Chapter 5
The Healer's Cove I
Fawn cast a glance about the little workshop that she was a part of:
The most part of it consisted of greens and browns, where all the tables, walls and shelves were carved from wood, with climbers and potted plants dressing them excessively.
She was the Chief Healer Monto's Apprentice, and it was she who took in most of the patients, for she was student solely by name, but a rather professional by hand in the arts of medication.
Further, physician Monto could hardly be found at desk these days, for he was highly engaged with several other duties to be bothered about lately.
The Physician's Wing was found in the towers that stood taut between the Residential Section and the Educational section of the Royal Academy.
And that was the first day when the Princes and Princesses of different nations were arriving for their course. There was a great year ahead of them all and Fawn looked forward to making new friends.
One thing she was certain of was the fact that an old friend of hers, Fiore, would be attending that year and they would be able to spend sufficient time with each other.
Perhaps she would make more friends of royals, if they were nice enough.
The young damsel of midnight blue hair sat at the desk and began brewing health potions that would soon come in handy once the combat classes commenced.
Usually, when she had time to spare, she would mix new concoctions to find some unheard recipe. It was something Fawn had a flair for.
However, with experimenting came no stock when she would be in dire need for them once the combat training starts. What she disliked about mundane work like brewing potions that she already knew was that it did not consume her concentration.
This easily led to overthinking, or just her mind bringing back all the thoughts of her past and starvations of hope for her future, for she would otherwise just be forced to listen to the sound of silence resonating loudly through the room.
She watched as the concoction she was making turned glassy orange, with a few herbs and raw spices thrown in for flavor and smell.
The scents brought back memories from a time when she had first learnt to brew them, in a little wooden cottage sitting by the borders of the wild woods.
She had been adopted as a young orphan by the kind healer of the forest and had been trained in the art of medication since as far as she could remember.
In all her years, she had oft treated those staggering soldiers lost from nearby wars, who would chance upon their cottage, or some man injuring during his hunting expedition in their woods. During seasons of ongoing warfare, the cottage would be full and overflowing.
Fawn had never, for a moment, hesitated to take care of the men and women under her treatment, no matter how gruesome their state. Most spoke like they were taking their last breath and keeping such from happening was like her call in life.
The most frustrating part in all this was that, despite how protective the healer of the woods, her adoptive mother, had been with her, most of the young damsel's youth was spent fending away men that had ill intentions towards her even though she was rendering them the service of healing.
It did not alter the case, whether they wore a wedding ring or not. Some were skilled enough to ask her to lay with them as their dying wish.
There had been times when she had been in the wild and some would force their way on her, causing her to fret and flee as urgently as possible. That had been why she could never understand loving them in all her years of youth.
After all, it wasn't that she was particularly beautiful, in order to invoke such intentions.
She was just a rustic young girl of dark blue hair and fair brown eyes, who smelt of the forest and wielded herbs well enough to cure them. They were wooed merely on the prospect that she was defenseless though.
And the damsel had fervently believed that all men intended harm and bore no good thoughts towards a young lady who was by herself.
Fawn had wished never to fall in love and settle in life, pledging her heart to someone who would look upon her solely with lust.
Such had been her ill notion of men, until she had met one particular, mysterious knight of unknown origin.
A young man of silver long hair and tall stature. He had mentioned his name to be Kinwhich, but Fawn was smart enough to know that it was a false alias. He had first staggered to her cottage, bearing a fatal blow that ranged a great part of his sides and arm.
It was likely an injury from war. And it was not the only one.
She had nearly screamed at the sight of it, and had scurried to treat him, for the healer of the woods, the old lady that had adopted her was away on a far journey to the city in search of some liquids for brewing.
Her efforts spent were meticulous and constant, like she was looking after a kin of her own. And his recovery was miraculously speedy, that he began walking and helping himself within mere days.
But despite being all alone with the man for days and nights on end, he had never made a move on her.
He would stay in the patients' room, reading some book from her shelf or merely just watching out the window. She played the lyre to him and sang many a song and he would shower her with compliments.
With time, she realized that he was beginning to grow protective of her.
And more so, she was falling into a trance of affection towards him that always bid her cravings to stay close by his side.
After his recovery, he had left. But the silver haired man had made it a point to make frequent visits to her nearly every two months.
However, that had been only until the fire.
And then she had no more chance to ever see him, for she did not know his identity or wherefrom he hailed.
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