Chapter 155: Chapter 42: A Village Girl

---D-Day+95, Dherus 2nd, Tuesday Evening---

---Stormgarde Academy, Sayo Clinic---

"[Blessing of Imhotep!]"

The restrained body in front of me trembles.

“Aiyee!”

“[S̷̬͍͆͂̎͝h̶̙̀̂͊ă̸̧̫̘̱͘ͅr̸̢͕̹̳͗͜k̵̼̗̣̤͊̎̚͜ū̷̗́̾̃ ̴̙͖̭͑g̷̢̛̣̖̣̹u̵͙̗̅l̷̛̹̥̈́̓̈͝ ̴̹́̈́̃̚k̵̫̎r̵̰̞̫̅̍͊͋ȉ̸̳͉͔m̶̯̤͒̾̀p̷̡͇̐͜ ̷̨͓̰̟̱́̋̀̈́̂n̸̩̉̆͝ͅͅa̸̫̯͂̔̅̎z̴̘͑]”

Huh, nothing?

A sigh from the milf beside me.  Her finger taps on a page of the open leather bound book she’s holding.

“No dear, its S̶̭̣̀͝h̶̜̳̻̝͂̊̆̌̀ả̸͖͚̳̀ŗ̸͖̋̀̐͜͠͝ḳ̷͇̌̊̿u̸̪̭̜͐̔ ̴̟͈̣͙͎͘g̶̫͖̮̎̇̈́́a̵̠̎l̸̯̖͖͇̦̍̈́̒̍̚ ̶̪̭̌̾̍k̷͇̤̾̾́͠r̸̨͈̟͊͂̉͜ŏ̴̘̘̀͘͠m̷̻͔̽̍͌̽̀p̵̨͇͔̑͌̈́̌́ ̶̡̦͋̉̅͆̕n̶͔̿̀̄̈a̴̳̐̀̒̚g̴͕̫̝͙̏̀.”

Shit.

"[Chiron's Fingers!]"

The language of the fallen gods is such a fucking pain to speak.  Its got more rules and exceptions than even english.  Bet they made it that way on purpose too.  Just to be assholes.

“[S̶̟̲̦͗̔̿̑͑h̸̯̘̜̩̆͛̀͗̚͜ȃ̵͍̰͖͠ͅr̶̹͕̱͉̚k̷̹̭̦̘͛͘u̵̯̎̄̀̚ ̸͓̪̫̘̳͑̅g̴̢͇̤̗͛̽͂͗͗a̴̛͉̙̪̅̋́̀l̴͔̺̪̼̽̂̿̌̇ ̵̺̝̬͐̾̑̑͠k̴͈͇͈̲͗͋̀̋r̷͖̀̅ò̴̹̻̱̒͗m̵̟̎̇̆̿̐p̵̲͂̕ ̵̨̨̲͈̃n̷̨̝͓̐͗a̸̩͕̦̭͌ḡ̸̨̰̰̝ͅ]”

A crossbow bolt sized piece of blacklight gathers in front of my face.  Less than a moment later it zips across the room and buries itself into the wall across from me before dispersing.

“Nice, thanks Mel.”

Keep this up and I’ll totally pass next week’s test in Umbra I.

"[Aceso's Spirit!]"

“Eeyah!”

“Oh, hush, you’re ruining my concentration.”  Look at the howling guy on the slab in front of me.  “[Breath of Airmed!]”

My [Recovery Magic] spell spreads from where my hands are busily rebuilding his foot.  Temporarily soothing and numbing the regrowing nerves.

Letting mister pass the fuck out.

The screamer today is another old adventurer sidelined by a major injury.  Another adventurer's guild master, Samryn Vengel.  Human, in his fifties, six feet tall, couple hundred pounds, and pretty much all muscle.

Been treating a couple of these guys a week since I started Isekai ER a month ago.  In fact, musclehead here is my tenth patient.  Counting Huga, but not counting Dwarfinator.

Hmm…  Numero tenno…  Should there be a prize?  Like a banner that drops down and balloons?  A coupon for his next treatment.  Isekai groupon maybe?

After all, I just might see him again.  Like the others, this gold ranker had a gleam in his eye when hearing my treatment plan.  Practically itching to charge back into the dungeons.  Hauling back wealth and riches from the deep dark.

