In the end, Edmund found himself sitting in a chamber lined with several plain but neat beds next to the guard captain’s office, waiting for the doctor to arrive.
    His pride had only taken a small hit.
    Arthur had successfully argued that letting the Duke take the hit would kill two birds with one stone.
    Edmund had a fearsome reputation, known for his ruthless efficiency. It was natural that the knights here would not want to volunteer to be his training dummies. First, they needed to let one of them injure him. Make him less invincible. A little effort was necessary to draw them in and get them to let down their guard if they wanted to get any information out of them later.
   Second, if a Castle guard were to injure a guest, especially one like Edmund, whom they wanted to impress, they would definitely have to call the family physician. No matter how small the injury, custom would demand it. 
    But that didn’t mean they needed to make it obvious.
    At first, the knights actively avoided him, none of them wanting to test his reputation. To dispel suspicions, he had engaged in a few matches with Arthur, whom one of their own had recently fought to a draw. Carefully losing half of the matches let the southern knights believe that a match with him was not an automatic loss. That did the trick to make it easier to approach them, and after a match with their Captain, during which he appeared to barely squeak out a win, they even started to approach him on their own. 
     What knight wouldn’t want a chance to test themselves against the only Spellblade in the kingdom? And if they were lucky enough to win, they would have one over on their captain.
    After beating a few veterans, he was able to get a match with the young knight he had watched earlier. With the young man’s obvious skills, he was able to draw the match out long enough to make a reasonable ‘mistake’ that led to the man’s weapon slicing into his arm. 
    The match ended immediately. The young man was dispatched to take him to the infirmary. While the wound wasn’t deep, it did span half the length of his forearm and bled freely, looking much more gruesome than it really was. The obvious shock and contrition on the young knight’s face stirred a small kernel of guilt in Edmund. 
    On the way, he was able to extract, along with a plethora of apologies, the knight’s name- Stanis Lostlite. After showing him into the simply appointed room, the man had then politely taken his leave, closing the door behind him and taking up a guard position. 
    Left to his own devices, Edmund had considered the young knight. Pleasant featured, with steady blue eyes and neatly cut brown hair, the man seemed good-natured and honest. He had the usual muscular build of a knight, though on the leaner side like Edmund, and his skills were solid enough that if he had the right environment, he could flourish. To make up for today’s trouble, perhaps they could offer him a chance to join them when they left.
    As a Spellsblade, his hearing was several times sharper than average. At least when he wasn’t drugged. So even through the solid wooden door, he heard the footsteps approaching long before the newcomer greeted the young man who had stationed himself outside the door to the small infirmary. 
    “Stanis, m’boy! What brings you here? You don’t look hurt.” The voice was jovial, letting out a small chuckle as it continued, “I know you want a chance to go see Rosa, but I can’t give you a prescription for nothing.” It turned more serious as it warned, “The Marquis would throw a fit if he thought the knights were calling me out here with ulterior motives. Best to keep your head down. For you and Rosa.”
    You could hear the anxiety in the young man’s voice as Stanis quickly attempted to clear up the misunderstanding. “No, Doctor Petiole. You’re not here for me. I’ve brought our Lord’s guest for treatment. His Grace was hurt during a sparring match, and I was dispatched to bring him here to see you.”
    Hmmm…. So it seems he has a sweetheart. That might make recruiting him complicated. He’d have to have Arthur carefully sound him out later.
     With that explanation, the talking outside the door stopped, and an older man, dressed in a neat, dark gray suit, opened the door and entered.
    Edmund offered a polite smile as the man crossed to him and bowed. His white hair was still streaked with its original dark brown, and he had soft brown eyes set in a lined face. 
    “Your Grace. I am Doctor Petiole. It’s my pleasure to serve you.”The man’s eyes assessed him professionally, quickly focusing in on the cut on his arm. Edmund acknowledged the man with a nod of his own as he got to work. “That is a nasty slice on your arm. Do you have any other injuries, Your Grace?” When Edmund responded to the negative, he briefly raised an eyebrow. 
