"Get him in here." The plump elderly lady ordered, swiftly gesturing to the bed behind her as she bustled about with bandages and painkilling salves. The town healer Ayana was in her sixties, her hands working swiftly with the precision she was renowned for. She had seen her fair share of breaks, scrapes, and burns, but even she couldn't resist a small gasp that escaped as she cut the filthy bandage around the prone figure's knee.

A small groan came from the boy as she carefully washed the wound. "Shh… I know it hurts…" She crooned gently.

"What's going on? What are you doing to him?" The healer glared at the boy's father (she inferred, based on their looks).

"I am cleaning the wound. Now if you could please remove your hand from his shoulder, I need to have a look at that cut on his arm too." Ayana muttered cooly, all but pushing the man away from her young patient. The thin cut was a few days old, she noticed. It had scabbed over quite well, though the skin around it was a tad bit pale and discolored. Bruises? Blisters? She cleaned and bandaged it, just to be safe.

Ayana was most worried about the gash on the boy's knee. His father said he had fell over a large rock while hiking. The healer knew he was lying; she had seen bad cuts from rocks and this was not one of them. For one, there was no debris, and the bloody edges of the cut were ominously smooth. In all honesty, it looked more like a knife wound. Why would a boy get hurt like this? She looked at the father, but he stubbornly didn't look at her, instead watching his son's every movement.

After bandaging the major cuts, Ayana started her usual check up, just in case of internal damage that she somehow missed (unlikely, but it does happen occasionally). The poor lad was covered in bruises and cuts, some of them worse than others. What happened to you? She wondered. His shallow and fast breathing showed hints of perhaps a cracked rib, and his temperature is a bit higher than what she would deem safe.

"Is he going to be alright?" The father asked. His voice was a bit hoarse. Ayana patted him awkwardly on his shoulder, as she had to reach up slightly.

"I've done everything I can. Now, I diagnose you with exhaustion. Go to bed, I'll keep my eye on him. Go now, shoo. Doctor's orders." the healer's tone bore no room for argument. He nodded reluctantly and stood up, walking into the next room over. Ayana leaned in his doorway. "You need me to get you a sleeping draught?" She asked kindly. He shook his head, though he kept looking at the wall as if he could see through it and watch his son. Ayana smiled. "He… What's his name again?"

"Clarke."

"Clarke will be fine. He seems like a strong boy. I'll wake you if anything happens, alright?" She prompted for his name.

"O'Bri… Sean. My name is Sean."

"Go to sleep, Sean."

Two hours later, Ayana gently knocked on O'Brien's door. With a small nod, she said, "He's awake."

Clarke hadn't moved since O'Brien was gone save now his eyes were more or less open. He became more awake as soon as O'Brien came in, but it wasn't clear if he was just waking up or trying to get away. O'Brien pulled a chair over.

"I gave him some herbs for the pain. It may make his reactions a little slower than normal," Ayana said. "I'll give you two some privacy." She closed the door behind her.

Father and son looked at each other. O'Brien noted that Clarke's face was flushed, like he was having a bad fever. There were traces of red spots on his pale cheeks. His hands were clenched on top of the white blanket Ayana had provided, though he looked too tired to do much.

"So, sleeping beauty finally awakens." Clarke tried to make a sarcastic smirk but only managed a half-smile.

O'Brien chuckled cautiously, "I could say the same for you."

Clarke took a moment to look at the room he was in. It was a clean and organized house with a series of beds lining the wall. The smell of medicine was a bit overpowering. His head spinning, Clarke looked back at O'Brien. "Care to explain what's going on?"

"Well, you were with the doctor…"

Clarke sighed, "No, before that. What happened? Why am I here? Why are you here?"

"I brought you here. Because you were injured. I thought that much was obvious."

"You overestimate my ability to observe my surroundings while I'm unconscious."

O'Brien resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Still kept that attitude of yours, I see."

"It's not like I can get rid of it, you know." Clarke shrugged. "Why can't I feel my leg below my knee?" He started to lift the blanket, fearing the worst. Had it been… amputated?

O'Brien quickly stopped him, making him lie back down. "Your leg is still there. The healer gave you something for the pain. You shouldn't be moving."

Clarke frowned, "Pain? I don't feel any pain…"

"Exactly."

Clarke conceded and relaxed again. For a second he could just imagine he was little again, before everything happened, when he still had a life here. He yawned, only slightly surprised by the small twinge of pain in his chest. "Dad?"

O'Brien hesitated. Did… did he say… "Mhm?" He cleared his throat, unsure his voice would actually work.

Clarke shook his head, "Nothing. Just to try it out." The word had felt weird on his tongue. To be fair, it's been seven years since he called anyone "dad"... "Actually…" Clarke looked up. "How's Gilan doing? When can I go see him?"

"You're not going to be able to see him… in this condition you're in." O'Brien quickly added the last part.

Clarke knew something was wrong even before he saw his dad's poorly hidden expression of guilt. "Did something happen?"