Frankie was dead on when she called these nutjobs, “battle junkies.”  They are completely addicted to fighting for their lives in the hot and humid depths.  Accompanied by other adventurers, farmers, miners, and porters.  Harvesting rare and valuable resources from the planet’s most lethal environments.

Oh, and we aren’t in Room 152 anymore.  Still use it for the research group and cultivation sessions.  Just don’t treat anyone there now.

A building in the commercial residential northwest quarter of Stormgarde was purchased and renovated to my specifications.  Didn’t cost me a penny since the Adventurer’s Guild paid for everything.  They even coughed up extra for it to be a rush.

So I’ve now got a second building there, it's just down the block from Delta Tau Chi.  Two stories tall in a walled compound with a garden, one dozen individual patient rooms, two operating rooms, two classrooms, and a small medical library.

The healer hotties, that Marquis Grizzly sent, have been moved to the clinic.  Could have housed them elsewhere but, like any man of culture, I can’t resist the chance for “nightshift nurse” encounters.

Named it the Sayo Clinic because I couldn’t resist and, BAM, Isekai ER has a place of its own.

“L-lord Barton?”

The voice comes from behind me and I recognize it as one of this guy’s wives.  Every patient so far has brought their husband, wife, singular or plural, and some even dragged kids here.

Most had them stay in Raelera because its ritzier than little ole Pearlden.  But this guy didn’t care.  Brought the wives but left his kids back in whereverville.

Now I’m not really surprised.  Remember, it can take weeks to get pretty much anywhere.  Would have taken me a month to cross Tourin if I hadn’t found the undead horsie cheat.

Most folks never travel further than a day from where they were born, and stay in the area for their entire lives.  Only going further if they have no home to return too.  Like the invasion refugees.  Many of those poor bastards are still on the road.  Looking for a new home.

Back to the misses with the question.  The lady asking is an older girl.  Looks as old, greying hair, as my patient.  In good shape though and clearly still trains.  Probably retired with mister screamie pants here.

She’s not wearing the local fantasy modern styles.  Instead got a medieval looking hooded deep blue one piece dress with lots of silver looking embroidery.  Using strings up the front and back to make the silk hug her curves.

“Yes?”

Really don’t need the extra distraction but I’ve done these limb regrowths so many times that I could probably leave my eyes closed.  Yeah the guy might end up with an extra toe but, he paid up front, so it's not my problem.

“Will…  Will my husband be okay?”

Oh, great, one of “them.”  Bet she’s got some healing spells too.  You know, it's not my fault this planet’s healing magic sucks.  I’m not the one who let the churches go on a rampage after the Wizard Wars.  Purging the knowledge of higher magic from the world.

Though, honestly, it's not like we have room to talk.  If I recall, it was christians that burned down the great library of alexandria.

“Auugh!”

Screamie comes too as the numbing spell wears off and his nerves light up again.  Shit, better focus more or I’ll have to start over again.

The doubting misses' eyes get big as she watches a fortune’s worth of mana stones on the table next to me turn dull, dark, and begin crumbling into dust.

“He’ll be fine, madame, but please return to the waiting area.”

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

“Whew!”

*plop*

Gladly drop onto a couch to take the load off my feet after standing for the last couple hours.  Yeah, operations are less exhausting after getting more used to [Drain].  Still takes a lot out of me though.

A short voluptuous dark-elf kisses my neck and nibbles on my ear.

“Master, I can smell the mana on you.”

Frankie’s feeling frisky.  Since Hitomi’s bid to unseat her self destructed?  My priest-wife is feeling more possessive.  Even showing off by making out with me in public.  Mostly, I think, to rub it in Hitomi’s face.

“Ushi…”

Pondering if I should head back to Lions Keep now?  Or have a go with some healer hotties.  With the local seamstresses already knowing the maid uniform.  It didn’t take long to get nurse uniforms made too.

*clunk* *swing*

Two orderlies bring my victi-, er, patient out of the OR on a stretcher and carry him towards the recovery room.  Thought about wheeled beds but haven’t gotten around to commissioning them yet.

The big muscular refugees are followed by a couple of nurses and the guild master’s wives.  He’ll be carried to a recovery room and monitored for a few hours to make sure there are no problems.  Like blood clots and such.

