Horses and carts piled through the gates of the Princes Keep every day. Most brought barrels of powder, weapons and food. But some brought men back from Edwyn's army. Many were in deplorable condition and Baldwyn had ordered the best care for them. Joth had found himself leading a makeshift hospital based in the Keep's Cage of the Dove. The High Prince had given him everything he needed, linen for bandages, money for medicines. He paced through the lines of beds filled with soldiers in various states of healing. Joth rubbed his chin as he stopped to check on each in turn. He could feel whiskers pushing their way back through his chin.

I'll need to shave again.

He spotted Mira carefully changing bandages a few beds down. After Arthur was cast out of the Keep and Pyp left under mysterious circumstances the survivors of Finepoint drifted around Heartford searching for work. When High Prince Baldwyn approached Joth to help with the wounded he offered a job to all of the women who helped in their escape. The only one who didn't accept was Grace, she disappeared after a heated argument with Mira.

"Surgeon, more men have arrived many of them are badly hurt," said one of his nurses.

Joth followed her outside and turned his nose up at the smell of death. It was the worst group he had seen yet, many men were missing limbs which had been poorly bandaged. Others hadn't even had their dead limbs removed. Joth scanned the men with his eyes and pointed out a number to his nurses who had them put delicately on stretchers.

Not many here we can save, it get worse with every cart.

The other men were moved to a spot in the gardens were they would be made as comfortable as possible before they died.

Joth spent the rest of the morning treating his new patients and when those who survived were laying in bed asleep Joth's' arms burned from the effort of sawing off rotting limbs. He stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and spotted the High Prince slowly plodding toward him.

"My Surgeon, I heard we have new arrivals from Edwyn," he said with a dazzling smile.

"We do Sire, nearly two dozen men. We could only save ten," sighed Joth feeling his knees ache from the standing.

"War truly is terrible, they always leave the hospitals out of the stories when it comes to war, I suppose if men knew the truth no one would fight."

"I know they wouldn't sire."

"Anyways, I've come to inspect the wounded," said Baldwyn.

"That is very generous sire," said Joth, he was surprised the High Prince was here. Just as he was surprised that he had given so much to the care of the wounded. Normally the Peace provided money and care for the dying.

Joth noticed Baldwyn moved with a more pronounced limp than usual. He kept his cane in one hand and a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face in the other. Baldwyn stopped at every bed they had and had words with the occupants. They were all in a similar vein, part rousing speech and condemnation of the criminals who did that to them. Joth saw many faces brighten after the Prince's brief words.

The power of faith.

Joth saw Baldwyn wince in pain as he stepped up to the alter to offer a prayer. He stepped close to him and felt the strong hands of his guards pull him away.

"It's alright let the man speak," said Baldwyn.

Joth came to his side, "If your in pain sire you should let me examine you," began Joth.

"No need Mister Joth, it's an old pain that I've carried since birth," he gave Joth a dazzling smile before turning sharply on his heel and marching out. No matter how hard he tried to hide it Joth could still see his pain.

Joth was preparing for another day of sawing and sewing when an armoured guardsman burst through the door.

"Surgeon, its the High Prince he needs aid." Joth snapped his fingers and shouted for his medicine case before following the guard to the Princes bedchamber. Five men were hovering around the large posted bed.

"Make way, make way I've brought the Surgeon," announce the guard elbowing his way to the front.

Joth crouched down to the bed and noticed another man wafting incense over the Prince. "If you'll excuse me sir," said Joth.

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"And who are you," his indignant voice grated Joth the moment he heard it.

"A surgeon."

Joth rested his cold hand on the Prince's sweaty forehead. A fever.

He turned to the men in the room. "How has he been, any sickness, any complaints," asked Joth.

"Coughing, shivering, gasping for breath" said one of his door guards.

"It's poison, someone has attempted to take our masters life," bellowed one of the hoverers.

They all began shouting accusations at one another, it was getting heated before the armed guards pulled them off each other. "Gentlemen" shouted Joth with enough anger to silence the room. "I need some space."

The guards bustled them out before they could complain. "This one as well," said Joth flicking his finger at the richly garbed man across from him.

"I'm the Prince's personal physician," the man said aghast. When only the guards remained Joth turned to speak with the physician.

"I'm Joth you are?" he asked

"Louis De Feffer, University-educated healer" he said.

Joth had guessed that from the long robes red robes. He has probably never seen a real wounded man in his life thought Joth. The long robes physicians generally absconded from getting their hands dirty with the ill. They observed and offered ointments and elixirs and bloodletting, they were better salesmen than healers and that was why they worked exclusively for the wealthy.

