D&D Perspectives #4

The chair was an old overstuffed leather and ironwood monstrosity he'd inherited from his father, who'd been a doctor like his father before him. Kings get gilt thrones encrusted with gems, but this was a seat of knowledge with buttons of brass and coffee stains. It had been seven long months of safari since he'd plunked down in it and heard the familiar creaks. He put the two jars on the desk, sat down slowly with a sigh of the deepest satisfaction and looked side to side at his shelves full of medical texts, many penned by himself and members of his family.

Home.

The trip into the Ironhome had been awful. The mining towns were as appalling as their denizens and the good doctor had spent much of the trip wondering which had caused the other. The mercury mining camp he felt was the best test of this. The Madman Hole Sanitarium provided him two miserable wretches who were barely aware of their themselves, much less their surroundings, for transfer back to Silasidhe. The one who died on the return leg of the trip probably had simply forgotten how to breathe.

Going on safari for the collection of new specimens was vital but first and foremost he knew he belonged here at the hospital. He rarely bothered to walk the wards even when he was here these days. His fascination with the gnashing of teeth, incoherent yells, and flailing limbs passed long ago. What interested him was the drive, the primum mobile, that lay behind a surprisingly thin dome of bone. This helps explain the wall behind him, which made sure his average appointments very short, the one with all the brains under glass in his grandfather's patent preservative.

He pulled the velvet rope by his desk to summon his secretary. The meek woman poked her head into his office, as always refusing to take her eyes off the floor. "Yes, Dr. Mallory?"

Mallory addressed he crown of her head as always. He couldn't quite recall what her face looked like at just this moment. "Would you please call Stewart up from the ward please? I need to have a word with him. Also, bring that kit bag from my luggage. Make sure it gets here before he does."

"Yes, Doctor." The hair bowed further down and then retreated out the door.

As she left, Mallory smiled, pulled a copper circlet from a desk drawer, settled it over is own bald thin dome of bone. He then connected several sets of wires between it and the electrodes on one of the brain containing jars on his desk. The next thing he noticed was the polite ahem from the other side of his desk. There was a respectably large half-orc orderly standing there, his eyes drifting back and forth between the good doctor and a well battered satchel.

Mallory delicately removed the circlet and placed it on a pad of the Silasidhe Hospital Mental Ward stationary. "Glad you could take the time to see me, Stewart."

"I am most grateful that you brought me back to the hospital with you, sir." Stewie was gushing but doing his best to maintain his composure. "You have no idea what I'd been through before you ran across us."

"It was most trying I'm sure." Mallory looked over his steepled fingers with an unblinking gaze. "Tell me."

Because he wanted to actually eat this evening, Mallory held up his hand to stop Stewie's litany of sorrows as the second hour began. "You've come a long way for a mere orderly. You've done impressive things."

Stewie visibly blushed, no small thing on a greenish skinned half-orc. "Thank you, Doctor. Really, I owe everything to what I learned here."

Mallory allowed a small smile. "Yes. I rather think you do. Plus a bit I more I wager."

He went from embarrassed pride to twitchy paranoia instantly. "I don't understand."

The doctor flipped open the satchel and the smile disappeared in an instant. "There seems to be a great many things missing from this satchel, Stewart. Very expensive things." Stewie started doing his best impersonation of Mallory's secretary. "It also occurs to me that I don't remember giving orders for a kit to be issued to you."

Stewie began sputtering with incoherent fear. Again, Mallory raised a hand to stop him. "I'm not going to turn you out, Stewart, you have unique qualities and are indispensable to the hospital. You will have to repay the institution for what you've stolen of course."

"Of course, Doctor. Anyway I can."

Mallory nodded, picked up the copper circlet and got to his feet and began walking out from behind his desk. "You are familiar with our primary benefactor, are you not, Stewart?"

Amazingly, Stewie kept up with blinding change of topic. "Umm...Count Fredrick the Fifth?"

"Close, Stewart, very close. Actually, our primary benefactor is the first Count Fredrick Comenus, the Half-Orc Prince himself. He made a most generous bequest on his death to the hospital. Most of our operations are paid for with just the interest on it. He recruited my grandfather to be chief surgeon, in fact."

And with that he slipped the circlet over Stewie's head. Being the keen observer that he was, Dr. Mallory saw an almost instantaneous change in Stewie's posture. "M'lord?"

Stewie began stretching his arms out like he'd just woke up from a long nap. "Where's the backpack, Anton?"

Dr. Mallory winced as he handed the harness to Stewie. "Actually, its Dr. Albert Mallory, m'lord. Anton was my grandfather."

Stewie fixed him with an imperious gaze and then picked up the brain jar connected to the circlet. "So you are. He had more hair. Now, strap me properly to this boob's back. I don't want to slosh out as this graceless oaf lumbers around."

Who doesn't love a trip to the loony bin.