Memoirs of the Holy War

by Naryfiel Lilith

It was a war that spanned across two generations. It was a war that tore Jugdral to pieces. It was a war between those who only did what they thought was right. It was a war manipulated by those who had suffered too much. It was a war filled with tragic mistakes and crippling hope. It was a war immortalized by the survivors, and this is their tale. (FE4 Novelization)

6. Chapter 4) Shine

Chapter 5) Shine

---

Those were not the only wounded refugees we received. Every day, more tumbled and crawled through our gates, all with the same story. Crown Prince Munnir had turned his blade against them and now, their only hope for safety lied with those who invaded, with those whose hands were stained with the blood of their kin. It sounds like a poor joke or, worse, propaganda to justify a conquest, yet it is exactly the sort of situation we find ourselves in.

It's uncomfortable, but I do not let my unease show. It's all the more important to be calm when the world around is whirling into madness. At least, that was what Father Eirik always said…

---

I had minimal contact with anyone under the age of three. Newborns, infants, toddlers… everyone usually went straight to the church for health matters pertaining to the three and even when I lived and studied in the Church, Father Eirik would not allow me to assist. 'Fire scorches all, and the newly born are too fragile for your flames.' Those were the words he always said when I requested to help and he refused. They were words I remembered when I left to live in my little house, and thus, I never treated them. As such, I never studied what was typical or atypical about their health and I sorely regretted such laziness now. The influx of refugees led to a corresponding influx in newborns, infants, and toddlers. In fact, some of the 'newly born' were born within these very walls! Thankfully, Lady Ethlyn could, and did, handle all treatment during the birthings, but the newborns' health fell to me. This did not include the infants and newborns who were newly orphaned by the assaults, and now were entrusted to us as the civilians struggled to build some semblance of normality amidst the shards.

"Ah, so intraventricular hemorrhages are not uncommon for premature babies," I murmured, rapidly reading through one of many books I had stolen from the library here in Genoa. Several more were haphazardly spread across the table I sat at, all opened to sections I needed to study immediately. "Why would that… oh, their blood vessels aren't fully developed. This makes sense. So, the recommended treatment is… drat, is it truly to treat the symptoms?" It was distressing to read, and I already knew it would be equally distressing trying to explain to panicked mothers. Yet if that was what had to be done, it would be done. "I had best review the most efficient method for that, then." But first, there was one more thing I needed to research. "Where was the section on necrotizing enterocolitis again? It best matched the symptoms for that one baby…"

Thus I spent my early mornings, desperately studying all I could and hope it would be enough to last the day, as once the sun finally crested the horizon, I had to be back at work. In between tending to patients, I made medicines to replenish our stocks and triple-checked our inventories. I had to. Lady Ethlyn and Lady Edain had enough worries, and it was my duty to manage the infirmaries. Just as it was my duty, and truthfully my pleasure as well, to tend to Lord Shanan, which I always made sure to do just after the morning runs. He still required multiple checkups per day, though his health improved by leaps and bounds since his stomach had recovered enough for a proper diet.

"Hey..." Lord Shanan quietly began during one such checkup. I 'hmm'ed to let him know I was listening, even as I continued to check him over. He still remained abed for most of the day, and as such, one thing I had to watch for was pressure ulcers. The last thing he needed was more health complications. "Why are there no elderly among the refugees?"

...It was only training which kept my hands moving. My mind froze at the innocent, and valid, question. For he was right; there were few one could call 'elderly' among the current batch of refugees. It was... purposeful, though not necessarily at the choice of our soldiers. As I mentally scrabbled for some sort of answer, memories came flooding back. I remembered so very clearly treating some of our sobbing soldiers, who told of how the elderly victims refused to be taken. Their stories of how they had smiled and shoved their would-be rescuers away, to focus on the young, lingered like parasite, and the soldiers had screamed of how they listened, but should not have. They had screamed, sobbed, wailed about the ones left behind, almost all old enough to be their parents or grandparents and left to die because there were just so many injured.

Only a handful made it to Genoa. Only a handful made it to me. All of that handful died, injuries too great and left too long to survive.

"They must've all died," Lord Shanan answered for himself when I remained silent too long. My heart ached at the easy way he said it. "Death comes fast, doesn't it?" My heart ached more when he looked up at me, and all I saw in his empty gaze was resignition. "Like that patient you had to rush for earlier. I saw him walking earlier, laughing down the hall despite his crutches. Then he was gone."

"...He had a pulmonary embolism," I explained without thinking about it. My mind had latched onto the patient Lord Shanan spoke of, a vibrant man in his thirties. While rescuing one of the civilians, he'd broken his femur. 'Shattered' was more accurate, technically speaking, and some fat from the marrow had slipped into the veins and arteries and... "It strained his heart too much."

"Embolism?" Lord Shanan frowned, and a little bit of light flickered in his eyes again. I was glad to see it. With both Lord Oifey and Mister Finn busy, he'd been by himself with his thoughts far too often these past few days. "What's that? What's a pulmonary? What does it have to do with the heart?"

"Hmm? Ah..." What should I do? Surely such a topic was too morbid for a child. Yet he looked so genuinely interested and I wanted to keep his eyes alight and brimming with curiosity... "Hold on a moment." I briefly left his side to peruse my books, picking one I had read as a child, and returned to sit by his side. "'Pulmonary' is a medical term used for the lungs."

"Lungs are what help you breathe, right?" Lord Shanan leaned into my side and a small smile crept onto his face as I flipped open the book. "But you said his heart?"

"Yes, that's due to the circulatory system." I found the diagram I wanted, and pointed to it. "They're what helps your blood flow through your body. Veins and arteries are part of it." Carefully, I took his hand and had him trace one 'path' through the body, to help him understand. "Now, an 'embolism' occurs when some sort of foreign material blocks an artery."

"Like a sword?"

"No, a sword cuts through. This is a blockage." Still, I had to bite back a little laugh at the mental image. "We can talk more about what can cause such a thing later. Do you see how close the lungs are to the heart in the diagram?"

"Hmm... oh, yeah, they're both right there! Is that why?"

"It's part, yes."

We had to arrange his pillows some to get comfortable while I explained both the circulatory system and the pressures which could build up within. From there, he asked other questions and I answered each one to the best of my abilities. At some point during the impromptu medical lesson, Lord Sigurd swung by. Yet he did not interrupt. Instead, he remained in the doorway, watching with a small, amused smile. Eventually, however, Lord Shanan's questions were interspersed with yawns and soon, he could keep his eyes open no longer. After promising to teach him more 'later', he nodded off for a late morning nap and I tucked the blankets around him as best as I could. Only then did I actually acknowledge Lord Sigurd's presence, though it was simply a look and a raised brow.

"He looked so enthralled; I couldn't bear to interrupt," Lord Sigurd joked, answering the unspoken question. He watched Lord Shanan sleep for a moment, no doubt seeing if he would have nightmares. Yet as Lord Shanan continued to slumber, he came to my side. "I wanted to ask about a couple of things, if you don't mind."

"What is it?" I asked in return, shutting my book and returning it to the shelf. Then I returned to my work area and began my next batch of medicines, while checking on those I left to steep. "Is it the soldiers I did not clear for combat?"

"No, your list was quite clear and I appreciate the list of reasons written next to them." Was it not normal to do that? It felt only proper. "I wanted to ask about the civilian who you declared brain dead yesterday morning. His funeral just ended." Ah, so it was that one then... "His widow wanted to know more."

"I see." I didn't blame her. From what she'd seen, her husband had been recovering nicely. Yet now, he was... "It was the head trauma he'd suffered. The fractured skull led to a weakening of the arteries, which led to..." I was about to list off more technical terms, simply out of habit, but I stopped myself in time. He would relay this to a very distraught widow. It was better to keep it simple. "It led to his blood vessels weakening and, unfortunately, they burst and resulted in a massive hemorrhage in his brain. The resulting pressure caused his brain to shift and distort within the skull, causing even more damage." Thus, while he'd technically been 'alive', he... wasn't. He couldn't even breathe on his own anymore. So, with permission from his family, we'd let him die in truth. "That's... it, truly."

"So that's why his condition suddenly deteriorated." Though he tried to smile, it was naught but a quirk of the lips. "I... think I'll avoid telling her about the distortion part, though."

"That might be a good idea, yes." Few liked to talk about such things. "His funeral was held quite quickly, wasn't it?"

"It's apparently traditional in Verdane to hold the funeral as soon as possible after the death." Lord Sigurd leaned against the wall by the door, crossing his arms over his chest. "It was interesting. The prayers mentioned 'returning to the earth which birthed him'." I supposed it was true; the corpse would eventually rot and become part of the soil. "Ah, but I'm getting distracted. Edain mentioned afterwards you two would perform a surgery later this evening? A…" Lord Sigurd frowned, trying to remember the word. "A fasciotomy?"

"Yes, we are." I was glad to move away from the talk of funerals. I didn't like them. I never had. "We're trying to relieve the pressure building up inside their arm, to reduce the chances of having to amputate it." It was far from the first, and likely would not be the last such surgery we performed. Just yesterday, we had to perform a similar surgery on a child who had been trapped inside a burning shed and suffered terrible burns, though that involved removing the eschar that had formed around their leg. "Before you ask, the pressure is building due to how their arm fractured."

"Well, that's more than what I got from Edain. All she said was 'compartment syndrome' and left me to try and figure out what she meant." He briefly made a face, and I couldn't help but smile a little in amusement. "So many injuries… this isn't going into the more 'typical' injuries…" He was right. No refugee made it to us unscathed. While most thankfully didn't suffer further complications from their lacerations and bruises, those who did suffered greatly in every sense of the word. "Will you be free after the surgery?"

"I… believe so?" I tilted my head, confused, and became more confused when he smiled. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I was simply thinking it might do Shanan some good to get some fresh air." Ah, I saw now. Due to everything, it had been a while since Lord Sigurd and I had taken Lord Shanan to the market. "I also thought it might be good to see what the apothecaries might have. A few merchants have braved the roads behind our lines as well, so they may have something interesting."

"That is true…" I mentally debated it for a moment, before nodding. "Yes, let's plan for it, then." After all, Lady Ethlyn and Lady Edain would be here to treat the injured, and I would be near if something catastrophic occurred.

"Wonderful!" His smile grew and I smiled back. "Send word when you're finished and ready to head out."

"I shall."

Later, after Mister Finn swung by to keep Lord Shanan company, I made sure to inform Lady Ethlyn and Lady Edain I would be out, just in case something happened. For some reason, both had been giggly over it. I wonder what had been so amusing.

---

Crown Prince Munnir's annihilation of his own people did not abate in the coming days. Instead, it grew worse, as we soon received refugees from villages on the other side of Marpha. The justification he'd screeched alongside his orders had been to 'prevent them from falling into enemy hands'. The true reason became clear within hours: bait.

"Damn him!" Lord Sigurd snapped, glaring at nothing as he paced the length of his office. I was reminded of those caged lions you'd sometimes see poachers drag down the road in cages, bristling and eagerly awaiting a chance to snap. "Damn him to the deepest part of the seventh hell!"

