Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 23: Mutual Interrogations (Part 1)

I fall onto my bed in a grateful heap almost as soon as Sir Eldric opens the door for me, barely remembering to apologise for the inconvenience, as well as to express my gratitude towards the captain. A few seconds after I hear the door clicking to a close, I'm pulled into blissful, ignorant sleep. Thankfully, it's a dreamless one, allowing me to truly rest and recuperate. By the time I wake up, my head feels a good deal clearer; I even manage to smile at myself in the mirror, empowering myself with the courage I need to face the day.

The smile fades when I hear the cathedral bell sound ten times. By the time I'd leaped into my bed yesterday, the sun had barely begun to set. Surely Sir Isaac wouldn't allow me to oversleep, even if I had almost lost my life to Diomedes only the day before.

No, not Sir Isaac, I correct myself. Sir Eldric.

A surge of memories invades my mind—the scrinaius, the voice, the winds...

"Use it!" For a moment, Diomedes's voice screams in my head. Panic builds up until I realise that it is a mere hallucination of mine. A sob threatens to rise from my throat; I force it down with a gulp, trying to plan my next step for the day. Sir Eldric said that he would ask me a few questions regarding the incident in the scrinaius, but he didn't mention where and when, only saying 'after you've gotten enough rest'. Maybe he would be training Gilbert? It's his turn today. However, I am soon reminded that Gilbert would most likely be in the Galennus Workhouse. Thus, the captain would be free to sort out more pressing matters at hand.

So, I don't know where to find Sir Eldric. I give an internal sigh. Perhaps if I take a bath and wander out for some fresh air, I'll be able to think more clearly.

After the bath, I venture outside. The air feels crisp with the tang of rain in its wake—had it been raining while I was asleep?—while droplets of water wink at me, wobbling upon blades of grass. I can hear the distant shouts of squires and knights undergoing their daily morning routine on the training field, the cries and echoes of the mundane suddenly twisting my heart into intangible sorrow. I suddenly long for the life I had a month ago, when all that was on my mind was to become apprentice to Sir Kendrick.

"Focus," I mutter to myself. "Life goes on with or without you, so buck up and face the facts."

It's odd, as though I were chiding someone else. I give a low, bitter chuckle. It seems like my mind still isn't as clear as I'd like it to be.

I march off towards the training fields, ignoring the rumbling in my stomach and the surprised glances of other squires and knights. Mustering my courage, I approach the currently highest-ranking knight in the area, Sir Cathom, Second-in-Command of the Royal Guard. I salute him, which he returns with apprehension. "If I may be so bold sir," I say, "may I inquire as to the whereabouts of Captain Eldric?"

"He said that you might come here first," he replies. His smile is barely visible under his bristly moustache. "The captain's in the Galennus Workhouse, paying a brief visit to your compatriot. I'm to escort you there now."

I nod. Sir Cathom bellows for a fellow Guard, the Third-in-Command. After giving his subordinate a few clear-cut instructions, he gives me his full attention. "Squire Rutherland, to me."

The Galennus Workhouse isn't too far off from the barracks, presumably in the case of a multitude of injured men, they'd be able to acquire assistance easily enough. Sir Cathom leads me past snotty assistants, rushing maidservants, and in general, a spinning wheel of mayhem in the area. Heading towards a familiar-looking door, he raps on the wood smartly; hollow echoes reverberate throughout the hallway. "Enter," says a gruff voice from inside.

The door swings open. I find Oreius the assistant boy staring at me with wide brown eyes. Beyond him, Gilbert struggles to sit up on his bed, a rather vacant, shallow look present in his eyes; Captain Eldric towers over him, adopting his signature interrogating stance; Galennus Haelen, as vague and fair as ever, murmurs dreamily, "Dear Pst. Galen, surely you Champions must tire of seeking treatment from us Galenni already?"