The Doctor is in

[Metarie]

“Criminal.”

“Charges.”

“Illicit Magic User.”

“Those bandages need to be changed.” Metarie nodded. That was obvious enough.

Guile’s words baldly stated he believed the woman guilty. Metarie was curious about what the woman had done, but refrained from asking. Another voice called out, one Metarie did not immediately recognize. Metarie started to respond, but Guile handed the current patient off to her. She reached for the woman’s wrist to check her pulse, confirming shock had not set in yet. She gave the woman a gentle smile as she spoke. Metarie stepped away from the bed, pulling the curtain around so that she, her patient, and the guard were given some privacy.

“I’m Doctor Sehkhara and you are in Marn City Hospital. As a ward of the government you are entitled to free medical care. The preferred method of medical care is through proven medical practice. Should you so choose, though, non-standard, magic-based medical treatment is available. I am registered,” here, Metarie lifted up her left arm and pulled down her sleeve. A sigil, etched into her skin like a brand, was visible on her wrist, “as an authorized user of healing arts. Do you choose standard or non-standard medical care?” Metarie hoped the woman would choose standard care under the circumstances. Not only would the time to heal take longer, it would look better if the woman preferred non-magic means.

The medical cart was where it should be, equipped as needed. Moving it to a better position near the bed and the woman's wounded leg, Metarie waited for the woman’s response.

[Sinuvarakoon Tasza]

Guile's immediate dismissal helped Tasza to relax a fraction away from the stomach-curdling mess that had started up that morning, and had increased exponentially since he'd be tasked with carrying the criminal to the hospital. He had thought, perhaps, that it might be an uneventful trip that would go quietly and smoothly so he could rid himself of the tart little woman, but he should have known better.

First was the perfumed noblewoman. Tasza did not, as a general rule, like nobles. Noblewomen were a particularly spiteful little subset of the group, always having a cause to complain and threaten over such laughably petty things that Tasza honestly questioned their right to think of themselves as intelligent creatures. He'd heard more sympathetic and honest squawking from chickens in the market. Not to mention the birds smelled better than the awful and irritating scents such women often drenched themselves with, as though they might then compare with what delicate smells such things as flowers gave off. On bad days like the one he was currently experiencing he could expect particularly wretched itchiness.

The curtain, little protection as it was, was a start -- until Miss Sekhara asked about magic. Tasza stiffened, if he could stiffen any further, at the mere mention. He hated magic. He was fully prepared to cinch down what professionalism was left to him and stand through such preposterous folly should the criminal condemn herself further, but that small solace did not much held the dread crawling up his spine.

He sniffed disdainfully, and immediately froze at such a breach of guardsmen etiquette. He was an extention of the law while on duty, and the law did not show personal feelings.

This woman was going to be the end of him.

[Navarre]

Navarre smiled brightly, almost instantly falling into character. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Minister. I am Lady Navarre, Chairman of the Marn Restoration Committee. I'm terribly sorry to bother you on such a busy day, but I was hoping that you could take a look at my leg. I hurt it when I fell down the stairs a few days ago, and the pain has become too much for me to bear."

Truth be told, Guile had never struck her as particularly worthwhile. He held an influential position within the government, but from what she had gathered from her former students and colleagues, Marn's citizens didn't hold him in high regard. She knew that Modestine didn't mind him, but she didn't exactly keep him around for his opinions. Associating herself with such a disliked man would have been too much of a liability, so she hadn't included him in her plans. But now that Ryxa had rejected her, she needed a new ally within the government, someone to support her when she made her move. Despite his shortcomings, Guile could fill that role well enough.

Preferably from an arm's length away, of course. Navarre already had one fat moron following her around, so the last thing she needed was another. Besides, she was so close to tossing Modestine to the dogs, and she wasn't looking to replace him. Not yet, at any rate. If she won Guile over, she'd cut ties with him once he served his purpose.

She'd speak with him while he looked at her leg. If everything went well, she'd have at least one advocate to count on for when she made her bid. Not the kind of ally who would endear her to the public, but he'd have his uses. And if not, she had other ways to convince him. She couldn't challenge a Battlemage, but a pompous doctor wouldn't be too hard to handle.

