“Is Wutke real?” she asked.

Saer noticed some missing front teeth in her mouth.

“Yes he is. You and I can’t feel it but people in Hilcastle are rejoicing.” Saer stretched the arm where Wernh’An’s eye was, "Despite of doing all this, I have got no lead on the unknown foe.”

“Unknown foe.” She nodded several times, reminding herself.

“Will you transplant this eye?” Saer asked.

“Hmm.” She breathed heavy on his hand.

“I don’t have anything to pay you for your service, doctor.”

“Why would I take coins from you when I have never from anyone?”

“But I saw some people holding chickens and goats outside.” Saer pointed at the door.

“It’s their gratitude. Not my wage.”

“Do surgery right now. It would be-”

Saer moved his head at the bed where the woman tied to bed screamed. He put the eye back in his pocket, thinking it was the thing which had scared her. Her twitching didn’t reduce despite of him hiding Wernh’An’s eye. Cold sweats came out from her skin pores and she forced her body upwards, trying to break the cuffs.

Saer thought she might turn over the bed. Eryne rushed and held the bed’s limb, stopping it from flipping. Saer also gave her a helping hand. From there, Saer balanced the bed all by himself.

The woman’s mouth was drenched in blood which smelled foul. Nostrils didn’t stop oozing blood out. When she opened her mouth, blood loss went berserk.

Eryne was left in dismay.

Patient groaned as her privates also bled. Saer heard something wobbly moving inside her mid-section. She clenched her fist hard like she was giving birth to a baby and a big piece of meat fell on the floor. Only then she stopped shaking. Her fist loosened like the entire body.

Saer checked her pulses first on neck then on wrist. But there was no sign of life. Eryne didn’t even bother to check whether she was alive or not. She put her gloves, scraped the ovaries her body had rejected and dumped it inside trash-bucket.

“Are you still willing to do transplant?” Doctor threw her gloves in the same bucket.

“Yes.” Saer answered.

_

Calajhan’s House,

“Dylan Bloudkast, what have you put my name?” asked Gisella.

“Your real name.” Nortze said, “Just remove Calajhan and put damn Bloudkast.”

“Amazing.” She rolled her eyes, “How many lies do I have to tell in my first meeting with King Lacroix?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Lesser than I had to.”

“I will lie to him, you have lied to him. How will the marriage work?” Gisella frowned.

“You are not marrying him so you shouldn’t be worried about the lies. It’s about Rikilda and Tudor.”

Nortze kept her quiet for a while.

“Be honest with me.” She thought for a second prior to saying, “You planned this wedding before Wernh’An attacked you. Does it mean you believed in him then too?”

“Don’t go there for God’s sake.”

“This is the same problem which had made me run away from this house. You are never stable on your beliefs.”

“You knew there’s a threat outside. I didn’t want you to leave me and join other groups. How simpler can the answer be than this?”

“See, you are still running away from your flaw.”

“I’M CORRECTING IT!” Nortze threw his glass on wall, “I’m trying to be a good father for Rikilda. Maybe I have somewhat redeemed myself in her eyes. Just give me a chance to become a better husband.”

Nortze’s eyes became wet, “Leave my insecurities behind. Reminding how bad I was will make me feel you still haven’t pardoned me.”

“Nevermind.” She said.

“Yes, nevermind. It’s better for both of us.”

A horse neighed outside. Gisella heard some horses galloping near to them. Filled with skeptics she slid the curtain to make enough room for her to peek outside. Few chariots were coming towards their house. Reflective armors and white horses gave away who they were. She wondered why the royal family had thought of visiting them.

“Did you tell King Lacriox we live here?” she asked still searching for the king.

Nortze overheard him, thinking it could avoid an argument. While looking for King she saw a brown haired man, no more than twenty behind the charioteer. The end of his gold embroiled tunic waved in air like a flag.

She shut the curtain, “Prince Tudor!” she patted on Nortze’s shoulder, “Did you invite him here?”

“Why would I?” Nortze Calajhan bit his knuckle, “Maybe Rikilda did. Call her.”

“Rikilda and Braden have left for Maester.”

“When?”

“Stop asking when. Look at this place. Does the décor of this place look like it belongs to a high lord?”

“Shit!” Nortze realized seriousness of the situation. He had not disguised furniture and interior of their house.

“Why did you bother saying we have a temporary residence in border of Southend Territory?”

“So how else could I justify my frequent visits?”

“Now justify this!” she showed him the messed up house.

“You go out and perform welcoming ritual till I make interior of house look good...” Nortze put pressure on his mind, “…and find Rikilda.”

“Ritual? Do we have any?”

“Just make it.”