The next day Velwrith woke naked in a stranger's bed. Breathing was painful, and sitting upright was excruciating, but he still managed to look around. Pain and bruises covered his side and back, a red-stained bandage adhered below his navel, and another wrapped around his chest.

The room was an unremarkable, suite for six. A footlocker sat at the foot of every bed  The first bed to the door stood obscured, surrounded by a large folding screen embossed with blooming sunflowers. The other two beyond had been pushed snugly together and lightly covered with a smattering of blankets. The bed to his left looked unused, with a box of vials and potions set squarely in the center. But, he was not alone; the last bed sat occupied.

Valasta lay on his back also naked, save the plastered bandages and splint on his left leg. The limb looked heavily swollen, a black bruise dotted with red scabs covering the knee. The left side of the wizard's face glistened blue and purple. He was sleeping deeply, likely from some drug or potion.

"The Wildling broke his knee, and he landed on his face, dear, but we have had a healer see to him." The hat said telepathically from atop the wizard's bag. "That brute was something, wasn't he?" 

 He respond softly, speaking out loud, not needing to speak loudly."Yes, he was Betsy; I've never seen a Valdrath with a gun before. Do you think he was a dwarf-friend?"

The hat chuckled "Ohh yes deary, I am certain of that much already. He spoke with a dwarvish accent, wore armor of the dwarvish style, and had a firearm. The true mystery is why he would be representing The Grey Emperor."

Velwrith was confused. "But they were simple outlaws; their race was irrelevant, wasn't it? Isn't it somewhat crude to assume they had connections to the Immortal Emperor?" he said in a whisper

He felt the hat's gaze as she spoke directly into his mind "You seem to have forgotten my nature. I know who they worked for because I listened to our prisoner's thoughts. He needs something from the god-king. He did not care for the other Valdrath you slew. We might be able to bring him to our side by offering him some assistance."

"Why would we do that? He's a monster. We should have killed him already!" he shouted, sending ripples of pain through him.

The hat's tone was venomous as she said, "Because deary, we of The Violet Knot know the real value of monsters."

The door clicked loudly, and Kal'Saeria walked in. She took a glance around and smirked. "Betsy, please don't rouse him so fervently; I don't want to have to explain to the queen that her pretty little son died of outrage the moment he regained consciousness."

"Saeria, my dear, how can we be more certain the lad is going to recover than to put his pulse up?" the hat's voice rang in their minds.

The corporal woman laughed as she checked the wizard's splint. Then, finishing, she spoke aloud. "You can talk to him as much as you like, but please try not to agitate. He is in recovery."

"That I cannot promise you, my dear, but I will be certain to jostle his pride with the utmost tenderness." The hat's voice said with a chuckle from on top of the backpack.

"I would like to hear the Wildling speak," Velwrith said, trying again to rise; the pain stomped him back down. He considered using The Lightbringer's Presence.

Saeria shot the idea down as she checked several of the wizard's other dressings. "No, Odordious has him on ice; we don't need him getting riled up again." 

"I insist. I only want to speak with him!" Pain ripple through his chest with the words.

"Calm yourself, child, I do agree. It would be best if you spoke with the prisoner. Odordious has him well under control. Saeria just said so herself."

Velwrith made one last attempt to rise on his own, burning radiated through his side. He sweated and clawed the sheets before being overwhelmed by sheer agony.

 He lay eyes closed, breathing hard and painfully for a long time until a gentle hand wrapped around his side and lifted him upright. His boots, a black jabot, and a pair of clean trousers were in a pile at the foot of his bed.

Saeria returned to the wizard's wounds without a word.

 He slowly dressed, struggling with every motion. In the end, he left his shirt open, wrapped a sash around his unbuttoned britches, and plopped his feet inside the boots without any attempts at the laces.

Disheveled as he was, he forced his way to his feet, mostly supported by a bedpost. With a sigh, Saeria finished her task, then looked at the boater. "Will you be joining us, Betsy?"

Velwrith was sure that the hat would be grinning if she had a mouth. "Why I wouldn't miss it for the world Saeria, my dear."