Sabinian

Sabinian

Nemophilist
Weaver
Astersaar Archipelago, Lasaretinkari 20th of Jarum, Night

Books lay open revealing diagrams of the human body, hand-drawn skulls and torsos neatly sliced open to reveal the placement of blood vessels and veins over sharp bones. Bundles of herbs were tied to a rack to dry, other bunches of the same herbs were soaked in water in clay pots or alcohol in glass bowls. The fireplace nursed what it could of a log that was cracked and gray, red glowing beneath the char, above the ash. The only light came from a fat, squat candle on the desk, illuminating the pages and pages filled with a doctor's scrawl.

Pestle and mortar from South Ilica sat at the edge, a pungent smell emanating from the stone, bitter and grassy. It mixed with the smoke, uncomfortable and itchy in one's nostrils. The sort of unpleasant smell that made one not to linger because of the bite, in how the tongue could taste it despite never being outwardly exposed to it. The doctor had gotten used to it, much like he had gotten use to the smell of the sickly people on Kari. He had gotten used to the smell of rotting flesh, of the blight, of the oily boils and only through the herbs, the smoke, the asters and the juniper could he keep himself from making a face.

The doctor was busy measuring vials, murmuring about yellow and black vile, swirling the vials with blood and confirming their consistency. His notes would only make sense to him as he opened up a desk drawer, pulling out a item wrapped protectively in cloth. He had a grater ready, often used for the dried mushrooms that were becoming harder to come by. As he began unwrapping the cloth with ginger hands, his door was slammed open. The doctor quickly hid the item between his legs, looking up like a child caught stealing a treat from market. His mouth opened, relief settling in his eyes.

The candle was shielded by the doctor's shoulder, not bright enough to catch onto the knife in hand.

Astenvale Monastery The 1st of Akozith, 352 EOD
Seabreeze pushed and pulled long wavy tendrils of the elf's hair over and across his sallow face. Sabinian had been seasick the entire boat ride, only now did he feel brave enough to raise his head towards Astersaar, the safe haven that would get him off this rickety, wooden behemoth that rocked with every wave and gust of wind. Green eyes had lost their elven glimmer, now as dull leaves turning yellow in the Autumn months. Broad shoulders were well hunched, back bent like a cooked shrimp. The needling headache that had found it's way to the very center of his head felt very much like his head had been skewered, his neck stiff from an uncomfortable night filled with unrest.

"Why am I even here?" He moaned to the waves sloshing up, could almost taste the foam and salt. A romantic notion arose in him, how splendid would it be that some locked up box of infantile trauma had been unlocked by this trip. His distaste for the sea came from his parents shipwreck, that this fear came from his mother nearly drowning as she somehow brought him to Unicorn Bay. Or maybe he was the one who had nearly drowned, saved only by his mother's cold yet loving hands as she paddled a makeshift raft to the shore.

The boat seemed to skip over a wave to only crash into another, knocking the thought out of Sabinian's head after it rattled around in his skull. The knight's knuckles were white as he held on for dear life, waters still not calm despite land in sight. Sabinian looked poorly at the sky. Whoever told him that keeping his eyes on the horizon would help with seasickness was a liar.
 
Ah, the salty breeze was so crisp, and the play of it along with the warm sun against Cydonia's skin tickled her to the perfect temperature. If only she could tan like the rest of her kin. All she'd have to show from the trip was a few more freckles across her shoulders. The ship's sailors had been kind enough to show Cydonia the ropes, quite literally. She'd spent most of her time above deck, gaining a few new calluses, learning where all the lines lived and which knots got tied where.

They'd have do the gybing without her this time around, though. Cydonia was sat next to her sworn kin, tucked away against the starboard gunwale -- that was the right side railing, she'd gathered.

The palm of her hand ran up and down Sabinian's terrible posture, trying to smooth out some of the knots. "There, there," she comforted. "Look, the islands are coming into view. We'll be on solid ground again by the end of the day."

"Why am I even here?"
​
A lurch of the ship before she could answer. Anything not tied down - or desperately clinging to the railing like the Scar itself might migrate just to swallow him up - rolled across the deck. Including Cyd, who tumbled off her crate and did an unplanned and unflattering somersault flat onto her back.

"LEE HO!" cried the helmswoman, a little too late. The bottom of the ship's sail swung fast and dangerous, and somehow every sailor in the way knew to duck.

If the fat pole had still been a tree falling in the forest, they would've called that thing a widowmaker.

"Wow, they did it!" Cyd sat upright, a blush of pure exhilaration coloring her cheeks. Maybe she wasn't a sun elf after all. Maybe the grey sea was her true element, gleaming as her eyes. "Sorry, what was your question? Why are we here?"

