Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Upon hearing of a well-known physician popping up in his current area of residence in France, the Doctor almost couldn't resist himself to try and find him in exchange for important information. Think of how much information this man of brilliance will hold that could potentially help him in his search of curing the pestilence!

It was quite easy to find the physician in the first place either way, the townsfolk weren't known for being tight lipped and easily spread rumours; which in some situations was a bonus and con.

Especially that in this day and age everyone was so busy making money in order to not starve to death with the current monarchy that they did not care enough to question his out of date fashion, or why his outfit was one of the past, ones origin coming from the great horrors of the black death.

His presence was only discarded to be of someone of weird fashion or some goth passing the street that just happened to be going the same way as them. But as the Doctor stepped out of his makeshift hiding place for now from the outside world he stopped to smell the fresh new lavender growing nearby near a bush.

They smelt wonderful, calming him almost immediately as his nerves and tensed muscles relaxed to feel as if they were no more. Those flowers had been there with him his whole life, any important moment there was they would always be there to accompany him. No matter if the event had been negative or positive towards him.

Gently the Doctor knelt down to get a closer look of the flowers, unfortunately just like all other organisms on this Earth were infected with the pestilence, just this specific species of flower being least affected to the pestilence's deadly reign over life and death.

The Doctor would never be able to touch a being that was infected with the pestilence, his touch killing anyone inflicted with such dying almost instantly to his touch. Even with years of the Doctor trying to perfect his cure the first step to it was always killing them with his own fingers, giving them the most painless death of their previous subconsciousness he could.

His skillful experience and years of training on his practice of surgery of medicine was as impeccable as ever, operating on humans and animals alike. His reorganization of the organs, taking them out and cleaning the body of the pestilence with his surgical tools and home-made substances in his doctor's was .

That bag had always been there with him during his life, even upon when the Doctor first found the bag it was in a field of lavender, a single stalk of it inside it.

Though the bag seemed to be endless in space, it was unlike his humble book of information he kept with him at all times about his surgeries and procedures. After all, any procedure he would finish he would write down observations, his actions, results about what happened with the newly learned knowledge.

Though one downside is with him having to modify the book when it ran out of pages to add more…

Nevermind that, his viewing of the lavender flowers he had found was not done. What fortune or demise could these flowers have brought him this time? But any change such as this was always welcomed, experiences shaped the person and changed them accordingly. The important thing to do always is remember your goal and to continue living with the right ideals and promises to follow.

Putting on gloves from his bag and gently grabbing the lavenders to put into his front pocket for later to smell, just in case he did not find them again for a long time. He had learnt to do this over centuries over his research, food was sure to get him back into the right mindset to operate once in a while but he did not wish to eat constantly to do so.

These flowers were the perfect solution, giving him enough home and strength to continue going with his cure of ending the pestilence, he was the cure.

Continuing on with his way to this physician he was almost reluctant to do so, who would take care of these wonderful flowers if no one was nearby? What if they get trampled? Ah yes, he must return to his thoughts. Experiences shape a person, animal, and plant. Whatever happens the organism will adapt no matter what, even this patch of lavenders of course.

He stepped back onto the worn trail he had walked along with hundreds of people, just instead he was not going in search of a patient and now for the physician.

The walk was not great in time but one to cherish nonetheless, the atmosphere this time around was quite nice with the birds singing, even if they were infected with the undying pestilence he is still so desperately trying to cure.

There was almost no crowd at this time of hour, in the dead of morning people would be just now waking up to the birds wonderful song. But worry not, his journey continued to this physician's alleged place of residence.

After what seemed like a few minutes of walking the Doctor had finally found that man's lair, though a small place it was — it was quite homey even with the desolate atmosphere. And when no one opened the door after his knock he tested the door to the wonderful surprise of it being unlocked already.

Had this man's house been broken into or was he just reckless? Perhaps both, but one of the later seemed unlikely, especially for a man of his status and job.

With a quick enter the Doctor proceeded to search the house, occasionally calling out for the physician with no reply. Perhaps he had turned his home into some sort of a puzzle? Some things seemed out of place, or maybe this man was truly just robbed like he suspected.

Proceeding to pull on the books of an unsuspecting bookshelf a secret door had opened, this man was truly a genius! A secret door passage of books no one would guess other than another genius such as himself in this day and age, a man just like the Doctor himself.

Entering the room he was led down a long sad hallway, devoid of furniture or any feel that someone had lived there or walked down this path multiple times. Just once perhaps had the physician gone down this way?

With a short pause the Doctor opened his pocket of lavenders he had stored before and sniffed them, basking in the scent before continuing and storing the flowers back away safely for later in case he wanted another stop to calm his nerves and smell.

Another puzzle down the road he found! Seemed an arch for a doorway with no door in sight, perhaps another puzzle? With an old book full of gibberish only one knowing old languages of the past would know was there on the ground.

The physician was nowhere in sight once again; where was this man hiding? He can't be this secretive could he? Or perhaps he was just a delusional man that was too far gone to the pestilence to be reasoned with for information the Doctor so badly wanted.

With a short puzzle work the Doctor figured it out easily, and proceeded to do some sort of ritual described in the book as the arch glows violently. It got the Doctor to feel as if it was going to blind him at any moment! Though when it did calm down a portal was summoned; shifting and changing colors in a limited color palette of the colors red and yellow along with black and white.

The Doctor looked back for a second; entering mysterious portals in books never did you any good, nor would he know if it did now. Either this will end in fortune or certain betrayal, and how shall he know which? Is the portal even safe to enter?

But in the strive for information and knowledge one must take risks; upon everything he vows he will either die trying to find the cure to the pestilence or die at his own hands.

A quick step was made with the sound of the Doctor's shoes clanking across the what seemed to be a metal floor with the sound it made against his shoes — the same bright light from the portal summoning previously enveloping the Doctor — feeling his consciousness be brought to a new world that he had not previously known.

This new world was really something new, the Doctor would have to document his travels! This new land of interest was something that he had not seen before. Buildings defying the law of gravity that this world did not seem to have; with the masked people walking about on the stairs of such structures.

Even as the stairs shifted and turned the residents of this dimension did not fall— just followed it even as it went upside down— including up and around. The sky was not out of the question either, the sky was a pure yellow with what seemed to be black stars glowing in the night. It was a beautiful sight really, but he shall pay more attention to it later in his travels here.