[Tamaya Ayashe]

The chubby man in colourful clothes disappeared. She didn't mind, there were too many people around her. It was getting difficult to concentrate on what was happening. She felt incredibly vulnerable.

And then the woman spoke. Tamaya squinted at the mark on her wrist. Registered user of healing arts. Non-standard medical care. This was obviously the area Tamaya should have known about before coming anywhere near the city. Be branded or stay away. This is insane.

She forced a tired smile. It didn't hurt to be friendly to this woman. Besides, she was nice. "Something tells me choosing the 'non-standard means' would not be a good call for me at this point." She nodded towards the doctor's wrist. "So, how does one get one of those? Or is it too late for me?"

[Guile]

Lord Modestine didn't say anything. He gave a very plain nod of his head and held Lady Navarre steady on her feet while she spoke directly to the Minister. Said it was a pleasure and all that riff raff. He wasn't exactly moved by her pleasantries, so used to them from nearly every subordinate position he could think of that were even remotely related to government or money. Normally the two went hand in hand with a city like Marn, but there were nobles who took no positions regarding the government. There were also lowly positions in government that held very little money. Several of the judges had female attendants for instance, and the only penny worth the distress of such a job was a natural immunity to the eyes of the Guard.

"And yourself, Lady Navarre. It is nice to see you again, Lord Modestine. Looking well I see, unlike your unfortunate counterpart," he joked briefly for the sake of conversation. With that he gave an enormous smile, the kind that was too white to be completely genuine but only those trained in seeing it or doing it themselves could tell. "Let's have a look then, shall we? Come this way," he gestured then to one of several hospital rooms. Not many of them only had a single bed inside, but there were a few such rooms specifically for those carrying a form of plague, those awaiting major surgeries, and the occasional noble.

Dressing well specifically for a hospital venture seemed like a strange thing to do even for the highest ranking women in Marn, and Guile suspected that she could be here with other motives. Still, it wasn't exactly unheard of. He was the type of person who would do the same thing. Actually he had done the same thing. Still, he was dressed in a very drab, pale coat to protect against blood and other bodily fluids, as well as to designate him as a doctor of the establishment.

"Let's get you placed on the bed then," he said to Modestine mostly. He set down the board and parchment on the counter beside the bed and helped her to clamber onto it. "Now, Lady Navarre, could I get a full name for our records if you would?" It wasn't much of a question. He scribbled down her answer.

"Which leg is it?" It was the first of many questions. "When you hurt your leg, was the pain excruciating when it happened, or did it pass and then gradually become worse?" Between sentences he was scribbling on the parchment with his quill. "And is it the lower or upper part of your leg? Is it difficult to bend?" Scribble. "Let's check you for swelling or bruising here," and with that one, he set the quill down again.

Carefully, he very slowly placed one of his large hands on her very thin leg, and looked at her briefly to make sure such touch was okay. Nobles had a habit of getting uppity about any sort of touching involved in treatment, although Guile had always thought such behavior was moronic. He waited for a few seconds to allow her to get comfortable before he began pressing in specific places on her leg. "Tell me when it hurts."

[Metarie]

Metarie studiously choose to pretend the first comment was rhetorical as she prepped a syringe full of a local anesthetic. “Obtaining use registration is different from registering one’s abilities to use magic.” Two more syringes were prepped. “Our laws are very strict regarding the use of magic within the city walls. I’m glad you’re fairly coherent. Have you had any negative reactions to medical care, medicines, or herbs in the past?”

Metarie turned toward a narrow hutch and pulled out a pair of scissors, making short work of the pant leg and bandages to expose the injury. The marks were jagged, almost as if the woman had been caught in some kind of machine or bitten by a very, very large animal. The seepage was sufficient that pleasant proprieties had no place. The wound extended well above the woman’s calf to her thigh. “What caused this injury?”

Metarie prepped items to clean the wound thoroughly with antiseptic, sterile needles, and medical thread. Most people did not have negative reactions to the antiseptic or the pain-killers, but it was as necessary to ask as it was to clean the wound again – even thought it was obvious it had been treated recently.