Poor Sabinian had been in bad spirits since they'd set out. He must have been very bored, and sick, and bored sick. After all, it was impossible to read when the waves put one's eyes all wobbly.

"Well, because the airship was too expensive," she continued unhelpfully from her new seat on the deck. "We couldn't get Requisitions to sign off on it, remember?"
 
Incorrigible, Sabinian turned towards Syr Cydonia who looked as fresh as a spring, sunlight limning her hair with a soft golden halo. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought her to be an angel. But she did not answer his prayers in easing his swaying seasickness and sensitive stomach. Mouth watering in preparation of a belch, stomach raising up, Sabinian turned his head away, eyes tightly shut as if that might help with his vertigo.

Field Sworn Sabinian wasn't sure if a airship would have been better. The winds could be just a relentless as the sea, the two of them combined often a terrifying encounter that reminded those on land just how small they were.

"I meant," he croaked, head lolling onto either side of his shoulders despite all his efforts to remain taut and rigid. "Why me? I could suffer through this for a unicorn but for a doctor I never heard of?" Sabinian wasn't foolish enough to shake his head in dismay. Swallowing back hot, bitter bile, his body shuddered from exertion. This, he thought, was clearly charity work.

A third joined them, Syr Silas Grimnod, a knight sworn of Dusk sent to balance out the dawn. Not that Sabinian looked like he fit in with the commons' folk imagined Dawner, skin gray and swallow, hair long and dark like some vampire lord. When they would step foot onto land it would very much look like Syr Cydonia would lead the two glum lads like a mother who forced two young boys to help with vegetable shopping in market.

"The good doctor sounds like a quack to me," Syr Silas said with a frown. "He only published one study about the benefits of leeching on the inner thighs instead of the arms because of a bigge vein." Dark eyes rolled into the back of purple eye sockets. Sabinian thought how it made a lot of sense, but was too ill to argue whether or not the doctor was a fraud. "Probably hard to get a decent doctor out here, though." Syr Silas murmured almost sympathetically.

"They should have sent Syr Margot instead of me," Sabinian moaned as the boat rocked again. "Or Syr Josai." Anyone but him. Suddenly his cheeks puffed out, eyes open and wide. He was quick to throw his head over the rail, long dark waves falling over his broad shoulders as he let everything in his queasy stomach out into the sea.

"A feast for the fishes," Syr Silas said, pinching his nose at the smell and turning away.
 
"I meant, why me? I could suffer through this for a unicorn but for a doctor I never heard of?"​

Cyd liked to answer questions, and sometimes she did so before fully listening to the question. This was the case as she picked herself up off the floor of the deck. "You're accompanying Syr Silas as his Dawn half," she said cheerfully, returning to her post next to the sick Sabinian. "It's not always immediately clear what purpose a twinned knight will serve, but that's the way we've done things since forever."

And not even you can get out of working every now and then, Syr Sabinian. No matter how cutely you pout over your books.

She kept that part to herself, and instead nodded knowingly as she continued. "...And I'm here because my cousin Rollyn lives on the island! He'll be putting us up once we arrive."

She suspected the request for her to come along had also been a cost-saving strategy from the Sanctum. One less knight to feed, since she wasn't officially on the mission and thus didn't need a Dusk chaperone, and they got free housing to boot.

Ah, but she wasn't sure Sabinian had absorbed anything she'd said. It may have all gone overboard, along with the contents of his lunch. Cyd didn't slouch on her duties. Her fingers caught most of his hair, brushing against his temples as she pulled the disorderly dark locks back from the splatter zone. She would have done that for anyone, but especially so for a fellow elf who had grown his hair out so very long. She knew how many decades it took to get it past one's shoulders. A resource like that should be protected at all costs.

"Silas, isn't there anything you can give him?" Her hands were full of the bundled hair and her face was full of concern.

"Not anymore," the Dusker lamented. "We've already burned through all the ginger tonic I brought for the trip. And the peppermint."

Knowing the chronic worrier, Cyd suspected Silas still had some dried ginger stashed away for a rainy day. She also knew not to press the matter.
 
"All the more reason to have brought Syr Margot over me," Sabinian grunted after retching, spitting pitifully into the churning deep blue-gray waves below. One good thing about the sea, Sabinian supposed quietly, compared to a bucket after a long drunken night, he didn't have to look at the mess. Brine was a far pleasanter scent than beer and bile.