Now walking with a slow pace the Doctor did, and he managed to fit right into the group of masked civilians everywhere, his own face presenting a mask itself.

With sudden excitement like a child on before Christmas too focused on opening the presents left for them the next day. As if a weight had been lifted off of him, the Doctor picked up the pace and kept on walking to explore this mesmerizing land.

He seemed to be in the middle of all the cities; lucky for him to have come to a place so conveniently right in the centre of it all. With the colors of the presenting primary colors — excluding blue — with black and white such as the shifting colors on the portal before; including that everything seemed to follow that color palette.

Continuing on his way the Doctor forgot to even note down what was happening! But with being so caught up in the atmosphere of the festivities going on he couldn't remember worrying about anything before; including his book.

Yes, the Doctor did bump into some locals alone the way of following the crowd into the center of where they are all going he did do. But none seemed to share the same fate of falling over onto their knees and dying on the spot as creatures on earth did with his deadly touch.

Not an ounce of fear did these masks' faces show, their outfits showing the mood perfectly of what was going on around them.

A festival was going on as previously stated, the masked people in jester-like outfits all about in one solid color with varying shades of their chosen hue of choice. Was it even a choice of the people to wear such color or was it some sort of status symbol?

Some locals had worn less intricate clothing but still were somewhat festive nonetheless; it left the Doctor sticking out like a sore thumb in this area. Not many wore black here; even if it was almost everywhere like the shadows and stars of this dimension. Even the expressions etched onto the masks were pitch black with a smiling expression.

All masks looked somewhat different in their own way; having an extra wrinkle or swirl on their design showing them different from others. Even if the most intricate dressed people of this land had more details such as these. This could perhaps be how the masks of this dimension differed from appearances like humans, their own versions of freckles, eye color, and more.

The Doctor did worry for a few seconds on his appearance, he did fit in with his face naturally looking like a plague doctor's mask, or a bird species of some kind. His long outfit did sometimes shine in the light as a pigeon's feathers would; looking colorful with all sorts of hues which this dimensions sky was doing to him right now. Perhaps it was just the material of his clothes or he maybe had hidden feathers he never knew about — even as a joke that feathered comment was his unusual birdlike appearance didn't help denounce his claim either.

Other than that the Doctor noticed his body changing with tiny details the longer he stayed the more beastly his appearance changed every minute or so. Though at least he did not fully look deranged and hoped when he did come out of this dimension he would be able to still fit in with humanity in order to cure them of the pestilence.

Walking was another ordeal though, the crowd was starting to push harder and move faster; pulling anything wrapped up in it away from their original location. But with some work the Doctor was able to wrestle his way out and snap out of his euphoric haze.

He must ask the locals about where the nearest library was surely! Information was important truly, especially in a land he had no knowledge of. Really — what had this physician done in his home to create a portal to this place? Either way he must be a genius.

“Do you know where the nearest library is, good sir?”

The Doctor had spoken to ask a civilian walking past. This one seemed higher in stature and status with his clothing, a detail he had noticed before.

The mask in a bright red jester out with tons of frills and grooves stopped for a second, turning around to face him. His mask seemed to be close to origins of Ancient Greece; though also at the same time not. Truly a fascinating world this was that he had ended up in.

The masked civilian stood before him, a slight bit taller than the Doctor surprisingly, and spoke.

“I must continue on my way, have a wonderful celebration.” The tone was flat and composed with the mask turning away and leaving as fast as he had come.

With a sigh of defeat the Doctor went on his way to find the library on his own, hoping to not get carried away by the crowd in the process. Eventually finding what he was searching for he did, entering the old place with a creak of the door.

The library thankfully did not seem as confusing as the outside; looking typical of the type he would find in his home land. Was Earth even his original home or had he accustomed to simply living there? The Doctor couldn't help but pause to wonder for a second at the thought in contemplation.

Ah! But no time to wonder as his brain switched straight back to finding information — it would be wiser to gather the information here and write it into his book-

Where was the book? More importantly, where is his bag?

That must be the reason he was feeling so light this whole time! His trusty doctor's bag was nowhere to be found. He couldn't have lost it; could he? Surely he wasn't this reckless, and sure the locals didn't seem quite the friendly bunch but they would not steal his bag surely!

Wretched floating feeling he got from this place upon entering such a short time ago, maybe perhaps it were the civilians of this land that had swiped his bag at this moment. He didn't know why this anger was affecting him so greatly so, usually he was a calm headed man, was he not?

Or perhaps the bizarreness of this land was truly just getting to him; driving him crazy so quickly he couldn't blink before it happened. He must regain his senses, the Doctor thought. Calming down he slowed his breathing and stood at a stand still. His life's research was in that book with no other effective method of storing information but books in this century.

It would be wonderful to be able to write down his research in something that would be able to store it safely for years to come, but of course that was not invented yet. Such a shame but he must wait to work on that second goal of his to complete his most important one — cure the pestilence and rid it of the world.

Now that he thinks of it the people residing in this dimension do seem to carry it but most do not; such a nice discovery he had found! A world almost rid of the disease plaguing them with tons of time to come for the Doctor to cure it before it was too late. Sure Earth had still eons of time left on its ticking time bomb, but this world had more than enough time to not only figure out the cure but to also administer it to the entire world.

Enough thinking off track and rambling into his own thoughts, the Doctor composed himself once again. He just shall read quite a bit in this dimension and then proceed to retrace his steps; yes, quite the well plan.

Grabbing a book was easy, the Doctor almost secretly hoped there would be another hidden door to explore that would pop up from pulling a book once again — but that didn't come this time.

Opening a new book he had not read before was delightful as he sat down on a nearby chair and began to read, even if the tale the book was describing was mere fiction (or perhaps it was not; how was he to know?) It was simply captivating.

The storytelling spoke of 4 Lords; whose colors were of the ones as presented in this dimension everywhere he had looked. Black, White, Yellow, and Red were the lords base names — the one sticking out most prominently to him (Or the author just simply couldn't remember the others titles) was the Anguished Lord.

He wore a long black robe with a mask that looked of Ancient Greek descent; similar to the masked civilian he had stopped and asked a question to before but not exactly. The Anguished Lord’s mask-like face had many captivating features and details, several swirls and hidden features that would mesmerize anyone. Just one thing ruined his face — that sorrow-filled frown.