"Do you intend to keep shouting?" I asked, making some tea in the back corner. Though I truthfully should have been in the infirmary, Lady Ethlyn thought it best to inform her brother of just how the soldiers were injured this time. For some reason, she insisted I be the messenger. "You are more than welcome to, of course, but I'd want to add a different herb to this mix to ease the strain." Then I'd need to add another one to mask the flavor. He favored milder teas, the ones which tasted light and earthy no matter how long you steeped them.

"I... no." He sighed slowly and all but collapsed into a chair, resting his head in his hands. "No, I just... it's hard to comprehend. He's a prince. He should be protecting his people. Not using them as..." He groaned, somehow curling further into himself. "And I fell for the trap. Completely and utterly. And Quan..."

"Lord Quan's injuries are minor." Finished with the tea, I brought it over to him, though I had to nudge his leg to get him to sit up enough to take it. "He was complaining of Lady Ethlyn's fussing when I left." He had been one of the leaders of the rescue groups, and had been the first to notice the ambush. All of his group had ended up with minor injuries, thanks to that.

"Of course he was." Once more, he sighed, but at least he sipped his tea. "To use his own people simply to lure us into ambush... what sort of madman is Munnir? And, perhaps more importantly, why was he still the heir if his beliefs ran against his father's so?" There were no answers, of course, merely speculation. "How are they?"

"Lord Quan and the soldiers he had traveled with are stable. Sir Alec's group shall likely appear later, since they sought the furthest village from us." They had been the only groups, however. Crossing into enemy territory was a risk in of itself. Rescue missions were even more so. Even I knew this. "However, I believe one of the groups rescuing civilians from the nearby villages are due soon."

"No doubt with their own injuries, and more injured. Assuming, of course, there's any untouched village within a day's travel of here." Lord Sigurd tightened his grip on his mug, and, to my surprise, the handle suddenly cracked. "Ack!"

"Here." I helped him catch the mug before it fell and spilled scalding tea all over him, instead of just his hand, and set the handle-less mug on his desk before taking his hand. "Mild burns... bleeding..." I could see some ceramic chips within the wounds themselves. "Do you have a kit in here or should I rush to the infirmary?"

"I have basics here, simply out of habit." He made to stand, but refrained when I gave him a look. "Second left drawer in the desk."

"Habit?" I fetched the 'kit' (bandages, antiseptic, tweezers) and some cool water to tend to his hand. He made a face, but did not fight me as I picked out the small chips from the cuts. "I take it this has happened before?"

"I believe I have told you this, but Neit's blessing to Baldr included a boost to strength. So, it is not the first time I gripped something too hard in frustration and broke it. Nor is it the first time I had to pick things out of my hand." He still flinched slightly at the pain, but otherwise held perfectly still. "Hmm? Who's there?" I hadn't... heard anything?

"Your darling and adorable little sister, of course!" However, Lady Ethlyn cheerfully skipped inside, though her smile was quick to falter when she saw me bandaging Lord Sigurd's hand. "What happened?" she asked softly, drooping with the words. Lord Sigurd smiled reassuringly at her. "Please tell me you didn't break your hand somehow."

"Do our bones break? We're Holy Blooded, after all." Lord Sigurd asked rhetorically. He still smiled for her. "No, I stupidly splashed my tea. That's all." It seemed strange for him to describe it as such, but then I noticed him purposely shifting to conceal the broken mug from her. He wished to hide it. "What brings you here?"

"What? I need a reason to see my sweet and reckless older brother?" She feigned innocence for one full second before smiling awkwardly. "A group returned, though it seems they... didn't find survivors."

"...I see." Lord Sigurd closed his eyes. I had to look away myself. "I should speak with them, then."

"I figured you would, and unfortunately, I need to steal Miss Alicia away from you for the infirmary." ...That was... an odd way to put it. I glanced at Lord Sigurd for an answer, but he looked just as confused as I felt. "Sorry~?" It... was best to nod and move on.

Lady Ethlyn still left before me, of course. After all, I had to finish tending to Lord Sigurd's hand and we had to clean up the mess left behind by the broken mug. Then I found a new mug and made him a fresh pot. He insisted I didn't have to, but I did so anything. I... wanted to, and he certainly smiled at the tea. Once I was finished, though, I strode as briskly as I could down the hall, quietly running through the typical injuries our rescue groups returned with. Since this one found no survivors, then I had little doubts we'd have things such as muscle strain and splinters in hands from too forcfully moving wooden beams. No doubt there was mud in the scrapes as well, from digging graves, and no small few would have large bruises on their backs from where they ventured too far within and had a house collapse on them. Broken legs would also be an issue, as floors gave out from under their feet and-

A very loud 'slam' cut through my mental list, and, disoriented, I tried to place the sound. I thought... it might be someone hitting something, and followed the echoes as best as I could to track the source. It didn't take long. I simply had to round a corner to find Lord Lex snarling in an empty hallway, his fist still against the wall. I hesitated a moment before walking to his side and clasped my hands in front of me. "Lord Lex?" I called softly, mostly to ensure I had his attention. When he leaned away from the wall, I saw he had blood on his knuckles. Given Nal's blessing, just how hard did he...? "Here, we should-"

"I'm fine," he growled, turning his snarl my way. I kept my calm and held his gaze, and slowly, he made himself relax. "It'll heal." In fact, he looked away, somehow both sullen and apologetic. "I just... needed to punch something."

"Is that so?" I carefully took his hand, pausing whenever he flinched and moving slowly so he had time to adapt. "I do not think you broke bones. You will need to clean and bandage this, though. What has you so frustrated?"

"You mean besides everything?" His words were sharp with dryness, but I simply waited. "...Not sure if you knew, but I was part of the group that just came back. The one that brought back no one."

"I heard there were no survivors."

"No, there were." He tensed up again, and I busied myself with checking his knuckles one more time. Thankfully, they were just scraped. "It's just... they were on death's door. Neit had one hand on them. They wouldn't... they wouldn't survive the trip. We knew this. They knew this. So, we..." His breath caught, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. He was quick to duck his head, quick to hide, and I pretended to not see. "We left them. Left them to die. Just to try and find someone, anyone, who might make it."

"I see." Leaving someone in pain... that wasn't something... I liked doing. Yet it was a frustration I knew well, from triage. Sometimes, the wounds were simply too great. Some wounds could not heal. Trying to save them would simply lengthen their suffering, and lead you to lose another patient you could've saved. It was terrible, a cruel reminder of how 'saving everyone' was nothing but a childish ideal. Yet... yet I... "Before you leave again, come to me."

"Huh?"

"Come to me, and I... will give you sleep medicines." I disliked using them in a triage setting. Truthfully, I always hesitated to use them in general, particularly when there were so many patients. But perhaps... perhaps... "I ask you let it be their choice." It felt wrong. No, it felt more than 'wrong'. My stomach churned at the thought. Yet if it could bring some comfort to both the dying and the soldiers, then... "But I will give you them."

"...Thanks..." He managed a shaky smile, and I smiled back. "I'll... handle bandaging this on my own. You've work to do. I think Alec's group returned shortly after mine, and they got ambushed."

"Check with me later."

"All right, all right…"

Truthfully, I wished I could tend to it then and there, to be certain it was treated properly. However, Lady Ethlyn had already requested my presence in the infirmary, and if what Lord Lex had said was true, then I simply did not have the time. I had to return to my patients as soon as possible and, when I did arrive in the infirmary, it was all too obvious I should have arrived even sooner. Nevertheless, there was no time to despair. I had to simply dive right into the mess.

The work was fast and furious, filthy and bloody. The smells and groans were almost enough to drive one mad. No matter how many times I went through it, those observations lingered like maggots, wriggling through my brain. My hands kept steady, though. They needed to keep steady. People didn't stop dying just because someone else went through trauma.

"Ugh… why do they keep yanking arrows out of the wounds in the field?" Lady Ethlyn groaned, barely keeping his voice to a proper level. Yes, all of our current patients were either heavily sedated or unconscious, but that was no excuse. "I've nearly cut up this man's entire arm and still haven't found the damn arrowhead." She had to find it soon. Otherwise, we'd have yet another soldier taken off duty due to an abscess, and we'd no doubt have to deal with necrosis as well. Arrows were meant to kill and, left alone, they'd fulfill their purpose. "Oh, Miss Alicia, your dagger…"

"I had to put it down to feel," I replied, knowing what she'd say. After all, my dagger was set on the edge of my table in a place where it could too easily be jarred off. However, given how I had to lean awkwardly over my sedated patient to push the arrow through their back, it was the only place where I could easily reach it while doing what I needed. "I am almost done, however, so I can assist you soon." After a little more pushing, I felt and saw the bulge of the arrowhead under their skin, so I retrieved my dagger and cut a small hole to help it break through. My patient whimpered, but otherwise didn't react. "There we are…" From there, it was relatively easy to remove the arrow, and I could finally work on treating the wound itself. "Still, you have been looking for a while?"

"And yet, still nothing. With that said, I think Edain might need more help than me."

"I'm almost done!" Lady Edain protested, somewhere behind me. I spared a second to look at her, and saw she had braced a knee against her patient's bed to try and muster enough strength to pull the arrow out of her unconscious patient's arm. "It's just… deeper in the bone than I thought…" Despite her 'reassurances', given how much force she was using, I finished with my patient as quickly as I could to rush to her side. "Oh!" As such, I just managed to keep her from falling to the ground once the arrow finally dislodged and she tumbled backwards. "The arrow didn't fly, did it?" Even as she asked, she looked to the forceps-wire contraption we'd devised for this purpose, and the arrow remained precisely where it should, arrowhead in the loop of wire with the shaft perfectly intact. "Good, good… no fragments either…" Then it was just treating the bone and wound.

"…Switch with Lady Ethlyn," I instructed, taking the forceps from her. Lady Edain looked at me curiously. "Perhaps you'll have more luck finding the arrowhead."

"Is that a joke on my Holy Blood and the legendary luck associated with Ullr?" Lady Edain laughed as if it was, so I saw no reason to correct her. In truth, I was so exhausted I had actually forgotten. "Ethlyn, let's see if it holds true."

"I'm definitely not above abusing that luck, especially given the weird situations we've gotten into and out of in the past," Lady Ethlyn agreed, eagerly dashing over. I had to actually stop and silently remind her to clean her hands; she'd been digging through her first patient's wound. "I knew growing up arrows were dangerous, but I never realized just how annoying they were from a healer's perspective."

"Munnir's archers aren't even their best," Lady Edain murmured, washing her hands before reaching into her new patient's arm wound. It hadn't appeared bad when they'd arrived, a slit with a bruise, but because we absolutely had to find the arrowhead… well, Lady Ethlyn had not been exaggerating about 'cutting the arm up'. Now Lady Edain had to feel around for it. "Prince Jamke's are, though I hope we don't face them."

"If we did, we'd have many more deaths, wouldn't we?" As it was, we truthfully had no deaths. Though we had one particularly bad patient in the back corner, for now we simply had numerous arrow wounds and heavily sedated (or unconscious) soldiers. Those with more minor wounds, such as Sir Alec himself, had already left to rest in their own beds.

"I have little doubts that would be the case, but truthfully, I don't wish to face them because Prince Jamke is the one who saved Dew and me." Oh? Now, why would he do that?

