?"

"W-Waist," Hector said with difficulty. He turned his body to the side so that the red, puckered wound that trickled blood was up in the air. 

Mama nodded. "That's one bad cut. But it doesn't seem as if any organs were cut along with it, since it doesn't go too deep. You're one lucky man.."

Hector scoffed in pain and disbelief. "Yeah, right."

Mama frowned. "You should be glad you weren't in Sidmund's place, boy."

Hector went silent. Mama scooped up some ointment and slowly started applying it to the wound, making sure a hair strand went directly over the worst part. 

"So tell me about your life," Mama said calmly as if she was a doctor about to give some child a vaccine shot, speaking to keep him distracted. "How come you ended up as an assassin?"

Hector remained silent for a few minutes, flinching occasionally under Mama's dabbing fingers. I thought he was asleep, but then he let out a long sigh.

"Being an assassin… My past self would be disappointed in me if he saw me like this," Hector muttered bitterly and quite calmly, finally getting used to the ointment. "I was a blacksmith, originally. One of the best in the Lands of Sovia. But then the rumor about the wretched Huxley boy arose and disrupted the people of the Lands to their core. There were public outcries, protests, riots...you name it. My business was booming since people started to buy swords and axes and such in order to kill the Huxley boy. But then this foreign man showed up one day and set shop right across the street from me, selling this new technology called 'Handguns'. It stole all my customers from me." He sniffed. "My blacksmith hut shut down soon after since I was barely earning a few silvers all day. It wasn't enough to feed my whole family of eight. I thought I would be better off a dead man. But then..." He paused, apparently thinking.

Mama had moved on from the wound on his waist to the large gash on his back.

"Then what?" she asked, trying to keep him talking. 

"Then someone put up notes all over the town post boards. They were looking for strong men to form an official assassination team, or something like that. And they promised a handsome award if the team succeeded in their mission. Hundreds were signing up, and since I wasn't earning bread from my blacksmiths' stall, I decided to apply along. What did I have to lose at that point?"

"And that's where you met Sidmund?" Mama asked, genuinely interested.

"Yes, he was a trainee just like myself. And we had an amazing time at the training center. One of a kind. I made myself a lot of buddies there, and my pal Ben generously lent me a lot of money to feed my family back home while I was away. Too bad he's probably dead now."

There was a grieved silence for a while before Hector carried on.

"Anyways, some people were dispatched to Wisteria when rumors spread that the Huxley boy had run away to marry. Other dispatches were sent to neighboring empires like Clatoise and such. But we confirmed he was here and then the job was left up to us. The people back in the Lands were counting on us. Judging by the vigorous training we were given, no one was expecting anybody to die in the attempt. But-But-But," he sighed to calm his nerves, "Alan and Lloyd are dead. So is Ben, probably. There's no way they would've let him live. To think that we can't do anything about it, it's just- just..."

"We know how you feel, Hector," Mama said soothingly, dabbing at a large wound on his forehead. "Best anyone can do for him is pray for his safety."

Hector muttered something under his breath but didn't reply. Then after a moment, he turned swiftly on his back, his eyes wide.

"Wait, what is this?" he asked, craning his neck to peer at the wound on his waist. It was gone, wiped clean as if it was never there to begin with. He raised his shirt further up his torso, obviously trying to look for his wound. "Am I seeing things? Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Mama asked, placing the bowl back on the table.

Hector looked up, his face in a state of puzzlement and shock. "The wound! It's gone??" 

Mama Ruth laughed out loud as she looked at me. I smiled awkwardly, but inside, I was going crazy with nervousness.

"Like I said earlier," I muttered through gritted teeth, trying to appear jolly. "This ointment works wonders."

Hector spluttered, trying to feel the cuts on his arms and back. When he felt nothing, he just sat there for a moment, trying to absorb everything in.

"There's absolutely no way," he cried, appalled. "It's mere ointment! How can it erase any traces of wounds inflicted by blades? And in just a few moments! It's absolutely impossible."

Mama leaned against the bed frame, a smug look on her face. "Never underestimate the power of ointment."

I tried to smile. "All hail ointment."

While Hector spluttered some more, we quickly hurried out. On to the next room, I thought happily. Was my power really such a wonderful miracle? It made me feel -I don't know- powerful! Like I was finally coming into some good use. 

But when we went into Sidmund's room, he was already dead.

"Good Lord, Sidmund, wake up," Mama said, shaking him by the shoulder. He had left a big trail of blood to my room and now he lay lifeless on the floor, his back to us. 

"Has he fainted?" I asked, afraid. 

Mama shrugged, crouching down to shake him harder. "Sidmund! Get off the floor!"

But he never responded.

"Goodness, d'ya know how to check a pulse?" Mama asked, turning to me. "I never know what to feel, so you do it for me. I hope he's just out cold, though."

I nodded and crouched by his neck before putting two fingers to his jugular. I waited for a good minute to feel the pulse, but I knew deep inside that all efforts would be of no avail.

Eventually, I stood up with trembling legs and faced Mama. 

"He's dead," I mouthed the words to her, unable to say them out loud.

Mama frowned. "Huh?"

"He's dead, Mama Ruth."

Mama went silent as she stared at the body.

"Sh*t," she mumbled, stepping away from the growing puddle of blood under his body. "Another person who went ahead and died on me. Amazing."

"Mama, he didn't intend to."

"Whatever. Let him be."

I flopped down on my bed, defeated. "Shouldn't we do something?"

Mama scoffed as she put the bowl of ointment on my nightstand and bore over the body, examining the damage. "Shouldn't we do anything about the two other bodies downstairs? Of course we do. Sh*t, this place reeks. Where's Sven?"

I bit my bottom lip as I watched Sidmund's lifeless body sprawled on my floor, lifeless and unmoving. It was a shame, really. Though I barely knew these men, their losses did indeed make me sad. I wonder how Hector would respond when we tell him about Sidmund's passing away.

"Does a severed arm kill people?" I asked in a daze.

Mama shrugged. "Dunno. This seems like death caused by loss of blood. You see that puddle of red under him? All his. I'm surprised he even made it till here."

I pursed my lips. "Hm. Sven's in his room."

"Yeah, well. He never liked blood," she muttered as she flopped down on the bed beside me. "I think he's phobic to the sight and stench."

"Hemophobia," I said before thinking, then I remembered maybe the term wasn't even created yet.

"What?" Mama asked, looking at me all confused.

"Nothing. So what do we do with these people?"

Mama shrugged. "Send them on their way. I know it may seem heartless but I don't want to become a suspect for supporting assassins. Got too much on my plate already."

"Mama, shall I leave?"

The question was too sudden so she paused to think for a moment.

"What?" she asked, appalled. 

I shrugged lazily. "I just- I think I'm a burden on you. I've unconditionally asked you for so, so much, and you've given it all to me, be it food, shelter, security… I think it's time I find a new place to live. I can't always be leeching off of you. Even if you say I can, it just doesn't seem right to me. So I've been thinking about moving out lately, but I wanted to know what you thought about it before I made a decision."

Mama didn't say anything for a few minutes. Then, "Alright, you can leave."

I wasn't expecting that answer, so it hit me in the face like a hard, crunchy slap. I sat back, shocked. I thought she would ask me to stay, that it'll be fine here. And honestly? I hoped that would've been the case. I didn't want to leave. I couldn't! I had nowhere else to go.

But now she was saying that it's alright for me to move out?

What do I say? No???

I studied Mama's expression for any signs of kidding, but she was dead serious. Her face was cold and stony.

"Mama, are you sure you want me to go?"

I waited in anticipation of her answer as she opened her mouth to announce her final verdict.