Personal Ideals; Civic Duty

The main character is not related in any way to the Nero of Ancient History.

“Hey Donna, could you send the next patient in?”

“Yes, Nero.”

Nero let pulled back the tent flap to let in two men holding a makeshift bed made of two poles and a piece of cloth. A man lay groaning on top of it. Nero could tell instantly that it was serious, and was surprised that they hadn’t just barged in. He didn’t have time to wash all of the blood off of his arms.

“What happened to him?

”A snake bit him!”

Nero quickly wiped his stained hands on his white slacks and brushed a blonde lock out of his grey eyes. “Where’s the bite and when did it happen?”

“On his leg, and only a few moments ago! We were outside of town.”

“Okay, it shouldn’t be too bad…”

He quickly fumbled with the clothed leg, eliciting a groan from the injured man. The wound was quickly exposed: a large purple sore that surrounded two bite marks. Nero didn’t react much at all, as his career in medicine had shown him much worse injuries.

“Okay, grab an empty vial off of that small table, would you?” he asked the men. One quickly rushed to it and came back, glass object in hand. Nero grabbed it and began to concentrate.

The wound, the poison, it all appeared in his mind as he felt his hand slide into the skin and find the veins carrying the toxin that would kill his patient if he didn’t work fast. Nero used his fingers as walls inside the veins to push back the poison, which started to come back through the wound. His free hand quickly collected it in the vial, immediately doing work on the unsightly puncture marks on the man’s leg.

After finishing, plugging and setting the poison-filled bottle down, the injured man stopped moaning. The two who brought him in immediately moved into a torrent of appreciative phrases like ‘Thank you” and “You’re the best.”

Nero shrugged them off, replying, “I just have a gift. It’s nothing that great.”

The smile on one of their faces faded. “A gift, you say?”

“Well yeah,” started Nero, helping the no-longer-injured man up to his feet. “How else do you think I did that? I can’t go shoving my hands in people’s injuries without some form of magical talent.”

Nero continued to clean up, moving towards a small table in the tent and setting the vial down. He then went to a large bowl of water and began soaking his arms, washing the essence of his hard work off. The three men were now whispering to each other, probably about payment. Nero pushed a blonde lock of hair back and behind his right ear and continued working. The hushed whispers were gaining volume.

“We’ve got him cornered, and there’s three of us. This shouldn’t be so hard.”

“Are you sure we’ve got the right guy? He doesn’t look elfish…”

Nero contemplated the last statement. I wonder if they’re—

“Is it true that you’re a half-elf?” asked one of the men.

They are.

“And if I am?” Nero asked cautiously, slowly turning to the three men, who now sported weapons of some sort. The one he had treated, a short red-haired man with pale skin held a pair of nunchaku. The next, a tall, lean and blonde man sported two short swords, each held backwards, probably to make him look more fearful by breaking the rules of regular swordplay. The third seemed to be in between the two height-wise, was bald and wielded a hefty mace.

“You have heard of the new movement put forth by the government, haven’t you?” asked one of them with a smirk.

“You mean the anti-half-breed campaign? I may have.”

“Well then you should be moving to Demi Island. Or would you rather be executed.”

Nero sighed. He had already gone through this conversation multiple times. The government would always send a couple of goons every now and then to “persuade” him to move to the island where they plan on leaving half-blood races to die for the sake of purity.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t leave here. Look at this town.”

Nero waved his arms around him to demonstrate, finally setting them on the small of his back where he kept his only non-surgical instruments on him. “This place is small. I’m the only doctor. These people depend on me.”

“Oh, there are always other doctors, or they could go to a larger town.” Called out the tall man.

Nero was getting frustrated. These conversations never went anywhere. “People like me as their doctor! It’s more of the service than what I can actually do. And there are people who are so sick that they wouldn’t make it to a city for treatment! Don’t you get it?”

“Enough banter!” stated the shortest one with an edge. He began swinging his nunchaku around in an effort to look intimidating. “You’re coming with us or dying here!”

Nero quickly turned around, grabbed the vial of snake poison, and flung it in their direction. It caught the red haired man in the face and shattered. The glass and poison made him scream in sheer agony. He doubled over and fell to the ground as the poison began to cause sores all over his face. Nero then ripped out two short swords from hidden sheaths on his back and entered his defending stance. The wavy blade design seemed to catch the man with two swords of his own off guard. Nero took that as an opening for attack. He lunged forward, swords at the ready.

But the man had regained his composure and launched an attack of his own. He threw both of the swords at Nero, hoping to destroy the half-blood from afar. Nero flung himself in the direction of the man with the mace in an attempt to both dodge and eliminate at least one enemy.

Fortunately, the mace man wasn’t ready, and Nero was able to tackle him. Both flew into the canvas walls of the tent and collapsed to the ground, weapons flailing. Nero blocked a blow with one sword and buried the other in the man’s chest, twisting the blade for extra effect.

The man with swords took this as an opportune moment to strike, screaming a battle cry and rushing forward.

Stupid.

Nero whirled around and defended with his blades, disarming his opponent. He brought both of his weapons high into the air and brought them down into the enemy’s shoulders.

---

After checking to see that all three men were dead, Nero assessed the damage. Not very many things were damaged apart from a shattered vial and some very large blood stains on his clothes. He wiped his wavy swords on his clothes, adding to the mess.

“Doctor Grayson, are you okay?” called Donna from the front.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Could you send in the next patient?”