"Oh, right, you'd mentioned that…" Lady Ethlyn brought up her staff to begin treatment, and I went to clean the forceps-wire tool. I had no doubts we'd need it again far too soon, and the current patients were stable enough for me to spare the time. "After, of course, you nearly cried your eyes out on Sigurd's shoulder!"

"Why shouldn't I have? Everything had been hectic and then he went and did a recklessly stupid thing!" Lady Edain scowled briefly before tilting her head and peering more closely at her patient's arm. "Oh, there's the arrowhead."

"Already?!"

"Yes, and it's barbed. Can someone fetch me quills? I don't want to risk moving my hand and losing it."

I left the forceps to soak in the sink and snagged the quills we kept on hand just for this purpose. To minimize all chances of losing the arrowhead, I guided the quills in for her and Lady Edain removed the arrowhead with a triumphant, and perhaps a tad smug, giggle. Of course, from there, we had to still tend to the patient's arm, and given their other injuries, I made sure to add their name to the list of soldiers who would be on medical leave for the next few weeks.

"Hey, hey! Brought clean things for you!" While I went through the list at my desk, and Lady Edain and Lady Ethlyn finished tending to our remaining patients, Mister Dew teetered into the room, somehow balancing a stack of towels taller than he was. How he didn't fall or run into something, I didn't know. "Midir also wanted me to remind you three that food will be ready soon," he continued, peaking around the stack to smile at us. His smile morphed into a smirk when he focused on Lady Edain. "I told you he was alive. Wouldn't leave a pretty lady alone to cry, particularly one so nice!"

"You did, indeed," Lady Edain laughed, smiling softly and warmly. Since Lady Ethlyn looked confused, I guessed this was a conversation the two had while in the prisons of Marpha. "Thank you for carrying all of this, Dew. Let's get them to the table here."

"Might need an escort. Dodging in the halls is one thing, but maneuvering in here is another entirely." Was it bad? I made sure to keep clear paths to everything and everyone, though? Perhaps I needed to redesign our layout.

"Follow me, Dew!" Lady Ethlyn replied, smiling brightly. Her patient was fully bandaged and sleeping soundly, proving she had finished. She needed to clean the area a little more, but I knew from experience she'd be scrubbing before long. She just needed to take a step back and reorient herself. "We'll want them on this table here." Besides, she made sure to clean her hands before taking the top half of the towel stack from Mister Dew and showing him where to set them. "Splendid! Both for this and the food. My stomach is gnawing on my marrow at this point!"

"Sure it is." Mister Dew smiled awkwardly, glancing around the room now that he was free from his burden. His gaze immediately fell on one patient in the corner, our lone 'bad patient' in this particular rush, and his eyes widened. "Uh…Why is there a patch stitched to his stomach? And can I see the inside of his…?"

"His horse was shot out from under him, and he'd ended up crushed underneath the corpse. The resulting wounds and internal bleeding built up in his abdomen. We had to cut it open to keep everything from deteriorating further. Pressure build up inside the body is... well, bad." Lady Ethlyn went to check on that patient's stitches, ensuring our patch held firm, before returning to her second patient to clean up properly. "We can't sew him back shut until we're certain we've treated everything, though. So, the patch is there to hold things together and inside."

"Medicine is weird." Mister Dew nodded to himself a couple times before shrugging. I frowned when I noticed the shrug almost hid a slight wince. "Well, I'll get out of your way." He smiled and walked backwards towards the door. Yet now that I was paying attention, I could see there was an odd spot on his neck... "I'll be back later, probably, so-"

"Mister Dew, come here," I ordered softly, beckoning him over to me. Though he was confused, he obeyed and held still as I checked that spot. I frowned further when I found it was a healing bruise just under his ear, almost hidden by his hair. "You're injured." Glancing around, I hooked my foot around a nearby chair and dragged it over for him to sit for an examination. Running my fingers over his scalp, I found distinct knots, and a peek under his collar revealed more bruises, far more recent, on his back. "You should have come to me about this."

"Not that big of a deal…" Mister Dew mumbled, looking down at the ground. He held himself terribly rigid while I worked, and I worried I was overwhelming him. Yet I had to look… "Had worse."

"That does not mean you don't feel pain."

"I... well..."

"How were you even injured?" Lady Edain asked, bringing me a staff. I immediately used it to heal the worst of it, before working on a more thorough examination. There were… many more bruises, all of various degrees of healing. "How long?"

"Huh? Uh... well..." Mister Dew began, still mumbling. He refused to look up and he became tenser and tenser by the second. "...diers..."

"Pardon?" Lady Edain crouched down next to his chair to look up at his face, expression as gentle and serene as can be. "I didn't hear you."

"...Soldiers." He curled into himself, trying to make himself smaller. "It's fine. It's normal." He spoke quickly, words breathy with faint yet building panic. We were definitely overwhelming him. "I'm an easy target. They want a scapegoat to beat out frustrations, and I'm Verdanite, so-"

"So?" While on the surface, Lady Edain's expression didn't so much as twitch, the cold fury simmering in her eyes turned what had been gentle to unnatural. "My, I had no idea our soldiers had the same reasoning capacity as beasts." She stood slowly and brushed off the front of her skirt. "Miss Alicia, if you do not mind, I think I shall take my break now." I nodded and waved her away, more focused on tending Mister Dew. We were done for now anyway; Lady Ethlyn and I could handle the rest. "My deepest thanks." Without another word, she strode out of the infirmary with all the dignity in the world and more.

"...Why is she mad?" Mister Dew watched her leave, surprise swallowing his panic briefly. "I... did I make her mad? Should I not have said anything? I probably shouldn't have said anything, or made up a lie, but..."

"Dew, she's not mad at you," Lady Ethlyn explained, coming over to kneel in front of him. Unlike Lady Edain, she kept a small, but noticeable, distance, no doubt realizing how overwhelmed he had been before. "She's mad for you. She's mad on your behalf. She's mad you suffered so." Mister Dew frowned in confusion, and Lady Ethlyn shook her head. "I don't know your past, Dew, but that's what it is. The past. Now, you are here, with us. That means all your wounds get fussed over and treated. It's no different than anyone else here." She smiled wryly. "Sigurd will probably explain it better, and in a more believable way. And, trust me, as soon as he learns what happened, and he will because Edain rarely hides anything from him, then you'll get the full speech along with more apologies than you can count!"

"For now, however, you need treatment," I murmured, moving to Mister Dew's side so he could see me. He wore a skeptical frown, face still scrunched with clear confusion. Lady Ethlyn looked ready to sigh at it, but I... I knew why he felt this way. "Will you take off your shirt for me? We need to apply some balm to these bruises." I knew the reason very well.

Mister Dew couldn't quite believe her because he'd become too used to fending for himself. He had learned long ago to not request help, because no one would give it no matter how loudly he screamed. He had learned he would always be the target, and it was better to keep your head down and hide. No, he couldn't believe her. I knew because I knew it too. I wished he didn't, though. I truly wished he didn't.

---

Crown Prince Munnir's ambushes did not let up in the coming days. Using their knowledge of the terrain, they would strike quickly and then dart back into the shadows of the trees, always circling near villages and the ruins of villages. After all, the raids on them continued and though we knew the danger, we couldn't simply leave them to die. The number of refugees increased, and our supplies soon stretched thin. I wasn't sure what I worried about most: our medicinal supplies or our food. It wasn't safe to forage, it was even less safe for travel, and a proper diet was important to maintaining good health. Already, some of our soldiers showed signs of anemia and it would only become worse. Yet I did not let my worries show. There were too many wounded.

"Lord Oifey, I need you to pass me those quills," I instructed, holding out one hand. I knew to wait a moment, as Lord Oifey needed to steel himself before approaching. "I do not want to lose the arrowhead." I also knew it helped to explain why I needed his assistance.

"H-here," Lord Oifey replied squeakily, the word stumbling out of his mouth. I studied him out of the corner of my eye as he handed me two quills, and decided he was both paler and greener than he'd been earlier. "Why do you shove those in the wound?"

"It's to cover the barbs of the arrowhead and allow me to safely remove it." Carefully, I slid the base of the feathers into the arrow wound on my patient's back, using my arm and fingers as guides. Only once I'd confirmed the barbs were covered did I actually begin extracting the arrowhead.

"I see." Lord Oifey's complexion blanched further at the blood streaming down my current patient's back, but he resolutely turned his attention to them, keeping his eyes on their face. "Sir, if I may, I have a few questions I wish to ask..."

I knew the routine by now. It was the same with almost every soldier I'd treated these past few days. Lady Ethlyn and Lady Edain focused on tending to the refugees while I managed the soldiers, and Lord Oifey insisted on helping me. He wanted to talk to the soldiers as soon as possible, for his own reasons, and seeing his resolve, I had accepted. Perhaps I shouldn't, given how poorly he faired amidst the blood and stench, yet he returned each day and followed my instructions. He was always careful to not strain the patient, and never pushed with his questions. He never asked so many he could not assist me when I needed it. So, how could I not support his resolve? Lord Sigurd never complained. If anything, he'd looked proud when he checked in those first few times.

When I finished with this batch of patients, Lord Oifey followed me to Lord Shanan's room. This, too, had become routine over the past few days. Once within, I would check on Lord Shanan's health and progress, and Lord Oifey would busy himself with jotting down notes and marking things on a map he insisted on rolling out on the table. He normally finished before me, and would set up my medicine-making supplies while he waited. Afterwards, he'd talk with Lord Shanan, letting the light-hearted chatter ease his heart, and so the two would remain for the rest of the day until Mister Finn returned from his patrols. Only then would the three settle into card games and stories, and I would either mend or make medicines as I kept an eye on them. Then everything would more or less repeat once the afternoon rolled in.

That was our usual. That was what I expected. It was not what happened. Halfway through my examination, Lord Oifey suddenly shouted and everything dissolved into chaos. Why? The sudden noise sent Lord Shanan spiralling into a panic.

"Easy, easy..." I whispered, crouching near Lord Shanan. His eyes were wide, his gaze unfocused. He shook uncontrollably, and struggled to breathe. He was clammy to the touch, his complexion pale. "Lord Shanan..." He choked on something, perhaps a scream, and withdrew from me. "I am here. You are safe." Normally, such a reassurance was enough, but not this time. "Lord Oifey?"

"Yes?" Lord Oifey replied, sounding breathless and surprisingly elated. "...Shanan?" However, by the time I looked over my shoulder, whatever glee he'd had fled for worry and guilt. "I... did I...?"

"Lord Oifey, I need you to fetch Lord Sigurd and Lady Ayra." Perhaps between the three of us, we could reassure him.

"Of course." Lord Oifey's expression steeled and he nodded curtly. "I'll be right back. Promise." So he said, but even as he strode to the door, we had our next complication.

"Is everyone all right?!" Namely, Sir Alec burst inside, sword at the ready, and Lord Shanan's panic only grew worse at the flash of the blade. "I... what?" he asked, looking around slowly. Lord Oifey looked exasperated, and perhaps another time, I might have been as well, but my focus was solely on helping Lord Shanan. It was hard. He gasped for air, and his pupils dilated large enough to nearly eclipse the iris. "I... I heard you shout, little lord. You never shout, so I thought there was a..."

"No, there's no attack," Lord Oifey answered slowly. He looked more and more unamused by the second. "Well, one needing blades." Sir Alec guiltily looked over at Lord Shanan and me, realizing what happened in an instance. "So, instead, how about you help me find our lord and Lady-?" Then came the third complication.

