With Hemlo bracing most of his weight over one shoulder, West managed to limp back through the city gates. Every uneven step sent a dull ache through his side, and by the time they reached the medical tent, breathing had become an exercise in patience. He lowered himself onto the bench across from Loredo, careful not to jar his ribs any more than necessary.
Hemlo knelt in front of him and slid a calloused hand over West's abdomen, searching for the source of the pain. The moment his fingers found it, a sharp stab shot through West's side. His face tightened, and he sucked in a slow breath through his teeth before he could stop himself.
"Well, I don't think you broke the rib. Could just be a nasty bruise." Hemlo gave one last firm press, earning another wince from West before straightening up. "Let me grab something to wrap you up."
He disappeared through the tent flap.
"Wrap me up? That's it?" West muttered, one arm instinctively folding across his ribs. Even that small movement made his side throb. "It hurts to breathe, Hemlo."
Before he could complain any further, Hemlo stepped back inside long enough to smack the back of his hand against West's stomach.
Pain exploded through his ribs.
West folded forward with a groan, drawing in several quick breaths before he could stop himself.
"Hurts to breathe is better than can’t breathe." Satisfied with his own demonstration, Hemlo turned back toward the exit. "Back to the swamp in a week."
The tent flap fell closed behind him.
West sat there for a second, glaring at the canvas as he waited for the ache to settle. Eventually, he looked across the tent.
Loredo was already staring back.
"Admiring your work?" Loredo asked, the corner of his swollen mouth trying to curl into a grin before the wounds tugged at the skin. The expression faltered, and he quietly abandoned the effort.
"It looks a little unfinished." West snapped back.
Loredo clicked his teeth, then immediately regretted it as pain flashed across his face. "I had you down. I know it. And you know it."
A crooked smile found West despite the soreness pulling at his ribs. "You heard Hemlo. It's just a bruise." He lifted a finger toward Loredo's face, though even pointing made his side protest angrily. "That is more than a bruise."
"Well..." Loredo planted his feet beneath him and pushed himself upright into a fighting stance. The movement was confident. The wince that followed was not. "I can still go. But can you?"
West looked him over in silence. Loredo's fists were raised, but one shoulder hung lower than the other, and the swelling around his eye was beginning to darken. West rested a hand against his own ribs, taking another careful breath as if considering the offer.
Loredo let out a quiet chuckle, which quickly turned into a grimace as it pulled at the fresh wounds across his face. "My thoughts exactly," he ended with as he sat back down.
Hemlo pushed through the tent flap carrying a fresh spool of white linen tucked beneath one arm. "Alright, West, lift your hands."
West obeyed, though the motion stopped halfway. The tight pull across his ribs stole his breath before he could raise them any higher. His shoulders trembled from the effort.
"That's fine there," Hemlo said, stopping West before he further hurt himself. He began wrapping the linen around his torso with clumsy efficiency. One pass tightened around the bruised rib while the next was loose and uneven; the final wrap around was squeezing the injury just enough to make West grit his teeth. He held his arms in place, fighting the urge to lower them before Hemlo finished.
Across the tent, Loredo watched with a crooked, almost satisfied smirk. The swelling around his eye had grown worse, dark purple bleeding into the skin beneath it, yet he still found amusement in seeing West suffer through the aftermath of their fight.
The wrapping itself took only a minute. To West, it felt much longer.
"Alright." Hemlo secured the linen and gave it a firm pat despite knowing the pain it would cause. "Just try not to overextend yourself for the next week or so."
“What exactly is wrapping it going to do?” West questioned
Hemlo's hand landed heavily against the bandaged ribs once again.
The impact wasn't too bad. It could have been worse.
West folded over with a pained groan, one hand immediately clamping over his side.
"I think you meant to say thank you," Hemlo replied. "You know damn well the Turd needs us all occupied."
A quiet laugh escaped Loredo.
Hemlo turned toward him with the same deadpan expression. "And what are you laughing at? Come here so we can see that ugly eye of yours."
Loredo's grin disappeared.
