Drip, drip, drip, the sound of rain makes,

Doors that forgot tolls by malice men,

Pure nurses,

The wise now seek.

We left the safety of the cavern, with storm clouds overhead, distant thunder blasted out. Lighting rang out, briefly shining the sky and rain began to sprinkle to the ground below. “Julius… how much further?” The Earl asked me, as hold him aloft by my side. “Do not fret, we should make it to town soon enough. Is that right Methodius?” I said looking forward to Methodius, guiding us with torch’s light bouncing off to the night.

“If we are to make it,” Methodius said, “we will have to descend to the south. Otherwise, we face the storm coming from the north.”

“Won’t that take a longer spell, is fifteen miles away from the south, the east pathway would have to be far faster,” I said, with nerves ever so peaked. “The Earl is so pale, we must make it to the sisters in time, if not the Earl I fear will become comatose.”

“I am well aware of that Julius,” Methodius spoke with confidence in his speech. “Let us go, to the south side of the mountain, we will have to make up for a lost time.” Begrudgingly I followed, knowing that while the Earl is ill, Methodius is the only navigator we have. As we traversed the mountain’s southern path, the storm grew in intensity, winds howling, brush rustling, and trees bending.

After some time spent in silence, “how much further to the foot?” I shouted out to Methodius, unsure if he heard me. “Whaaat?” Methodius called back. “I said, how much further?” Yelling louder than before, just then I hear a loud thud. The Earl was lying face first in the mud, in descending the mountain I had forgot to keep him up. “Oh no! My sire, get up do not sleep,” I spoke to him. I yanked the Earl out of the mud, wiped him off, “we are nearly there, just hold on!”

Methodius waved me down, signaling to follow, and in the cold, we marched on. We continued along until a large tree fell on the path. “We must climb over,” Methodius wailed out, “here I’ll climb onto its trunk.” As I hold the Earl, Methodius climbed up on the tree, with a hand reaching out waiting for the Earl to grab hold. “Earl Samual, you must take heed, grab to Methodius and he’ll pull you over.” The Earl was then lifted onto the trunk, where he proceeded to sit down, and I too waited for Methodius to reach for me. After I was planted on the tree, Methodius then climbed down, where the Earl then followed with his help. “The Earl grows worse,” I said slowly sliding down, “how much longer? We can’t take much more!”

“Do not worry,” Methodius yelled, trying to ease me, “we are at the last turn before the paved road. Now come along!” There we stood on a cliff’s edge, and I could see a farm with lights on. “Do you think they could lend us a steed?” I said pointing to the barn. “No, I dought they would be able, we’ve better chances on foot,” Methodius cried back, shaking his head.

As we reach the bottom the rain poured on us, I turned for a brief moment and saw that the east side was lit with an uncontrollable fire. Methodius was right, but I shan’t stoke his ego, for it too large as it was. I covered the Earl with a hood, as the rain was bitter and cold. We reached a road sign that points to Millween, “may hope give us strength,” I said under my breath. We kept walking through this accursed storm, the Earl now grew ghoulish, with cheeks caving inwards, body wrinkly, and muscles shrinking. I handed him a canteen of water, “drink, you must. As we grow close.” The Earl shanking from either the cold weather or the sickness that controls him reached out and gulped down the water. He coughed, as the Earl left little time for air in his mouth, pushing the water through his throat. Another hour passed by, as I looked at my watch hanging by a silver chain, the glass was cracked, possibly from those beasts we fought. We reached a hill, rain still pouring, and I saw Millween with lights glistening out.

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We walked a few more miles and then reached one of the town's tall wooden gates. Methodius knocked, and a slit opened with a guard behind the door. “What ye want?” said the guard, “don’t ye know the time?” Methodius then spoke, “we seek the Sisters of Hippocraticus sir. Our friend grows ill the longer we spend here in this awful storm.”

“Is that so,” the guard said with an eerie smile, “ Well, then ye have ports of inquiry?”

“Pardon me,” Methodius have not heard the guard clearly, “ports of what? Could you sir, please repeat that?”