"I don't know." O'Brien could see the realization dawning on his son's expression. "He fell unconscious just as I came to get you two out of there. You were hurt and bleeding everywhere and I couldn't carry both of you at once, I'm so sorry, Clarke, I had to get you to a healer. I left him a bit away from the clearing. I haven't had time to check on him and…" He paused. "Oh gods above. He was conscious when I left him, I told him I would go back…"

It took Clarke a few moments to make sense of the stream of excuses his father gave him "You… you left my friend out there? In the cold? Alone? HE COULD BE DEAD. Do you not even CARE?!" His voice growing louder in hysteria, Clarke was yelling when Ayana rushed back in the room.

"What are you doing to my patient, young man? Out. Out now!" Ayana growled, looking much more threatening than previously thought possible. The door shut with a click behind O'Brien.

The man cursed quietly as he listened to Ayana calming Clarke, kicking a convenient table leg nearby. "I'll get him." He promised before going out the door.

Pauline walked with Caitlyn, remaining a respectful distance behind the princess as the two and their guards navigated their way to the courtyard, where Caitlyn liked to deal with official business. The crisp autumn air was decidedly pleasant compared to the roaring and frankly stuffy fires of the throne room. The two women sat down on a wooden carved bench, overlooking the hills and the village below. It took all of Pauline's training and experience not to fidget and just blurt out everything in her head, but it would be awkward if the Princess Caitlyn was not as open minded as she was. She didn't seem to be a daft figurehead, Pauline noticed. She also saw, with a slight note of surprise, the Princess looked exceedingly familiar…

"This is not the usual protocol, if my records in Araluen are up to date." Pauline said in a neutral tone.

Caitlyn bit her lip. It certainly was against protocol, and it gave Holland another reason on his list of "reasons why Princess Caitlyn should be married off". But in the heat of the moment, it sure felt good to tweak his nose, however slightly. "It is." She agreed. "But the entire council of Barons was not usual either. My father had decreed it illegal after one of them tried to assassinate him, but the first thing Fer- King Ferris did after he ascended the throne was to reinstate them. Before they could have rallied the ones against his rule and cause havoc throughout the kingdom." Which probably would have been the lesser of two evils, Caitlyn thought dully. "On one hand, the barons caused no more trouble, but on the other, they have made Ferris into their royal puppet. What's worse is that he thinks he's still in charge."

"Permission to speak freely, my lady?" Pauline asked. It screamed against every training protocol she went through as a courier apprentice, but this conversation promised answers, which she would do whatever it took to gain. The princess nodded. "It is not my place to ask, but is this why you… oppose them?" Pauline had seen the tension between the princess and barons. Putting the pieces together quickly, she realized that Princess Caitlyn could be her link to the truth.

"Oh, I don't oppose them, not directly." Caitlyn looked around. There were spies everywhere, she knew. Sent by Holland himself, no place was ever completely safe, save maybe her suite. Ferris had kindly prohibited that, just in case any of the barons got… interested. It would do no good to him if he sent Caitlyn to marry if she was already… never mind. "If they knew their place, however, it would be much easier to bring this whole religious cult down."

"I've heard that they have been recruiting as many people as they possibly can, moving from village to village?" Pauline went over her mental notes. Crowley had been frustratingly vague in the note he sent, along with Halt's letters from the gathering onwards. Apparently he had also sent King Duncan a letter, to which Duncan sent Pauline here, to Clonmel, to figure things out.

Caitlyn nodded. "The Outsiders, they call themselves. They employed bandits to act as minions of the 'evil god' Balsennis, and then they force the bandits away, therefore 'proving' the divine power of the 'golden god' Alseiass."

Pauline's slight eyebrow raised as she nodded. "Interesting tactic. And quite effective too, I gather. I've heard that they are moving in towards Araluen. This has King Duncan very concerned."

Caitlyn brushed a stray strand of hair out of the way as she thought. Halt, Gilan, and Clarke were from Araluen. Perhaps Ambassador Pauline would know of them? Would it be safe to inform her of their plans? "We believe there is a solution to the Outsiders problem. All we require is time, and if possible, a small garrison of armed men. We have figured out that without the bandits, the Outsiders have no backup claim. The bandits are conveniently stationed at the edge of the Outsiders camp, our forces could overpower them, considering there are about fifty of them in total."

"How are you so familiar with the camp?" Pauline frowned. "Who is we?" She had a small inkling, but she had to make sure. Based on what Caitlyn had said earlier, Ferris was an unassuming puppet of self serving barons, which meant the investigation he was conducting is probably getting nowhere.

"I have received… inside information."

Pauline's hopes soared. Were Halt, Gilan, and Clarke here? Investigating the Outsiders? Were they alright? "Araluen sent some… men to have a look because we noticed the Outsiders were growing bolder as they kidnapped some girls."

"Excuse me?" Caitlyn froze. Araluen girls. Araluen men. Halt. Girls. "Do you happen to know the men sent here?"

Pauline hid a small smile. "Yes. Have they contacted you? How? Why?"

Well, here comes the awkward part.