Could not anyone comfort this individual on whatever they were suffering upon? It couldn't be that hard; now could it be? The Doctor was slowly starting to regret ever coming to this strange land; if he ever finds that physician his questions now are not only going to be about medicine this time.

Continuing to read the tale was not a hard thing to do, the text was legible and not overly complex like so many authors tried to do. So many pretentious authors of books started popping up lately, and even worse the quality of their books were awful as well! No one wants to read about you rambling for hours on end with not even a bit of love put into it.

Matter not for now, he really needs to stop getting off track. The book was about the Lords listed earlier and their duties. Even better was the fact of the Anguished Lord being the king's favorite! Oh how glad he was that the author of this had put into account that jesters were not just fools — they were advisors as well, and not just entertainment. Any jester of the King were allowed to own land, were most of the time intellectuals, and were able to criticize the King in any way to improve the people's lives without repercussions.

The Anguished Lord was the King's favorite in this book not for no reason of course; with being intellectual he also provided a new perspective on things quite frequently as the tale described. Reminding him of some of the people's suffering and ways they could possibly fix it. This land he had stumbled into was way more considerate than the current leaders of France it seemed.

Endless parties they had made for the rich, and leaving the poor with scraps. Working decades off their lives in order to be able to see another day with barely enough food on the table. And even if some people had been able to rise above poverty it did not leave them satisfied — the gap between the rich and the poor was way too big to ever even get close to their level.

He really wished some sort of revolution would come to his home land, perhaps it would bring some enlightenment for the Doctor in some way.

Finishing the book he put it back into its original spot carefully, not wanting to ruin or damage anything even if it's unlikely. He didn't know how old the shelves or books were in this place; nevertheless if he did damage something the cost would be something unknown to him. For all he knew, he was just as poor as the people of France right now with not a dollar of the currency in this dimension in his possession.

Storing the tale in his memory — no book of his own in sight to write it down in — he got up from his seat and explored the area. There were strange clocks decorating the place, gravity defying ladders he had seen previously before had been here too, and with even more bizarre decoration pieces that he had never seen or thought of before.

Who would have thought such swirls of color would make such pleasing decor? The Doctor thought as he continued on with his exploration. This place just screamed warning signs with its bizarreness! Better he find his book and get out of here soon, he wasn't finding that physician anytime soon anyway.

Stepping out the Doctor followed his way back to the place he had first found himself in, around the town square. The crowd had died down moderately which was a pleasant surprise — but the people still seemed to be celebrating something.

Where could have his bag gone? The thought in his head echoed out in wonder; with a pain in his head starting to develop. A headache is not what he needed at this time! Focus, he needs to focus.

But the pain did not die down and instead grew larger, so much larger than he had ever dealt with before. He trudged himself up into an alley — or what he hoped was one — and leaned against the wall clutching his shirt. Usually, he would instead hold onto his bag but that was not present at the moment.

He could start to hear the screams of the people he failed to save from disease in the past when he was still an apprentice doctor; oh how he wished he could go back and save them but he never could — he failed them. The feeling of their cold body in his hands brought so many memories he had thought he had forgotten back to him in a flash.

Their blood on his hands was a feeling he never wanted to feel again along with failing a patient — killing them basically — never again would he want to remember such a thing.

Slumping down onto the ground the Doctor opened his pocket once again and smelled the pleasant lavenders he had left in his pocket, they did not seem to die from his touch in this dimension which was pleasant. But his touch not working on either the people or his flowers was going to be a bit troublesome for his work.

The smell alleviated his sickness of the head for a few moments, but instead the pain came back harder. Cold sweat started to run down his head as his head started to pound harshly; never had he gotten a pain as bad as this! Could his immunity truly be gone for all the diseases he had so harshly fought before? Or was the pestilence finally taking its revenge on him, and had found a way to bypass his immune system?

Nonsense, right? His thoughts were in a mesh now with being unable to focus. The pain was spreading from his head to his body; enveloping him. His vision started to go out — he must not die here! Was it even death he was brought upon?

He passed out fully; guess he just had to hope no one would come and steal his precious flowers — those being all he had left after the stealing of his bag at this point. What lastly he could see was the crowd of masked people walking past him with uncaring glances, not paying any attention to him with indifference. The Doctor could only hope for help to come soon and that no kidnappers would find and lock him up.

Next second was a meeting the Doctor was not a part of, the Lords described from the book before surrounding a circular table — perhaps in discussion.

“Too many foreigners!” One yelled out, “Too much chaos.” The other said, “Disease will come.” A voice calmly spoke, “Calm down.” Last of them had said.

They seemed to be talking about the suspicious arrival of new foreigners each day coming to their land; though it could only be accessed through a specific ritual it could still be accessed nonetheless. As fun as it would be to toy with the new arrivals they had to think of something before the King vaporized them all.

The first one to enter their dimension in decades was a human old man, the last human they had seen was from the caveman era surely. While it was quite the interesting discovery with a new human coming into the realm he was killed all too quickly by the residents living here. No one shall walk the land of Alagadda without a mask after all!

Sure the man was writing information down about the area as much as he could, but it was all in vain either way. A local had stolen the bag and reported it to one of the authorities; being in possession of such a bag of a not so well liked foreigner would not be doing well at all.

Which brought them to their next new arrival; this suspicious man that was dressed in full black with a crow-like mask. No one had given him a rude welcome but they had not welcomed the man either way. The man carried a bag and cane, and while the new visitor was exploring their charismatic lands it had gotten swiped by the Black Lord himself.

The man seemed to look like a wandman, the man's mask also looked eerily close to one of their own species. All masks differed in shape and details — with this man looking similar to one of theirs.

The Lord reported the man to the other Lords; seeming happier than usual. The Anguished Lord would usually live up to his name and seem saddened by everything going on. But with the arrival of the man who appeared to look like a Wandsman the Lord's permanent frown had lifted just a bit. In the lands of Alagadda the residents usually chose to not wear black, as they called it a ‘sad’ color.

Presented they were right since the Black Lord did look like the embodiment of someone drowning in sadness; hence the hue was referred to as the saddest of them all. All the colors of Alagadda’s referred ‘personalities’ were based on their Lords!

With that the other Lords assumed the Anguished Lord mood was lifted just a bit by seeing someone wearing the same color of his robes. Luckily for the Wandsman of the topic he was not wearing any banned colors that did not exist in the dimension — or at least it wasn't shown. The color of his eyes were unknown due to that mask of his.