[Sinuvarakoon Tasza]

Tasza's nostrils flared. He was repeating words and phrases inside his head, memorizing every iota of detail that could be used as evidence to further the woman's guilt. Not that much evidence would be needed, given the accusation that had sent him to her in the first place. He also made no move to help or offer advice; he was part of the wall for the time being, and would behave as any good wall with ears should.

He did, however, lean forward slightly to get a good eyeful of the wound. Such information was potentially useful. However, rather than ease his sour mood, the cause of her fainting spell did nothing more than give rise to more irritation. Did she have to go and get herself caught by some devilish creature right on Marn's doorstep? It was as if she flaunted her opinion of the law by using magic and then taking advantage of Marn's hospital.

Tasza tried very hard to keep his emotions to himself, but the disapproval he radiated was not easily contained.

[Navarre]

Navarre followed the doctor to her room, an arm wrapped around Lord Modestine for support. Despite her low opinion of her companion, she had to admit that he made a suitable walking stick. Which was fitting, she supposed, since he had the intelligence of one. Now that he was little more than a corpse, she could almost tolerate having him around. Perhaps she would memorialize him by preserving some of his remains in a jar on her mantle. In fact, she rather liked that idea. She made a mental note to remember it for future undesirables. Oh, and there was a lovely vase in the guest bathroom that would be just perfect for Ryxa and Derin's ashes.

Once they reached the room, Navarre eased herself onto the bed with Modestine's help and smoothed out her dress. She then turned to him and smiled. "Thank you for your help, my dear friend. Would you mind waiting outside until we're finished? I'd like to speak with the good doctor privately. I'll call for you when I need you."

With a brief nod, the broken lord left the room. Navarre turned to face Guile when he asked for her name. "I doubt my current name will be on your records, as I've only had it officially changed recently. My birth name is Isyrion, of House Vesurian." Hopefully, this would be one of the last times she'd have to mention that name. By the time of her banquet, that naive noble brat would be nothing but a fading memory.

A flurry of questions followed, leaving Navarre without an opportunity to get a word in edgewise. While she wished to move on to more pressing matters, the state of her leg was important, and he needed the information to help her. "My right leg. The pain grew exponentially worse over the past few days, and it''s spread throughout my whole leg. I can still bend it, but not without hurting myself even further."

She didn't react when he began examining her leg. Oh, her leg certainly hurt, but she'd learned how to hide pain well during her years as Yzaguirre. A leader could never appear weak. Navarre had preferred to avoid physical altercations as a mob boss, but she'd been in more than a few in her time. She vaguely recalled a rather nasty fistfight with an enraged father during a botched kidnapping. According to her second-in-command, she had a damn impressive right hook, but that was more thanks to Yzaguirre's body than her own skill.

"It hurts mostly toward the middle, but it stings wherever you touch," she answered. After a brief pause, she cast out her line. "I must apologize for Lord Modestine's cold demeanor," she said with a sad sigh. "I know you two are acquaintances. He simply hasn't been the same since he lost his family to the insurrection. It's as though he's become an entirely different person." Her golden eyes drifted to his face. "I noticed a young woman accompanied by the guard on my way in. I assume she was assaulted by a ruffian?"

[Tamaya Ayashe]

Tamaya grimaced as she watched the doctor prepping the syringes. "I had no reaction to what Cathal gave me," she said, shrugging. "Only time I've tried Eyropean herbs. Don't think I've ever had any other sort of medical care."

She looked away as Metarie cut away the bandages. Removal of the pressure made the pain worse, and she closed her eyes.

"A bear trap," she said, through gritted teeth. Keeping secrets made little difference at this point. "I panicked. And then I had to shift." Again, she glared weakly at the guard. "So that I wouldn't come to the city as a bear."

[Metarie]

Metarie nodded. Shifter... bear trap. The doctor seemed completely unfazed by the woman's reply.

As soon as the woman stated she had no known allergens to medication, the needles followed. Administration of the medication was quick. Metarie reached for Tamaya's wrist and monitored the woman's pulse for a count of 10. By the time she reached 10, the effect of the general anesthetic should have taken hold.

"I'm going to clean and stitch the wound now. If you feel anything other than a slight tugging, let me know. Should you think you are going to shift for whatever reason, a warning would also be appreciated."

