Lawrence Sanctus sat eagerly at the edge of the horse drawn wagon as it bumbled down the beaten dirt roads of Alacrecia, a small farming village to the east of Haile. He looked out over the horizon to the northern mountain range, their white peaks an ominous reminder of the dangers they hid.
As the wagon creaked to a crawl and eventually a stop, Lawrence hopped off. He made his way from house to house, collecting empty wooden buckets. Each had their of swatch of colored paint across the side so Lawrence could match them to their proper owners. He went to the well, filled the buckets and then returned them to their rightful doorsteps.
Before Lawrence left the last bucket, he heard a voice call from inside the home. "That Sanctus?" Whomever it was sounded quite old.
"Aye," Lawrence called, trying to see through a cracked board on the front wall of the wooden shack. "Lawrence Sanctus, son of Elizabeth and Jerreth. And you?"
The door creaked open. "In here, hurry."
Lawrence hesitated.
"Wanna help your mother, or not?" The voice called.
Lawrence opened the door and stepped inside the shack. Herbs and roots hung from every square inch of wall space and various plants and flowers grew in shoddy pots with one even being grown in a mound of dirt on top of a iron flat that Lawrence had often seen used for cooking. At the back of the shack, an old man with long white hair and a wild beard sat grinding up some herbs and roots at a table. "Aye, I want to help me mum."
The man flashed Lawrence a look. "Then you're going to mix this into her tea tonight." He carefully poured the powder and some fresh herbs into a burlap pouch, tied it with a yellow string and offered it to Lawrence.
When the boy reached for the herbs, the stench caught him. How had he missed it before. He gagged but tried not to let it show. Before he could take the herbs, the man pulled it away.
"That water cold?"
Lawrence nodded.
"Oh, good! Haven't had a bath in a fortnight." He gave the herbs to the boy and moved out of the shack, throwing the bucket of water into his face and splashing it all about his head and hair and around his neck.
"Who are you?" Lawrence asked, stepping outside and looking the man over. "Don't believe we have ever been introduced. I would have remembered you."
The man smirked. "I'm called Galvan, lad. Galvan Gabrielle, pleased to make your acquaintance." He pointed to the herbs. "If you notice she gets better, come see me immediately, I'll prepare some more. Off with you now."
Lawrence smiled before heading back toward the caravan. "Thank you, Sir Galvan!"