"Alec, are they okay?!" This time, it was Sir Naoise rushing in, who also had his blade in hand. "You're... standing around awkwardly, so I hope so," Sir Naoise commented, oblivious to the situation. "Though, that was certainly a loud shout, we heard it all the way in the stables, so what could have caused..." He was also completely oblivious to how the second blade only sent Lord Shanan spiraling further, becoming pale enough to pick out the individual capillaries in his face. And I... I... This way just...!

"Everyone out!" I found myself yelling. The volume surprised me as did how much my throat hurt from the strain. When... had I last yelled? I couldn't remember. I'd always been scolded and punished for yelling. Yelling, screaming... if it made my voice crackle like fire, Father Eirik had been quick to reprimand me. I had to be calm, in control. Blood would always tell, and given my father, any slip could mean ruin. He had always reminded me, and when I became a healer, he had scoffed at how 'improper' it was for a healer to lose her calm. So, I shouldn't yell. I shouldn't. Yet... "Out, out, out!" Yet not only did I yell, but I shoved Sir Alec, Sir Naoise, and even Lord Oifey out of the room entirely before shutting the door behind them.

As soon as it 'clicked' shut, I focused all of my attention on Lord Shanan, struggling to help him through this. Without thinking, I took his hands, and his eyes snapped to mine. I worried I made things worse myself, between this and my yelling, but a flash of clarity flicked through his otherwise unfocused eyes and he lunged forward to cling to me. I hugged him back as tightly as I dared, hoping it did not feel nearly as awkward for him as it did for me. After all, I had only hugged Arvis before... no, that wasn't true. I had hugged Azelle once. But it had only been them, certainly no one so small. Yet he clung and clung, trembling and gasping, and I would not let go. If he wanted a hug, then he would have one. If he needed something, anything, to ground him, then I had no qualms being that anchor. Whatever it took to help him feel safe once more, I would do.

Eventually, his breath evened. Eventually, his shaking stilled. Yet still, he clung to me, fingers twisted into the back of my dress. Thus still, I held him.

A quiet knock on the door was the only disruption to the stillness. Lord Shanan tensed in my arms, but when no one burst in, he relaxed once more. Slowly, he looked up at me, complexion showing some color at last, though still pale. I smiled at him, and nodded to the door in silent question. After a second, he nodded in equally silent answer, and buried his face into my chest once more, still scared, still panicked, but wanting to step forward.

Only when he settled did I turn to the door and call, "you may come in." Surprisingly, there was still a second's hesitation before it clicked open, but when I saw our visitor, it became obvious why. After all, though Lord Sigurd knew I would not allow anyone to enter without Lord Shanan's permission, he knew Lord Shanan might still need a breath or two to steel himself.

"I had a very contrite squire drag me from my office to hear the explanation from the even more contrite knights squirming in the halls," he noted lightly, both explaining his presence and making light of everything to brighten the mood. As typical, it worked. Lord Shanan lifted his head to smile shakily, and eased his grip on me some. He did not let go fully, though, so I continued holding him. "How are you feeling, Shanan?"

"I..." Lord Shanan tried to begin, but his voice was naught but a croak. He coughed to try and clear it. "I'm..."

"Easy, Shanan. You don't need to force yourself." Lord Sigurd sat on the bed with us and Lord Shanan shifted to simply lean against me. He kept a firm grip on me, though, so I only moved just enough to ensure both of us were comfortable. "Take it slow." He held out his hand, and Lord Shanan freed one of his to take it. He gripped it as tightly as he clung to me. "We're in no rush."

"Thank... thank you..." Lord Shanan took a couple of deep breaths, eyes darting between Lord Sigurd and me. "I think... I think I'll be fine...?" He ducked his head. "I... the noise and the weapons and... and..."

"You need not try to explain." Lord Sigurd squeezed his hand gently, smiling softly. "It happens. They're... ah, how best to explain..."

"...They're a medical condition, just as much as your cough is," I supplied softly, not wanting to speak loudly for fear of startling him. When Lord Shanan peeked up at me, I made sure to smile. "Unfortunately, wounds of the spirit and heart are not as easily treated as wounds on the body. They might never heal, truthfully. However, we can adapt and support, and that is exactly what we shall do."

"Trust our head healer to summarize it neatly," Lord Sigurd teased, turning his warm smile my way. I feared I heard a reprimand behind the words, about how unbecoming my own behavior had been, yet... yet it was hard to believe when the words were paired with so genuine a smile. "So, there is nothing for you to apologize for, Shanan. I do, however, wish to know if there is anything else we can do for you."

"I can make some tea." In fact, I probably should. He was due for his next dose of medicine anyway. "We should also have someone make warm milk with honey for you."

"I sent Alec to do that already." Of course he did. "Tea, warm milk with honey..." Lord Sigurd focused on Lord Shanan, who frowned thoughtfully. "Is there anything we can do to help you feel safer?"

"I already know I'm safe," Lord Shanan answered without the slightest pause. His voice was raspy, but clearer. "You two are here."

"And we always will be," Lord Sigurd murmured, reaching for him with his other hand. He waited for Lord Shanan to nod, and then ruffled his hair gently. "Ah, while we get everything settled, do you mind if I have Oifey return? Whatever had him shouting, he left it in here." It... it was more 'he was forced to leave it when I threw him out', but I certainly wasn't going to bring that up right now.

Instead, once Lord Shanan nodded permission, Lord Sigurd left to fetch Lord Oifey and I helped Lord Shanan change into some fresh clothes. It let me visibly see the weight he'd regain, and it was a comfort to see. I'd need to mend some more clothes for him within the next few days in anticipation, but for now, the ones I already had sufficed. He certainly didn't seem to mind, even if he made a face at being unable to dress himself still. I was glad to see him recovered enough to get frustrated.

At last, however, a knock on the door signalled Lord Sigurd's return. "Come in!" Lord Shanan called, his voice shaking only slightly. There was still a pause before the door opened to reveal a smiling Lord Sigurd standing with a morose Lord Oifey. "Hello."

"Hello," Lord Oifey mumbled, keeping his head down. Lord Sigurd and I shared a look and a small shrug. "I'm... really sorry about earlier... I didn't... um..." Still, it was best for everyone involved to keep walking forward instead of staying mired.

"What had you so excited?" Lord Sigurd prompted, keeping the conversation to safer waters. He gently nudged Lord Oifey to actually step inside and closed the door behind them. "You've been working hard these past few days. Has it born fruit?"

"I think so? Maybe?" Lord Oifey fussed with his cuffs, gaze still fixed to the floor. "It's on the table here… um…" But finally, he did raise his head to look at Lord Shanan. "Do you want to see as well, Shanan? It… I don't know… maybe it'll help? I mean…"

"…Can I?" Lord Shanan asked, his own voice hesitant. He looked up at me curiously, and smiled when I nodded. "Then yes, I think I would like that."

Of course, Lord Shanan could not walk on his own quite yet, but Lord Sigurd picked him up before any of us could comment on it. I pulled a chair out for him, and busied myself with making tea while the three situated themselves. When it was done, and I brought it over, I thought about walking away. But when I took a step, Lord Shanan grabbed a fistful of my skirt, so I remained behind him, with my hands on his shoulders, as both Lord Oifey and Lord Sigurd leaned over the map.

"I've been gathering testimonies from the wounded the past few days," Lord Oifey explained, tracing one of the numerous lines and symbols hastily sketched onto the map. Lord Sigurd nodded and leaned a little closer, resting a hand on Lord Oifey's back. "Where they were heading, what routes they took, approximate area of ambushes, who in the group was hit first… things of that nature."

"Ah, so that's why you were so insistent on helping Miss Alicia," Lord Sigurd murmured, smiling faintly. He tapped one of the symbols, and I wondered what it meant. Yet now did not seem to be the time to ask. "You would want such information as quickly as possible."

"Yes." Lord Oifey snatched a nearby pen and drew some dotted lines on the map. "No matter how random the attacks may seem, I knew there had to be a pattern. Crown Prince Munnir's forces have to have a base camp. There would be no way to coordinate otherwise. So, I mapped and analyzed the testimonies, and…" He drew three circles in specific locations; I noticed all three were within comfortable range of every line and symbol. "Then I calculated the most probably locations for their base camp."

"A way to potentially break the stalemate we're trapped in." Lord Sigurd grinned and affectionately ruffled Lord Oifey's hair. "You continue to amaze and astound!" Lord Oifey, meanwhile, all but preened at the praise. "We'll need to call a meeting at once with everyone to discuss the best plan of attack." It would have to be quickly. Even I knew 'stalemate' was the most optimistic way to describe our current situation.

"I'll inform Lord Quan!" Despite the cheer, Lord Oifey smiled apologetically at Lord Shanan. "I… when I realized I could narrow it down, I got excited…"

"I'm confused how you got anything from these squiggles," Lord Shanan replied, staring wide-eyed at the map. He even poked it, as if it would make more sense if he did. "Can you tell me how later? I know the meeting is more important, and I'm… really tired."

"I'd be glad to!" Lord Oifey agreed, smiling brightly. It almost rivaled Lord Sigurd's own smile in brightness. "Though, you may have to poke me a few times if I speak too fast. Finn says I have a habit of talking quickly over very technical things."

"So, like how we have to poke you when you overthink at cards?"

"I… well…" Lord Oifey looked away sullenly, and Lord Shanan laughed. I felt myself relax at the sound; I hadn't realized how tense I still was. "Um…"

"Be sure to take your tea with you," I instructed, 'rescuing' Lord Oifey. His immediate grateful look nearly made me laugh. "I'll bring some more by later, as I'm certain this meeting shall last a while."

Both of them left so quickly I feared they'd spill their tea. But thankfully, neither did and Lord Shanan and I were not left alone long. I had just settled Lord Shanan back under the covers when someone knocked on the door again. After checking with Lord Shanan, I opened it to find Lord Lex standing there, carrying a tray with three mugs.

"I believe someone requested warm milk with honey?" he explained, in a joking tone. Smiling slightly, I took the tray from him without a word, and he snatched two of the mugs. "I figured you might like a story, Shanan."

Lord Shanan, of course, immediately brightened at the prospect of both warm milk and a story, and eagerly listened as Lord Lex jumped into a wild tale of dashing pirates, of all things. I only half-listened, carrying the tray to the back table before inspecting the mug I guessed was mine. By the smell alone, I discovered it was apple cider, and I couldn't help but smile more at the quiet thoughtfulness. So, I left it to cool while I made medicines, and kept one eye on the pair, just in case Lord Shanan pushed himself too much.

I imagine such quiet moments would be rare in the next few days. I had best take advantage of them while I could.

---

Plans were drafted, discarded, remade, and set. Within minutes of the final 'I' being dotted and the final 't' crossed, the soldiers moved out, eager to end this conflict with one final push. Of course, it remained to be seen if it would actually be the case. My main concern was for the wounded, and I hoped our system would work as efficiently as planned. Lady Ethlyn would be our 'on the field' medic, performing quick heals and initial triage. Lady Edain would run our field infirmary, tending to those who could fight but badly needed treatment. I would remain here in Genoa, in charge of the 'main' infirmaries, where the most grievously injured would reside. As I was still the 'head healer', I would also take stock of all inventory for us. I could nearly grind my teeth in frustration at how I still underestimated just how much medicine we needed. That wouldn't do. It wouldn't. I would have to replenish them as quickly as possible, and then make more. But that would be later. For now, I had other things to do.