The oversized fingers that had just punished West were now reaching for his face, and suddenly the throbbing around his eye demanded all of his attention. He crossed the tent with far less confidence than before and eased himself onto the stool in front of Hemlo.
The examination lasted all of a second.
"Enough!" Loredo slapped Hemlo's hands away the instant those thick fingers touched the swelling.
"Dammit!" His breathing quickened as another pulse of pain shot through the side of his face.
"So it hurts?" Hemlo asked sarcastically.
"You sadistic ogre!" Loredo responded as he slammed both palms against the table hard enough to rattle the instruments laid across it.
Hemlo calmly placed one broad hand on the back of Loredo's head, holding him steady. "Do not embarrass yourself in front of the new recruit. Swallow the pain, you dirty slug." His fingers traced carefully along the cut running beneath Loredo's eye.
Loredo's jaw locked so tightly that the muscles twitched beneath his skin. His hands curled into fists until his knuckles whitened, pure as snow. A strained groan escaped through clenched teeth, but he swallowed the rest.
"Look up," Hemlo demanded as he released the back of his head.
Loredo tried. One eye followed the command. The swollen one barely moved.
"A broken skull, maybe." Hemlo glanced over his shoulder at West, offering the same dry smile he'd worn moments earlier before giving a small shake of his head.
"What…does that mean?" Loredo growled, the edge in his voice dulled by uncertainty.
Without warning, Hemlo flicked the swollen skin beneath Loredo's eye.
"DAMMIT!" Loredo jerked back, both hands flying over his face.
"It means you're also not going to be able to work for some time." Hemlo stepped away from the table. "I'll grab the tools to stitch you up. He headed toward the tent flap before tossing one last remark over his shoulder. "I recommend you let me take the eye,."
He looked at West.
West's expression had changed as well. The concern on his face came too quickly to be faked.
West pushed himself to his feet, pausing only long enough for the ache in his ribs to settle before crossing the tent. Every step reminded him of Hemlo's bandages, but he ignored it and crouched in front of Loredo.
"Perhaps Hemlo can wrap it up when I'm finished." West approached, studying the cut beneath the swollen eye. "I'll make sure you keep your sight."
Loredo's nostrils flared as West entered arm's reach. Every instinct told him to shove him away, yet he remained perfectly still.
West settled onto the stool across from him, careful not to twist his torso more than necessary.
"Alright, first, you need to breathe easy. Your nose is probably packed with blood. We don't want that pushing your eyeball out."
The image hit Loredo instantly. His face drained of what little color remained. A wave of nausea rolled through his stomach, and for a moment, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to punch West... or throw up.
A few moments later, Hemlo returned carrying a worn leather roll of medical tools and a small bucket of warm water. He set everything down on the table with a dull clatter before looking between the two men.
"Not good?" Hemlo asked.
"Not good." West leaned closer, studying the swelling around Loredo's eye without touching it. "We should clean the wound first. Wash it out with some tea."
"Tea?" Hemlo raised an eyebrow as he unrolled his tools.
"Yeah, The wound is filled with mud," West answered him.
Hemlo nodded toward the bucket. "Well, I brought warm water."
"Go ahead and wash out the eye." West pushed himself upright, immediately pausing as the movement tugged at the bandages wrapped around his ribs. He waited for the sharp ache to dull before continuing. "I'll stop by the herbal shop near the town center. If there's one thing we have in abundance around here, it's tea."
Loredo let out another miserable groan as Hemlo reached for the cloth.
West spared him one last glance before slipping through the tent flap.
Outside, the city had already returned to work.
The steady rhythm of hammers echoed between the buildings as crews repaired broken barricades and reinforced damaged walls. Men hauled lumber across muddy streets while others reset sharpened stakes outside the gates, each person focused on restoring what yesterday's battle had nearly taken away.
West moved through them at an easy pace, one hand resting unconsciously against his side whenever the soreness reminded him it was still there. He offered small waves to the crewmen who recognized him, earning nods and greetings in return as he continued toward the herbal shop.
