17 August 2012
"What news did he have?" The greying but youthful matron turned at the sound of the Abbot's voice. Her face was set in a worried expression as she flittered around the sleeping man. Abbot Lieven was a short man of a stocky build. His dark brown hair was pulled back to reveal his smile-lined face. "Oh Abbot, he's hardly been in a state to tell us any news, let alone something on such emotionally draining subject." She shook her head and waved him over, "Look at his shoulder Abbot, I need to fetch the new bandages but I KNOW that one healed over years ago." She shook her head sadly then made her way to the medicine cabinet while the Abbot approached the sleeping man. His eyes grew sad at the obviously festering shoulder wound. He had a suspicion of his young friend's previous whereabouts but dearly hoped he was wrong. "Where are his belongings?" The grey haired woman shook her head, "I think one of Brother Michael's disciples brought it to his usual room." Gently she began dressing his shoulder. "Perhaps someone should alert Chef Heimec, he's going to be needing some strong broth when he wakes." Abbot Lieven smiled to himself, "Do not fret Ingrid dear, I was making my rounds anyways." He began to make his way to the door, "Be sure to alert me if something changes in his condition." The Matron shook her head fondly, "Don't over eat Abbot! Dinner is at six like always." Once theAbbot was out of sight she sighed at the young guard. Even for a soldier he was far too reckless and that ended up in situations such as this- though granted he'd never been gone for eight months before, and if the wounds he had were any indication then his captors made use of every day. "Oh Lorcas, whatever shall I do with you?" There was a muffled groan, "You could start by getting me something for my eyes, Sister Hazel would do nicely." Against her will Ingrid's lips twitched upwards. "You incorrigible beast." She replied instead, fixing his blearily opened eyes with a stern glare. "Can't help it Sister, The Guards don't have any women." She busied herself with his burn ointment to hide her small smile and had completely erased it by the time she turned back. "Be that as if may young man, but if you continue to attempt to corrupt my nuns I will cripple you." Lorcas blinked at her. "Isn't that against your healers' code?" The matron slathered the ointment onto his raw wrist, "Exactly, so don't make me break it." "Don't scare the poor boy Ingrid." Ingrid glanced back at the Abbot who was standing at the Med-wing entrance with a steaming bowl in his hand. "He shouldn't be a guard if I scare him." Ingrid replied good-naturedly, her eyes softening when he winced at the cold ointment on his side. The Abbot soon lost his jovial air, even as he placed the bowl within Lorcas' reach. "What news do you have?" Lorcas nodded, all business immediately, "You're not going to like it- his MAJESTY isn't going to like it." Abbot Lieven's face was grim, "Neburn?" Lorcas shook his head, "Bad, worse. They aren't invading or anything. It's Ivan, in Cariin." Ingrid let out a small startled sound, "But that's the king's brother-in-law!"
1. Cariin is pronounced cah-rin.
Abbey Bells (Chapter 2) • Opuss № I