“I care little of these 'Shardlings'. You figure it out! I have a hangover to sleep off.” - Luke the Lazy. The worst Sommo-Sacerdote after Abel.

  The moon’s silver light illuminated the path as Leo reached his home. The crimson-tiled roof reflected off the dim light. He strode his horse to its stable and stroked its mane gently as it settled in for the night. “Made it back home again, huh, old girl?”

  He quietly unlocked the front door and entered. The house was dark, and he lit some candles. His place was modest, and that’s how he liked it. In the center of the room was a table with cutlery for when he had guests, although he was campaigning way too often to receive any most of the time.

  He entered his living quarters, a modest bed leaned up against the back wall, framed by stocked bookshelves. Leo dragged his hand across the tomes. The coolness of the leviathan scale-bound covers on his fingers was comforting. He pulled a book out, La Saga degli Dei. He contemplated reading a passage or two before pushing it back into place. Maybe tomorrow; his eyes felt too heavy. There were other books there, ones about mathematics and grammar. Martin let him keep them after their studies together.

  Leo smiled; perhaps he’d visit him tomorrow. After all, it had been a while, and he knew Martin loved his stories.

  A knock on the front door snapped him out of his musings. He opened it to see a young man, barely of age.

  “M-my apologies, Signore. I didn’t know if you had returned or not.”

  “You saw my horse in the stable, didn’t you?”

  The boy paled. “I did, but I wanted to be extra sure.”

  Leo couldn’t help but smirk, even in his exhaustion. The child did a good job keeping his place in one piece; the work ethic was commendable. Leo reached into his pockets and gave him a couple of gold coins. “Payment for a job well done. I’ll be sure to get your assistance when I go out again.”

  The boy lit up and took the coins. “Thank you, Signore!” He bowed and walked off.

  Leo lumbered inside. His eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion from the battle and march finally catching up with him. There would be much to do tomorrow—visiting old friends and the big celebration. But for now, it was time to get some sleep.

  ….....................................

  The pain was definitely worse today.

  Leo pressed against his chest with his hand. Every subtle movement caused him to wince. The cool morning air wasn’t helping either. Hope was in sight as he approached his destination. An arched stone gate with a large sign on top that read L’Ordine della Colomba was flanked by two statues depicting a flock of doves. A great apothecary ward.

  Leo entered the courtyard. It was pristine, each stone eerily smooth and the grass well trimmed. In the center was a great stone statue, clean, polished, and even colored. It depicted a tall woman in a headdress and robe similar to Avella’s, except while hers was a solid black, this one was blue with black trim. Her face was serene, her arms outstretched, and doves were perched in each hand.

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  A golden engraved plaque was carved into the statue’s base: “May all who enter my walls be healed and at peace.” – Joan the Healer

  Leo remembered much about her from his studies with Martin. She was a passionate woman and powerful Godshard with a knack for healing. She even left the sacerdozio to focus on her work, founding the Order of the Dove in the process. Throughout the old imperium, her feats of healing were legend.

  The sick and the crippled flocked to her home in old Primus from as far as Yanneros halfway across the world. Until, at last, a terrible plague ravaged the lands. Her healing arts and skills saved countless thousands of people. Yet her life ended in tragic irony, succumbing to the very same plague. Her exposure to the contagion was too great, even for her vaunted talents to heal. Her name lives on in wards such as these.

  It was a hell of a legacy. Any good soldier worth their salt respects guaritori. They were the ones who put people like Leo back together again. A pang of agony pulled Leo from his thoughts as if to remind him why he was there.

  Leo walked inside the ward, and subdued candlelight greeted him. Wooden tables stood around the room like islands. Some had kettles and pans, others mixers and jars. Shelves full of vases and books surrounded the room like castle walls, while incense and herbs hung on chandeliers overhead. Blue-robed men and women were milling to and fro; none noticed him.

  One of the women stood at the front desk. She was tall with tanned skin, blonde hair tied into a long ponytail, and blue eyes, which were eerily vibrant under the candlelight. Leo was taken aback by her beauty.

  The lady stared back, tilting her head, curiosity written on her face. “Are you here for something, Signore?” Her voice was soft and pleasant on the ears.

  “I-yes.” stuttered Leo as he approached the desk. He pulled out a parchment from his pocket and handed it over. “I’m here for more of a remedy. My chest is very sore from an injury several days ago. Julia told me to come here.”

  The woman looked over the parchment and nodded. “Leo, was it?”

  “Erm . . . yes. How do you—”

  “I have my ways, and everyone knows the Guardia Grifone.”

  “Right, of course.”

  “Yes, I can create more; just give me a few minutes.”

  Leo bowed and smiled. “Thank you, er—”

  “Annabelle.”

  “Beautiful name.”

  “Thank you, Signore, but I’m already with someone.” She smirked. “I appreciate the compliment, though.”

  This snapped Leo out of his revere like a splash of cold water. He scoffed as he realized how foolish he was acting. Especially since she was with someone already. He felt like an absolute oaf. “My apologies; I didn’t mean to—”

  Annabelle shrugged and said, “It’s okay. It happens a lot.” She walked over to one of the other counters, pulled several ingredients out of the bottom cabinets, and promptly mixed the reagents. Leo found the sight oddly fascinating and was content to watch. “She’s talked a lot about you, you know.”

  Leo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I suppose she would.”

  “A proud capitano. A man focused on his career above all else . . .” Annabelle looked up at him. “. . . even over those he loves.”

  Leo was speechless. Did Julia think so little of him? He felt betrayed.

  “Although, after meeting you finally, I don’t think she’s quite correct.” Her eyes narrowed. “But I can understand where she’s coming from.”

  Leo grumbled. The novelty of this encounter was wearing itself thin. “Don’t believe everything you hear. People’s views can be . . . flawed.”

  “Hmph, you’re definitely not wrong there.” She began to whisper as she raised her hands over the concoction.

  The language sounded like the Old Tongue. The last time Leo heard it like this was when Avella was casting spells. Was she a— Her eyes flashed, the vibrance within them flaring into a glow a moment. The mixture merged together, seemingly of its own accord. That answers that question. Never had he known a Godshard so subtle in their ways. Annabelle finished and procured a small flask, dumping the brew in.

  Leo took the vial and said, “Thank you again.” He gave her some gold coins in exchange.

  Annabelle bowed. “We’re always happy to serve.”

  Leo was all too eager to get out of there, unnerved by Annabelle’s enigmatic presence and hurt by how little Julia thought of him. At least he’d gotten what he needed.