They hated hellkin and others like them, and made it very clear, very publicly. Then the time came they were very sick, almost all healers had given up hope. It was a hellkin who saved their life. Sitting with them, talked with them, caring for them. It was then that the hatred learned at the knee of their parental, began to disappear beneath the weight of understanding. -- Anon Guest
There's many places like it. City-states, nations, minor polities all who made Unwelcome People illegal within their borders. The Unwelcome know to stay away, leaving warnings to others of their ilk before anyone could get within bowshot of any such place.
...usually.
Lord Harrow had long believed that the only good Hellkin was one in chains, if it wasn't already dead. They were, he often stated, a blemish on the face of the world that was best eradicated. Until a heinous affliction began to sap his health, his abilities, and threatened to drain his life.
In desperate times, someone in power will do anything to stay alive. Including offering greater and greater rewards for a cure. Including allowing anything in to try curing him. With guards nearby to make certain they didn't apply slow poison or a knife to his throat.
There was, after all, a significant amount of distrust on both sides.
Human remedies failed first. So did the best the D'varuv and the Elves could offer. Even Harukh could not supply medicine that worked. Then a healer amongst the most Unwelcome of the Unwelcome came to see to him.
Ze trusted hir child to the guard. "Here's the deal," said the Hellkin named Vitality. "You die... your people may slaughter me and my lovie. I heal you... and you let every Hellkin you have in chains to walk free. To be welcome in your lands. With the same protections as any other citizen in your realm."
"You're that confident?" breathed Lord Harrow.
Vitality only nodded, and set down hir bag. "I will have your guards draw blood, but I also need other... samples."
The bag was full of instruments. Crystal lenses, little measures, things with perplexing gears and handles.
"Where did you steal those from?" sneered Lord Harrow.
Glare. "Remember I have your health in my hands, and choose kindness," said Vitality. "I can make your healing process just as kind as you are, if I so wish."
Lord Harrow only needed a minute to rephrase his question. "Where did you get those?"
"I've done a lot of favours to interesting people," said Vitality. "These are gifts. Some are of greater value than they seem." Ze held up a vial of blood to the light, looking through a stone with a hole in it. Ze put the stone down and looked through a series of lenses. "Hm."
"Found something?"
"An avenue. It's going to take two months."
"To cure?"
"To diagnose. When I have it pinpointed, then I work on the cure." Ze pressed a piece of parchment against one that had writing on it, whispered some words, and made a precise copy. "In the meantime, follow this diet and exercise regime."
Harrow found the first hurdle. "Wake at dawn for a constitutional?"
"I'll walk with you," said Vitality. "I will be doing everything I insist you do."
It took one month to diagnose, and something of an ordeal for the cure. Vitality stayed true to hir word, and endured alongside Harrow. There were foul-smelling mists and horrible potions, and more diet and exercise tweaks to his regime. The symptoms reduced to invisibility.
Then Lord Harrow started feeling better than he'd ever felt in his life.
Grudgingly, he had to be true to his word as well.
He might hate it, much like he hated rising at dawn. On the other hand, he would get used to it. Much like he grew accustomed to rising at dawn.
[Photo by Dan Farrell on Unsplash]
If you like my stories, please Check out my blog and Follow me. Or share them with your friends! Or visit my hub site to see what else I'm up to.
Send me a prompt [42 remaining prompts!]