Good Healer

Chapter 23: City Healer Guild and Snobbery

The morning after the intensely charged night with Lady Valerius dawned bright and clear over Baraon City, a stark contrast to the shadowed intimacy of her candlelit bedroom. Kray awoke in a guest room of her townhouse, the luxurious surroundings feeling both surreal and strangely familiar after the previous night's immersion in her world.

Valerius, true to her word, was ready to introduce him to another facet of Baraon City – the professional world, specifically the prestigious Healer’s Guild. She presented the idea as a necessary step, "to legitimize your practice, Dray, to open doors beyond my personal patronage. In Baraon City, one must have credentials, affiliations."

Kray, still wrestling with the ethical and emotional complexities of his burgeoning intimacy with Valerius, and the shocking discovery of the Lovemaking skill, felt a mixture of apprehension and reluctant curiosity. The idea of joining a formal guild, of being recognized by established healers, held a certain appeal, a validation of his skills beyond the whispers and rumors of Luma. But he also sensed that his unconventional methods, his "massage healing," would likely be met with skepticism, if not outright hostility, in such a traditional and hierarchical institution.

Valerius’s carriage deposited them before a grand building of imposing grey stone, its entrance flanked by intricately carved pillars and heavy oak doors emblazoned with the Guild’s insignia – a caduceus entwined with stylized herbs. The air around the Guildhall felt different, colder, more formal than the bustling streets outside. A hushed reverence seemed to emanate from the very stones, a sense of established authority and rigid tradition.

Inside, the reception hall was dimly lit and hushed, paneled in dark wood and lined with portraits of stern-faced figures in elaborate healer’s robes. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic herbs and a faint undercurrent of medicinal astringency, a far cry from the lavender and perfume of Valerius’s townhouse, or the earthy aroma of Luma’s fields.

Valerius, radiating effortless confidence and aristocratic authority, approached the reception desk, a polished counter manned by a stern-faced woman in a severe grey uniform. She announced herself with her full title, “Lady Valerius, requesting an audience with the Guild Master, regarding a visiting… associate.”

The receptionist, initially impassive, visibly softened at the mention of Lady Valerius’s name, her demeanor shifting to one of deferential formality. After a brief exchange, and a pointed mention of Lady Valerius’s considerable influence and patronage of the Guild, they were granted an audience and directed to a waiting room.

The waiting room was sparsely furnished, lined with uncomfortable wooden benches, and filled with other supplicants – mostly younger healers in apprentices’ robes, their faces a mixture of nervousness and ambition. They glanced at Valerius with undisguised awe, and at Kray with open curiosity and a hint of disdain. His simple tunic and unpolished boots stood out starkly against the richly embroidered robes and fine footwear of the city healers.

After a tense wait, a guildsman in elaborate robes summoned them. They were led through a maze of hushed corridors, past rooms filled with alchemical equipment and anatomical charts, finally arriving at a large, imposing chamber – the Guild Master’s office.

The Guild Master, a portly, imposing man with a severe countenance and meticulously groomed beard, sat behind a massive mahogany desk, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound tomes and intricate medical instruments. He looked up as they entered, his gaze sharp and assessing, his expression initially neutral, then subtly shifting to one of cool condescension as he took in Kray’s appearance.

Valerius made the introductions, her voice smooth and confident, presenting Kray as a “healer of exceptional, albeit unconventional, talent from a rural region, seeking to expand his practice in Baraon City.” She carefully avoided mentioning the “pleasure massage” rumors, emphasizing instead his “unique approach to alleviating muscular tension and promoting well-being.”

The Guild Master listened with thinly veiled impatience, his gaze fixed on Kray, his lips curling into a subtle sneer as Valerius described his methods. When she finished, he steepled his fingers, his expression one of dismissive amusement.

“Massage, you say?” he began, his voice a condescending drawl, laced with aristocratic disdain. “’Unconventional,’ indeed. In Baraon City, we rely on established science, on rigorous study, on proven remedies, not on… rustic manipulations and anecdotal village remedies. Massage is a pleasant indulgence for wealthy patrons, perhaps, but hardly a legitimate form of healing.”

He turned his gaze directly to Kray, his eyes narrowed, his tone openly mocking. “And you, young man, you claim to be a ‘healer’ based on… what qualifications? What school of healing are you affiliated with? What rigorous examinations have you passed?”

Kray, feeling the weight of the Guild Master’s disdain, and the barely concealed snickers of the few other healers present in the room, stood his ground, his initial nervousness giving way to a quiet resolve. He met the Guild Master’s gaze directly, his voice steady, though tinged with a hint of rural accent that seemed to amplify the Guild Master’s condescension.

“I learned from my mother, Guild Master,” Kray replied, his voice clear and even. “And from experience. My healing… it may be unconventional, but it is effective. I have helped many in my village, alleviating pain, restoring well-being.” He deliberately avoided mentioning “pleasure,” emphasizing the tangible results of his work.

The Guild Master scoffed, a short, dismissive sound. “Village remedies and anecdotal evidence are hardly sufficient for Baraon City, young man. We deal with complex ailments, with sophisticated pathologies, not with simple village aches. Massage may soothe a tired merchant after a long journey, but it will hardly cure a plague, or mend a broken bone, or… address the true ailments of the city.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dismissive, his tone final. “I appreciate Lady Valerius’s… patronage,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly towards her, then back to Kray, “but I fear your ‘unconventional’ methods are not… compatible with the standards of the Baraon City Healer’s Guild. We have no place for… massage healers here. I suggest you return to your village, young man, and continue to… indulge your rustic clients there. Baraon City requires… more.”

He waved a dismissive hand, signaling the end of the audience, his gaze already turning back to the leather-bound tome on his desk, dismissing Kray and his “rustic” healing as utterly insignificant.

Kray felt a surge of anger, a flush rising to his cheeks, the Guild Master’s arrogant dismissal stinging like a physical slap. He felt underestimated, ridiculed, his skills and his genuine desire to heal utterly dismissed based on nothing but prejudice and snobbery.

Valerius, however, remained outwardly composed, her aristocratic mask firmly in place, though Kray could sense a flicker of annoyance in her dark eyes. She inclined her head slightly to the Guild Master, her voice cool and polite, but edged with a subtle steel. “I understand your Guild’s… perspective, Guild Master,” she said, her tone implying that she understood it perfectly, and found it utterly narrow-minded. “We shall not impose further. Thank you for your time.”

She turned to Kray, placing a hand lightly on his arm, guiding him out of the imposing office, leaving the Guild Master to his dusty tomes and his rigid, close-minded world. As they walked back through the hushed corridors of the Guildhall, Kray’s initial apprehension had solidified into a burning resolve. He may have felt out of place, underestimated, ridiculed, but the Guild Master’s arrogant dismissal had ignited a spark of defiance within him. He would prove them wrong. He would show them, and Baraon City, the true power, and the true worth, of his unconventional, perverted, but undeniably effective, Pleasure Healing. He would not be dismissed as a mere “rustic massage healer.” He would rise above their snobbery, their prejudice, and carve his own path, even if it meant doing it outside the rigid walls of their close-minded Guild. The challenge of Baraon City, and its arrogant healers, had just become personal.