Robert's eyes slowly open to see a familiar sight. The wood beams holding up the high ceiling over shadowing a dozen beds each holding an injured or dying soul.
Their moans and groans of pain degrade the place to a live cemetery from it's truth as a healing hut. Robert looks right to see Mr. Barrenk and Gailen are currently treating a man with bandages covering nearly his whole head. Gailen uses a needle and thread to stitch up something on the man's face. Mr. Barrenk recites with eyes closed a poem.
Robert's hand explores his abdomen and the wound next to his heart. Both are covered by bandages moist to the touch. It doesn't hurt to touch for whatever reason. Did enough time pass for it to fully heal? If so, how long was that? Questions for later.
He takes a deep breath before sliding both index and middle fingers underneath the chest bandage. His Body tenses and eyes close as he slowly glides to the wound where… nothing happens. The skin is feels weird, not too dissimilar to new scars. He leaves the chest wound and explores the abdomen wound.
The scar is rough though there's nothing wrong. No pain, it's a little itchy but that's all.
His brow eases as he rises to a sitting position, still no pain. He rotates left and right to minimal pain. The itch gets worse but it's more an annoyance than anything. He takes a deep breath before stepping onto the floor.
The wood floor is cool to the touch contrary to the fireplace's fire. The boards creak under newfound weight. Gailen stalls for a second to take a glance at Robert before getting back to stitching. Robert gives a wave and a quiet, "Thank you." to them and heads out the door.
The sun was bright and the flowers were blooming. This contrasted the grim mood of the populace gathered in town square. Upon a tall horse sat a man clad in chain hauberk with layered plates overlooking the crowd as his crier spoke his message. "Hear ye, hear ye, Lord Quince is looking for all able-bodied men to join the fight. Those that perform well will be given a title and even land."
All the while Lord Quince's eyes gleamed with avarice as they hungrily dotted from man to man. Most that were looked upon shrunk back while some others stared the eyes head on. A brief wolf's smile would cross the man's face when they stood proud, revealing sharp teeth quickly hid away..
Finally the eyes landed upon Robert and lingered. The two stared each other down as both the populace grew quiet and the crier's announcement faltered. Dread grew as silence lingered before being dashed away by a howling laughter. Lord Quince's face broke from stoic facade and revealed a regular laughing man.
Robert, the populace, and even the crier were confused. "Is this normal for him?" asked Robert to another man. The man glanced at him with eyes slowly widening before backing away.
Lord Quince's fit of laughter eventually stalls and falls, leaving him winded. He takes a moment to compose himself before calling out, "You, foreigner, come forward." pointing through the crowd. Robert looks left and right to see people staring with mouths agape as they step away. He points at himself "Me?"
A quick nod from Quince and an affirmative "Yes, you. Step forward." leads to Robert's compliance. Robert moved through the crowd as space between them widened. Whispers grew with some being audible to him. "Was he the Gailen talked about, the Angl?. They stand five feet apart now. Robert waits in silence while Quince gets off his horse. He pets the horse's snout before moving closer to Robert.
"Were you injured in the stand against Brandon's men?"
"What? You mean the bandits," he shrugs, "yeah I guess so."
"Good man. Good man," Quince raises his voice, "I have come to a decision. Due to this man's bravery in face of great danger, he will be under my direct command. And for any who wishes to earn for himself coin and honor, raise your fist! We shall strike into the heart of Brandon's land, rendering unto him what he had unto us!"
Chorus of agreement and raising of fists erupt from Quince's words. He surveys the crowd once more with hungry eyes before speaking.
"Under my command we shall plunge the dagger deep into Brandon's heart, gaining vengeance for our fallen brothers, fathers, sisters, and mothers. Let this day mark our rise into prosperity and renown! We have not forgotten our forefather's way of life! We are their descendents, molded by this land's harsh gifts! Let Brandon see our blades approach and hear our battle cries as he hides underneath sheep-skin!"
The crowd erupts in cheers and cries for war. The young cheer the loudest while fathers and mothers hold tongues still. Lord Quince mounts his horse and up the hill to his keep as a dozen soldiers follow after him. Young men and boys rush to their homes to grab any weapon they can get their hands on as their parents grab provisions for their kids.
All the while Robert is left standing there in town square, bewildered by the day's events.