The sudden thunder of galloping horses rolled through the city, loud enough to pull heads from their work. Conversations stopped mid-sentence as workers looked toward the center of the settlement. Curiosity spread quickly. Some of the Hearts abandoned their tasks altogether, drifting toward the courtyard to see what had arrived, while others kept swinging hammers, knowing Turik would have little patience for distractions.
West slowed for only a moment, glancing toward the growing crowd before continuing on.
He had something he could actually fix.
The herbal shop sat among several supply stores that had been established over the winter, their shelves noticeably barer than they had once been. Behind the counter, a Minthian elder carefully recorded every item that entered and left the shop, her attention never wavering from the worn ledger spread before her.
"Good afternoon." West greeted.
The woman looked up and greeted him with a small bow.
"Is there still Ladybyrd tea back there?" He asked.
"Yes." She answered and quickly disappeared behind a shelf and returned with a glass jar filled with dried leaves.
"I'll have a quarter, please."
As West reached into his pocket for a coin, movement outside the window caught his eye. More workers were setting their tools aside and making their way toward the courtyard, drawn by whatever had ridden into the city.
"Turik isn't going to like this," he murmured to himself. His attention drifted back inside the shop. Only then did he notice several freshly mended shirts and pairs of trousers hanging neatly along the far wall.
He looked down at himself. His own shirt was stained with dry mud, blood stains, and sweat marks, with fresh tears from the fight stretching across the fabric. The clothes had done their job, but they weren't worth saving. His thoughts wandered back to the medical tent. Loredo wasn't in much better shape.
"Hey, You got any of those robes in my size?." West looked back toward the shopkeeper.
She nodded.
“Give me two, a green and a red” West put a few more coins on the counter, never asking for a price. His pockets were filled with coins and that was only a small portion of what he had in Jennys satchel.
"Sure thing." The woman disappeared into the back once more.
West waited patiently, absently rubbing the side of his ribs as another dull ache settled beneath the fresh bandages. Outside, the commotion in the courtyard continued to build, punctuated by distant voices he couldn't quite make out.
After a short while, the woman returned carrying several neatly folded garments. She set them on the counter before measuring the Ladybyrd tea onto a small scale.
"What is happening outside?" she asked.
"I'm not sure," West said as he set a silver coin on the counter. "Probably a couple of guys fighting."
A knowing smile crossed the old woman's face. "They certainly like to fight amongst themselves." She glanced back up at the roughed up West, only then seeming to remember she was speaking to one of the Blue Hearts.
West offered a tired smile. "Just the dumb ones."
The woman slid the small pouch of tea and the folded clothing across the counter.
West gathered everything into his arms with a grateful nod. "Thank you."
Without another glance toward the growing crowd outside, he stepped back into the street and started toward the medical tent, choosing the problems he could solve over the ones he couldn't.
The farther West walked back through the city, the more abandoned tools he noticed lying where they had been dropped. Shovels rested beside half-filled trenches. Hammers lay forgotten atop unfinished barricades. Even wheelbarrows sat idle in the streets.
Whatever had happened in the courtyard had managed to pull people away from work.
By the time he reached the medical tent, curiosity had begun to tug at him as well. Inside, Hemlo was finishing the last of Loredo's examination.
"I got the Ladybyrd." West held up the small pouch. "We just have to boil it."
"Alright, well..." Hemlo pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. "Unlike you pathetic slugs, I have to go back to work."
Hemlo picked up the curved needle between two fingers, thick enough to make the tool seem almost comically small. "Unless you want me to take that eye out. We can do it now, and we can do it fast."
Loredo's confidence disappeared. He swallowed. "Get out of my face, butcher!"
A deep laugh rumbled from Hemlo's chest. Instead of answering, he crossed the tent and placed the needle in West's hand. "I'll come back to check on you shortly, but I need to get back to the southern wall." He nodded toward the city outside. "My men have probably already wandered into the shade while I've been gone."
"There was some kind of commotion near the city center." West slipped the needle onto the table beside the rest of the supplies. "Some of the men ran over to see what it was."
"Perhaps another fight." Hemlo wondered.
"It looked a little bigger than a typical fight," West responded.