"Azelle sure does check on you a lot," Mister Dew observed, voice a little uneven from exertion. After all, he carried a rather heavy box for me, at his insistence, leaving me free to carry two large baskets of blankets to a room down the hall. I wanted it prepped as an extra infirmary, just in case. This operation would take a few days, at least, and who knew just how many would be injured? It was best to be prepared. "Think he fancies you?"

"I highly doubt that is the case," I replied, keeping my expression and voice even despite my sudden urge to laugh or be scandalized. He didn't know I was Azelle's sister, after all, so Azelle's endearing fussing might seem unusual to him. "He's a little stir-crazy, since he was asked to remain behind." All three of Lord Oifey's most probable locations had been deep within the forest, and fire magic was not necessarily the best to use in such location. One of Fjalar's blood could easily accidentally spark a conflagration, which was the last thing any of us wanted. "So, he looks for things to do. However, it seems my little helper is much too quick for him."

"I'm not little!" Mister Dew made a face, and I had to bite back a smile. He was much shorter than most in the army, certainly shorter than his estimated age of thirteen would suggest. Lord Shanan was one of the few smaller than he. "Just wait! I'm going to hit a growth spurt!" Of course he would. I imagine it would be within the next couple of years. "And I... wait, you changed the subject!"

"Hmm? Whatever do you mean?"

"Fine, fine." Mister Dew scowled. "But when he confesses, I'm going to say 'I told you so!'." That would never happen.

"Despite what some romance novels may depict, I fear the job of healing is not the most romantic of professions, nor is an infirmary conductive to such atmospheres." At least, I had heard of such tales, mostly from patients gossiping while I tended to them. "Even Lady Edain and Sir Midir are more 'a lady and her knight', not 'a healer and her patient'."

"Wonder when he's going to pop the question. It's gotta be soon, right?" I would not be the one to explain the two were not 'officially' courting yet. "Or is it the lady who asks in Grannvale?" Why did he think I was the one to ask? "Meh, whatever. I'll ask Edain when she gets back."

"Try to make sure she's taking a break?"

"I'll try." He grunted as he adjusted his grip on the box. "Sure feel sorry for Azelle, though. That'll be two unrequiteds for him." Oh, what was I to do about this? "Beaten out by fancy knights both times, too." Now what was he...? No, I actually didn't want to try and figure it out. I wanted away from this conversation about my little brother.

"Dew, are you certain you don't want to switch?" I focused my attention on his hands, noting how red his fingers were becoming. "I can carry the box easily."

"No, I've got it!" He frowned stubbornly, and I couldn't quite bite back my little sigh. "It's... a little heavier than I thought, but we can't be much farther now."

"No, we're not." Well, if he wouldn't agree, I couldn't force. I would, however, insist on tending to his hands as soon as we were there. "Actually, I had a thought."

"Yes?"

"You know the land much better than anyone else here, save for the refugees..." Yet, for some reason, he had been asked to stay behind.

"Oh, that." Mister Dew looked away, his expression very carefully neutral. "I'm bad in a fight, but I'm good at running."

"Hmm?"

"I'm small and I'm quick. I'm good at hiding, and I know the land. If this place gets attacked, I can slip out and get the message to them. At least, that's what Lord Sigurd thought." He shrugged, but the self-recrimination in his eyes screamed louder. "Basically, I'm good at running away and that's it."

"That isn't so." I said the words without thinking, and Mister Dew frowned up at me. "Even if it was, though, is there shame in it? If we are under siege, it will be difficult for us. Our supplies are already dwindling and we must care for the soldiers and refugees who remain." I made sure to smile and pretend I wasn't making this up as I spoke. Ah, why did I say anything in the first place? He had simply looked worn and I... "It will be your job to ensure we receive help, and ensure our reinforcements arrive before our defenses buckle." I should try to study some military terminology at some point. It might help me pretend to be competent. "Not all heroes are made on the battlefield, Mister Dew." His 'response' was instant skepticism, and I couldn't blame him. After all, I... I couldn't think of any. When one thought 'heroes'... the only ones I knew of were the Crusaders. I did not know of any other sort of heroic tale. Yet... "You may ask Lord Lex for a story later." Yet with all the stories Lord Lex had told Lord Shanan, surely he, at least, knew of one or two?

"I..." He stared at me for a long moment before looking down shyly, a blush mottling his face all the way to his ears. "Um... I'll think about it. So... uh..."

"Though, I hope you'll forgive me for hoping things will not come to that. The injured need rest if they are to mend." There had to be some way to end this subject properly. I had reached the end of my tether. "I would also hate to lose such a reliable helper."

"I'm just carrying things!" Still, Dew glanced up and when he smiled, it was shy yet genuine. "What am I carrying anyway? I only know it has stars drawn on the box for some reason."

"Oh, that..." How was I supposed to explain the crudely drawn stars were my fault? It was simply a habit I'd had since I was young, to use stars in varying numbers and, when I could, colors to label things. At least, I used them until I had the time to properly label them. "It's primarily surgery tools."

"So, like the things you use to drill a hole into a person's skull?"

"Thanks to my staves, I do not have to perform trepannings, nor do I need to use a trephine to study the marrow within the bone. As such, there is not one in the box."

"Tre... what now?"

"That's what its called when you have to cut a hole in someone's skull."

"It has a name?!"

Mister Dew's surprise at learning there was a specific name for said surgery did not stem his curiosity as he immediately wanted to know medical terms for various other things, from conditions to surgeries. I answered each one to the best of my abilities, amused by his reaction. The questions did not abate even after we finished our task and, if not for Sir Midir requesting his assistance with something, it might have continued even as I left to give Lord Shanan his morning checkup. Of course, I would not have minded if Mister Dew had accompanied me. With both Lord Oifey and Mister Finn among the troops who marched, I worried Lord Shanan might feel lonely. Then again, perhaps he did not, as he was rarely left alone for long.

"Hey, Ayra, I've a question for you," Lord Lex asked, leaning back in his chair to look up at her. Surprisingly, he had also been among those who remained behind, and he used the break to tell more stories to Lord Shanan. While I gave Lord Shanan his checkups, though, he had to find other ways to spend his time, particularly on days like today when I chose to perform said checkup at the table. Today, he apparently decided to force Lady Ayra, who was here to check on Lord Shanan, into a conversation.

"Somehow, I'm unsurprised," Lady Ayra grumbled, scowling down at him from her place against the wall. As Lord Sigurd and I had anticipated, she had insisted on fighting; however, she had actually wished to leave with Lord Sigurd instead of remaining behind. Thankfully, she had listened when Lord Sigurd explained I worried for her health in full battle, yet it was still surprising. "What inane thing are you going to pester me about today?"

"Now, now, this one is mostly serious." He grinned and she rolled her eyes. I kept one eye on them while tending to Lord Shanan, just in case. "Surprisingly, I know." After all, Lord Lex seemed to delight in pulling Lady Ayra's tail.

"If you end up a patient of Miss Alicia's, it's not my fault."

"I don't trouble her anyway." ...Well, someone was getting a checkup as soon as I was finished. "I was just curious, though. Given your prickly and protective tendencies, I would've thought you would demand to remain." Lady Ayra's scowl deepened, but Lord Lex kept the easygoing yet serious look. "Yet, you wanted to fight. Why?"

"Tch... do I seem like a warmonger?" Lady Ayra bristled, her words scathing. I… tried to make the connection and wondered if she'd stopped listening at the 'prickly' part. "Due to the massacre at Darna?"

"Given my old man is the one who brought news back, I am fully and completely skeptical about what he actually saw." He leaned further back in his chair, actually tipping it to brace against the wall next to Lady Ayra. Lady Ayra shifted over a step, and leaned more firmly against the wall. "So, no, nothing like that. Just, as I said, it's unexpected."

"..." Lady Ayra glared, but Lord Lex met her gaze calmly. Eventually, she relented. "I simply wished to follow Sigurd."

"Oh?"

"Yes, he... he is unlike any I have met before. Not simply among Grannvale's nobility, but... everyone." She sighed, and crossed her arms. "He shines far too much to lie, yet the light does not scorch those who come near. Instead, it... envelops them. Keeps them safe and sheltered."

"Like Shanan."

"Yes, and... me." Her mouth quirked in an imitation of a wry smile. "Quan told me. Of those who wish to interrogate me about Darna. Of how much Sigurd risks to keep us both safe."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised he blabbed." Lord Lex shrugged and tucked his hands behind his head. "I'd wager it was while questioning you."

"Odd way to put it."

"We both know how Grannvale typically handles interrogations." He growled slightly at the word, then stiffened and glanced worriedly at Lord Shanan. It took me a long second to realize he worried about scaring him. Thankfully, Lord Shanan was too busy listening to my instructions and holding still. "Torture is putting it mildly."

"I've heard the rumors."

"That's just the things they want you to hear about. The truth is worse." Lord Lex's smile was sharp, jagged with bitter hatred. Yet he did not elaborate further. Then again, there were rumors on how harshly his father treated rebels and traitors… "Quan, however, would've just sat down with you and asked you directly. So, 'questioning'."

"You forgot to mention ambushing me while I was on my way back to the infirmary for a check-up." She scowled, no doubt remembering, and Lord Lex actually snickered. "But yes, I know. It simply..." She struggled for the words she wanted, and Lord Lex waited for her to find them. "He has spent time with Shanan every day, despite his own duties. He has checked on me just as much. His every action is nearly blinding with sincerity. His every word shines with the same."

"Supposedly, he's always been like that."

"Has he?" Lady Ayra closed her eyes. "I... was always taught the brightest of lights burn out the fastest. They shine and shine, burning themselves from the inside out, until naught is left but ash. Yet that light is Shanan's greatest protection."

"Ah, I think I get it now." Lord Lex leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. His chair settled on all fours with a quiet 'clack'. "You are protecting Shanan. But indirectly."

"And while I cannot trust Grannvale, I... have chosen to trust Sigurd, if only a little." Her voice grew smaller and more tired by the word. "He risks much for our sake."

"He does, and he'd risk more in a heartbeat. No, even less than that." Lord Lex smiled when she glanced at him. "Which, truthfully, is its own kind of shield as well. It's something everyone in Grannvale knows. He's the knight in shining armor, always willing to risk all and more to do what he believes is right. To protect those around him with all his reckless loyalty." He chuckled then. "However, everyone also knows Sigurd is one of Grannvale's strongest warriors. If anyone in Grannvale tries to harm you and Shanan, they'll face the full strength of his blade."

"Suddenly, it's not surprising at all for him to capture three castles while severely outnumbered." Lady Ayra's voice was dry, and almost brittle, but a brief bit of humor danced in her eyes and, so, Lord Lex laughed. "Still, if anything, I worry more. If they cannot defeat him in strength of arms, they will turn to subterfuge. The light he shines may cast away shadows, but too much light can blind. One would only need to mask their own shadows in light long enough to slip close enough for a fatal wound, and Grannvale excels in such masks."