Once he’s aware and mobile he’ll be moved again.  This time to a patient room.  Where he’ll stay for the next week or two until he’s back to one hundred percent.

And, yes, I did say refugees.  All the staff in Sayo Clinic, except for the healer hotties, were displaced by the demon invasion.  Just another way I’m trying to help Tourin recover.

Stormgarde faculty and local physicians visit regularly.  Checking on the patients and testing altered [Recovery Magic] spells.  They’ve had some success but still have a long way to go.

The Deans are debating moving the research group from Room 152 to the clinic and expanding it.  Turning it into an actual teaching hospital.

Which pisses the church off to no end because while every magic school has some healing spells?  Its been long considered the church’s “turf.”  Just another way I’m fucking them over.

You hear me, Metia?  Your stormtroopers took six important women from me.  They never got their second chance because of you.  Not to mention your losers trying to kill me three or four times.

So, yep, I’m coming for you too.  Bitch.

*clink* *clink* *glug*

Lili puts some ice into a clear glass and pours some whiskey for me.

*foosh*

Red lights a cigar and fellatios it before handing it over.  Eyeing my crotch the whole time.  In case you haven’t noticed?  I’ve discovered that flexing my magical might?  Huge turn on for the harem.

Breaking through to Juqi, a couple days ago, also helps.  No longer having black oily stinky sweat when I dual-cultivate?  Big plus.

Paging Doctor Detroit.  You are needed for an orgy in the jacuzzi.  Stat!

And no, this isn’t your modern fluorescent lighted hell of old chairs and bad coffee.  The walls and floor here are made of limestone and marble with wood supports.

Light is from a fireplace and sconces on walls and columns.  Leaving the rooms lit well enough to see but still muted and tinted yellow.  A relaxing and cozy glow.

The furniture is not cheap either.  Well padded and carved.  Suitable for any noble’s den.

Red guides my hand to caress her abdomen.

“Jon, our baby is in here.”

Knight-wife’s eyes become dazed and I hear cooing as she relishes feeling my palm on her tummy.  Slowly my fingers are lead further and further down.

You are reading story A Fathers Wrath at novel35.com

Think Edelys wants to remind me how we made that baby.  And I certainly don’t mind a trip down memory la-

“S-sir Barton?”

Wha?

*flinch*

The girl who very unwisely interrupted us flinches back as a dozen plus pairs of eyes lock onto her.  Most of them, not looking at her kindly at all.

Who?  Oh, yeah, it's the young wife.  Seriously young.  She doesn’t look any older than me.  Maybe even younger.

Reach up and back to give Lili and Mel’s breasts a squeeze.  While Red had my eyes on the prize, the other ladies were already undressing me.  My shirt’s wide open and pants half off.

Not sure how they fit them all but can feel six plus pairs of hands rubbing me.  So I must look quite the sight when I smirk at our sexy time’s intruder and reply.

“Better hurry up.  These lovely ladies already have appointments.”

She suddenly seems very unsure of herself as she curtsies.

“I…  I just wanted to thank you.”

Tilt my head.

“Why?”

That throws her.

“W-what?”

“I asked, why?”

Youngest wife is dressed in a one piece silk dress like the guild master’s oldest wife but this one is hoodless, green, with gold embroidery, and has a deep v-cut.  Exposing plenty of cleavage through the strings.

She is visibly confused.  Apparently not expecting me to start a conversation.

“M-my lord, I do not understand.”

Frankie’s tongue is in my ear.

“Why would you thank me?  Your husband is only going to try and get himself killed again.”  Look her up and down.  “And why marry a man over twice your age?”

Red’s hands are now below my abdomen.

Honestly, she isn’t trophy wife material but not bad looking.  Youngest wife stares at me with a smirk of her own.

“May I tell my lord a story?”

Hitomi’s hands sneak in to give Red's fingers an assist.  Great teamwork, girls.

“Oh, baby…  Huh?  Uh, sure, be my guest.”

Our guest seems to appreciate the view we’re giving her and starts to speak.

“A girl was born in the village of nowhere.  She wasn’t the smartest.  She wasn’t the prettiest.  She didn’t have mana.  But what she did have?  Was a dream.”

“What dream?”

“To not spend her life in the dirt.”

“The dirt?”