"Hm." Hemlo rubbed at his beard before continuing, "Perhaps Broc managed to find the rest of Delios' men hiding in the hills." A dry smile spread across his face. "Nothing brings the boys together like a good old-fashioned flailing of a yellow Evokian." Still chuckling to himself, he ducked beneath the tent flap and disappeared outside.
The tent grew noticeably quieter.
West sighed as he stepped outside the entrance. A fire pit had already been prepared from earlier, with Hemlo's pot still hanging above it. He crouched carefully, suppressing another wince from his ribs as he coaxed a small flame to life beneath the iron pot.
It wasn't long before the water began to warm. Leaving it to heat, West returned inside and pulled a stool in front of Loredo. "Let's have another look," West said, addressing Loredo.
Loredo leaned back with an exaggerated sigh but held still while West dampened a clean cloth and gently began wiping away the dried blood beneath the swollen eye.
"You weren't supposed to be throwing headbutts during a friendly duel." Loredo hissed as the cloth brushed the cut. "We're not trying to kill each other."
West paused long enough to look up at him. "A friendly duel?" He couldn't help letting out a short laugh. "They had to basically pry the dagger out of your hand before we even started."
"You knocked me off my horse!" Loredo shifted in his seat, immediately regretting it as another stab of pain pulled across his face. "I could've gotten seriously hurt. I didn't know your intentions at that moment!"
"Well..." West returned to cleaning the wound. "You were about to whip me!"
"I wasnot!" Loredo pushed himself to his feet a little too quickly. His vision swam, forcing him to steady himself against the table before continuing. "I was just messing with you. I'm not just going around whipping people for no reason."
West slowly stood as well, careful not to twist his torso. "You were striking that Minthian man for no reason!" His voice rose despite himself. "I didn't know what your intentions were either!"
Loredo opened his mouth to argue before stopping. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I would never hurt one of my brothers without cause." After a moment, he extended his hand. "It was just a joke." He hesitated. "...Perhaps a bad one."
West looked down at the offered hand. Then back at Loredo. "You should be offering that hand to the man you hit."
"The Minthian?" Loredo slowly lowered his arm. "All this...for the Minthian?" There was no mockery in his voice anymore. Only confusion.
"He didn't do anything to deserve it," West said, almost deflated in spirit.
Loredo took a small step backward, studying West as though seeing him for the first time. "So that's it?" he asked quietly. "You'd stand behind the Minthians? Defend these strangers against your own?”
A silent pause.
“They aren't our enemies," West answered as he remained where he was, though the movement of standing had left his ribs aching again.
"But they're not our allies either." Loredo rolled back the muddy sleeve on his forearm. The faded brand beneath his palm came into view. A slave's mark.
West instinctively glanced at his own hand. The same type of scar he bore.
"I've been on the other end of the whip." Loredo looked at the mark rather than at West. "Allies are… very few."
"It still doesn't make it right." West's voice had softened.
Loredo let out a slow breath through his nose. "It's just the way things are." His eyes never left the brand. "That's what common folk tell themselves while they watch a child work until his hands bleed. They tell themselves it isn't their problem."
Loredos fingers slowly curled into a fist. "Mercy is for the innocent." Only then did he look back up at West. "And only children and dogs are truly innocent."
Neither man spoke after that.
Outside, the water hanging over the fire reached a rolling boil, its quiet gurgling filling the silence that had settled between them. The sound lingered inside the tent, neither loud enough nor strong enough to wash away the weight of what had just been said.
"We can be better than them," West answered softly.
Loredo let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, lowering his gaze for a moment before looking back at him. "The delusions of a commoner who thinks he is above the mud."
West slowly rolled back his sleeve until the faded brand beneath his wrist came into view. He held it there between them, allowing Loredo to study the familiar mark. "This marking doesn't exempt me from evil. My choices as a free man do."
Loredo's eyes lingered on the scar for only a moment before meeting West's again. "And it doesn't give you any insight into what that same fate means to me." His voice remained calm, but there was a quiet exhaustion behind it now. "You don't know me, West."
"Just as you don't know me," West replied. "Or the Minthian. Or any of the hundreds of people you'll meet in your life."
