“What the hell?” Kveldulf said aloud.

“Jeanne, Kel, Ben, Maer, with me,” said Cid, “the rest of you stay here and wait for further orders.”

“Be careful,” Hypatia said.

“Easier said than done,” Cid replied, “Doctor, get ready for some work.”

“Already on it,” Leonidas said as he pulled out his gear from his satchel.

Cid led the way as he and the others into the dining area of the inn. They found a crowd gathered near the entrance. Pushing her way through Jeanne saw a mother with tears running down her face as she held her son who was shaking and unable to move his limbs on his own, wearing torn white garments covered in red splatters and dirt. “It’s my son,” she said with her voice breaking, “he was tending to some of his chores when he just fell to the ground and started shaking violently.”

“Doc!” Kveldulf bellowed. “We need you down here.”

Leonidas bolted down the steps and towards the front as he saw the mother and her child. “Sol’s mercy,” he said as he began looking at the boy’s face.

“What’s wrong with him?” the mother asked. “What’s wrong with my son?”

Leonidas felt the boy’s arm muscles, then moving to his neck. “Can he move anything?”

The mother shook her head. “No, nothing,” she said pleadingly.

“Is it bad,” Jeanne asked.

Leonidas took a sharp inhale and had a hard time keeping eye contact with her. She felt her skin crawl, and sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Kel, Ben, can you help get the boy upstairs,” Leonidas said as he handed the woman a few gold coins, “My lady, why don’t you get something to drink for yourself while we tend to your son.”

The mother nodded and silently made her way to the counter, Ben and Kveldulf moving the boy up the stairs as Jeanne stayed behind with Cid and Maeryn near the mother.

“So that happened,” Jeanne said to the others.

“Yes, yes it did,” Cid replied.

“Did you see the condition the boy was in?” Maeryn asked.

Cid nodded, “I did, and it was not comforting at all.”

“How come?”

“Did you see what the boy was wearing when his mother brought him in?” Cid asked.

“I was trying to ignore that for the time being,” Jeanne replied.

“I won’t say anything until Doc says what’s happening,” said Maeryn softly.

“How come?” Jeanne asked.

Maeryn said nothing, simply lifting her chin towards the mother. Both Cid and Jeanne turned to her as she clasped her flagon in her hands. She stared into the drink, ignoring eye contact with anyone else at the bar. Jeanne could see some of the other patrons looking at her from the corners of their eyes and murmuring to themselves.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Poor woman is treated as pariah like her boy,” Cid said to them.

“You think it’s because of his association?” Maeryn asked.

“Can’t say, and I don’t want to play our hand too soon,” Cid said.

“Should one of us talk to her?”

“Are you volunteering, Jeanne?” Cid asked.

Jeanne nodded. “Yeah, I’ll talk to her.”

“I know you don’t enjoy it.”

“It’s all right, I want to.”

“All right, Maer and I will head up and see what the situation is upstairs. If anything happens, come get me.”

“I will,” Jeanne said, “Let’s hope Doc can fix whatever is wrong.”

“That’s makes two of us.”

Cid and Maeryn made their way up to the others as Jeanne took a deep breath and made her way over to the counter. She sat next to the mother, still holding her flagon, the suds of the ale beginning to disappear in the brew. As she sat next to the mother, Jeanne ordered a drink and turned to the parent.

“Mind if I sit?” Jeanne asked.

The mother shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m Jeanne, my companions are looking after your son.”

“It doesn’t matter at this point. Nothing’s going to save him now.”

“I won’t tell you false hopes to make you feel better. But the man tending to your son is very good at what he does.”

The mother only nodded, still keeping her gaze on her drink.

“What’s your name?”

“Weuve,” she said distantly. “It’s Weuve.”

“I’m Jeanne,” she said, holding out her hand.

Weuve barely turned her head to Jeanne before turning back. Jeanne pulled her hand to her side and felt a growing heat in her chest.

“What’s your son’s name?” she asked her.

“Edmund,” she said reluctantly. “His name’s Edmund.”

“That’s a good name. Was he named after someone?”

“His father,” the mother replied curtly.

“Sorry,” Jeanne said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

The mother let out a heavy sigh. “You’re not,” the mother said, “it’s just … this isn’t the first time my son’s had this happen. And every time it gets worse and worse.”

“When did this first happen?”

“It wasn’t long after his father passed about five years ago. He was trying to find purpose, meaning to his life, to show he could step up to the mantle his da left behind. I think he did it more to prove to me he wasn’t a child anymore. And before I knew it, he was with those damned flagellants, ripping the flesh on his back with a flail and spending more time trying to gain favor of the Shepherd than with helping me around the shop.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jeanne said taking a sip from her flagon.

Weuve took a long swig of her ale. “Don’t, he’s not your burden to bear.”

“Still, it’s hard not to feel for someone’s struggles.”

“I don’t even know how to feel anymore,” Weuve said, gripping the flagon tightly. “Every day is a struggle. Every day is some fight that comes from no where because I asked him to do something, or he decided to come home with his back missing all of its skin. Do you know what it’s like having your son come home and half his back is covered in puss and blisters? Watching him become some a joke to those he was friends with years before. Do know you what that’s like?”

Jeanne shook her head.

“No, I can’t say I have.”

“I’ve been with him since the day he was born. Watched him grow into who he is today, and where I used to be filled with pride and joy, it’s now just wondering where I went so very wrong.”

Jeanne looked at Weuve, opening her mouth to say something, but closed it and took a long breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not really good at this,” she said to the despondent mother.

“I don’t think there’s much anyone can do for me at this point,” Weuve said as Leonidas slowly made his way down the steps.

He made his way over the to counter next to Weuve and waved to the innkeeper. “Five flagons of whatever juice you have.” The innkeeper nodded and went to fill out the order as Weuve approached the doctor.

“How is my boy?” Weuve asked.

“He’s alive, he’s resting, and he’s exceptionally lucky,” Leonidas said as he grabbed the first flagon and drank most of the contents.

“What happened?” Jeanne asked.

“The boy’s nervous systems is mostly shot, his muscles aren’t functioning they way they should, it took me who knows how long to keep his heart from giving out,” he said with a wheezing breath.

“Can I go see him?” Weuve asked.

“I’d try not to wake him, but he should be all right to go see.”

Weuve nodded, leaving the flagon at the counter and heading upstairs.