Syryn was rushed off to the healer the very moment he stepped into Silisia. Despite his protests, Drevin ensured that the mage was hauled off to the infirmary.
"You're back."
The young healer gave him a dry look. She was seeing his face far too often at the infirmary. From an unexplained coma to an unexplained itch, they'd reached an unexplained rash. The healer was annoyed because not only did she not know a lot about human illnesses, she couldn't even find Syryn's symptoms in her book about human diseases.
"Only because the prince threw his weight around and demanded that I come here," Syryn grumbled. His rash didn't bother him at all, and he would rather be in bed in his room, contemplating his day.
"How did this happen?" She asked him as she held up his hand to a glass ball that shone brightly.
"He was tangled up with blue-ringed serpents. It might have to do with that perhaps," Drevin answered in his steed.
