Before going to be, a group of craftsmen gathered in my room. The stood me up, measured my legs and body as they prepared for the work. Leaving me no privacy, they took over the room, using it as a workshop and the one cluttered desk was cleared and used as a table. Despite doing their best to keep quiet the craftsmen kept me awake most of the night. It started with the whispers gathered around the desk as the argued over designs before finally covering the desk with sketches and measurements. They constantly discussed what they felt my needs were, including my size, comfort, and specific requirements, I might want such as the need to use a chamber pot. Their argument about how the chamber pot would work took at least an hour.
Eventually, they stopped arguing long enough to bring out designs for me to examine. No matter how much I stared at them, I didn't understand everything. They told me the drawings detailed the dimensions and features of what will be my wheelchair but even with their help, most of it was confusing. When asked which design I preferred, I chose the one with the most writing on it. The group of them congratulated themselves on a good design and patted one of them on the back. After which, they cleaned off the desk again and left the room.
Just as I finally drifted to sleep, they returned bringing in samples of finished wood for me to examine so I could decide what I wanted it to look like. They continuously told me about the qualities of the wood, the strengths, and aesthetics, while ensuring me the new chair would provide the necessary support for me while maintaining a beautiful finish. After finally telling them they were the experts, and I would leave the decision to them, they left for a second time only to return before the sun rose bringing several shaped pieces of wood which they held up to my arms, back, and legs to confirm their measurements.
After several moments of their checking sizes and asking if the color was what I hoped, a pair of women entered my room and looked over a copy of the designs. Once they discussed my comfort amongst themselves, the taller of the two brought over leather which had been dyed in various colors. Removing some choices from the palette, I was to choose from the remaining colors as this would be the colors of the backrest and seat padding of my new chair. I told them to choose something masculine which would look good. Then nodded and left me in peace again.
Before returning to sleep, I rang to use the chamber pot. Dustin was in charge of tending to my needs this morning. Before I could manage to sit fully on the handled pot beside the bed, the horde of crafts-workers were again in my room. Seeing me in a different light, they again started measuring, me, the chamber pot, where my legs were bent, everything. Dustin shoed them out finally so I could get cleaned, but once clean again, he barely folded me into the bed when they returned once again with various parts and pieces to begin assembling the wheelchair. They worked relatively quietly, compared to before as they were focusing on every detail to ensure the wheelchair was sturdy and well-balanced. They checked each joint to be certain they were secured, and made various adjustments were made to guarantee I would be comfortable.
Giving up any attempt at returning to sleep. I watched everything they did fascinated by the chair being assembled before my eyes. After it was assembled, they lifted me into it to examine their work. Deciding it was satisfactory, the wheelchair was carefully sanded to remove rough edges, thus providing a smooth and comfortable surface. The crafts-workers then applied a finish to protect the wood and enhance its appearance and it seemed to add a warm glow to the wheelchair.
They stood around the wheelchair admiring their work when one of the women returned casting a spell which heated the room, particularly the chair. Having used a spell to dry the wheel-chair, she added a padded seat and backrest to reduce the stress on my body and maximize my comfort. The seat and backrest was then sealed and dried by magic after which the chair was checked to ensure a chamber pot could be slid beneath it without disturbing me, and I was again placed into the chair to see what I thought.
After leaning too far forward and having to be caught by the craftspeople, they designed a paid of buckled leather straps to help hold me in the chair as it was being wheeled around. As the church bells pealed, the craftspeople conducted a thorough quality check ensuring every part of the wooden wheelchair met their highest standards of craftsmanship and safety making a few minor adjustments where needed to guarantee a perfect and safe fit for me. Finally, the craftspeople, looking as tired as I felt gave a satisfied smile having decided the chair was finished and with more than a little ceremony which included the healers present in the hall, presented me with the new expertly crafted wheelchair.
As the sun came from behind the keep casting a warm, golden hue across the festival grounds. King Garret, resplendent in his regal attire, sat on a richly adorned throne on the grand raised platform. My mother was to his right and Jayr his left. I was wheeled up the ramp provided for my needs and nestled between my mother and him, atop the platform. King Garret looked at the magnificent wheelchair crafted in less than a night. He smiled at the craftspeople who brought me here and with a hearty handshake for each of them, he imparted a gold regal into them. As the last one shook his hand a received his bounty, the king gave a small pouch to the group. "The other was for the speed and quality. This is the offered payment."
Looking at the crowd, I could feel the air was charged with anticipation as the display of knightly swordsmanship and various trials was about to unfold. Having paid the craftspeople, King Garret raised a hand towards the musicians. Trumpets blared, announcing the arrival of the knights onto the tournament field. As each knight entered, the king acknowledged them with a nod. Though occasionally, his gaze shifted to me enjoying my inclusion amidst the grandeur of his noble house.
Before the battle could begin, Monica slid quickly beside me and whispered into the king's ear. He nodded in approval. She then took up a place directly behind me. She whispered, "my numbers were perfect; and the king is happy. I will get to choose who the king sponsors and reward the families of the new pages."
A sense of joy filled me on her behalf. Monica deserved good things. She was the best friend anyone could have. Below, the knights, clad in gleaming armor, were paired off against one another as they attempted to gain rank. Each battle was a breathtaking display of swordsmanship as blades clashed, sparks flew, and the crowd erupted in cheers. From this elevated vantage point, I was able to observe the intricate maneuvers with wide-eyed fascination. These were the real knights. This is what I desperately wish to become. Even if the trip to the grotto was not forthcoming, seeing this from my vantagepoint was one of the best days of my life.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, bathing the scene in hues of orange and purple, King Garret addressed the gathered crowd. He spoke of the valor displayed by the knights, how because of them grand battles were won, and of the unity of becoming a knight which transcended physical, geographic, religious, and gender differences. After his speech, the knights who had won their bouts, their swords sheathed, approached the platform bowing to pay their respects to King Garret. Handing Monica and I a number of small pouches each, we were taken to the bottom of the platform in front of the knights where, as the king offered his words of congratulations, we provided each of the victorious knights with a pouch.
Today's bouts would give way to the page trials tomorrow, where each prospective page would battle against an animated golem until one or the other received five hits against the other. This was where I desperately wished to be, but knowing I could not participate, left me unwilling to watch. Thanking the king, I explained this to him and was wheeled off to the healer's hall for a well needed rest.
Choosing not to watch the festivities today, allowed me to finally look around the healer's hall in my new chair. I wheeled myself about taking note of the charts and diagrams. While not all of them made sense, I did understand what some of the items were just from reading them and found them quite interesting.
Wheeling around, I discovered Master Whitehair's study, the door was open, so I wheeled myself in. The sheer number of old tomes dealing with healing were mixed with those about magic and wizardry. Looking through them, something about the healing pathways of a body's mana and the way mana was used by a wizard looked kind of similar. There were a number of illustrations of each, and the more I read, the more I wondered why a healer couldn't learn one or more of the oaths of magic besides healing. Of course, the magic might be weaker as healers used internal magic, while wizards channeled external magic to do their bidding.
As I continued my examination of the study, I immediately fell in love with some of the old tapestries depicting the visions of nature. The skill and detail used in creating them, were incredible and the beautifully serene scenes they showed drew me in completely. Several of them looked so alive I felt like one could walk into them and be transported to a whole new place. Touching them in the hope of just that, I noticed how fine the material was; the threads were so fine it felt like paper. Suddenly after losing myself in the touched tapestry, I felt exhausted and needed to return to my room.