Laurence woke up and jolted upright gasping for breath. His mind recoiled in pain as old memories tried to resurface.
"Blood." He muttered to himself, he needed more, to satiate the thirst. It was all Laurence could think of at the moment, he needed more blood. Slowly raising himself off of the damp wooden planks he looked around to find himself inside what seemed to be a clinic, well, what remained of it anyway. Broken shards of glass lay scattered on the floor and a revolting smell wafted in the air, much to Laurence's disgust. The putrid smell assaulted Laurence's senses as made his way towards the exit of the room. Walking down the steps from the door Laurence entered into what he would describe as an utterly pathetic and repulsive sight. Several patients were sprawled out on sickbeds, some moaning in pain while others laid deathly still. The sight of blood and pus everywhere was enough to make Laurence squirm inside.
"Ser Laurence!" Laurence looked to the source of the petite voice and found a young woman garbed in white robes that was tending to the injured in the clinic. The nurse gasped in shock as Laurence stepped closer.
"Your head ser, it's bleeding." Raising a hand to his forehead Laurence found out that the girl was right, he felt the fresh-blistered skin of the wound on his forehead and his hand flinched in disgust.
"A mirror if you please?" Requested Laurence and the nurse obliged as she obediently left her station to fetch what Laurence had asked for. Sitting himself down on one of the linen sickbeds, He waited for the return of the nurse while putting as much distance as he could between himself and the patients. Its not as if Laurence hated the unfortunate patients themselves but rather the injuries and diseases that they were afflicted with, that was what bothered him the most. The pathetic display of pain, sickness and despair was a grim atmosphere that the young scholar desperately wanted to leave. Laurence's eyes met that of a patient's own bloodshot eyes that were staring back at Laurence. The thought of blood came to mind once again and the words of his old teacher came to haunt him.
"Fear the old blood." It had been the final words he would hear from his old teacher who came to oppose him, if only Master Willem had listened to him. It was one of the few regrets that Laurence held onto ever since he left Byrgenwerth, never being able to reconcile with old Master Willem. That place brought back memories to Laurence, back to a time when he was naught but a hopeful student wanting to learn more about the world. It seemed so long ago he thought to himself.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the nurse coming back with mirror in hand, carefully navigating her way through the moaning patients as she made her way towards him.
"The mirror as you requested Ser." Addressed the nurse whom Laurence smiled gratefully at and she bowed her head in response then turned around to resume her work. But Laurence was curious to know the name of the nurse had decided to stall her own duties to help him out.
"My thanks ma'am, but to whom do I own the pleasure of giving thanks to?" Laurence smiled as he noticed the nurse shrink at his remark.
"My name is Greta ser." Laurence accepted the hand mirror from Greta.
"A wonderful name as any could be." Replied Laurence who grasped the handle of the small mirror in his hand raising the object up to level with his face. Its reflection was a most displeasing sight to Laurence showing the fresh red skin of his grievous head injury. Laurence paled at the sight of it, a fresh bleeding wound with tendons of flayed skin barely hanging from his forehead.
"An unfortunate accident." He surmised. "Shouldn't have been so careless in the lab."
Greta was examining the wound on Laurence's head and asked, "We can treat the wound if you wish ser?"
Laurence shook his head in reply." No need for that." He continued." I would not want to burden your institution with my problems, you seem to have your hands full at the moment." Laurence stated this as he gestured to the patients in the ward.
"Besides, you have already done a me a great service by allowing me to conduct my studies in your clinic."
"Only because you have donated so much to our hospice." Greta replied. "Without your help we would not be where we are right now, being in a position to aid others."
"Still not much of a reason to prioritize me over your patients though,"
"The other sisters are more than capable of tending to the patients." Greta continued. "Surely they will not miss me for just a few moments."
Laurence looked as if he wanted to object to that but was stopped in his tracks by the devout nurse who insisted.
"At least allow me to clean the wound, we don't want it to get infected now do we?"