    Edmund suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape at the obvious judgment that the man quickly hid. For a knight, such a small scratch was nothing. As a physician who had been treating the Marquis’s household for decades, he must be questioning just how fragile this Duke was. It was a good thing that he didn’t care about his reputation. It was taking quite a few hits since he had come to the South. He watched as the man opened a nearby drawer, withdrew a cloth-covered instrument tray, placed it on top of the side table, and pulled up a stool to sit in front of Edmund.
    “I’ll need to clean the wound first, Your Grace.” Neither his expression nor his voice betrayed any irritation at being called to the training ground for such a small injury, despite his earlier words at the door.
    “No need for so much formality, Doctor. I’m here like any other patient.” Edmund kept his voice neutral. “This is such a trivial wound, I should be apologizing for wasting your skills, but the Captain insisted.” He gestured with his uninjured hand. “I do appreciate you coming all this way, though.”
    “No trouble at all, Your Grace, it is always an honor to be of service to the Castle.” Interesting. ‘Of use to the Castle’. It seems that despite surviving the purge that had happened fourteen years ago after the Marchioness’s death, his allegiance wasn’t to the current Marquis, but to the estate itself. 
    He deftly lifted and rolled up the sleeve of Edmund’s shirt, being careful not to tear it further so that it could be repaired later. Not that Edmund was particularly concerned about it, but it was a thoughtful touch that showed the man most likely treated the knights regularly. Most knights couldn’t afford to replace clothing easily, so repairing where they could was essential. Bloodstains could be removed or dyed over, but extensive rips or missing cuffs would require replacing the garment.
    The physician went about his work with practiced expertise, deftly cleaning the wound with a sterilized cloth dipped in a solution. Edmund had braced for the sting that usually accompanied such potions, but instead he felt only a cool tingling that faded swiftly.
    “What is this concoction, Doctor? Usually these things sting.” Edmund asked casually. This could be an unexpected boon from this trip. If the man were willing to share his medicinal knowledge, this could be a bridge to earn his trust, as well as a new treatment for his knights that would make their lives a little less hard. Two birds, one stone.
    “It’s not much, Your Grace. Merely a formulation that our apothecary made to ease the knights’ burdens.” Pride flowed through the man’s words despite the humble tone. He seemed to be quite fond of this apothecary.
Interesting. The Castle had a physician and a dedicated apothecary. Yet there was no word of any member of the Marquis’s current family having a long-standing illness. Could it be a holdover from the previous Marchioness’s tenure? Both she and her parents had died of long-standing illness. Or was this something unique to a house of Spirit Masters?
    “It is quite effective. As a knight myself, I can say that any little thing that can ease the burden on the men is well worth it. Was this created by your apothecary? If so, he must be very skilled.” 
    “Your Grace is correct. She is very skilled. She crafted this formula herself. I would never have thought of it. Though we don’t give her nearly enough work to truly exercise her talent. This small decoction is the least of what she can do.” He was correct in his guess. The old man couldn’t hide the twinkle in his eye, and his earlier reserve seemed to melt away. Perhaps this ‘very skilled’ woman was a relative, or even a paramour. Though the man’s attitude was more of a doting father than a prideful lover.
    “Then perhaps it would be possible for you to pass on the formula. I would, of course, be willing to compensate you both for the knowledge.” Hopefully, the good physician would drop information on what else this herbalist could create. If this were really the least of their creations, then it might be worth attempting to recruit them as well. No truly skilled craftsman would want to let their talent wither. Perhaps he could offer her some expanding horizons and a new territory to hone her craft in. 
    Rather than responding verbally, the physician picked up a small ceramic pot from the tray and scooped a small amount of white cream onto his fingertips. As it was spread over the cut on Edmund’s arm, he felt those cooling tingles spread further, sinking into his torn flesh and alleviating the pain that radiated from the cut. Such wounds were so common that he had long become accustomed to the point of completely disregarding the small ache, but now that it was relieved so suddenly, he felt a new sense of relaxation. 