In one compartment of her mind, Metarie could imagine a rampaging bear in the hospital, angered by pain. Although, they'd had an angry ogre once and that hadn't turned out as bad as it could have done. In another compartment of her mind, Metarie catalogued in her head things that were known to react negatively with shifter physiology. Metarie glanced over to the tray of materials she had at her disposal. What had been procured would do.

Her first step was to wash out the wound. This was done with a combination of saline and a hand-held squeeze sprayer. "I haven't met Cathal. He should have applied to the University to become a physician." That was close to a compliment of the man's work as she dared to get.

"So, you were outside the city walls in your shifted form and stepped in a bear trap." A statement more than a query, but knowing that the guardsman would report what was heard Ree thought she might ask. Her own way of hoping justice would prevail. "Then, shifted back to human form." She nodded. "That would make sense as to why the markings are in such odd places and why your bones are not broken."

A paste with little scent was lightly spread within each wound. Absorbed by the body, the mixture encouraged skin to knit back together. Next came the slim thread and needle. Metarie's workmanship was extremely well-done. The stitching scar should be barely visible, slim, silvery lines.

"The thread will dissolve on its own as your skin heals. The wounds will itch as they heal. Do not scratch off the stitching. If you scratch off the stitching you run the risk of excessive scarring and potential re-opening."

Metarie paused. She had covered the front and inside of Tamaya's leg. Now, she needed to get to the back. Despite her physical appearance, like most elves Metarie was stronger than she looked. "I'm going to roll you over now."

[Guile]

Guile inspected the skin of the injured leg and made a small face at what he found. There was a bit of discoloration, redness and bruising near the knee and around the upper shin. He took the quill and wrote something down on the parchment, removing his hands from her and adjusting the white coat absentmindedly. As he wrote several tiny-scripted sentences, she spoke around Modestine to him and he only half payed attention to her. Guile was unaware of what had happened to Modestine's family or why he was behaving quietly, and felt little empathy for the man as such. "Hm," he said, pretending to pay close attention to her. He had also never heard the name Isyrion and was only vaguely familiar with the House she had mentioned. "I suppose all mighty folk may fall," he said.

She looked at him and asked about the girl in the other room. Guile gave her a look that made it seem like she had asked a stupid question, pressing his lips together and tilting his head slightly.

"Not exactly," he murmured. He returned to her side with a swift swivel of his body and ran his fingers very carefully down the bruised part of her leg, barely touching the skin. There didn't seem to be any bumps there and nothing felt out of place. That was certainly a good sign. He had suspected a fracture, and that would have been a very difficult, painful thing to fix. He had done many surgeries to fix fractures, especially of the arm, and the recovery period was not an enjoyable one.

"She's been accused of illicit magical activity. She isn't human, so such behavior should hardly surprise anyone. Likely elvish nonsense." It was not unlike Guile to be so crass around those of his own rank in society, or near it. He was well-known for his flagrant racism by nobles and the lower classes alike. "Got her leg into a right state with it, that much is clear. She's worse off than you." He gave her a large, genuine smile, all toothy and full of pleasantries.

"You're a lucky one. There's no fracture, so I'd say this is just a torn muscle. Apply ice to it when you can and I will provide you with anti-inflammatories with you will need to take once every twelve hours. It should clear within a week." Proud of himself for discovering the solution so quickly, he could not keep from grinning as he wrote down everything he had just said and more on the parchment.

[Sinuvarakoon Tasza]

Tasza stared back at Tamaya, glad that his helmet in part hid his face. If she looked to go anywhere as a human, she should have headed west or further east. Even if she walked into the city on two legs she was tainted and cursed, and she had no business attempting to sully his good name and grace with the poison that no doubt corrupted her mind.

"How long will it take her to heal? I have other business that needs my attention," Tasza said to Metarie in his stone voice. The tone suggested that Tamaya was nothing more than a petty errand well beneath his attention and skill.

He did not desire to hear the answer to Metarie's own questions; he had as much information as he needed.

[Tamaya Ayashe]

She smiled faintly at Metarie's request. "It's okay, I'm in control. As long as you don't drug me off my head, I promise no bears."