Laurence finally relented at her insistence, "If you insist so badly then do what you wish with the wound." A look of triumph passed over Greta's face when her persistence paid off; she paid no mind to the incoherent grumbling that came from a complaining Laurence. Soaking a clean white cloth in water she went to the side of Laurence and dabbed the it onto his wound eliciting a response of small pain from Laurence as the water interacted with his open skin. Laurence's reactions to the stinging pain from the wound were quite comical in the eyes of Greta who couldn't help but giggle at his expense. Returning the cloth to the basin of water to wash it she examined the young man beside her. He wore immaculate clothing made of fine woven fabric and he carried himself in the way someone of noble status would. Some of the other nurses had speculated that Laurence had come from the prestigious university of Byrgenwerth. Quite unusual for someone like him to be living in the slums of Yarnham. Laurence had arrived to their rundown clinic several weeks ago proclaiming to be a professor of esteemed reputation. He requested that he be given appropriate space and equipment to conduct whatever sorts of crazy experiments his sort come up with while of course offering a handy sum of payment. How could we refuse the offer? They would get paid and the newcomer would be able to work in peace and isolation, a situation where both parties would be happy. Greta pondered for a second about this man's backstory but then decided it would be simpler to just ask the man.
"If you would be so kind to answer my question I-". Laurence however cut her off before she could continue any further.
"You wish to know what I am doing here isn't that correct." Greta nodded her head in reply but was met with cold hostility to her shock.
"Haven't your elders taught you that is distasteful to inquire into the business of that which is not yours?" His harsh tone painted the man in a completely new picture. No longer was he the mild-mannered gentleman that Greta enjoyed conversing with just a few minutes ago. His new demeanor was unsettling to say the least and she was unsure about what her next course of action should be. Should she just accept things the way they are and leave Laurence or should she press deeper and hope that the young professor was just putting up a façade. Before she could decide a gurgling yelp of pain grabbed her attention away from Laurence who paid no mind to the disturbance. One of the patients were writhing in pain and as Greta came closer to help she noticed that the man's veins were rapidly convulsing and bulging out of his skin. It was a horrid sight to witness and Greta hesitated to even approach the man. Other nurses started making their way towards the patient who was violently thrashing around while barely being held down by Greta but even with their help he threated to break free of their hold and go rampant amongst the clinic. The man was incoherently rumbling words that none of the nurses could understand what any of it meant. Many heads started turning towards the commotion some with faces of concern and others with fear. Out of the corner of her eye Greta noticed Laurence who was still sitting in the very same spot he was moments ago with his back turned to the rest of them. His head was drooped down and was unflinchingly paying no mind to the chaos that was happening behind him. Greta brought her attention back to the patient and for just a brief moment their eyes locked together. His were bloodshot red and Greta could swear in that tiny glimpse, his eyes were filled with pleading. With all their intent focused onto the suffering of the poor man, none had noticed the agitated doctor leaving from his spot undauntedly striding towards the small crowd of nurses whom were surrounding the man. He cut his way into the entourage of nurses caring not for the grunts of annoyance that came his way to stand right by the side of the disheveled wretch. It was then that Greta noticed the enigmatic doctor reach for one of his pockets pulling out a rather plain vial with some strange substance within it. Upon closer inspection she realized that it was blood, yet it seemed strange to her, its state felt unnatural swerving around in the vial. Darker too. She noted with curiosity.
A pungent aroma reached her senses when Laurence uncorked the vial; the smell of it was almost seductive and every fiber of her being was screaming for a taste of that blood. She watched on in envy as Laurence emptied the contents of the glass vial into the widened mouth of the frenzied man who struggled against the vice like grip of Laurence to no avail. As the man swallowed down the blood a guttural scream overcame him and his mouth clenched in pain. Greta envisioned the only worst for him but yet to her disbelief the man was breathing soundly all of a sudden. The veins and marks that had infested his body had all but subsided leaving little trace that they were there in the first place. This was miracle! The plague had been the bane of Yarnham for how many years and its effects were completely nullified in the span of a few seconds. Her mind turned to Laurence once more who was now the center of attention in the room, everyone gaping in shock as he nonchalantly returned the empty vial to the depths of his pocket. He looked up to face the rest of the room with faint smirk on his clean shave face.
"What you all have witnessed, are the salvation that my fellow brothers and I have procured from our scholarly efforts." He declared for everyone in the clinic to hear proudly. He reached for the leather pouch that he kept by his side to reveal several more vials of that same miracle-like blood.
"This liquid of only the most divine properties," Laurence paused for a second then continued, "The Good Blood is the holy answer to all of your suffering".
Reactions of all sorts spread throughout the clinic but Greta remained isolated from it all deaf to chatter and rodeo. She stood still unsure what to make of what just happened and the sight of the pure red blood caught her attention once more only this time instead of temptation, she felt a deep sense of grim foreboding for Yarnham.