[hr][hr][center][color=39b54a][h1]Karlus Marsh[/h1][/color][/center][hr][hr]
It was the sound of a commotion breaking out in the infirmary that drew Karlus from the quiet privacy of his own room. After the examination he had not had the stomach to face anyone else. Opening up to Aemma, exposing himself like that, it had taken more out of him than he had expected. He still didn't fully believe it, that there was no further punishment for him, no further recriminations. Despite her assurances to the contrary. Every time he heard a set of footsteps in the cloister, he half expected them to march to his door, and then they would knock it down and drag Karlus out to the gallows - or worse. 

But it never came. Somehow he was still safe. 

Still, his heart had leapt in his chest when Karlus heard the sounds of raised voices and quickened steps making their way through the courtyard. [i]This time,[/i] he thought, [i]this time they will surely come for me.[/i] But no, they marched right past his small dark cell, and faded way, disappearing off in the direction of the hospital. What exactly was going on? It piqued his curiosity despite his fear, and he supposed if they did come for him, the flimsy door of his cell would not stop them for long.

He crept out into the cloister. The night air was crisp, even if it still smelled of sulphur. He could hear the patter of the rain, but it was dry beneath the covering. Orange torchlight spilled from the open doors of the infirmary. Karlus could faintly discern voices from within, so he crept closer still. When he was pressed to one side of the the double doors he could make them out clearly. 

[b][color=goldenrod]"-you were to wise to bring him when you did. Much more and he might have been beyond our arts."[/color][/b] The rasping tones and strange accent of the old dark elf Aemma were unmistakable to him already. But the other speaker he did not recognise. It was a man's voice. Not particularly loud but there was some gravity to it, as well as an aristocratic roll of the tongue. It belong to noble, that much, Karlus could tell.  

[b][color=004b80]"You should thank young Sacha then, it was he who ended it, not I."[/color][/b] 

[b][color=goldenrod]"Hmph, perhaps I will. You know my thoughts on this. I won't repeat them here, save that I think its cruel and unnecessary."[/color][/b] What were they speaking about? Karlus cast his mind back, Aemma had mentioned some kind of initiation ritual before, during the examination, but he been more preoccupied with his own situation then. The male speaker sighed before he continued.

[b][color=004b80]"And you know I once shared them. But I see now it is necessary. We are one Order, with one aim, united in purpose. If we are divided against each other we fail. The initiation is part of what makes us equal, whether commoner, criminal, noble, mage. We all must work as one in the order. It makes us stronger, like hammering steel to drive out the impurities."[/color][/b] 

[b][color=goldenrod]"Here lies your steel, Knight Captain. Does he look pure yet?"[/color][/b] The words were spoken with something akin to a snort of derision. And to the Knight Captain? The leader of the Order at Fort Stag? Somehow the healer Aemma dared speak to him in that way. The corners of Karlus's mouth curled up slightly as he listened silently.

[b][color=004b80]"In time. I leave him in your care for now, goodnight, Doctor."[/color][/b]

A set of heavy footsteps began to approach the door that Karlus crouched beside. He slid back away from the entrance to the hospital and into the dark of the cloister, pressing himself flat against the cool stone of the outer wall. The silhouette of a large, armoured figure appeared in the doorway, illuminated by flickering light of the torches beyond it. The Knight Captain stepped out into the darkness and walked towards the edge of covered walkway. Karlus make out his features in the dark, but it seemed to him as if he was just gazing out into it, staring at something. But there was nothing there, nothing that Karlus could see at least. The Captain held his hands out into the rain, letting it wash over them, before wiping them against each other. He was cleaning something off of them. [i]Mud? ...Blood?[/i] After a minute or two, with another sigh, the Captain turned and walked away from where Karlus hid, out of the courtyard and into the night. 

When he was gone, Karlus emerged from his hiding place. He didn't know what to think of what he had just heard. He supposed he could go back to his room if he wanted, but he was curious still, and he could hear the sounds of Aemma working away in the infirmary beyond. He decided to stay, to try and catch a glimpse at least of whoever was brought in and what this 'ritual' they had discussed had entailed. He crept in through the open door. 

