"You didn't kill Fabricant... Why? We lost territory because of your weakness!" A man, dressed in steel heavy armor, yelled at a near unconscious Melvus who was barely able to stand. "A draw means nobody wins! Neither Aesil nor Goetia won... because of your hesitation. You say you're loyal to the One True Queen? You're a vagabond, not loyal to anyone but yourself." The armored man kicked the wizard's feet from beneath him, he fell to the ground with a crunch. His right arm had taken all of his weight and the bone snapped.

"AGH!" Melvus passed out from the pain, not before letting out a cry which could be heard throughout the Aesil battle-quarters. 

He woke up later, in the a sickbay. His arm held straight by a plank of wood wrapped with thin rope. He could feel it mending itself. [I]There must be a healing spell on my arm...[/I] He tried to move... His nineteen year old self wasn't trained to withstand pain, he fell back onto his back with a cry. A healer rushed into his room to make sure he was alright...

[I]I need to stop daydreaming...[/i] He held up his right arm, observing it, as he made his way over to Sister Agnes, who was tending to Hugh who seemed to have taken a few blows himself. Melvus could see the blood seeping from the wound, the warm liquid soaked his sleeves and, now, dripped down to his elbow. [I]He did not break anything major, there's not enough blood for that - this is a minor wound... That slaver... He left, and took some of his men...[/i] 

"He should have listened to me... He could have saved them, but now they are gone forever... Their lives, scattered in the wind..." Melvus whispered to himself as he watched the nun heal one of his, newfound, companions. He remembered the break in his arm. His bones, he was told afterward, had broken through his skin and yhe break nearly became infected... More than that, he had lost a lot of blood. They were able to recover most of it, however, probably using some magic.