I lay there doing me best not to use my magic to heal my wounds and staunch the bleeding. The slice on my belly, the puncture in my back and my mangled left hand. It would keep me from ever playing an instrument as Dolan again. A blow that I had hoped would lower my value to the Portage family enough for them to be willing to hand me over to the royal court for my bravery in saving Edward Acreage.

The farmer was yelling in his native language and thrashing calling out for the death of the young man who was finally responding to what was happening in the room as Heather pulled herself off of the boy and Reginald and Orianna were finally up on their feet trying to assess the situation to find out what was really going on. Reginald finally had the glimmer of recognition in his eyes as he looked upon the man.

Orianna rushed over to her son and was checking him over for wounds as some of my blood had splashed on him during the attack. One of the guards checked on my and called, “We need a healer. The minstrel is hurt.”

I was hauled to my feet and I let them rush me out of the room. I could feel the eyes of the Portage family on my back as it looked like I had saved them from a disaster and failure of their ability to take care of their guests. I started to feel a little light headed from the blood loss and subtly had to change my body to stop the bleeding and increase the blood production of my body else risk being too close to death.

Duke Portage came to me and knelt in front of me. “Tell me everything that happened! What went on as soon as I left the room?”

I started to tell him a modified version of what was going on. That the attack had been fast and deadly. I had no time to rush to the guard’s rescue but was able to stop him as he headed towards the Acreage boy with the blade. My failed attempt at fighting him off and the desperate attempt to grab the blade. The whole time I talked through clenched teeth as I squeezed the severed stumps of where my fingers were.

The Duke’s face was dark as he considered what had happened and cursed under his breath, “Dammit father! What have you done.” There was a flurry of activity as the Acreages were whisked away out of the house with their own personal guard flooding the house. The farmer thrashed in their hands as someone gagged him and forced his arms in shackles. Half dragging, half carrying the man I kept my eyes down and controlled the feeling of success. I just hoped that I would be accepted now.

It was risky to let myself be maimed. As a minstrel it might’ve hurt my chance in the royal court and would have to really prove myself as a storyteller in order to be considered for longer term. If I was offered a boon for my heroism I would use it to be part of the court. That would be my best outcome. Then when infiltrated into the main castle I could work on finding any signs of Profitable.

An old man came to me and pulled my hands apart and started to look at what had happened to me. I was brought to a room and stripped of my clothes as the healer examined my wounds. His weathered voice filled the room, “You want medicine for the pain? This is gonna hurt to close these.”

“No, no medicine. Just do it.” I didn’t want my mind addled by the potent pain killers that were prevalent for anyone undergoing healing.

The pierce of the needle was nothing compared to the pressured bandage he wrapped my hand in. The gut string tightened and pulled my flesh closed at his ministrations. The man was slow and his hands shook with age as he tended to stitching me like a tunic. The long gash across my stomach took more time than I wanted and I was trying to just be grateful he didn’t burn the wounds closed like I had seen in some of the northmen.

After an eternity of painful application of the healer's skill I was sat up and more unguents were smeared on my wounds and wrapped in cloth. He looked at me one final time, “You better learn to play with your other hand.” He looked at my paler skin now that I had lost so much blood and sighed, “If you get a fever we will have to bleed you some more to get the bad blood out of you. Keep an eye on that.”

As he left Reginal stepped into the room and looked at me wrapped in bandages and he looked a little dazed still from the drugs in his system. “It was wise to keep you in my house. If not for you there might have been quite the disaster today. Name what you want and I will do my best to accomplish it.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“You know I had dreamed of being in the royal court and that is still my goal. I need a way to prove my skill as a storyteller now that I can’t play the strings. Can you arrange such a thing even if the name of your house is now besmirched by this assassination attempt?” I was tired from the wounds and my voice was quiet and weak.

“I’ll do my best but as you have said, I might not have the clout to pull something like that off. You have my word that I will get you a chance no matter the cost.” He pulled a pouch that jingled of coins and set it down beside me. “To replace your clothes, your finest garb won’t be able to be repaired properly.”