“Yes, my well endowed lord.  A village girl is born, raised, bred, and dies, in the dirt.  Only those who have more can get more.  And she did not.  But she dreamed of someplace, clean.”

“Clean?”

“She had seen clean before.  When traveling merchants showed off their finest goods.”  Motions with her hands.  “When the lord needed extra hands so opened his doors.  And the sight of his wealthy guests.”

Her shoulders droop.

“Even when the village girl bathed.  Even when she wore her mother’s nicest dress.”  Delicate fists clench.  “She knew she was not clean.  Because she came from the dirt.”

Uh…  I’m thinking “dirt” may actually mean something else.

“Then came the village girl’s last day.  Dad’s friend lost his wife during childbirth.”  A not mentally stable glare.  “Dirty girl would replace the broken wife of the smelly man.  The price?  A few chickens.”

As the story goes on my ladies get less and less in "the mood," and I can’t blame them.

“The mother was so happy to see her daughter get married.  Even to the old smelly man.”  Trembling shrug.  “Father was happy too.  One less mouth to feed and he would have eggs to eat.”

Molested maybe?

“So the families gathered at the chapel of priest sticky hands.”  Yep.  “But before she could be dragged to the shrine?  Some pigs got loose.  Yet the village girl didn’t see the pigs, or smelly man, or even sticky hands.  All she saw?  Was the wagon.”

Wagon?

“At the bottom of the hill, passed the shacks and over the rampart, was a wagon.”  Eyes turn dreamy.  “A beautiful carriage with an emblem on the side like the lord’s guests.  And it called to the village girl.”

These kings don’t need to isekai heroes.  They need to isekai therapists.  Lots and lots of therapists. 

“So she ran.  Passed sticky hands.  Passed smelly man.  Passed momma and poppa.  Even passed the pigs.  She ran like she never ran before.  Because village girl knew, in her heart, that she would never get the chance to run again.”

There are still hands on me.  But now there are also heads, shoulders, butts, and chins.  With arms and legs holding whatever bit of me they can find.  Getting awfully crowded on this couch.

“Just as the wagon’s driver finished getting directions and started to pull away?  Village girl reached its door and threw herself inside the carriage.”  A proud pose now.  “Inside?  It was clean.  The cleanest she had ever seen.  And she was not alone.”

Not sure how many women have piled on me right now.  Only have a little space around hair, boobs, and armpits, to still see the storyteller.

“A man was there.  Older than even smelly man, but strong and clean.”  She’s blushing?  “With him were his two wives.  Doing their duty well with his sword about to burst.”

Youngest wife pauses to giggle a little.  Smiles fondly as if reliving the memory.

“Village girl was brave enough to take her chance.  She leaped at the clean man and impaled herself on his sword."  Thrusts with her hips.  "Over and over until the clean man's seed was planted deep inside."

So, she raped him?

"The wives screamed and wanted village girl thrown away.  But the clean man laughed."  Hugs herself and smiles.  "He liked brave girls and his wives had still not given him a son.  So the driver was told to drive on and she was, at last, clean."

Well, alrighty then, oh, she's not done.

"Less than a year later, she was his wife too and gave that clean man a strong, clean son.  With enough mana to be a mage."  Rubs her belly.  "If Metia is kind, the second will also be a son."

And they all lived happily ever after.

"You tell that village girl to find a better man?  A younger man?  She will tell you the one who lifted her out of the dirt is the better man.”  Hands on her hips.  “If the better man seeks death in the deep dark?  She will support his goal with all her heart as a wife should.”

Ah, I see, with a super baby she won’t have a problem finding a new man.  She could easily end up a baron’s concubine if “clean man” doesn’t come back.

Maybe even a count’s, depending on how much mana the boy has.

“And Lord Barton?”

My reply is muffled by hair and boobs.

“Mmph, yes?”

A deep bow.

“I am grateful my husband found you so that his dream could come true.”  Turns and walks away.  “But please do not think ill of those brave enough to dream.”

Think I just got told off.  By a kid.

“Master?”

“Mmph, phew, yes?”

“I don’t like her.”

Murmurs and grunts of agreement from the pile of ladies on me.

Hehe.  Yeah, she’s a bitch.

But she’s a gutsy bitch.

Gotta give her props for that.

Wonder if she knows the story of the three little pigs.

The one with Rambo.

…

Maybe I'll ask her later.

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