"True, but that's why Quan is here. And his knights know to keep watch for such." Lord Lex remained reassuring and confident. "He'll last at least until Alicia here clears you for full battle. Then you can guard him, and thus Shanan, yourself."

"Mmm..."

"Um... Miss Alicia?" Lord Shanan's voice drew my attention away from the two, and when I focused fully on him, I saw he had tipped his head back to rest against the back of the chair and look at me. "I am... getting better, right?" he asked softly, his words wavering. Fear and worry practically radiated off him, and despite his attempts to hide it, they pooled in his eyes as threatened tears.

So, I made sure to smile, as warmly and reassuringly as I could. "You are," I confirmed. The fear and worry did not immediately recede, but he did smile very slightly. It was as scared as the rest of him. "You are healing very well, day by day. It should not be long before we can have you walk on your own to build back your strength."

"Really?"

"Indeed. They will be short walks at first, and you will grow tired quickly. But your strength shall return, and then you shall be racing through the halls faster than anyone." Awkwardly, I brushed a thumb over his cheek, for the tears he still refused to shed. His smile grew. "I promise."

"Okay." It was all he said, but his smile grew even more and he closed his eyes to simply lean his head against my arm. Though I did not quite understand why he did so, I let him and simply used my free hand to continue my checkup. Meanwhile, Lord Lex and Lady Ayra's conversation continued in hushed tones, too soft for me to overhear.

Once, when I glanced at them, I saw Lady Ayra smiling at me. I didn't know why, but I tried to smile back. I could only hope it meant she thought I was doing a proper job.

---

"Seems we're low on the headache remedies," Azelle commented, checking over the inventory for me. If anyone asked, it was to provide a second set of eyes to ensure my numbers were accurate. "Do we really go through so many?"

"Those and hangover remedies are perhaps the most used among the army," I replied absently, pretending to be studying. In truth, however, I was reading a letter. Arvis took advantage of Azelle being here to sneak me one too, and Azelle used 'helping me' as an excuse to bring it to me. "I have more steeping, and two jugs worth of both should be ready by evening."

"I'll tally that into my notes then!" Azelle hummed a song while he continued to work, and I smiled before focusing back on my letter. Of course, I truly should have been studying, but it was soothing to hear from my dear older brother.

'Word has spread back even to Belhalla of Sigurd's triumphs and, of course, how skilled his Chief Healer is.' It was so easy to imagine his proud grin as he wrote the words. 'It never fails to brighten my morning when I hear the praise, and encourages me to keep moving when I find my own spirits flagging. No, don't frown.' As usual, I had to sulk, just a little, at how he easily predicted my reaction at reading that sentence. 'I am getting adequate rest, confirmed by Cowen himself, and Aida keeps close track for me. Though, at the request of Azelle (no doubt spurred on by you), she raided my office and room to remove anything which remotely resembled a 'stimulant'. Of which there were none, because I do not wish to risk your wrath! Yet these items include the bin of tea you made me! She refuses to give it back until you've confirmed it safe. (Please, send a note to her via Azelle soon? I miss my favorite tea.)' At that, however, I couldn't help but snicker, far too easily imagining his distressed pout, though I did my best to bite it back.

"What is it?" Azelle asked, having heard it anyway. He came over to my table to peek over my shoulder, frowning slightly. "He's much more relaxed when writing to you. I can tell just by the penmanship." I supposed the free-flowing scrawl was very different from the more precise script he used for everything else.

"Is he? I suppose it's because he did not have to raise me," I murmured, doing my best to school my expression. Even with my best efforts, a smile forced its way onto my face anyway. "He would dislike placing any sort of burden on you."

"Then how did you get him to admit things? I know he'd rather not burden you either."

"I'm the more stubborn of us two." A memory bubbled up, and my smile grew. "He did try to keep quiet, during his second visit. I sat on the pew and just stared until he confessed what was wrong."

"How did that work? I've tried that! He'd just smile and ruffle my hair!"

"As I said, I'm the more stubborn." After all, he'd tried the same evasion with me. "It took... oh... four hours before he cracked." I wouldn't say we sat in silence for four hours, of course. I would just always direct the conversation back to it.

"...Okay, yeah, I never did that." He sighed gustily. "Well, what had you amused, then?"

"Apparently, Aida took your worry over Arvis using stimulants very seriously and confiscated anything and everything which could potentially be a stimulant." I couldn't help but snicker once more, imagining his yelps of protest when he discovered what she'd done. "She took the tea mix I made, and refuses to let him have it until I've confirmed its what he claims it is."

"It's his own fault, using them in the first place." Still, Azelle grinned, amused as well. "I suppose we should show some mercy and send a note as soon as possible. I know I'd be distressed if she took my tin from me."

"Speaking of which, I should make you up some."

"No need yet! I brought mine with me! And Lex brought his too."

"Did he?" I sighed in relief, knowing he liked it so. I had only made up one for him and Tailtiu recently, uncertain how they would be received. "Please, let him know he can request any changes. I made it based on what you've said over the years."

"I will." Azelle smiled for a split-second before stiffening and jerking his head to the door.

Before I had time to ask, however, Sir Arden thumped inside, heavy armor surprisingly quiet. "The enemy is within the walls," he informed us, quite calm given the surprising words. "We're looking into how they breached our defenses, but Lord Azelle?"

"On it!" Azelle reassured, knowing what he'd need. He set his notes on the table, and I tucked them, and Arvis's letter, into my book before shutting it. "Where am I needed?"

"For now, the front gates." Sir Arden moved out of the way to let Azelle bolt down the hall. "Miss Alicia?"

"Has Mister Dew left yet?" I asked, rushing to the back room to snatch a satchel I'd stashed in the farthest corner. Then I quickly check the contents as I returned. "If he has not, can you give this to him?" I held the satchel out, and Sir Arden took it. "It's just basic medicines, but..."

"I will gladly give this to him," he reassured, smiling warmly. I smiled back. "For now, however, can you please move to the main infirmary? With the enemies inside, it will be much harder to defend you."

"I shall." Though, I did worry about Lord Shanan... then again, Lady Ayra had no doubt gone straight to him... perhaps I could swing by? ...No, my duties were to more than one patient, though Lord Shanan was... "Thank you."

Though my thoughts continued to twist, I strode down the hall as if I knew exactly what I was doing. Eventually, I settled with 'check the main infirmary, prepare another one for the wounded to come, and then check on Lord Shanan', and mentally prioritized everything I would need. The list... had not included persuading some of the less wounded to not leave their beds and fight. I hadn't expected them to insist, and I only managed to get a few to cooperate by phrasing it as them guarding their more wounded fellows. It was unnerving, to see them in such a hurry to rush to their deaths, but I did not let it show. I couldn't. There was much more to do, along with deciding just which of the empty rooms would suit best. Perhaps...

"Well, look here..." I had just lost sight of the main infirmary when I heard someone chuckle behind me. When I tried to turn, they snatched me by the hair and yanked me back towards them. "Stupid of them to leave such easy prey alone," they continued, still chuckling. I wondered just how I didn't see them, before I realized they... were half inside the wall. Though, the wall was now open... and only then did the final piece 'click' into place: secret passages. Of course the castle would have some, and of course our enemy would know them. All they had to do was keep our attention fixed outside our walls, and slip in close. "Well, no skin off my nose." One arm slung around me like an iron band and the person dragged me with them as if I was naught but a sack of wool. "Now, where's the best place to turn the tides?"

I knew I should scream. I was in danger; I should scream. There were soldiers, wounded as they were, down the hall. I should scream. Yet, I... I couldn't. While the enemy dragged me down the hall, I tried to draw air into my lungs to scream as loud as I possibly could. But I couldn't. I would remember Father Eirik. I would remember his lectures. I would remember how he'd ignore me if I yelled, ignored me until I 'behaved properly', ignore me until I 'stopped behaving like my father'. I would remember... and the sound dried up in my throat. The remnants lodged and would not move. Thus, I remained silent and visibly calm, just as I was taught.

Soldiers tried to attack, of course. With an enemy sauntering through the halls, who wouldn't? But they froze when they saw he had a 'shield' and he swatted them aside like flies. I worried for their injuries and had the presence of mind to try and dig my heels in some effort to slow him. It didn't work, of course. On my third attempt, he actually scooped me up over his shoulder to continue carrying me unimpeded. I would never carry a sack like this again.

"Munnir!" At some point, I heard Azelle shouting, his voice harsher than I had ever heard. Though my captor turned at the name, it still took my muddled mind a second to realize he was Crown Prince Munnir. "How dare you...?!" I wondered what his expression was. His voice was still harsh, crackling like fire. But I couldn't see. All I could see was Crown Prince Munnir's back, and how he had blood encrusted in the buckles of his armor. "Let her go!"

"Do we have another brat playing at war?" Crown Prince Munnir scoffed, his grip tightening on my legs. His free hand brandished his axe, glinting eerily in the light. "If you go to war, then you go for the jugular, not the capillaries." I was rather impressed he knew the difference, truthfully, as terrible as the thought was. Though, hadn't his earlier strategy been 'bleeding us out'? "Why give up such a perfect shield?" You know… I could probably try to wriggle free? Though, with how he'd slung me over his shoulder, my right arm was awkwardly pinned between myself and his neck, but my left was mostly free? I could push myself up, at least, and perhaps… then again, his grip on my legs was strong, bruising even. Could I break it? I… didn't think I could… "Now, let's get rid of the fire now, brat. You wouldn't want to burn the pretty wench here, would you?" At those words, however, all my thoughts focused on a single thing: my greatest fear. They focused on the whole reason why I never moved to Velthomer with Arvis, the whole reason I chose to remain the 'hidden child'.

I would not be used against Arvis. I would not be used against Azelle. I would not be used against any I loved. If someone tried, then I'd take a knife to my throat. I swore this to myself long ago, a quiet oath I made when I first met my brother all those years ago. Yet I did not have a blade on me, and Crown Prince Munnir's axe was too far away. All I had was the blasted magic in my veins, the flames of the Fire God Salamander which would scorch all in their path. Not even the user themselves was fully exempt from this, and overextension could easily lead to them burning themselves alive... or they could do it on purpose. 'Final Strike', it was called, an oddly straightforward name for a technique associated with the Crusaders of eld. The stories claimed Fjalar used her life's blood as a catalyst for a terrible inferno which scorched an entire forest until naught but plains remained even now, and would have consumed even herself if not for Bragi diving into the flames and utilizing the powerful Valkyrie Staff to save her.

I would not be used. I would not be used against my precious little brother. If Crown Prince Munnir thought he could, then... well, I could not say I would not hesitate, even if my choice was clear. I was a healer; my job was saving lives, not taking. I would much prefer only taking my own in this situation. Yet if the Final Strike was my only option, if it was the only way to ensure I would not be used against Azelle, then I would selfishly choose him over my ideals.

Still, I had to time it carefully. I would have no control of the flames once they burst from my veins. I would have no control of the size or ferocity. I would have no control of who they consumed. So, though I focused on the magic in my blood, though the temperature of the surrounding air slowly increased, I held back. I had to make sure Crown Prince Munnir was far enough away from Azelle. I had to make sure he was far enough away from our soldiers. It was hard. I couldn't rely on my ears; my pulse pounded too loud for me to hear. I struggled to lift myself up long enough to look, but Crown Prince Munnir's armor made it difficult. He kept moving, and his axe slung blood, so I assumed he fought… should I risk it anyway or…?