She closed her eyes and swallowed as another wave of mild nausea hit her. The panic, fuelled by pain and exhaustion, was starting to rise again. She tried to focus on the conversation, to fight away the frightening thoughts of her own immediate future. "I only just met Cathal today, he came to my rescue. I don't know about his training or professional ambitions."

"There's a strong risk of bleeding to death when shifting from the larger form to the smaller while injured," she said weakly as Metarie started stitching the wounds. "And I probably would have, without Cathal. He saved me, and is now up to his ears in trouble because of that." She drew breath a couple of times, trying to settle her pounding heart. "Where I'm from, healers are expected to treat anyone, friend or enemy. They would never be punished for doing their job."

When Metarie rolled her over, the room spun violently and she clutched the bedsheets. "Uh. Sorry, I think I'm going to be sick."

[Navarre]

Navarre frowned and brought a hand to her chest. “An illicit magic user! Why, I hadn't even noticed that she wasn't human. I shudder to think what atrocities she must have committed. Thank goodness she's been brought into custody."

Truth be told, Navarre had considered the possibility. There had to be some sort of suspicious activity involved with the girl’s injury, otherwise the guard wouldn’t have remained with her. She’d thought that the guard was merely waiting for a statement from a victim, but escorting a criminal made more sense, especially now that she knew the girl wasn't a human. Guile was right – the girl was in a far worse position than herself.

She chose to ignore the "elvish nonsense" comment. Since she wasn't truly an elf, it didn't offend her; and she didn't want to start an argument with a potential ally. "I'm glad you recognize these filth for what they are. No matter how they deny it, these creatures are the ones corrupting our society - and they grow in number with each passing day. They took Modestine's family from him, and it's only a matter of time before they start targeting the rest of the nobility."

Although she hadn't thoroughly investigated Guile, his views were hardly a secret among the nobility. She didn't need to disguise her language around him as she would with commoners like Peppercorn. He didn't detest the other races for the same reasons she did, but he hated them all the same. Of course, Guile would no doubt think lowly of her because of her elvish heritage - there was no avoiding that - but if she connected with him, then perhaps she could count on his support. And there was no better way to get someone's attention then make them doubt their own safety.

"As much as I trust the guards, even I'm wary of walking around by myself these days. I'm not built to defend myself from criminals like that girl, which you could guess from how easily I injured myself. I hope you're taking extra precautions, minister - these insurrectionists are threatened by those wise enough to see through their lies."

[Guile]

It only occurred to Guile after he spoke that the woman might be mildly offended by what he had to say because of her clearly elvish heritage, but thought very little of it. If any noble woman like herself were to be bothered by his completely legitimate concerns, he would simply write her off as an imbecile like the rest of the city's less affluent. However, the Lady appeared far more concerned with his mention that the girl in the other room had been accused of using magic illegally. What crime she had committed, he didn't know, but a wound like that did not appear to be a normal one from what he'd seen. He was still curious as to what it looked like beneath the bandages, but he was a bit tied to the Lady at the moment and couldn't just go gallivanting off willy nilly, no matter how interesting the wounds were.

As she spoke he wrote down little snippets of information onto the parchment on the bedside table. His hand seemed to do the work by itself, as Guile would occasionally look up from writing as she spoke and yet his hand continued its work. He was half-curious about what had happened to Modestine, but as always with Guile, he was a lot more interested in what the other girl's injury looked like than in the lives of other individuals.

"It is the unfortunate state of things I'm afraid," he said, and went to the exam room cabinet. Not surprisingly, the stock of parikethanol was almost completely out, and the only two jars of tablets were 200 milligram doses, not 350 with added oxycilliton. Metarie favored the use of the lowest dosages, and when she needed something stronger, he had a suspicion that she was pushing the magically corrupted margoritol onto patients who knew no better; there were at least a dozen jars of it in the cabinet. He planned to have the medicine banned.

"Surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to target a Minister, dear. They're much like cockroaches. Annoying, but easy to crush. I don't see the need to step into a cause that will surely die as fads and phases always do," he said, scribbling suspicions about Metarie onto one of his pieces of parchment.