Ferran pulls the thick oak door open for Morziwayn and Eue-Lysae, waving them into the large room on the top floor of Herst Castle, which can only be described as Floriana’s lab.

  It’s freezing, making Eue-Lysae glad that she had chosen to purchase those sheepskin slippers when she was out with Morziwayn. Maybe a coat or a sweater is next in line? She gently shakes her head at Luhnylla’s comment; she is yet to sway that far away from the scripture. She scans the dimly lit room, looking for Floryana; her eyes flick across towering bookshelves, each meticulously organized to where the spines face the wall, hundreds of multicolored tags jutting out. Finally she spots the apothecary, sitting in a squatted position on the chair at a desk facing the interior wall; hunched over a book, her black wool turtleneck sweater pulled all the way up to the bridge of her nose. Eue-Lysae clears her throat. “Franheska.”

  Floryana startles at the sudden disturbance, falling over the armrest of the chair, taking her book and half the contents of the right side of her desk with her. She clambers to her feet; with wide eyes, she gawks at those who disturbed her silence. “Can you knock? I’m busy.”

  “We did.” Eue-Lysae snaps, not in the mood to deal with Franheska at the moment. She holds up the sling Morziwayn had been given a few days prior. “Morziwayn’s arm is broken—” She does not have a chance to finish before Franheska is making her way around the room in a frenzy, picking up Gods know what. A rag, four small wooden splints, a longer towel for a sling... no wait, she put that back, wool, bandages. Eue-Lysae rubs her face; she was not asking literally.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Floryana storms over. This little redhead does not look like Morziwayn, but she honestly does not care in the slightest; she has things to do. If they wanted her to care, they would have contacted her ahead of time—14:00-18:00 is her reading time. She rolls the rag into a shape cylindrical in nature and holds it out for the girl. “Bite this.” The girl opens her mouth and puts the rag between her back teeth. She’s missing her front teeth; between this and the ‘fracture,’ she clearly had a fall of some sort. “Or try to at least.”

  Taking the two arms, Floryana compares them; the girl winces, biting down on the rag. She notices a small bend in the forearm of the left. Pulling the girl over to a semi-clear table, she feels her way down the arm. “This isn’t broken; this is bent—it’s only partially broken.”

  Eue-Lysae opens her mouth to respond but promptly closes it again. Opting to just respond with an ‘mmm-hmm.’

  Quickly, Floryana wraps the arm in wool and places the splints around the forearm, binding them firmly with linen bandages. She compares the shape of the set arm with the unbroken one, determining it to be adequate. She snatches the sling from Gyrshke’s hand and puts the arm in it.

  “Can you feel your fingers?” Floryana makes her way to the door.

  “Yes.” Says Morziwayn.

  “Good. Four to six weeks.” Floryana yanks the door open. “Out!”

  Morziwayn and Eue-Lysae are gone as quickly as they arrived.