“Ports of inquiry, you daft old man,” the guard said in a flustered voice, “if ye have got none papers, then I shall not let ye in.”

“Oh, papers,” Methodius spoke with realization. “I have it somewhere in me satchel, just hold a moment,” as Methodius swiftly looked for the papers. “Ah, here they be.”

“Let me see,” said the guard, “I’ll be just a time, as I must consult the ledger.” The guard then disappeared behind the door, and we stood there in silence, shaking in the cold, wet, dripping rain. “All right, all right,” the guard spoke behind the door, followed by the opening of the slit again. “Your ports of inquiry, have been revoked, good day you old fools.”

“What do you mean,” Methodius voiced with anger, “I purchased them a fortnight ago. They even have the mayor’s seal.”

“Ahahaha! Ye sir are a jester,” the guard said with poignant laughter, “and me bet that there is your troop, a blind man, and sickly twig that refuse food. Now move aside, you block the herders from entering.”

“This is an outrage, I demanded to know what is going on,” Methodius snarled with grinding teeth. The guard was confused for a second, he looked at Methodius with a baffling look, thinking he must be a nitwit. “Look I don’t damn well care about you freak shows, it those parcels of paper are only worth as arse wipes. The old mayor was imprisoned, and the new mayor despises him,” the guard saying in confrontation to Methodius. “So you best be moving or you’ll need a peg from the sisters,” he said threatening Methodius.

“Hold guardsmen, I have a letter from the sheriff,” another guard spoke out. “You are to let these men through on the double.”

“But captain, they’ve not correct ports of inquiry,” the guard said to the captain with a whining voice. “I’m only following your orders.”

“Yes, but even my orders,” the captain spoke out, “are to be superseded by two men. Do you know which men they are?” The captain asked with a grizzly look.

“That be the mayor.”

“Yes go on now, you moron,” the captain said now with fury in his eyes.

“And the sher… sheriff, sir.” The guard said with a gulp.

“Good, now you know what you're going to do?” The captain asked condescendingly.

“N…n…no sir,” the guard said with a scared voice.

“You are going to open the gate first and let these men seek out the sisters. Then you're going to be with the cook for the next week after that be night watch for three more weeks with no extra pay and drills that I will make you hate yourself. Do I make myself clear?” The captain with a riled tongue said.

“Yes sir!”

“I can not hear you! Sound like the fruits your loins are on fire!”

“YES SIR!”

“Good, now do it, guardsmen.”

“Open the gate, open the gate,” the guard cried out. As the Earl, Methodius, and I stood before the gate watching it slowly open and hearing the gears clanking against one another. I thought that this has been a horrendous display of idiocy, all because a coup d’état erupted while we retrieved the Earl. With the gates finally swung inwards, I immediately rushed to the sisters. But, before I left the presence of the gate, the captain reached out and handed me a message. “The sheriff would like to see you and only you tomorrow at quarter afternoon,” the captain said with a formal statement. I thanked him, Methodius and I lifted the Earl by the arms and legs, we proceeded to the Sisters of Hippocraticus nearest asylum.

We dotted around corners looking for them, up and down streets we ran. Struggling to keep the Earl off the black, rat-infested, piss-ridden streets. Only after navigating through the different burrows did we see a sister, she was laden with the iconic yellow dress and blue doublet. “Sister, sister, I seek aid,” I called out to her. We ran to her, with the Earl barely holding onto consciousness, she instructed us inside. The other sisters quickly poured out into the lobby, and the Earl was put on a flat, wooden cart. They hauled him away to the medical ward of their small, three-story cottage.

“Please Sister, treat him well,” I said with a breath of a burnt voice. “I and my friend here will wait outside, if any questions you need of us, then we shall answer.” The sister assured us that by the look of the Earl, they would need answers, and a man of the cloth shall be with us shortly. Now, under a bit of the cottage’ roof, Methodius and I wait for the man of the cloth to greet himself. The cottages door swung open a tiny bell rang out and a man in a gray robe of a white-collar came to us, with a notebook in hand he moseyed over to our table.