    He responded to the look of inquiry in Edmund’s eyes. “Yes, this is also her creation. It will stave off infection, as well as the pain. However, it’s really only suitable for medium to small wounds, such as this. This particular formula of hers would not be of use for a life-threatening wound.” He took note of the physician’s phrasing once again. So there were ones that would treat more serious wounds. Edmund’s curiosity was piqued further. It seemed that this woman’s skill was truly worth examining. 
    Then the strange drug that he had been fed the night before crossed his mind. Who else would the Marquis entrust with brewing up a concoction to drug a visiting noble other than his own apothecary?
    Unaware of the suspicions floating through his patient’s mind, the older man chuckled indulgently and continued to extol his protégé’s virtues. “The child concerns herself with the well-being of those who serve the Castle. It was very important to her that even the small pains of the knights be eased. I asked her at the time, and she told me the strangest thing.” He shook his head, as if he were still a little perplexed at the thought. “She said that it was important that knights learn how to live with hardship, and that pain was something they must become accustomed to. But then she asked why they had to continue to endure after learning the initial lesson. She said it would foster more loyalty within the men if the lord that they carried pain for also did their best to take that pain away when they could.” He sighed wistfully, “It is such a shame that the child is buried in this old pile at the age where she should be out in the world, honing her craft. Though I suppose it can’t be helped…” He trailed off, and Edmund caught the calculating look in his eyes.
    It seemed that the man wasn’t being candid out of pure enthusiasm. Given the content of his statements, it would seem that the man might be hoping that Edmund would steal her away. 
    ‘That child’… So the woman is young. Perhaps she really was a family member, and he was looking for greater opportunities for her. Following in his footsteps and becoming a physician would be difficult for a woman, so it would be understandable that her advancement would be limited in a community like the Castle. 
Suddenly, the short conversation he had overheard early popped into his mind. The physician had thought that the young knight had sought him out to have an excuse to go see a young woman. One that could fill a prescription. Chances are that the young woman was the apothecary. 
     A young woman who wasn’t part of the usual household staff… 
    “Are the herbs used native to the South? Do you cultivate them here on the estate?” One could get scratches on their hands while gathering wild herbs.
    The image of a pair of fair hands crisscrossed with thin scars floated in his mind. 
    “A mixture, Your Grace. Though Rosa’s thumb is so green she could cultivate anything. She spends most of her time in the fields and greenhouses, and they flourish under her care.” The man seemed keen to provide him with positive facts about the girl.
    Rosa. That was the name mentioned earlier. So they had been talking about the apothecary. That meant she was of an age to possibly be courted by the young knight. 
    A young woman of marriageable age who spends her days away from the main bustle of the castle could be easily overlooked when searching through the maids. 
    And there were still those questions about the drug that he had been slipped. 
    Meeting this apothecary now moved to the top of Edmund’s list of tasks to accomplish. Better take advantage of the good doctor’s enthusiasm then.
    “I would love to speak to this young talent about her formulas. Do you think that would be possible?” 

***********

    Edmund followed the directions that the physician had given him deeper into the depths of the Castle until he found himself walking down a long corridor covered in dust. This area seemed all but abandoned.
    When given the chance, the man had practically jumped at the chance to have Edmund meet this protégé of his, though he had nervously requested that Edmund not mention it to the Marquis. Which made sense. No employer would be happy about an employee encouraging a rival to poach talented staff. 
    Soon, he approached a heavy oak door tucked away at the end of a long, empty corridor. As he was about to raise his hand to knock, a muffled voice reached him through the thick wood, though the content of the conversation was broken.
   “I know...”
   “It will be… If the Duke…”
   “ the plan…”
   “I told you it would be fine!”
    The crisp yet feminine tone had visions of last night flashing through his mind. 
    Looks like I’ll have quite a few questions answered with this meeting, he thought as a grim smile settled on his lips. 
    He knocked heavily on the door.