At the age of twenty-four, I had amassed a fortune that would not be squandered the same way my father had. It would be put to better uses pushing the boundaries of medicine. I was capable of doing this with the aid of a group of nomadic healers calling themselves the Seraphs and claiming they were followers of goddess of light: Luceme. My young mind did not put much stock in faith at the time and I dismissed them as ignorant fools. Their cause was not swayed in the slightest however. On a day as unremarkable as any other, I saw what could only be described as a miracle. A woman had been struck by a careless driver and lay bleeding in the streets. Her leg twisted and mangled, her clothes stained red from wounds both internal and external. Such extensive damage was even beyond my expertise and the only thing I could offer this woman was the mercy of a swift, painless death.
The seraphs begged to differ, however. A young, handsome man calling himself Nightingale Gabriel claimed he could save this woman and his claims were met with irrefutable proof. He placed his hands onto the woman and with a flash of light and what sounded like the chiming of a bell, the bones reset themselves with a series of sickening crunches and the wounds closed themselves as though they would naturally. By the time the young man had removed his hands, the woman that I would have previously pronounced dead was laying in the street with tears brimming in her eyes, not from pain, but from relief and gratitude at her savior's actions.
The crowd around him applauded his display and sang of his praise. All of which he graciously accepted with a charming humility. Nearly everyone who witnessed the act had lined up around the block just to shake this young man's hand or attempt to give him some gift of gratitude. After some time, I managed to wade my way through the crowd to stand before the young man and upon shaking his hand, I could feel something there. His hands were obscenely warm to the touch, but still had this comforting glow about that warmth, the very memory makes my old, heavy heart feel just the slightest bit lighter.
I offered Gabriel a job at the hospital here in Philia, explaining to him that we could use someone with his skill set. I was distraught when he refused my offer, but I understood why. He was a nomad and in his own words, he said to me that he still had people to save around the world. I was not about to let this opportunity slip me by however, there were countless lives I could save with power like his, so much good that could have been done with it. It did not take much for me to convince Gabriel to allow me to accompany him on his travels. That very night, we set out across the sea towards the H'rsed isles and the seeds to my own destruction had been sewn and quickly took root.
The months that followed the journey, I had not left Gabriel's side and he had not left mine. The two of us becoming quickly acquainted as we discussed our various means of healing. I thought of his own as mystic and enchanting and thought for certain he would find my own methods to be primitive. On the contrary, he thought the means elegant in their simplicity and wished to learn more about the means with which I healed using needle, thread, and blade. In return, he explained to me the arcane arts of his own practices and told me that it was magic. I did my best to avoid scoffing at such a preposterous explanation, but I could not sway my own young ignorance at the time. Gabriel was patient as he was innocent however and remained by my side and displayed his teachings to me time and again as I gave him the floor for his countless lectures. Towards the end of the trip, I had even managed to hold enough of an understanding to heal some of the most basic of wounds by the same means of the Nightingale.
Upon landing at the H'rsed mainland, Gabriel was quick to jump headfirst into his work and I was only too happy to follow him. Upon stepping foot onto unknown shores, I quickly realized we were the odd men out. The natives were all bipedal lizards with long snouts and even longer tails with slit eyes and scaled bodies. The Lowborn as Gabriel called them, were called such due to their stance against the use of magic and their preference to a simplistic lifestyle. None of them seemed bothered by my or my companion's presence and thus I tried to do the same.
We traveled the country, healing the sick and wounded alike with both arcane and, as Gabriel described it, classical means of medicine. My classical means proved to be of more use than anticipated as the Lowborn shirked away from the use of magic with obvious fear and malice. I wanted nothing more than to teach these ungrateful fools a lesson, but my hand was stayed and I healed those who would not be healed by a mage, if only by Gabriel's request.