Father Linus arrived back at the temple in the early afternoon, his usually calm demeanor strained by a thin layer of worry. His robes were disheveled from the hurried journey, and beads of sweat dotted his brow. Wasting no time, he made his way to the healer's chamber, his footsteps echoing softly along the stone corridors.
Inside, the healer—a middle-aged man with a solemn countenance and practiced hands—was preparing a mixture of herbs and oils. He glanced up at the priest's hurried entrance, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Father Linus," the healer greeted, setting aside his work. "What brings you here with such urgency?"
The priest took a steadying breath, his voice tinged with concern as he explained, "One of our temple knights has fallen gravely ill. He seems to have been poisoned, though I cannot discern how or when it happened. I need your expertise to determine the cause and to prepare something to aid him. Time is of the essence."