The conversation had reached a place where neither man was likely to change the other's mind.
West let it rest.
He stepped outside the tent and lifted the iron pot from the fire with a folded cloth. Steam curled into the afternoon air as he carefully lowered it onto the cool, damp ground beside the entrance. The rich scent of Ladybyrd leaves rose from the water while it slowly began to lose its heat.
"We're going to let it cool." As he straightened, a sharp pull spread through his ribs. His hand instinctively settled over the bandages beneath his shirt until the pain eased enough for him to stand comfortably again.
Only then did he glance down at the bloodstained fabric clinging to his body. "Let's go change," he said. "I'd like to get out of these dirty clothes." He picked up one of the folded bundles from the bench and started toward the nearby changing station.
Loredo followed several paces behind without another word.
The afternoon sun struck him the moment he stepped outside, forcing him to squint with his one good eye until his vision adjusted. Ahead of him, West was already struggling with his shirt. Every attempt to raise his arms ended the same way, with another wince and a frustrated exhale as the bruised ribs refused to cooperate.
"Let me help you." Loredo offered.
West looked over his shoulder.
Loredo approached at an unhurried pace, favoring one side ever so slightly. He reached for a small knife tucked inside his boot.
West eyed both the blade and the man holding it. A disbelieving scoff escaped him. Then he tried lifting his arms one more time. The pain answered too aggressively for him.
"...Alright." He said as he faced Loredo.
With a practiced flick of his wrist, the dagger slipped free from its sheath.
The blade glided upward in one clean motion, slicing through the torn shirt from the hem toward the collar. A heartbeat later, the dagger spun once across his fingers and disappeared back into the boot as though it had never been there.
West stared ahead, suddenly aware of just how easily that same motion could have ended somewhere very different. Something else drew his attention.
He turned.
Across the city, movement cut through the gathering crowd.
Loredo noticed it at nearly the same time. He drew a slow breath before folding his arms across his chest. "Looks like our captain's in a good mood." A small grin touched the uninjured side of his face. "She's wearing her good armor."
West's eyes followed the figure crossing the courtyard.
Odessa strode toward the stables with the same unwavering purpose she seemed to carry into every battle. Sunlight caught the polished plates of her armor, sending brief flashes of light across the street as stable hands hurried to ready the horse waiting for her. She mounted in one smooth motion, gathered the reins, and led a crowd of overjoyed Blue Hearts..
West watched until horse and rider disappeared beyond the buildings. Only then did he shake himself free of the moment.
Without another word, he finished changing into the clean clothes, dropping the torn shirt and filthy trousers into a nearby barrel already overflowing with garments ruined by blood, mud, and hard labor.
He gathered the remaining bundle and glanced toward Loredo. "I'll meet you inside. The tea should've cooled by now." He started back toward the medical tent before adding, "We have to be precise if we want the treatment to work."
Loredo buttoned the last of his clean shirt, carefully avoiding the stitches beneath his eye, then followed after him, the distance between them noticeably smaller than it had been when they first walked out of the tent together.
Loredo returned just inside the entrance of the tent, his good eye lingering on the path Odessa had disappeared down only moments earlier. Outside, the camp still buzzed with distant voices as more people drifted toward the city center, but inside, the sounds were reduced to little more than the gentle bubbling of the tea and the occasional creak of the canvas overhead.
West crouched beside the cooled pot and slowly stirred the darkened Ladybyrd tea. Once he was satisfied with its temperature, he lowered a strip of clean linen into the liquid until the cloth became thoroughly soaked. "I'll need to boil a little more water after the stitches," he said, glancing toward Loredo. "We'll have to clean everything again."
"Sure." Loredo eased himself back onto the stool, lowering his body carefully until he was seated. Even that simple movement pulled at the swollen side of his face, forcing him to grit his teeth before settling into place.
West returned carrying the bowl and a damp cloth. He pulled his stool close enough to study the wound without crowding him, then gently pressed the tea-soaked linen beneath Loredo's eye.
The cut had already begun to clot, but there was still enough dried blood around it to hide its true depth.