Lucky man he was, lucky man. But what shall they do with him?

All the Lords were referred to as siblings; though they do hate each other at times they did hold a bit of appreciation for each other throughout their infinite lifespan. Even when they do wish the Black Lord would be less annoying it was nice to see their sibling cheer up even if a bit.

“Shall we keep him alive?” Asked the White Lord, usually the most composed of them all. Others would have guessed that this one would be the King's favorite with their composure and such but nevertheless it was still the Anguished Lord.

The Yellow Lord with the most fiery personality between them all tensed up; about to spew out their own answer. “Why should we!? The Wandsman is a foreigner, sure they travel dimensions and such but this one is off limits!” Screamed out the Lord. That answer was expected with his not so pleasant personality.

Of course Alagadda wasn't kind to visitors for whatever reason, they weren't sure why but if the King was against it then they had to be too. It was just the rule for them in order to not get a horrible execution — unless it was the Anguished Lord saying such things. Even with them trying to hide their jealousy for their sibling’s ability to speak freely for themselves they couldn't help but feel envious.

Their heads would roll with a guillotine onto the ground if they even hinted at wanting to do any of the ideas the Black Lord had! What did the King see in him they did not know. All they knew is to keep their mouths shut or they would be getting worse than a public execution.

The King, more formally known as the Hanged King implies just as his name says. Covered in bandages with only one eye peeking out, a crown on his head with a noose on his neck. His domain was full of such nooses, hanging from the neverending ceiling to warn any intruder about entering and what would happen if they denied his law.

Sometimes when the Lords entered they could hear the screams and cries of the ones unfortunate enough to experience the King's wrath; hanged up on the ceiling with a noose around their neck.

“Maybe a whole vote will suffice?” The White Lord had offered — looking around the table to see if everyone agreed. The Black Lord nodded along with the others; agreeing on voting on the supposed outcome of what will happen with the Wandsman fate even if the Yellow Lord agreed to voting and not immediate execution begrudgingly.

The outcome came out somewhat positive for the Wandsman; half and half. While the Yellow and Red Lords did agree unanimously that the man would be killed immediately upon being found; on the other hand the White and Black lord had agreed upon keeping him alive, and perhaps just as a dungeon rat or something of the sort.

So in the end the man's fate was to be stuck in a cage indefinitely until one of the Lords wanted him to have different arrangements or they simply got bored of him. Even if it was an even poll between death and being locked up — they chose upon keeping the Wandsman stuck in a cell.

Surely, of course the Anguished Lord had to suck up to the king a little bit in order for him to accept this proposition as well; how lucky he was for being the favorite. With his unlikely wish granted the Black Lord seemed happier than ever! Sure his face still had the permanent frown etched into his face but it was lifted a bit more now that it had gotten what it wanted.

Finding the Doctor was quite easy actually — he was just laying in an alley passed out. That effect of his mind control was truly a thing of wonders as how he was able to make him fall into a slumber as deep as that that quickly. His mental strength seemed to be strong from seeing graphic things from his morbid surgeries, but the Doctor's resistance wasn't strong enough yet to combat the Black Lords powers.

The mask ordered one of his servants to bring the Wandsman into his palace and lock him up in some dusty cell — nothing too fancy of course for a prisoner such as him. He was merely just excited at seeing a visitor that at least had the respect to put on a mask before entering the lands of Alagadda, and that this man was wearing his respective color! Oh he could go rambling on for hours; especially about how he wasn't wearing any banned colors unlike how most rude foreigners do.

Better take the cane away from this man as well; wouldn't want any unwanted escapes or attacks being done upon him. Not like this Wandsman could do any damage upon him of course! It was just a precaution to keep his good for nothing servants alive for another day, truly, he was such a kind Lord for at least considering them unlike the other Lords that would rather count their coins than think about their servants.

Not that the Anguished Lord blamed them of course, these servants were either utterly incompetent or useless fully. Maybe once in a while a good one would come around but then they would demand more and more — their ego enveloping them so much that the Lord had no choice to either execute or fire them with shame above their head.

Perhaps this Wandsman could be a good servant, yes? The least he could hope for is that the man was an intellectual capable of solving the disease plaguing this dimension that would so very soon kill them all if no one was to do anything against it; quite said it would be if this empire did come to its demise due to the rise of a new plague.

The Doctor found himself waking up on a stiff black bed — along with other items in what seemed to be in this cell being various shades of black and grey. The bed wasn't comfortable but it was better than sleeping on the ground like he had done so many times before as a traveling doctor.

The people did not appreciate his cure; chasing him out of town so many times for thinking his treatment was awful and something that should not be done. They were foolish! All of them were. How was he to cure the pestilence without administering his cure to others?

Getting up off of the bed the Doctor examined a few items in the room; including his bag being nowhere to be found still. Guessing that his cane was taken from him as well because he could not find it anywhere no matter where he looked. His hopes of not being kidnapped while out of consciousness were ruined because obviously he was being held somewhere currently, or this was merely how this world kept their guests — though that possibility is unlikely.

Calling out to the guards seemed like the only sensible option to do. “Greetings, may you tell me where I am?” Is what he asked first, waiting for a reply patiently. The guard positioned outside his new place of residence was unmoving and did not answer; how rude!

Asking the other guard on a different side didn't help all that much either, he was truly stuck here until he found a way out. The Doctor sat on a chair and table oh how kindly provided to him (said with annoyance and sass) and looked for anything he could keep himself occupied with for the moment to calm his nerves.

Losing his book earlier wasn't helping him one bit in this stressful situation, and now being locked up somewhere had made it even worse! Especially his cane now being gone the Doctor was close to fully panicking. That cane was with him for most of his lifetime, he had kept it with him for so long he forgot when he first got it.

Of course he took good care of his cane as well — a prized possession of his such as this would not last as long as this if he did not. He would polish it occasionally and clean in regularly; making sure to check for cracks and such each time and repair them efficiently. With his reputation and constantly moving towns to repair, such a reputation did not leave with a long of options of taking it to a dealer to fix; rather than that he just took care of it on his own! Which he was of course very proud of.

A click of heels sounded from the end of the hallway he was in brought him back from his haze of thoughts and feelings, turning his eyes and attention to it. Perhaps this was a misunderstanding and he was being released? No, surely not. That outcome was too good for whatever was going on currently, and this feeling of false hope will make him fall to further hopelessness later on.

