The Royal Healer sat on a small wooden stool dead center in the small, dark, stone chamber, surrounded by the remaining Royal council members. The relationship he had with these powerful holy men had always teetered on respect and hatred. They tolerated him because his methods cured them, but for him to teach and educate others about his healing methods was forbidden. Healer was allowed only with express concern and in the presence of one of them, to verify that his education was in line with their religious doctrine.
Healer had managed to be unscathed from the council's Iron Fist...almost. They had him now. Ever since the Civil War ended the Councilmen seemed on edge. Healer knew why he was here. He just hoped that it would have been a little later.
He also hoped they practiced their words of mercy and grace. He sat in a calm way. Both of his feet were flat on the floor. His hands palm down, resting on his upper thighs. His shoulders were relaxed.
