An Ascencion

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An Ascension
It was a few days after our arrival at Nov Domas as I walked into the castle infirmary. This was far from my first visit to the chamber, as I had been eager to keep an eye on the sick and wounded. As I saw it, these men and women had thrown themselves into a war with Blackstone only because of me, or at the least in no small part because of my actions. I had a responsibility to oversee their recovery, and if at all possible, aid in any way I could.

The infirmary itself was a simple construction, a mostly empty corridor save for the number of cots lining either side of the interior, with a small collection of them in the center. All throughout the hall a number of doctors worked, some of which I recognized from prior visits. Considering the number of injured in our ranks, I feared that many of them had been working almost non-stop since our arrival. I could only hope they had been getting adequate rest in the time they'd been here.

Near the front of the chamber, I saw Berrat resting in his cot. Most other times I had visited, he was fast asleep, or so close to it that I had deemed it best to leave him be. This time, however, he was wide awake, a small portion of his blankets pulled away as a doctor inspected and delicately wiped at his injury with a cloth. As I approached, I recognized the doctor as Doctor Garrick, the skilled, if slightly plump doctor who had cared for Deborah during her first stay.

Berrat's injury was far from the worst I had seen in my time, at least now that he'd had it properly cared for. The knee had been well tended to, lacking even a sign of swelling by the time Doctor Garrick had finished cleaning it. The wound was a soft pink on the outer edges, with only the interior of the wound maintaining a deep red as Doctor Garrick carefully wrapped a bandage around it. Berrat grimaced slightly as the doctor worked, but seemed otherwise unbothered by his actions. The doctor himself was stoic as he worked, not even a gleam of sweat on his head as he focused on his task.

"Still no signs of infection, but no signs of repair either." He said before backing away, careful not to disturb the cot behind him.

"All fine and well, Doctor." Said Berrat, groaning as he reached down and pulled the thin blankets back over himself. There was a weariness to his tone that worried me slightly, even amidst the usual cadence with which the captain spoke. Garrick sighed and shook his head at these words.

"For now, at least. However, if we don't start to see signs of recovery soon, I'm afraid-" Whatever the doctor had planned to say, he seemed to decide against it as his eyes fell on me.

"Ah, lord Warden." He said plainly, folding his hands together in front of his chest as he did. There was a shift in his tone as he addressed me, from somewhat admonishing and stern to calm and somewhat deflective. Clearly, whatever he had meant to say to Berrat was not meant for my knowledge. I simply nodded back at the doctor, then did the same as I looked towards Berrat. When he turned towards me, I realized his eyes appeared heavier than I remembered, as though it took effort to keep them open. Despite this, he presented a warm smile that I could instantly determine was genuine as I came to a stop before the cot.

"Ah, welcome Warden to my humble abode." He joked. There was no sign of ill will in his voice, nor was there any possible blame forced upon me. If anything, his tone indicated a sort of relief. I suppose if nothing else, it was good he still found himself able to make light of his situation.

"Hello Berrat, it is good to see you in high spirits, Berrat." I said before turning back to the doctor.

"May I ask how he is?" I asked. Doctor Garrick did not immediately answer, simply turning his gaze to Berrat for a moment. He seemed to contemplate whether or not to say anything, his finger tapping gently against his knuckles as he thought. Eventually, he seemed to decide against any type of silence, turning to face me as he spoke.

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