The glint of a blade flashed in the corner of my eye, though it was strange. Though there was but one glint, I swore there were five flashes, each one edged in sparkling green stars. Each one struck Crown Prince Munnir with deceptive skill, and when the last flash faded, Crown Prince Munnir jerked and buckled, letting go of me in the process. I slipped forward, almost landing on my face, but someone caught me with a pained grunt and twisted so I stood upright next to them, with our backs to the wall.

"Damn, I'm weaker than I thought, to not kill you with that." It was only when she spoke that I realized Lady Ayra had been the one to save me. "Annoying bastard," she grumbled, standing firmly in front of me. I blinked slowly, trying to process everything. It... ah... it didn't truly work. Everything felt hazy...

In truth, I did not process anything over the next couple of minutes, or perhaps it was only seconds. I ended up in a room on my own, with sounds of fighting just beyond the door. Automatically, I checked myself over for injuries. There were bruises over my collarbone and the back of my calves, no doubt from Crown Prince Munnir. Clusters of blisters had erupted on my upper arms, likely from the aborted Final Strike. Both were easy to hide for now; I'd treat them later when I had a moment. As it was...

"Miss Alicia?" As it was, the door opened, and there was Lady Ayra once more. "The fighting is done, though the bastard managed to slither off," she informed me, striding in. She had a gash across her cheek; it bled sluggishly. "We'll have to increase internal patrols. It was shortsighted of us to not consider secret passages."

"Lady Ayra, what are you doing here?" The words were out before I could stop them, clunking and thunking their way in my head as they tumbled from my mouth. I still... needed to process everything. "I would have thought you'd be with Lord Shanan," I continued, speaking as I thought. No, I spoke even before I thought. Lady Ayra frowned in response. "Was he injured? Did the noise spark another panic?" Ah, but if that was the case, then I should not be standing here staring like an idiot. "No, pay me no heed. I'll check on him at once." Then, once I'd confirmed his health, I would treat the soldiers who were wounded. "Is he in his room still?" Without waiting for a reply, I walked out as briskly as I could, mentally cataloguing everything I'd need to do. Processing what just occurred could wait. My injuries could wait. I had patients to treat.

It was my duty, after all. It was why I was here. I had to be even more useful, now that I had proven to be a burden once. That was the only way... they'd let me stay...

---

Time held no meaning. It felt as if I had only just started treating the injured before I'd been informed our soldiers returned. Maybe I had. However, when I tried to triage the newly arrived injured, I found myself thrown out of my own infirmary by Lady Edain and Lady Ethlyn. They said I should speak with Lord Sigurd, which made little sense to me. Then again, perhaps this was simply part of being the Chief Healer, and I supposed I could hear a report from them about just what had happened.

"Hmm? Ah, Miss Alicia!" Lord Sigurd certainly greeted me as if there was nothing unusual about me meeting them at the gates. "Dew made it to us safely, though I see you all fended off the assault," he commented, leading his horse to the side so others could still pass. It took me a long moment to remember Dew would have, in fact, dashed off as a messenger. Did the satchel ever reach him? I didn't know, and did not see him amidst the returning soldiers yet. Then again, I did not see Lord Oifey either. Maybe they were both with Mister Finn? Though, I did not know where he was. "I must apologize. We successfully found and launched an assault on their camp, but..."

"Was Crown Prince Munnir not there?" I asked, clasping my hands in front of me. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do? "Had he already made his way here?"

"Worse." Lord Sigurd sighed, his shoulders drooping at the memory. "He used his own soldiers as shields to escape. I imagine he then decided to take advantage of our absence."

"I see." I supposed... it matched his previous tactics. "What of the wounded?" Lord Sigurd grimaced slightly, and immediately, I worried. "Do we have any badly injured?"

"All of our injured are stable and accounted for, Miss Alicia!" Lord Quan suddenly answered for Lord Sigurd, swinging down from his horse to land lightly next to us. When I glanced up, I saw Mister Finn riding past, with Lord Oifey riding at his side. Mister Dew dozed against Lord Oifey's back, barely remaining in the saddle. What a relief to see them safe... "No deaths and I think the worst was a twisted ankle." I somehow doubted that. Lord Sigurd's frown hinted to more. Yet when he actually made to say something... "Sigurd." Lord Quan quieted him with a look, and a firm, if gentle, tone. "We already talked about this. You're at war." Despite the gentleness, Lord Sigurd looked away, locking his jaw to keep from replying. "In light of recent events, you will only lose the confidence of your own if you lend aid. Letting them simply leave is a great enough risk." Lord Sigurd clenched his fist, visibly holding his words back, and I... I slowly pieced together what they spoke of. "Especially in light of the terribly great risks you have taken to shelter Shanan and Ayra." ...Perhaps he was correct. Perhaps it was the way of war. However... "You cannot afford-"

"Please, forgive me for interrupting, but I'd like clarification," I began, slowly and softly. The words felt clunky in my mouth, and sounded even clunkier to my ear. "But do we have injured left behind on the battlefield?" In fact, they felt as uneven as a toddler taking their first steps. Yet the quiet indignation slowly burning a hole in my heart forced them out anyway.

The indignation spiked when Lord Quan sighed. "We left our enemies behind, instead of-"

"Well, I had best gather my medicine bag and staff." I shouldn't have interrupted. I shouldn't have snapped. I knew this. Yet the indignation, the frustration, burned and burned and threatened to consume all of my heart. "With Lady Ethlyn and Lady Edain here, I do not believe any of our own injured require my direct attention." Though my initial examinations had been cut short, they had seemed typical and relatively minor. If what Lord Quan said was true, then the newly returned would not strain our infirmaries. "So, it is best I leave as soon as possible." The earlier we could give them treatment, the more likely they would survive.

"...What?" Lord Quan blinked slowly, staring as if I'd grown a second head. "Are... are you serious?"

"I do worry for Lord Shanan, but I gave him a checkup earlier." He had thankfully been well, though fighting back against his panic and fears. "His next one won't be until the evening." Though Lord Quan attempted to respond, I ignored him. Instead, I focused on Lord Sigurd, for he was the one I had to convince. Lord Sigurd, for his part, looked back at me in a familiar studying manner. It was the same look he gave me prior to leading me to Lord Shanan in the dungeons. "Actually, this might provide an opportunity to discern if he is comfortable enough with Lady Ethlyn and Lady Edain for treatment. That is, of course, his choice and I will tend to him on my return." I... had a point to this. Somewhere, there was a point to this. If only I could find and voice it...!

"...Do you intend on walking?" Lord Sigurd asked, smiling slowly. It was a bright, conspiratorial smile, and I smiled back, relieved he'd heard what I'd wanted to say despite my awkward words. "I believe my horse would be much faster."

"I shall walk if I must, but I shan't refuse an escort," I answered, with a little shrug. Lord Quan looked quickly between us with slowly widening eyes. "Can you be spared?"

"As you can see, I have not yet crossed the gates." He gestured at the gates in question, and I saw he was correct. While Lord Quan and I were within the gates boundaries, he was not. "As such, I have not officially 'returned' yet."

"Well, if you can arrange a little message to request some follow us with additional supplies? Stretchers might be needed as well."

"It shouldn't be hard."

"Are you two serious?" Lord Quan half-demanded, forcing his way back into the conversation. Despite his clear, even palpable, exasperation, neither of us was deterred. In fact, both of us kept smiling. "Do we even have the supplies for this?"

"We shall find out," I 'answered', since it was the only sort of answer I had. Truthfully, I didn't know. If I had to guess, I would say 'no' and, worse, I knew this argument was valid. However, I couldn't... I couldn't just let this be. I could replace medicines. I couldn't replace a life. "Lord Sigurd, give me but a moment to pack. I shall return anon."

Lord Quan tried to stop us. I'm certain of it. Yet I paid him no heed, as I had things to do. He wasn't at the gates by the time I returned to a smirking Lord Sigurd, so I assumed he won whatever argument they had. I didn't ask. I simply let him help me onto his horse and off we were, traveling at a hard gallop back to where our soldiers had been fighting, back to where wounded were now dying.

The 'enemy camp' itself was a mess. That was, perhaps, the kindest way to describe it. Everything from tents to the campfire was in disarray, and the soldiers… they desperately tried to help their fellows. The bright green grass barely peeked out from between the haphazardly sprawled bodies and the rich crimson blood which spilled and seeped from them. So many shouted, so many cried, and so many were all too silent to it all.

"We need to get them organized," I whispered, sliding out of the saddle. My skirt caught on a buckle, but Lord Sigurd freed it with ease before dismounting behind me. "The wounded and the dead need to be separated. We need to boil water for sterilization. We need…" There was so much we needed.

"Tell me, and I'll see it done as best as we can," Lord Sigurd reassured. He pulled his saddlebags off his horse and rifled through for anything which could be of use. "You focus on saving their lives. I'll handle convincing them of our sincerity."

"Be near in case I need another pair of hands?"

"Of course."

It said something to the confidence I could fake that it took the Verdanite soldiers a good few seconds to even think of questioning me once I started working. Even then, they still clumsily listened and I did my best with what we had. But there were so many wounded, so many, and some conditions were worsened by their poor health. Yet I was here, and I would save as many as I could. I would add their dead to the count I kept tucked in my heart, and tend to each and every one of them.

A soldier with a half-crushed head whimpered and struggled as I cleaned their wound and bandaged it. I had one of their fellows hold their hands, to keep them from accidentally tearing it away in their dazed, delirious state.

A soldier with a hole in their neck stared at me with glazed eyes while I struggled to stitch them up. Their breath rattled and wheezed through the wound, and grew weaker with each faint pulse of blood, yet still, they fought hard to live and I fought equally hard to save them.

Another soldier had lost their hand, and had naught but clotted rags for their bandages. They refused to look at the stump as I washed the blood and matter away, keeping their head turned to the side with their eyes clenched shut. I spared a brief second to stroke their bangs back from their forehead before finishing up.

A different soldier had a deep wound in their side, so deep one could almost fit half their forearm in it. Their breaths were weak, and their pulse was even weaker. Their frame was already wasting away, hinting to malnutrition prior to this. It was… likely they had not much time left, and perhaps death would be a mercy. Yet still, there was a chance, and I would do all I could to help them take it.

So I worked, without pause. Punctured shoulders, feet all but gnawed off by putrid gangrene, backs riddled with gashes… I treated them all without ceasing. Lord Sigurd helped me wherever he could, following my instructions faithfully and diligently. The lesser wounded lent me their hands when I needed another pair, passed me bandages when my hands were full, and soothed their fellows when they cried in pain and fear.

At some point, one asked me, "why…?"

"You're hurt," I answered. It was the only one I had.

I cleaned. I bandaged. I healed. Over and over again, I performed my tasks, each one lingering yet at the same time blending together. Until, at one point... "Miss Alicia?" Lord Sigurd rested a gentle hand on my shoulder, just enough to catch my attention but light enough to not disrupt me. "Alec, Naoise, and Midir are here with makeshift stretchers, and some more medical supplies," he told me softly. I nodded and finished bandaging my patient. They... they were the last. They were the last of those who could possibly, potentially, survive. "Think we've gotten them ready to travel?"

