You find the knight sitting back in a chair in the left medical tent, just as Lada said you would. Laid out near him are several other soldiers, all in various states of injury.
As you approach, you realize just how wounded Obren is. A bandage is wrapped around his skull. The part of it covering his forehead is stained red with crimson blood. His left arm is propped across his chest by a sling.
He's also suffering from an obvious, painful-looking black eye.
You come to a halt in front of him. He looks up at you and says dryly, "G'evenin', Marshal."
Obren lets out a long sigh. You sit down on the ground beside him.
"It's not that interesting of a story," he says. "I got hit bad in the head, lost my helmet. Someone got me across the forehead. Kept fightin'… got hit again." Obren blows out a breath. "You know how it goes."
"How's the arm? Broken?"
He shakes his head. "It ain't even the arm. It's the shoulder. Just got it fucked up. It ain't broken though."
"Will you be all right?"
Obren chuckles. "Yeah. Probably. I've been through worse."
You raise an eyebrow. "You have?"
"No," he admits. "But I'll heal. Hopefully."
You nod and stand back up. "All right. And… sorry for dragging you into that mess."
He raises a hand dismissively. "No apologies. I'm a goddamn soldier. It's my job."
"I know, but—"
"Seriously," he interrupts. "It's my job."
You sigh. "All right." You sigh again and lower your head. You turn to him. "I'd best be off."
He nods. "Stay safe."
"Aye. You too."
You leave the medical tents.
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