“Can you have your runner guide me to a tailor? I don’t know how easily I’ll be able to find a tailor on my own?” I looked at the ruined tunic and sighed heavily. It had cost me quite a handsome sum and I wouldn’t be able to have it repaired and be presentable. The stitches across the gut and back wouldn’t be seen as acceptable in higher society.

“I can make sure that happens. You best get changed though, you’ll want to take care of that before you are summoned to tell your side of the story to the royal investigation.”

“I will do just that. I’ll go get dressed and be ready for the runner.” I stumbled through the haze of blood loss and got to the quarters I was afforded. The house was in disarray and some servants were already scrubbing my blood from off the dining room floor. None of the Portage family was running about and I assumed there was some sort of family meeting that would be of the utmost importance taking place.

I had to lean on the wall a few times as I made my way to the room and painfully pulled on some of my less fancy garb. The weight of the pouch that was handed to me promised more than one set of finery to wear. Now was my time to capitalize on this. Who knows what his drug-addled mind had decided to give me as compensation for the clothes alone. The back wound seared as the cloth of my tunic scraped past the bandages and now that I was collected and redressed I sat on the cot and forced my body to recover just enough so that I wouldn’t be too weak to walk.

It had been a close thing, letting myself get injured like I had. While in this mortal form I was just as easily killed as any man. It was a foolish ploy and I hoped it would pay off quickly. It was difficult to tie everything in place with the loss of three fingers and I sighed inwardly. Time to play the wounded bird and hope for a gilded cage to keep me in. I grabbed my lute in its case, I didn’t know how to play with both hands yet but maybe learning a new skill after so long would be worth my time.

Moving slowly through the house I waited in the foyer for my escort and was soon met by a young boy. He was dressed in the servant’s garb of House Portage. He looked up to me and bowed at the waist, “Master Talespinner. I was told that I would be guiding you to a tailor nearby. Is that what you are looking to do?”

“That and more, I need to also look into repairing and rearranging the strings on my lute. Would you carry it for me?” I held out the case to the boy and he shouldered it without complaint.

“I’d be honored sir. Now follow me, its nice out today so no need for a cloak or coat.” He was so chipper and seemed unaffected by my wounds or whatever had happened in the house today. The oblivious nature of children.

His energy was almost so exuberant that he was barely keeping himself from skipping along his way. His hands were uncalloused and shoes showed signs of being well kept. His life was a lot softer than most children had in the world. The rough cobblestone streets wound about us as he walked us to a storefront here in the noble district. A sign showing a beautiful gown swung slowly above the door and undaunted by how high class everything was, the boy walked straight into the store.

A bell chimed as I entered the store and was amazed by the gowns and suits that lined the walls showing superb and wondrous skills in tailoring that was far above any I had seen in dozens of years. Seamstress would have been proud of the quality of the cloth as I pinched and rubbed some of it between my fingers.

A woman arrived from a door behind the counter and smiled warmly at us both. Her voice was huskier than most as she spoke, “What can I do for you both on this fine day?”

I stepped forward trying not to show my wound too much, “I work in the Portage estate and was told to come here to replace some damaged clothes that are no longer going to be appropriate for the courts.” I placed the pouch onto the counter and she opened it. Her eyes going wide, “If I can get these as quickly as you can without lessening your skills I would be very appreciative.”

“How many suits are you looking to wear? What kind are you looking for?” She glanced at me and scanned me up and down. Her eyes paused on the wrapped hand.

“I am a minstrel and storyteller by trade and work to entertain others. If you can provide me with appropriate clothes for that I would appreciate it. I will trust your ideas on this. I’m not familiar enough with the court itself.”

Well, come on back into my studio and I will take your measurements. Are you sure you want to trust my judgment as far as these clothes go?” She lead me back to the backroom and had me stand still. She pulled out measuring tape and started to go through every movement I had noticed that the previous tailor in Greenstown had done.

As she wrapped the tape around my waist I realized she wouldn’t see my nod with how close she was to me. “You’ll know better than I will. Just do your best and most of that pouch is yours.”

Her hands stilled, “You haven’t looked inside it have you. That is quite the handful of gold coins and pence. Enough to pay my rent for a year.”

“Well, then I trust you will do your best.”

Once she was done I had the boy lead me outside, “Time to fix my lute.”