The main ward of the hospital was largely empty, there was no sign of Aemma or any of the others who worked there. Karlus could see a figure lying on one of the wooden tables that were used for the more seriously injured, those who would ruin any linens or bedding left under them. His eyes darted around the room before he approached any closer. [i]Just one quick look,[/i] he thought, [i]then I'll go back to my room.[/i]

The figure on the table was still and unmoving. He was covered head to toe in mud still, blood seeped out of several of wounds and cuts. He had been beaten badly, especially so in the face, his eyes were swollen shut with bruising. But the worse of it was around his mouth, the jaw was broken and it looked like someone had taken a knife to his cheek which hung away in ragged red flap. [i]Such brutality...[/i]

His curiosity satisfied, Karlus went to turn away from the body, but something caught his eye that made him stay. The man's hair he noticed was blonde under the crusting of filth and blood. It made him take a second look at him, and then with a sudden shock he realised he knew who this man was. Karlus hadn't recognised him at first because of how badly he had been beaten, but now he could see it. It was Arlo, one of the men he had spent the last few days with in the back of the Warden's cart. 

[b][color=goldenrod]"Ah there you are."[/color][/b] Karlus nearly jumped out of his skin. From a side room, Aemma had emerged carrying a bucket of steaming water and a stack of clean linens. She had taken him by surprise. [b][color=goldenrod]"I wasn't going to get you, but since you are here, you can make yourself useful. I've already stopped the worst of it, so he's stable and beyond pain, but he still needs cleaning and patching together. Let's see what you can do, Karlus."[/color][/b]

She approached him surprisingly quickly for an old woman and thrust the clothes and water upon him, before disappearing off into another room, muttering what sounded like a list of ingredients under her breath. Karlus watched her go. Should he tell her he had overheard her conversation with the Knight Captain? He wanted to ask her questions about it... but still, she was still a stranger to him. She was still a danger. But he could hardly scurry away now, so Karlus resigned himself to unfastening his cloak, and began to get to work.

The cleaning was the slow part, there was no spell for that. It needed to be done too. Magic could easily close a wound or seal a cut, but what if there was still filth or dirt in that wound? Then you sealed it inside of the body, whereit might fester, and cause worse injury than had it not been healed. So you always tried to clean them first, if you had the time, like they did now.

After they were clean you looked deepest first, there was no point in closing a surface wound if the organs beneath were damaged, it would only make your work harder when you came to heal those. After the organs, then there came the muscles and the bones. Only then, last, did you heal the the skin. Anyone who had any small skill in the constitutional arts could close a cut, the real mastery came in healing the wounds most people could not even see.

Aemma had stopped the bleeding in Arlo's guts, though no doubt he would still be in great pain when he awoke, so Karlus turned his attention to the face instead when he finished washing him and removing his soiled clothes. Under his light touch he reset the jaw with a few words, before he began to try and rebuild the cheek. It was difficult enough work, whatever had cut him there had been wickedly sharp and had tore through in several places. It took him a while, but as Karlus muttered the closing words of the charm, he was pleased with the final result. Aemma was leaning over his shoulder, he hadn't noticed her approach, he had been so consumed by the work.

[b][color=goldenrod]"A good job. Try not to be too neat though, they will want him to have a scar, to show he suffered."[/color][/b]

[b][color=39b54a]"Why?"[/color][/b] He found himself asking softly. [b][color=39b54a]"What did he do to deserve this?"[/color][/b] The old healer shrugged in response, a universal gesture, despite her far flung origins. 

[b][color=goldenrod]"I do not know if he deserved it. But it is the way of this Order, barbaric as it might seem. This is their justice."[/color][/b]

Karlus felt drained from the effort of healing Arlo. Aemma took over with her assortment of salves, tinctures and concoctions. She smeared them over the freshly closed wounds and bound them with bandages. Meanwhile Karlus thought about the Order, and what kind of justice it had. He had thought he might have left that kind of 'justice' at the colleges. But somehow, it seemed to have followed him.