"There are a few I wish to double-check, but..." I began, standing. At least, I tried to stand. My legs protested vehemently and I nearly buckled. Lord Sigurd caught me. "Thank you..."

"It's no trouble. Can you walk?"

"Yes, my legs simply went numb." I'd been kneeling in the mud for who even knew how long. "To continue with what I was saying, I do believe we've treated everyone as well as we can here." All of them would need second or even third checks once we returned to the castle, to ensure no extra mud or whatever had squirmed into their wounds. "Though, are they amenable to coming to the castle with us?"

"I think I've managed to convince... most of them." Lord Sigurd grinned, and his eyes danced with quiet laughter. "I fear some are a little too unconscious for me to speak with."

"I suppose so." I smiled at the little joke, though it faded when I looked over our patients. 'Enemy soldiers' they may be, right now, they simply looked... tired. They looked worn. One could call them drunk with fatigue, and no small few hacked and choked as if their lungs were trying to run away from the blood and pain. "They'll need to be isolated. I'm certain quite a few are ill."

"Of course."

"We also need to adapt their diets. Quite a few clearly haven't eaten well in a long while."

"We will." Lord Sigured squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, and I smiled faintly up at him. "For now, though, let's get them somewhere safe." He gestured to Sir Naoise, standing nearby, and waved him over. "Naoise, help Miss Alicia, will you?"

Sir Naoise was more than willing to assist, thank goodness, and followed my instructions faithfully as we checked over our patients one more time. Once I'd finished, we all worked together to help them prepare for the journey. I spent most of the time fussing over the especially wounded, worried the strain of movement would exacerbate their conditions further. Yet, we had to move them. They would not survive, left out here. It was a risk, just like everything else in medicine. I could only hope we'd win the gamble.

As we settled the last patient onto the final stretcher, Sir Midir frowned and looked his head towards the trees. I almost asked, but then there was no time. The high-pitched 'whish' of arrows sliced through the wind, and soon they fell on us in a torrential rain. From there, it was... chaos. At least, it felt like chaos to me. All of my thoughts focused on my patients and ensuring their safety as we tried to escape and find shelter. In a blink, we were in the forest, and no small part of me wondered why. But I had more injuries to treat, wounds to rebandage, and somewhere in the mess, Lord Sigurd ended up with seven arrows in his back.

"Miss Alicia, I swear, I'm fine," Lord Sigurd attempted to reassure, once we had all settled in a grove in the forest. Now, why he thought the words believable when he had seven arrows in his back, and many more nicks and cuts, I had no idea. "Holy Blood makes me durable, and being a Major, even more so. The others, though..."

"I do believe the one actually trained in healing is the one who decides just how 'fine' a patient is," I 'reminded' him, crouching behind him and cutting through his shirt to try and reach the arrows. Briefly, I was distracted by his Holy Mark, sharp angles arranged to almost look like a wing, but then I focused back on the matter at hand. "As such, do stop squirming. This is going to be difficult enough as it is."

"But..."

"Lord Sigurd, she checked on everyone while we were moving, and ensured all were stable before we carried you here, since you insisted on being the last one to leave," Sir Alec informed him dryly, nudging Lord Sigurd's knee with his foot. After all, Lord Sigurd was sitting, while the three knights remained standing with weapons at hand. Sir Midir had actually climbed a nearby tree, no doubt for the vantage point. "So, listen to the pretty healer, my lord. Before I knock you out to stop fussing over treatment. Again."

"You can refrain from any sort of thing," I retorted, my tone far more waspish than I'd heard in a while. Certainly, I scowled up at him. "Methods to knock a person unconscious are dangerous at best, and we have enough danger for the moment."

"Listen to the pretty healer, sir knight!" Lord Sigurd instantly added, mocking words strangely playful. Sir Alec made a face. "With that said, Miss Alicia..."

"As he said, I checked on them already and treated them to the best of my abilities given the circumstances." I carefully tapped each arrow, checking if they turned. Lord Sigurd flinched, but otherwise, held still. "Good, it seems none reached bone, and no arrowheads are barbed. This shall be relatively simple to tend."

"Mind if we debate a plan of attack and escape while you work?"

"Are you certain?" Carefully, I leaned around him to better look him in the eye. "I fear I have no numbing balms on hand." My patients had required them all. "Yet I must remove these arrows as soon as possible. You will be in pain."

"Not the first time I've done something like this."

"Far too true," Sir Alec muttered, still looming over us. He sighed gustily, shaking his head. "Not the first time you used yourself as a damned shield as well."

"They could not move quickly enough!" Lord Sigurd defended, frowning up at Sir Alec. It took me a long second to realize he had been wounded protecting our patients from the rain of arrows. "What else could I do?"

"Nothing, my lord." Despite the exasperation, Sir Alec smiled. "For it is because you're like this we swore our oaths to you and you alone."

"Alec..." Lord Sigurd ducked his head, a faint blush creeping across his face. "For now, bring Naoise and Midir over. I'll never hear the end of it if Quan has to mount a rescue."

"Oh, the lecture Lady Ethlyn would give!"

"Please, no, spare me."

"While you're doing that, Sir Alec, can you arrange for a fire?" I requested, 'conveniently' keeping the conversation moving. Sir Alec focused on me, and Lord Sigurd sighed in relief. "I'll need it to sterilize my dagger. If you can also bring me all of our current medicinal supplies, I would be grateful."

Sir Alec kindly jumped right on that, and I was able to start treating Lord Sigurd with minimal delay. Neither Sir Naoise or Sir Midir thought anything unusual about me cutting into Lord Sigurd's back while they discussed and debated the best course of action. The only 'response' they had was Sir Naoise's long-suffering sigh and Sir Midir's quirked brow. Otherwise, they pretended as if the four were seated at a table, instead of crouched on the ground, with a proper map spread out in front of them instead of one haphazardly drawn in the mud between them. For my part, I focused entirely on cutting the arrows, made harder by how they'd clustered. Lord Sigurd did his best to sit still for me while I worked, for which I was grateful. I was also grateful for how the arrows were not barbed. Hunting for quills in an unknown forest while enemies were about was not an ideal scenario.

Around when I had removed the last arrow, movement caught my eye and I twisted to see one of my patients, one of the more lightly wounded Verdanites, awkwardly shuffle up. "Is something wrong?" I asked them softly. The others paused their talks, no doubt to listen. "Has someone's condition deteriorated?" I had planned on doing another round of checks as soon as I finished with Lord Sigurd, but if someone needed me now...

"N-no, not that we know of, milady," they mumbled, looking down at the ground. I bit back my correction of how I was no 'lady'. "It's just… we…" They stumbled over their words, but all five of us waited patiently, though I did return to treating Lord Sigurd while I waited. "Might we assist?"

"Pardon?" Lord Sigurd replied, for what other reply was there? Who would expect such a request? "You… would like to help us?" They nodded. "I… why would you…?" We fought against their people. We killed their people. The wounds they suffered… they had been inflicted by us and ours. "We…"

"You… invaded our country, yes. You killed our people. Verdanite blood stains your hands, coats your blade. Yet…" A helpless smile quirked onto their face. "You came back. To help us, to treat us, to shield us. You treat us like people. Like we matter." They shrugged, gaze still fixed on the ground. "Dark days have fallen on Verdane. It's natural to run for the first glimmer of light when all you see is shadows."

"I… suppose…" Still, Lord Sigurd grimaced and I couldn't blame him. This was highly uncomfortable. "Yet…"

"All we ask, in return, is for you to sue for peace, with Prince Jamke. He… he is our hope. He has always been our hope." Finally, they looked up to meet our eyes. "We don't want war. We don't know why our king has done this. But so long as Prince Jamke lives, we know things will be better. So, we… we request… no, we beg you that." All too soon, though, they bowed their head once more. "Please…"

"...My intention had always been for peace once Edain was safe. Peace, and finding the truth of the sudden attack." Lord Sigurd smiled warmly, and the soldier lifted their head ever-so-slightly. "There's no need to bow to me. Hold your head high. You wish to safeguard the future of your home, and there is no shame in that." He chuckled suddenly and pointed at me. "With that said, final word on just who can assist lies with her. Many of you are wounded still, after all."

"I… of course." Another helpless smile cracked onto the soldier's face. "Thank you, my lord."

It surprised me just how many were willing to fight. Though, some looked relieved when I informed them they needed to rest, as if grateful for the excuse, others were more than willing. It made me uncomfortable, but seeing how Crown Prince Munnir had treated them, I supposed it made some sense to try and fight for someone who actually appeared to care. Actually, it made me very uncomfortable anyway, but I pretended otherwise. It was comforting to see Lord Sigurd look disgruntled over how many volunteers we had; it let me know I was not the only one who felt ill-at-ease. Yet this was their choice, and what could we do but honor it?

Eventually, the knights and volunteers disappeared into the trees. I didn't know why, of course, for I had no part in their strategy. I was a healer, and my job was to continue tending to the wounded, to continue buying them time for better care at the castle. Lord Sigurd stayed with us, at my insistence. After all, between the arrows and my own cuts, his back was a mess of wounds which would reopen at the slightest exertion. While our three knights and helpful soldiers did… whatever they'd decided to do, he stood guard and helped me when I needed another pair of hands. The sounds of battle echoed harshly through the trees, but in the grove, all was quiet.

That is, it was quiet until something burst from the nearby bushes. It took me a long second to realize it was Crown Prince Munnir himself, bleeding heavily from a gash in his side. Ignoring anything and everything, he charged straight for Lord Sigurd, with all of us left staring as we tried to process what was going on. Yet, by the time we had, it… was over. Crown Prince Munnir crumpled to the ground, spitting up blood while he tried to pull the arrow from his

throat. Behind us, Sir Midir lowered his bow, his expression both impassive and cold.

Well, that... was certainly one way for this to end.

---

Author's Notes: Should mention that nearly all the medical things mentioned in that first scene are things patients went through at the hospital I work at (with some adapted to better fit the narrative). Yes, this includes the premature baby stuff as well. Now, granted, the pulmonary embolism patient who dropped dead was more likely due to deep-vein-thrombosis (they'd been stuck in bed for a while), but fat embolisms are a thing.

Certainly changed how Munnir met his death, huh? Figured this suited better. As for all the arrow stuff: a) I may have read some things about civil war era medicine and found an interesting first-hand account, b) gave me a good excuse to bring up Jamke. The idea of giving sleeping medicine (or, truthfully, morphine) came from first-hand accounts from World War I. (Also, took some inspiration from 'The Wound-Dresser', a poem by… Walt Whitman, I think?)

As for the scene about helping the enemy soldiers... one, I thought it would highlight both Sigurd and Alicia's shared idealism, which they hold onto through thick and thin, even if Alicia's a little more cynical about it. Two, gave me another excuse to bring in Jamke. For Quan's reaction, I figured he's more cynical and he's more used to fighting the Thracians. Not only would them returning to help fallen Thracians likely get them killed, but I imagine the very idea is foreign, even if Quan is said to want to unite the peninsula.

Otherwise, have Shanan being traumatize and Oifey showing off his smarts? Aha? And more Dew in one scene than I think the entirety of the original.