What? The Doctor didn't remember making that thought rather at all, hope is what got people through the day and everyone should keep even a little bit and get over whatever troubling them. Why was that foul thought planted into his head? Or was he truly just losing his sanity already?

He needs to stop thinking about these things! He was not losing his sanity and was just surely stressed. But abruptly being pulled out of his thoughts he saw the individual which was making the sound of the shoes earlier stopped in front of his cell.

It… was the Lord depicted in the book he had read before. The Black Lord specifically; wearing that long black robe as told in the book with a picture, and including that foul frown that plagued his face almost as much as Earth was plagued by the pestilence.

Just one thing was on the Lord's masked face that was not mentioned before; black tears running down his cheeks that looked like it could burn anything it touched — melting it instantly until what was there was no more.

The door was opened slowly by the guards with a loud screech, hurting his ears so violently. Couldn't these people be a little bit kinder to their involuntary guest? Surely it couldn't be so hard to do so.

With the door opening the tall Anguished Lord stepped into the cell, seeming visibly disgusted by even being in the same room as him but nonetheless entered the room in an attempt to be ‘polite.’ Bending down to the Doctors level the Black Lord spoke in some monotone tone that made the Doctors skin crawl with disgust, he'd never hated someone from the first meeting as much as this.

Inspecting the Doctor's face he did; putting his hand on the man's face with the Doctor pulling back almost immediately — distrusting of him. “Title?” The Lord asked, even if the mask really did not care about the Wandsman name he could at least fake being kind enough to ask; to put on a facade acting like he actually cared.

“I am a doctor, of course!” He had replied begrudgingly, already wanting to pull away from the Anguished Lord that he seemed to hate right off the first meeting.

“Where am I? The guards were not kind enough to tell me.”

The Black Lord stared at him for a few moments and paused — thinking upon telling him, and after a few moments told him so. “In the lands of Alagadda, do not forget. You are lucky you came wearing a mask or else the people of these lands would have torn you to pieces already.”

Alagadda? What kind of name is that? Sounds straight out of a fairytale in the Doctor's opinion, fancy of a name it was not like a name he had heard of before. Instead, the Doctor chose to stare into the Lord's eyes even as the risky thing it was to do; usually it was told to him to not stare so rudely at one upon the first meeting but how could he not? He was locked up here for no reason presumably because of the mask in front of him!

“What happened to my possessions? My bag? My cane?” He asked slowly, as if taunting the Lord by saying he needed it spoken that slowly because he could not comprehend his words.
Quite the insult it was of course, and how genius even of him! Spouting in his face and indirectly calling him an idiot; this was one of the Doctor's best talents he had picked up after his long years of age — insults!

The Anguished Lords frown only raised a slight bit, but this was quickly noticed by the Doctor. Was this bastard really smiling off of an insult? How shameful! At first he had thought that the Lord's frown was something that should be turned quickly into a smile because of how saddened the masked fellow looked, but now he just wanted to bash his head into the ground from how pretentious it is!

“Does it matter at the moment, what if you will work for me? Choosing not to comply will end in immediate termination.” Termination? What kind of even grounds was this? But if he truly has to he would prefer not to take his assumption and that termination means certain death.

He couldn't die just yet, could he? The Doctor would only allow himself to finally die upon finding the cure for the pestilence. That wretched pestilence… he couldn't get off into thought now, he must answer. “If I truly have no choice, then I accept.”

The Anguished Lord went back to his full stature and beckoned him to come out of the room following him, and the Doctor obliged and did as was told. The dungeons were grey and boring; nothing interesting to look at at the moment other than the other poor souls trapped here — doomed to spend eternity crying for help and to be released.

After a few seconds of walking through the confusing hallways the Lord turned to stare at the Doctor. “Wandsman, why did you choose to come to this dimension? Surely you would have known things would turn out differently if you just hadn't come.”

A confused glare came out of the Doctor as he responded — how did he know so quickly he was a Wandsman? Usually most people would assume he’s just some eccentric freak that happens to enjoy dressing up in some sort of extremely detailed bird mask with a long black outfit to go with it. “I… am not used to people knowing of my identity so quickly.” Trying to deflect the question, the Doctor just responded with some last second response before the situation became too awkward, not wanting to give the true reason for stumbling upon this dimension by accident. And the Doctor was as well not used to suddenly coming to new dimensions not on purpose such as the situation now.

The Black Lord seemed to ponder for a moment if to push further into the topic to gain more unneeded information at the moment. He really did need to stop peering into others' brains as much! It could scare away possible new idiots to work for him, though it was interesting to get new information such as there was possibly no way of having any fun these days; everything was getting too awfully boring.

Continuing to walk they reach the end of the painfully long dungeon hallway, the cell doors lining each wall with prisoners behind them staring either pitifully on longingly at the Doctor; some wished to be set free while others just hoped the Doctor did not wound up dead or be thrown back in here once deemed useless.

The large metal door opened with the guards nearby help, the Doctor couldn't help but notice their nervous expressions on the masks the guards wore. If they could sweat there would definitely be buckets worth of it on everyone in their vicinity with how much fear filled everyone at the moment.

Upon the door taking a few seconds to open the Lord sent a glare towards the guards as a warning to open the door faster if a next time even came for them; the Doctor couldn't help but feel sympathy for the poor guards, although they did not have any manners at all when he tried talking to them.

The scenery that unfolded outside the cellar was one the Doctor could only hope to dream of, is this what perhaps the castles the royalty and rich lived in during this time? He only guessed that they looked like this anyway — the rich and royal don't invite commoners into their parties, calling them ‘dirty and underprivileged.’

With a wave of the Lord's hand the Wandsman was carried away swiftly to another room by a guard that just happened to be nearby and an egotistical most likely high ranking servant of the Anguished Lord. What had he really gotten himself into? The Doctor couldn't help but wonder, no use in turning back already then, he already accepted the deal and was a man of his word; even though he did not agree to what he assigned up to all that much.

The servant also wore one of the masks everyone here wore, though seemingly more fancy and decorated; this particular one also seemed to like dressing up with the patterns and swirls on its face — like make up in his world. The Doctor was not as used to seeing people take care of their appearance so much, as that was mostly because he wandered the area of the commoners more than the rich. He definitely knew the royalty of his land were much more accustomed to wearing pretty frilly dresses and doing makeup. Even as bizarre the beauty standards were of this time as long as the people were happy with what they wore he did not care; that was as long as they weren't flashing him of course with their body.