This time, West's hands moved with quiet confidence. Ladybyrd would do its work. If they were careful, Loredo would keep his eye.
"Thank you," Loredo muttered as another sting from the tea forced him to tighten his jaw, "for sparing me from the hands of Hemlo."
A faint smile crossed West's face as he continued cleaning the wound. "Everyone needs a little mercy sometimes." He dabbed away another streak of dried blood before looking up. "Not just dogs and children."
He stared ahead, refusing to move while West worked.
The tent flap suddenly swung open.
Hemlo strode inside much faster than he had left, his heavy boots carrying enough excitement that even before he spoke, something had clearly changed. "Well, boys," he announced, unable to hide the grin spreading beneath his beard, "it seems we're going to be alright after all."
Neither West nor Loredo looked up.
West's entire attention remained fixed on guiding the needle through the edge of the wound without leaving unnecessary scarring.
"Odessa has emerged from her spell!" Hemlo remarked joyfully.
"Oh?" West answered absentmindedly, his eyes never leaving the stitch.
"She's about to challenge the Red Dragon." He answered West.
The needle stopped.
West froze so completely that even Loredo felt it.
"That's right!" Hemlo folded his arms proudly. "Odessa is back!"
Silence settled over the tent.
Then Hemlo pointed toward the shelves lined with bandages and supplies. "I'm putting you in charge of medical, West."
For a moment, West simply stared. The words reached him. His mind refused to organize them. In charge. Medical. Odessa. The Red Dragon. The thoughts collided so violently that he couldn't seem to separate one from the next.
"No..." he finally managed. "I should go up there!"
Hemlo barely acknowledged the protest. He looked toward Loredo instead. "Seeing as you two idiots are going to be out of service for the next week or two, I don't think either of you deserves to witness the mighty Odessa in action."
West rose so quickly that the motion pulled hard against his ribs. Pain shot through his side, but he hardly noticed. The needle remained pinched between his fingers. "Hemlo... please." His voice caught. "I should be there. I can..." The sentence never found an ending.
"Sit down, boy!" Hemlo jabbed a finger toward the back of the tent. "Before I punch you in the rib, get that pot. Sounds like the water's boiling." He turned without waiting for another argument. "I shall return."
The tent flap closed behind him.
West remained standing. His pulse hammered against his ears. His thoughts refused to settle. Once again to Odessa. Than to Tyrus. Back to medical. The order to ‘stay here.’ Fighting the urge to simply go.
His breathing grew uneven as he searched the tent without really seeing it. "I..." The words caught in his throat. "I have to..."
The steady gurgling from the boiling pot finally cut through the noise inside his head.
Almost mechanically, he walked toward it.
"He's your friend, isn't he?" Loredo's voice broke the silence.
West stopped beside the fire. For several long seconds, he didn't answer.
"I heard some of the others talking," Loredo continued. "They said he's your friend."
He hesitated too long.
"Or... your brother?" Loredo continued.
West stared down at the steaming pot before carefully lifting it from the fire. He carried it back into the tent, set it beside the table, and lowered himself onto the stool once more. "I..." His fingers tightened around the towel wrapped beneath the hot pot. "I don't..." The words simply weren't there.
Loredo watched him for a moment before leaning back with a tired sigh. "Don't get shaky on me now." He nodded toward the unfinished stitches. "I still need this eye."
West lowered his gaze to the wound. He drew in one slow breath. Then another. The panic didn't disappear. He merely forced it quieter. "...Right." He steadied his hands against his knees before picking up the needle once more.
"If Odessa has truly emerged," Loredo said, far more confidently than either of them could possibly know, "then we have nothing to worry about!"
West said nothing. He guided the needle carefully through skin, tied the stitch, and reached for the next one. Each careful movement gave his restless mind something to hold onto. He told himself this was where he was needed. That Loredo's eye depended on him. That there would be others to stand beside Odessa.
Yet beneath every measured stitch, another thought refused to loosen its grip. He could not tell whether he was fulfilling an order...
...or hiding from the possibility that Tyrus had truly returned.