"Do you think this is poison," asked Joth.

"What else could it be, Shearleaf would be the most obvious suspect and I have just the tincture to cure it," he said confidently.

"You mustn't be up to date on your poisons, Shearleaf would have his vomiting blood and soiling himself an hour after he had consumed it. The difficulty breathing, the high fever, the shakes there's no poison I know of that causes that. But it is endemic of the Old Man's Friend, if it gets any worse the High Prince may slip away in his sleep."

"Outrageous, the High Prince is much to young to suffer from that it must be poison. He has many enemies and they would all like to see him dead."

"Give him your medicine if you must, but I'll give him mine as well," said Joth.

They spent the rest of the day arguing over the High Prince's ailment. Joth found himself enjoying the spirited debate. The Physician De Feffer was well educated in the physical humours, a school of thought that Joth had been taught to ignore. They argued at length over De Feffer's plan to bleed the High Prince. Joth managed to talk him out of the bloodletting in favour of managing his fever and coughing while giving him a broad range of medicines. The captain of the guard introduced himself as Sir Rowan Bolbec.

"Sirs I ask if there is any good news regarding the High Prince," he asked.

"The surgeon won't allow me to bleed him," said De Feffer.

"His fever is weakening which is a good sign, but the delirium has yet to pass. We won't get anything out of the High Prince until it does."

Sir Bolbec sighed.

"Is everything alright Sir Captain," said De Feffer.

"It chaos out there, I've ordered the Keep closed until the High Prince wakes up. His closest aides are squabbling about what to do next," said Sir Bolbec.

"You must act Sir Captain, when news of this gets out to the city all of the Lords will march to the Keep and demand to see him alive, and when they don't they will try to claim stewardship over the Southlands," said Joth.

"I have limited authority when it comes to these matters," said Bolbec who was startled by the surgeons words.

"I have seen this happen before Sir Captain if it isn't prevented it will get very bloody, you have authority over all the soldiers in this keep, there's more than enough to keep all the lords locked up in their estates," said Joth.

The guard captain was a tall man with a thick moustache. He was garbed in full infantry plate with a sword and pistol by his side. He as poised to pounce into battle at any moment. Joth thought him to be a similar aged to himself, which made him far to old to be charging into battle.

"Only the High Prince can give that order," said Bolbec.

Joth shrugged, "No one outside this room knows his true condition."

The captain turned to him with a face like thunder. "What are you suggesting."

"Only what needs to be done," said Joth.

Sir Bolbec looked ready to scream at someone when he turned sharply and stormed out the door. Joth heard him whisper furiously to the door guards.

"Was it wise to intervene like that," asked De Feffer.

"If I didn't my hospital might be overflowing by tomorrow," said Joth turning back to the gasping High Prince.

Joth and De Feffer never left the High Princes chamber. No one but them was allowed to see the High Prince on order of Sir Bolbec. De Feffer joked that he took Joth's' insane suggestion, the old surgeon prayed he had. When the Prince's food arrived Joth had to feed him, De Feffer would lower himself to what he called 'sister work'. Despite himself, Joth was starting to like the long robed snob. He was possessed with an intense drive for medicine, he scribbled notes into his book every hour describing in detail the state of the High Prince. His pestle and mortar worked constantly, grinding fresh powders for medicines. Joth spent most of his career looking after sick men, most soldiers on the campaign died from various diseases. The few who didn't ended up on his operating table.

"His symptoms are definitely subsiding," De Feffer was flicking through the pages he had written on the Princes condition.

"Hopefully he will awake soon," said Joth.

"What in the Fey is that," De Feffer was stood by the window.

Joth's ears pricked at the thundering of boots on stone. In the gloom of the night, columns of soldiers marched out of the opened door of the Keep.

"Seems the Sir Captain took your advice," said De Feffer with a scowl.

"I'd have thought you would be full of suggestion for the Sir Captain, physicians are infamous for meddling in their lords affairs."

De Feffer snorted, "Yes some of my fellow academics prefer to think of their positions an adviser instead of a student of the human condition. But I prefer to treat it as a way to fund my experiments, I have never had an interest in the intrigue of the court, it is all too depressing." He gave Joth a sideways glance. "And why did you get involved, do you thirst for power like so many of my colleagues."

It was his turn to snort in amusement. "I just don't want to have to drag theses old bones through another war, I'm to tired for all that."

"And you think this will stop it?" said De Feffer.

"I hope it does."