Some time passed with the Doctor being finally in his room; it was decorated somewhat well but still nothing to be compared to the grandiose of the place he was in — not that he cared all that much. His bag was not in his possession for the moment as well as the cane; such a shame! But the books in the room with him were quite tempting… the Doctor couldn't resist himself, picking up a book and quenching his thirst for knowledge.

But along with the Anguished Lord at the moment was a rare peace — while not showing it the Lord was delighted to have a somewhat worthy guest. His usual servant beside him was waiting for an order of course as well.

Chapter Text

A bit of time passes on well, the Doctor still wishing to go back to his homeland back to France but there is not much he could do to enact upon his wish. How could the people of Europe be faring so far? Hopefully not dead in the clutches of the Pestilence quite yet as he still has to perfect his miraculous cure to help the human race and rest once and for all.

Things at this dimension were going quite well until the Doctor was called out of his room for the first time; this job the Anguished Lord had assigned him was finally coming into play then. What shall it be? The Doctor wondered as he was escorted by those guards once again — truly they did not seem to trust him to walk on his own!

Walking down the dreaded hallway was quick and easy; standing in front of the Lord with the servants burning gazes was not as much, but he did not mind. Staring down at him the Black Lord shooed the servants away with the flick of a hand — now leading the Doctor somewhere, and attempting small talk on the way.

“How are you fairing, Wandsman?” Spoke the Anguished Lord slowly as if the Doctor couldn't understand him; what a bastard he truly was! That mocking tone and arrogant atmosphere the Lord gave off didn't help the case of the Doctor hating him either — ought this mask learn some manners indeed.

Glaring at the Black Lord the Doctor replied, polite but still holding an undertone of resentment. “I am doing well, and I prefer you call me Doctor — I am sure it's quite evident.”

And with that the Doctor quickly shut down the conversation and proceeded to keep walking in the direction the Lord was taking him; soon being inside a lonely room furthest away from any others. It smelled of sickness and disease, not a smell anyone liked to have in their presence. Nevertheless the Anguished Lord led him inside and promptly closed the door after.

The room was barren other than a single masked person laying on what seemed to be a hospital bed, cracks all over its face and leaking a black substance that harmed the objects around it as they came into contact.

With another moment of staring at the sick the Black Lord walked out and left the Doctor inside; one of his servants came in instead to survey what was going on. Opening his pocket and smelling the Lavenders he stored he did; calming down with the familiar smell — he would surely have to plant the flowers somewhere so they would not wilt and die soon.

Continuing on the servant nudged the Doctor closer; telling him to quicken his work and stop his thinking, and that the Doctor would do. Fortunately they did not leave him without any tools nearby (though having his bag in his hands or vicinity right now would be better) and proceeded to dissect the now dead mask person.

Trying to take off the mask was useless as it was pried onto the person's face and seemed to only fall off if it was absolutely necessary; or maybe if the mask chose to get off in the first place. The Doctor did not know either if this corrosive substance would harm him, but tried to get the smallest amount of it on him as possible.

Later on the procedure went well and brought the corpse back to life! Such a genius he was, the Doctor thought — being proud of his work of course. Even if the masked servant inside the room did have a frowning expression upon seeing his work it was not something the Doctor had not encountered before; people just do not know how to react to his cure yet surely.

Nevertheless the servant nodded upon seeing the masked specimen stand up and move around slowly; looking around the room. Soon his patient was escorted out of the room with another citizen to come in and take him to the Anguished Lord.

Surprisingly… the Lord looked pleased, his frown lifting just a slight bit more than usual which the Doctor barely noticed; unlike the masked person who escorted him seemed more shocked for whatever reason that the Doctor did not know. But quickly as the Doctor came he went and was led back to his living quarters.

The Doctor predetermined that the patient he was just treating injuries were due to some sort of big blast or damage that happened at once; but chose not to say so as he thought no one would care for that. Reading more books provided to him would be nice, wouldn't it? The Doctor thought and proceeded to do so, sitting down on his provided chair and began to read.

Along next was the Lord now upon his wretched throne — that previous slight rising of his frown now gone. That excitement previously shown was groundbreaking; this strange illness that was apparent in everyone seemed to be cured by this Wandsman! How marvelous. Though there were no grounds for special celebration it could have been pure luck; even if unlikely.

Those tears only showed themselves if some big accident happened, the Black Lord could only hope such did not happen to him. Even if the substance secreted would be fun to test on others it would only become a nuisance later on and he would definitely grow to hate it; or perhaps it could help him in some distant time, but either way, he would prefer to not have those tears running from the ill person's face.

With more days of these procedures going on the Lord started to gain some trust for the Wandsman. He never truly trusted anyone in Alagadda as everyone would gladly backstab you for information — not saying he didn't do the same of course. It was just the way of living for them these days, peace was not an option to live comfortably and lies were the way of surviving now — it was how he got this job in the first place.

A new meeting was called soon with those other brothers of his; even as much as he hated them he still had to come and attend. Tiresome as it was, they were talking of that Wandsman now, asking of his achievements and what to do with him; not so patiently waiting for answers.

“He did well. Cured the masked civilians of the tears quite well.” The Black Lord responded with a flat tone — all of a sudden all the mask could think of was that Wandsman, almost stuttering over his words. His work was miraculous and was truly charming, but of course he didn't say that out loud; the other Lords would surely take it to their advantage. The Wandsman was just a servant of his that happened to get lucky with scoring a deal with him.

His thoughts usually never got in the way of his work nor emotions, feeling anguished for such a long time sparks a feeling of apathy in you for a time. Matter not; must be some sort of hate or indifference he had managed to garter towards this Wandsman. The only reason he hasn't gotten rid of him yet is because he managed to do his job well enough for now — no other reason definitely.

Nevertheless he must now stop pondering upon this and continue talking to the other insufferable masks in the same room as him. Trying to bait just enough time for the Wandsman to live another few days until he makes another great discovery — unless if the Hanged King has something to say about it.

And so it went on, the nonsensical rambling of other matters and the slight mention of the Wandsman as said earlier. All of it bored him just as much as usual — other than the part of the Wandsman of course. The people, the King, the infrastructure, the visitors and new arrivals of these lands, all sorts of things were said before it finally came to a conclusion.

The Black Lord was back in his place of reign once again, sitting upon his throne.

