Vampiretwilight
NecroKnightCaptain Peter Limbourg was already done with Trooper Welser by the time Sergeant Hecht arrived, wiping a pair of bloodied hands upon his apron as the NCO entered what little ‘clean’ interior of the bridgeside inn could be found following the recent skirmish with the enemy; the balding army surgeon, what lank black hair he had slicked back over his head, gave a quick glance and grimace to the Sergeant, barely taking his eyes from a young lad shivering thoroughly on the table before him.
“Sergeant Hecht… I assume you are here to see your wounded soldier, yes?” The tall man, taller even than Hecht himself, swept one free hand toward the staircase of the tavern leading up and to the establishments former ‘residential’ rooms, “I have taken what shrapnel out of her that I could, luckily it seems that other bodies took the main force of the gun, but although she is in a stable condition she remains somewhat feverish.”
Hecht, doing his level best to not retch at the smell of the small space, managed a weak nod. “Thank you sir.”
Like his soldiers, this was his first taste of real combat. No stranger to death by circumstance of location and an extended family, he was nonetheless nauseated by the sight of the wounded. He took the stairs quickly, thankful that someone had opened the upper windows to let in the sunshine and fresh air from outside.
He found the small loft rooms occupied, two to a room, and Welser was quartered with a young lad Hecht did not recognize. The boy had his head wrapped in blood stained bandages and Hecht didn’t need to be a doctor to know the rattling breath was a bad sign.
Stepping carefully past the boy, Hecht knelt next to Welser and looked down at her. She was facing away from him so he could not see her face but he was relieved to see very little blood on her bandages.
Kneeling next to the small figure he spoke quietly. “Welser, Sergeant Hecht here. How are you feeling?”
At first Anja thought her feverish mind was playing tricks on her, turning her head enough to see that it was indeed her Sergeant kneeling beside her pallett, “handsome Sergeant Hecht,” she managed to croak as a small smile formed on her sweat-stained features.
When she did turn over to get a better look at him, her smile swiftly shifting to a half-grimace of aching pain, it was fortunate for them both that Captain Limbourg - while he had removed the remains of her shredded and blood stained uniform upon her entry into his care - had let her bind her more personal attributes with what long strips of material he could spare.
“It is good to see you, sir,” came her voice in the same weakened tone, “the Captain s-says that he removed several balls from my t-torso, and a piece of shrapnel to boot, but that nothing serious was damaged. Assures me I’ll have some nice scars to go with those I already own though.” For a moment she went into a coughing fit, convulsing somewhat, putting a hand on the floor to steady herself, “he did say I should be alright to travel with my troop… just no… no f-fighting until my fever had broken and I’m on the mend.”
To her credit Anja seemed particularly downhearted by these instructions but knew that, had it not been for those in front of her who took the blast of the cannon, and for her tumble into the river, that she would be dead.
“Sir,” she leant a little closer, glancing about conspiratorially, “I’ll need a new uniform though, and a new horse. A uniform that fits this time, if it isn’t too much trouble?”
Hecht ignored being called sir, it was something to tease her about later. Part of him was worried he might catch the fever being inside with her but a quick glance at the window assured him it was open and a breeze wafting in.
“A uniform that fits? We’d all love one of those.” He chuckled. Indeed he himself was wearing boots a size too small, pants made for a taller man, and a jacket that squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll see to it that it’s mended by the time you are.”
He glanced at the other wounded soldier and then back at Anja. She looked terribly small and fragile lying on the ragged bedding and he felt a lump in his gut.
“I’ll see if we can have you moved to join our people. You’ve got two days at most to recover before we have to get moving. Get some sleep and I’ll be back.”
He wasn’t sure she even heard the last part as he quietly slipped out of the room.
“Sergeant Hecht… I assume you are here to see your wounded soldier, yes?” The tall man, taller even than Hecht himself, swept one free hand toward the staircase of the tavern leading up and to the establishments former ‘residential’ rooms, “I have taken what shrapnel out of her that I could, luckily it seems that other bodies took the main force of the gun, but although she is in a stable condition she remains somewhat feverish.”
Hecht, doing his level best to not retch at the smell of the small space, managed a weak nod. “Thank you sir.”
Like his soldiers, this was his first taste of real combat. No stranger to death by circumstance of location and an extended family, he was nonetheless nauseated by the sight of the wounded. He took the stairs quickly, thankful that someone had opened the upper windows to let in the sunshine and fresh air from outside.
He found the small loft rooms occupied, two to a room, and Welser was quartered with a young lad Hecht did not recognize. The boy had his head wrapped in blood stained bandages and Hecht didn’t need to be a doctor to know the rattling breath was a bad sign.
Stepping carefully past the boy, Hecht knelt next to Welser and looked down at her. She was facing away from him so he could not see her face but he was relieved to see very little blood on her bandages.
Kneeling next to the small figure he spoke quietly. “Welser, Sergeant Hecht here. How are you feeling?”
At first Anja thought her feverish mind was playing tricks on her, turning her head enough to see that it was indeed her Sergeant kneeling beside her pallett, “handsome Sergeant Hecht,” she managed to croak as a small smile formed on her sweat-stained features.
When she did turn over to get a better look at him, her smile swiftly shifting to a half-grimace of aching pain, it was fortunate for them both that Captain Limbourg - while he had removed the remains of her shredded and blood stained uniform upon her entry into his care - had let her bind her more personal attributes with what long strips of material he could spare.
“It is good to see you, sir,” came her voice in the same weakened tone, “the Captain s-says that he removed several balls from my t-torso, and a piece of shrapnel to boot, but that nothing serious was damaged. Assures me I’ll have some nice scars to go with those I already own though.” For a moment she went into a coughing fit, convulsing somewhat, putting a hand on the floor to steady herself, “he did say I should be alright to travel with my troop… just no… no f-fighting until my fever had broken and I’m on the mend.”
To her credit Anja seemed particularly downhearted by these instructions but knew that, had it not been for those in front of her who took the blast of the cannon, and for her tumble into the river, that she would be dead.
“Sir,” she leant a little closer, glancing about conspiratorially, “I’ll need a new uniform though, and a new horse. A uniform that fits this time, if it isn’t too much trouble?”
Hecht ignored being called sir, it was something to tease her about later. Part of him was worried he might catch the fever being inside with her but a quick glance at the window assured him it was open and a breeze wafting in.
“A uniform that fits? We’d all love one of those.” He chuckled. Indeed he himself was wearing boots a size too small, pants made for a taller man, and a jacket that squeezed his shoulders. “I’ll see to it that it’s mended by the time you are.”
He glanced at the other wounded soldier and then back at Anja. She looked terribly small and fragile lying on the ragged bedding and he felt a lump in his gut.
“I’ll see if we can have you moved to join our people. You’ve got two days at most to recover before we have to get moving. Get some sleep and I’ll be back.”
He wasn’t sure she even heard the last part as he quietly slipped out of the room.