He did feel better now, wiping his mouth with the back of his pale hand, blue veins bright like sea snakes. Lifting his head slowly, the elf stared gratefully at Syr Cydonia. Her concern was much appreciated, a hint of gratefulness in Sabinian's green gaze.

"Thank you for keeping my hair clean." Sabinian said with a weak, thin-lipped smile. Little red dots had formed around his eyes, making him look sicker than he now felt. The hollows of his eyes were as deep and gray as the rough waters behind them. With time, the waves would soothe themselves, lacking the vigor they once held. It made it easier for Sabinian to slowly extract his wild waves and himself from Syr Cydonia's care. He still gripped knuckle-white on the wooden rails.

"Syr, is your cousin Rollyn the sort to be neat and tidy or...." Syr Silas Grimnod looked away to the side as if he might find a kinder, softer word there. All he saw were the weather-roughed and sunburnt sailors get on with their duties as they came ever closer to shore. Their calloused hands and bushy brows, freckles and moles smattered over well tanned skin matched their sure footing and gait. Seabirds flew above their ship, but not even the sight of soft white downy feathers could settle Silas' tongue. "Or messy and dirty?"

"How uncouth," Sabinian said.

"I must prepare myself if it's the latter." Syr Silas crossed his arms over his padded chest. He was always dressing warm and always wearing his padded vest, even in summer. Sabinian suspected the man might have brought his padded coat if it weren't for the warning to dress and pack light, a order given to the both of them. Sabinian for his books, and Silas for his tendency to be overprepared.

"I am sure Syr Cydonia's cousin is much like her." Sabinian offered. A second Cydonia would be nice. Probably would be less knightly, but just as kind, surely?
 
"Er, well," Cyd stuttered, her usual glowing confidence dimmed by the innocent comments made by the pair. "That depends on if you're one to think someone can be neat and... messy at the same time?"

It wasn't that her cousin was dirty. His house was clean, and he knew where every item was at any given time. It was just that, much like the forest floor or the bottom of the ocean, there was a lot going on at any give time and every square foot of surface was an elaborate ecosystem of perfectly balanced belongings. Disturb that balance and Rollyn had been known to get cross. But surely that wouldn't be a problem, for she knew that both Sabinian and Silas were very self-contained people -- and besides, she would be there to run interference.

"He's adopted," Cyd admitted. Her brows turned apologetic. "So please don't make a face when you see him."

They were going to find out eventually, but Cyd still couldn't bring herself to say the problem aloud. Some things could only be experienced firsthand. So Cyd changed the subject abruptly instead.

"Oh look, more seagulls!" She said, pointing up at the clear blue sky, where a number of shimmering slivers of silver-white sailed high above, their cries almost melodic from this far away.

"It's a Torians Gull¹," Silas corrected her in a dull tone. She gave him a quizzical look. Cyd did not know her birds very well. "Seagull is a non-description; there are a number of different gulls in various regions of Khurun and none of them are just named 'sea'."

"Regardless, it means we're getting close to shore," Cyd made the obvious observation. "Come on, let's go pack our things and be ready for docking. There'll be time for proper introductions later - we're already coming in to the scene half a cycle late, we must not dally lest the case get any colder."

¹Torians Gulls could be identified by the three grey stripes on their wingtips. They were common up and down the eastern shores of Ilica, and were not unique to the archipelago.
 
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"So he's messy...." Syr Silas muttered under his breath, looking quite displeased.

Sabinian looked at the Dusker with a look of disgruntled disgust. Sabinian did not get along with Syr Silas Grimnod. Firstly, Silas was always correcting everyone about the most important things. Everyone knew seagulls weren't really seagulls, that was basic knowledge, but it was a general term that could be used! Gulls were often found by the sea, many gulls intermingled with each other while out at sea, therefore seagulls was perfectly fine.

Which brought about the other thing Sabinian disliked about Syr Silas - only Syr Silas could correct people, but if he were corrected, even if he was absolutely wrong about everything and his argument was full of fallacies and someone could discredit his every claim because Silas knew nothing about Parade Shortwing Pegasus... well, everyone should expect to be ignored for an entire year and given the icy cold silent treatment. Goodbye to ten years of friendship. Now they were polite yet curt enemies, only speaking when forced on a mission.

Upon Syr Cydonia's suggestion, Syr Silas was the first to turn and leave, clearly needing the time and space to prepare himself. It left the two elves, yin and yang, to go below the ship together. Anything that Sabinian could hold onto, he made sure he grabbed onto, everything but Cydonia. She had already done enough.