Lavenders, the lavenders in the Doctors pocked were wilting slowly sure — this dimension seemed to have different properties than his very clearly. But what bothered him most was the slow decay of the flowers. If they go this slow then this world must have very different ways about going around with death; either taking it to celebration or something saddening.

If this world possessed things that were slow at destroying anything non-alive and reviving the nutrients back into the soil then what happened here? Is it the same process or something else?

He could not ponder long before another knock was made on the Doctor's door; getting up to answer it would be polite, exactly what the Doctor did. Once it was opened the same servant from the other day stood — waiting for the Doctor to come out not so patiently which he did just that, once out he was led back to the pretentious Lord he detested.

More of his silly requests were filled by the Doctor with the days going by, annoying him greatly but having no choice to do anything but do so. But besides that the Anguished Lord seemed to get more comfortable with his presence by the day — at this point pushing away his own servants. The masks servants were annoying but better company compared to the drought the void of loneliness is, so it was a good enough solution for now, even if the Black Lord was annoying.

The days stretched on annoyingly so but he grew to hate the Lord a little bit less each day; getting to help people was a plus too. But sad as it was that he could not get back to his world yet was not something he did not like — there were so many suffering of the Pestilence.
Grabbing his lavenders from his pocket the Doctor stared at them; their gradually wilting. Even with their slow rate its demise would be soon if he couldn't nurse them back to health with the needed materials.

Pondering upon it for a moment the Doctor stepped outside — or rather how far he could go before the masked servants thought he was attempting to escape — and found himself in a garden of sorts.

It seemed sad as ever with its condition; no one had definitely come in a while to tend to it, but no matter, he shall take on the job when he can. Just as long as he can avoid that annoying Lord that is… Plus it's the closest he could get to actually doing his job of ridding the world of the Pestilence at the moment.

Planting down the wilted lavenders he did, then covered their ripped out roots in the soil and grabbed a glass of water that he happened to find nearby and water his plant. The activity was alright to refresh his mind at the moment of all the events going on around him and allowed him to think deeper on how to escape; perhaps persuade the Lord in some way? Though it was unlikely.

There was now a presence behind him that was familiar — it was the Anguished Lord behind him watching what he was doing. Leaning closer the Lord kept watching as the Doctor grew increasingly more nervous about his peering eyes. “Do you need something?” The Doctor turned his head around to face the Black Lord, questioning his actions while wishing he would just go away. “Not at all, just curious.” Answered the mask back.

With a few moments of silence the Doctor went back to tending to his lavender; now ignoring the Lord as best he could. He wished he had never had come to this land, but he understood why the Anguished Lord was so persistent in helping his people — even if it maybe had a hidden ulterior motive.

“What is your reason for tending to the flowers, Wandsman?” Questioned the Black Lord the same way the Doctor had questioned it, coming to sit beside him instead of standing — still watching him. “That question would just cause a big explanation.” The Doctor returned an answer; more just wanting the mask to leave.

“Oh please, I wouldn't mind.”

“But you would, so just leave me alone.”

The Black Lord kept pestering him about talking about what he was doing and his reasons for doing so; even with that watching his every move as he planted the lavenders. Honestly, it was really starting to get to the Doctor — perhaps it was a bad idea to go outside today but nonetheless he could do nothing about it now. “I am planting lavenders because I want to, plus I would not like to see them die in my care, not now.”

With that the Anguished Lord listened for a moment, accepting the response and now just back to watching the Doctor. Occasionally the Lord would ask questions as well, asking about his methods and such for what he was doing with the flowers — getting the Doctor to slowly relax and budge more about his work.

“You have to be careful when planting flowers and such or else they could die, especially if they are ones that need extra care. Though I am not an expert on gardening — so I am not sure if my dear lavenders will survive.” Answered the Doctor to one of the Lords peering questions, indulging the Black Lord in his curiosity a bit.

But once the flowers were finally planted and the Doctor stood back up to return to his room the Lord stopped him; holding onto his arm sleeve with what seemed to be something desperate — wanting him to stay at least it a bit longer.

“Dont leave me yet, will you, Wandsman?”

Sighing, the Doctor sat back down onto the grass nearby, it seemed an unusual color from his world and not green like he would have expected; but still sat down. “Its Doctor or my name, I would prefer those over ‘Wandsman.’” He turned to face the Lord now sitting next to him, still holding his arm.

“What will your name be then?” Shot back the Black Lord, for whatever reason the Doctor could detect a bit of excitement coming from it. Now the Lord was staring at the Doctor hopefully — he looks just as beautiful as he saw him in that book for the first time — nevermind that, he needs to answer. “Florence Haselhurst.”

The Anguished Lord's face changed… It was happy all of a sudden with a big grin across its porcelain face unlike the usual deep frown. The Lord's hand tightened on the Doctor's sleeve just a bit more as he came closer “What a pleasing name you have.” Florence turned away — hiding the slight feeling he had of being flustered — and instead just asking the Lord about his name instead

“And your name? What shall it be?” Florence turned back around to face the Anguished Lord, that smile on his face still there; he wondered if to either slap him for keeping him here or to just keep it civil — perhaps an insult could do again…

The Anguished Lord slowly let go of the Doctor, albeit reluctantly. “Dyo Poloni, how charming, isn't it? I have had many names over the ages, find yourself lucky I am giving you the first one.” And after that the Black Lord left as soon as he came. Florence couldn't help but feel confused about the whole situation but still some time after that got up and returned to his room.

Though now again with a repetitive schedule coming in of surgery to find a cure, a little amount of break time, and repeat. Almost seemed like his old life if only he was working on the Pestilence instead of whatever tar-tears like disease this was; but with that he had to get back to work now.

Finding himself back in the surgery room he couldn't help but think of the Lords — well, Dyo’s, actions a few days ago. Honestly… if he played into it a bit he could perhaps find himself a way to escape out of this dimension; even if unlikely there is still a chance, no? But that would be a bit cruel, playing with someone's feelings just for their own gain, but that didn't mean that the Anguished Lord was a good person either.

No matter, he must work to cure the world of the Pestilence one way or another, and in order for that some lives have to be sacrificed to save others — including someone's feelings and such. Surgery was on the rise and the Doctor had to go back to work on curing those masked people of those annoying burning tears.

