The nurse moved down the rows of linen and wool with a steady purpose to her steps, her soft-soled shoes making little noise against the smooth stone floor. One by one, she approached the rows of beds, drawing back the curtains to glimpse the patients within. Her movements were precise and habitual. She would glance at their faces, a careful scan of their breathing, and a quick note scribbled into her ledger. The faint scratch of her quill was the only sound, blending with the rustle of fabric as she moved down the line.
She paused at one bed where an elderly man lay motionless, his gaunt face half-hidden in shadow. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. She noted his condition, her quill hovering briefly before recording a word that was becoming all too common in her work…. Deteriorating. She often wondered if many of these cases were a natural phenomenon but asking those questions to the director or even the doctors wasn't a wise idea so she kept her thoughts as just those. Pulling the curtain closed, she continued, her grip tightening on the ledger as though bracing herself for what lay ahead.
The youth ward was at the far end of the corridor, separated by a set of heavy oak doors. She pushed them open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the otherwise quiet space. A different kind of silence greeted her here, not the stillness of the broken adults that knew well enough to keep their woes to themselves, no it always seemed that this ward despite the muffled cries of the children was even more so silent.
Her steps slowed as she approached the first bed. A boy no older than ten lay curled on his side, his face pale and his brow damp with sweat. He whimpered softly, as he moved his fingers around. She hesitated, her hand hovering over the curtain. Looking at the boy she thought of her own grandchildren and thanked the king that she was given a station to ensure that they didn't end up like this boy.
She moved to the side of him and performed a basic set of tests, each written down in her book before she closed the curtain and moved on, the boy didn't even seem to notice her presence. Each bed held children in different states but as she moved further down the row the beds became further apart until there was a singular bed. Moving towards it she pulled the curtain aside and peered in.
Her eyes caught on something that made her stomach tighten. A boy no older than 8 winters, his abdomen was distended, the skin stretched and contorted as though something far too large had been forced inside. It wriggled around like whatever was paced there was unfamiliar with its new home. She had seen a few kids come here with similar conditions but it was when she looked at the rest of him that was what made her pause.
Her breath hitched sharply, and a wave of nausea surged through her. She clamped her hand over her mouth, forcing herself to swallow the bile rising in her throat. The boy's body was a patchwork of stitching and grafted skin, the seams seemed jagged but when looking better they had to be carefully placed, with none of the haphazardness she had seen in the other kids' procedures before. Yet, the skin itself was wrong on this boy's body, it was far too smooth and almost looked faintly luminous.
Her gaze shifted to his face, or what of it she could see. His eyes were wrapped tightly in bandages, but something beneath them glimmered faintly, a barely perceptible light seeping through the thin fabric. Her quill trembled in her fingers as she was thinking how she was meant to test this boy. While she had dealt with much in her career this was new, a first for her and probably would be for the other nurses as well.
The sound of a loud bang from down the hall shattered her thoughts. She flinched, her head snapping to the source of the sound as the echo drifted throughout the long room. The book she held slipped slightly from her grasp before she steadied herself, her heart pounding painfully in her chest making her wonder if she was to join the patients in the other room. For a moment, she was frozen.
Down the hall of the ward, three men strode in. The one on the left was an older man, his skin clinging tightly to his gaunt frame. His medical coat looked a size too large, though it was far from baggy. Immaculate and spotless, it matched his stern, scowling expression. Even today, as he attempted a smile, the lines of his perpetual frown were etched deeply into his face.
The man on the right was unfamiliar to the nurse, but his presence was no less commanding. His clothes, crafted from fine silks reflected faintly under the light, and the heavy jewels hanging from his neck gleamed with impressive size and value. Thick rings adorned his fingers, each shimmering with polished metal and embedded gemstones. His gut jutted prominently, suggesting a man who had never known hunger or knew it all too well.
But the most striking figure was the one in the center. She had seen his face everywhere, in the grand paintings adorning the walls, in the statues standing sentinel throughout the city, in the coins that changed hands daily. Her breath caught, and she quickly lowered her gaze, bowing her head to avoid meeting his eyes.
"Your Majesty." she stammered out , her voice was weak as her nerves still hadn't recovered. She stepped aside, finding a place she hoped would keep her out of his path, and dropped to her knees with her head bowed.
The heavy footsteps of the group grew closer, the rhythmic thud echoing through the corridor until the nurse could feel their gazes fixed on her. She kept her eyes lowered, her body still, for it was not her place to speak unless addressed. The weight of their scrutiny made her heart race, and beads of sweat formed at the crest of her thinning hairline, dampening her skin.
Finally, Medical Director Dutchmund broke the silence.
"Are you the on duty nurse?"
He seemed to be in a mood at the moment, the Nurse knew it well and was more than familiar with how to navigate it at this point in her life.
"I am, Director. What can this lowly servant do for your lordships?"
The nurse spoke with a calmness she didn't actually feel.
"Your log of the patients, hand it over and please do not keep his majesty waiting…"
The nurse felt the air blow past her at the thought of the king waiting on her, and that air was cold. Her eyes opened and she finally noticed that her log book was on the floor having fallen when she dropped to her knees.
Her hands trembled as she scrambled to retrieve the fallen book. Clutching it tightly, she moved to a half stand and raised it above her head, her body bent in a deep bow.
For a moment, nothing and yet she didn't dare move not to wipe the water building at her eyebrow or to adjust her arms as they screamed at her in protest of the uncomfortable angle they found themselves in. Soon more than the initial nervousness ate at her mind, Why hadn't the king taken the log book yet? Had she done something wrong? Her mind was ablaze with a frenzy at her every move and how it could have been wrong. It wasn't until a deep and powerful laugh reverberated in the room that she let herself out of the loop of self doubt she found herself in.
The sound was cuffed, as though the one laughing struggled to draw enough air to sustain it. The strangeness of it freaked her out as she couldn't imagine who could have made that noise, she prayed to the dead gods that it wasn't one of her patients. She dared not raise her head to see who it was, but the presence of their amusement felt like a heavy weightstone placed on her body.
The log book was taken from her grasp. She flinched as the weight left her hands, the sudden absence making her feel even smaller. A man's voice silenced the laugh and made the nurse flinch once it spoke. It was deep and strong much more than anyone she had heard before.
"Are these notes on each patent complete in your observations?"
The tone resonated in her chest, steady and commanding, yet not cruel. It reminded her of her father's voice when she was a child, both firm and final with what it was asking. She swallowed hard and nodded, though she kept her head low.
"Yes, my lord. I recorded everything I witnessed to the best of my best." she managed.
There was a pause for what was an agonizingly long time. She held her breath, listening as the pages were turned, the faint rustling breaking up the quiet around her. At last, the voice spoke again, its tone clear and absolute.
"These…. will be more than enough, you did fine work. Now speak nothing of me being here and make yourself sparse."
Relief washed over her like a wave. Looking up at the speaker her eyes locked onto her king, his frame was solid standing over her with wide shoulders covered in a deep red and copper accented overcoat. But past the colors she looked at his face and had her breath hitch as much like the statues he had a slightly angled jaw with a stern look on his face, but unlike those statues she could see the color of his eyes and they like many native to this land reflected a clear blue light back at her.
She felt that her look was taking far too long so she bowed deeper and with all her strengths yelled.
"Yes your majesty!"
Making her steps quick she moved out of the room and to the nurses quarters to gossip with the others about what she saw.