Though now there was Dyo sitting on his throne, that feeling from earlier had the Black Lord all sorts of conflicted about its feelings for the Wandsman. That familiar hate that he always had for everyone still lingered for him — but Florence… the mask's hate for him slowly went down as it had started to hope to see him everyday; that feeling of longing was pleasant but foreign as he had never felt that way about anyone before.

And including that all it mostly felt all the time was sadness; hence being called the Anguished Lord after all. But now… why does it feel this way? Especially giving out his real name like that could be a risky move to do, but the moment it felt the Wandsman suddenly it felt like all its problems were gone — vanished! Such a feeling of ease filled it in that moment that made it not want to let go for any reason.

This whole emotions and feelings thing was really not his strong suit other than causing pain for others really; way too complicated for its liking. And even as a blissful feeling he got from the Wandsman the Lord could not afford to be seen as weak — not by anyone definitely. Though time was ticking and the Anguished Lord had to get up and do his duties around; while it is not preferred for it to do them, it still had to after all. If you want power and have it you also have to maintain what you gained in order to not lose it.

Perhaps the mask could go watch the Wandsman work, yes, then maybe it could take notes on him and maybe get rid of its feelings. Walking into that stuffy room it seemed oh so bland in there; no fancy decorations… Though it is quite alright, it was a room for the sick after all — and if the mask wished he could get it furnished in a matter of mere seconds!

Standing at the back of the room watching the Wandsman perform was truly enchanting to it; while the other guards watching didn't seem as amused as it was. The Wandsmans — Florence’s face seemed to be the best part of it all. His focused face made the Black Lord ache for him even more; perhaps it was a bad idea coming here, since he wanted to remove his feelings, not enhance them.

No matter at all, it was content watching the Wandsman and reveling in this feeling just a bit more; he had never felt it after all before meeting its wonderful Florence. Even though the mask only knew a trace of what the Wandsman was doing it was just enough, enough to watch this peculiar person just a bit more as he worked. This might be its favorite pastime if it allows it to get that far…

The Doctor though couldn't help but wonder why the Lord was staring at him, and now it was coming closer — had he done something wrong? No, definitely not. Could this be about the lavenders he planted? Though now that he thought about it a bit deeper it surely couldn't be that either; that stare is weird, but it could help with his escape plan later on if he plays his cards well.

No matter, he needs to finish his surgery because messing up and getting off track could wound up this patient dead. Slicing down the middle of the body from the neck down to the pelvis was easy, now cutting under the chest, yes, the procedure is going well. He also needed to regularize the blood loss and figure out how this strange disease messes up various bodies.

Next would be to experiment with the bodies various reactions, including the mask part especially since that seemed to be where the tears mainly formed. Peculiar… it didn't have any reactions to any substances he tried testing the samples of various tissues and the tears.

How troublesome this truly was, especially with the Anguished Lord breathing down his neck like that… he really can't continue surgery like this, he must finish quickly. Slicing open some tissue, doing whatever else that was needed, and stitching the body back up and together. Even though he was not able to get rid of what was bothering the masked fellow, at least he got some valuable information on how different things reacted to this disease.

With now being finished he then put away all the surgical tools and such — including of course washing the instruments first. The masked civilian got up, seemed a bit shaken upon seeing the Black Lord there, and then walked off quickly. Dyo then seemed to gesture to the guards to get out; which they quickly did, leaving the both of them alone in the freshly cleaned surgical room.

The Anguished Lord being right behind the Doctor made him a bit nervous; it was just close enough to at this point breathe down his neck. And even if the guards were only there to stop him from escaping they still provided some comfort to him, especially when this Lord is right there behind him. Maybe if the mask hadn't dismissed the guards, then he would be able to confirm with himself that indeed the Lord is proceeding with this chain of action.

Now with the Black Lord putting its hand onto the Doctor's shoulder just made him get even more nervous, but as a good part that pleasing smile came back on its face to surprise him. “Your work is so very fascinating… mind explaining what you are doing?” And though even such a simple question it made the Doctor perk up with excitement.

“Medicine is very interesting! What I was doing just now was taking tissue samples, including those tears, and testing them with various parts of the body to see how they react. Health and science are quite fascinating, but I am more acquainted with the medical field of course.” The Doctor's eyes looked like they were shimmering like a star in the sky of Alagadda, those eyes of his staring right at the Anguished Lord while explaining his passion.

It was truly warming to the heart as the Lord kept listening intently — at this point anything the Wandsman said flew right over its head but it was happy Florence was so excited about a topic such as this. Even with the Wandsmans rambling slowly coming to an end he already seemed to get much more comfortable with the Lord in that moment.

Though the Doctor was quite happy at this moment he still desired to leave this land; still thinking about that plan to string the Lord along to help him get out of here. Having someone, even if a mask, was nice to talk to about his research as in France no one was quite as interested in it as him — though he does not blame the people, everyone is trying to survive in times like those of the royalty being quite rude to the citizens.

“Your work indeed is very… interesting, is there anything specific in medicine you focus on, Florence?”

“I have to focus on curing the Great Dying, the Pestilence! That wretched disease gets into everyone and everything and I have to find a way to cure all people before it's too late.”

“How righteous your goals are — and how did you find yourself here in the land of Alagadda?”

“I was looking for a certain physician that might be able to help me in my search for the cure, talking with educated individuals is quite nice about topics such as that. But unfortunately in my search for that wise man I ended up in this dimension.”

Now with his words slowing down the Doctor finally was able to leave, even if he enjoyed the company he couldn't let himself get attached to anything but his work. Maybe though perhaps if this Lord was able to help him in his search of curing the Pestilence he could tolerate it for just a bit — but that definitely won't happen for a while.

It just couldn't help but feel ecstatic; a smile on its face now more prominent than usual. Although sadly as soon as the conversation ended before the Lord could start another the Wandsman slipped away when the chance was present. Unfortunately so, but the Black Lord had to deal with it.

Oh how wonderful that Wandsman, Florence was. The mask couldn't help but feel lucky with scoring such a fine subject — a smart one at that as well, and quite pretty. It just couldn't help but keep thinking about the Wandsman all the damn time, and it was starting to reflect poorly on its work; the King might get mad!

The Black Lord couldn't possibly allow that, while the Wandsman was important he couldn't let itself get too ahead of itself and end up getting demoted because it wanted to act foolishly. It had to play its cards just right in order to be able to not only get more power but also somehow get Florence on its side, and even better is that right now it is making great progress with that!

Just now has to think of ways to woo him over…