"There is nothing wrong with being adopted," Sabinian told the Sun Elf. She seemed nervous by them meeting Rollyn. "I was adopted and outlived my adopted family, yet family is still family even if they -- and all their children and grandchildren -- are all dead. I am sure your adopted brother feels the same about you as you do for him, these bonds are very strong, unbreakable things even through death." He was a researcher, not a poet, but surely Syr Cydonia got the point he was trying to make.

"I look forward to meeting him." Actually doing the mission? No. But getting to know another elf better? Yes.
 
The belly of the boat was admittedly much worse than being topside. On top of the ocean sway, it also creaked, and reeked strongly of pine tar and salt. Swinging lamps suspended from the ceiling lit their way down the steep steps (which were more ladder than stair) and through the narrow hallway to their quarters. They'd had to share one room with four bunks on either wall, but luckily the Sanctum had not rented out the last bunk, so at least the knights hadn't had the trouble of dealing with a stranger. Not that Cyd minded strangers -- but what if they snored?

She began tidying her things, her back to Sabinian. It was a lot of saps and salves that were supposed to make one's skin softer, and her hair comb, and the little sachet of dried herbs she'd set next to her pillow to make smell less like someone else's pillow. As Sabinian continued on, she lost track of what she was taking inventory of, mind abuzz.

How insensitive of her, to forget that Sabinian was adopted. She let the embarrassment of the slip up color her cheeks even pinker than they usually were.

"Of course, I-I didn't mean to imply--" But the mention of children and grand-children had got Cyd feeling all morose, and she couldn't recover the bungled conversation. All she could think about were the children she didn't have by her side, and how looking at their faces might have eased her grief. Which pieces of their father would they have kept, and what things would they come to love as they grew.

Cyd had been the one to rush them into getting ready for the landing, but she hesitated then. An unfolded shirt was clutched between her fists, half-stuffed into her pack.

"Are they really all dead?" Her voice was tentative, and her eyes were as wavering and salty as the sea. "You don't have like a, great-niece twice removed living in White Port, or something?"
 
Silas didn't bother looking at the other two knights as they came into the room and purposefully ignored Sabinian's heartburn burp. Being an older Knight himself, Silas often dealt with heartburn and vertigo if he drank too much or ate fatty foods. It was why despite hating his usual corn or oat mush, he ate it every morning to avoid the bubbles of hot air that liked to get lodged in his throat.

The Dusker was quick to hide all of his leather and paper wrapped parcels with the extra tunic had brought but didn't care if they both saw that all of his socks were mismatched and missing their other half. Sabinian noticed the egregious lack of unity with Syr Silas's clothes and thought how he gave all the silver foxes in the Monastery a bad reputation for being without a woman's touch.

Sabinian should get to getting his items ready, oh but he already had. He was not a slob like Syr Silas. But he should at least make his bed and straighten up the sheets. He covered his mouth with a hand, fighting the urge to hurl as the boat smacked against a wave. When the spike of nausea passed, the dark haired elf wiped at the perspiration on his brow.

"Well, yes," Sabinian said, looking at Syr Cydonia unsure if she thought that perhaps some of his family had met partners with longer lifespans that could be passed on to their offspring. As far as he knew, nearly five generations hadn't and chose to marry childhood friends turned sweethearts. "Of course they are dead, it's been centuries. I am sure their blood still lives on, diluted but blood is still blood, I suppose. However, I have never met them so I do not care nor think about them. I know no faces or names to feel anything for them." So therefore, all his family were dead and only alive in his thoughts.

Syr Silas snorted, slinging his rucksack over his shoulder. His bag carried the scent of mint and ginger as he left their small wooden room that was starting to make Sabinian all dizzy again. Selfish, slobby Silas with his frozen heart. The Knight of Dusk left the room, closing the door tightly shut behind him but it was not loud enough to accuse him of slamming doors. Sabinian was a bit disappointed by that fact.

"Can you believe his attitude?" Sabinian said, forgetting not long ago he had been lamenting about being picked for this mission and wishing it upon any other Knight than himself. "When I am back in the Monastery I will detail quite the complaint to the Captains about how they should discuss with him his lack of charity. He can watch me suffering and not bat an eye," Sabinian was smart enough to hang onto the metal rod of the bunk bed as another wave hit the belly of the boat. "Syr Cydonia, you must keep an eye on him or he may tarnish our name when he turns his nose up at the ill and feebled. If he argues with you I will be sure to add it into my report."
 
The gossip around the monastery was that Sabinian was a self-contained hermit, more involved with his research into unicorns than upholding the order's tenants. Yet, here he was setting an example in such subtle ways as straightening the linens. Cyd watched him shake the blankets out over the bed in sweeping waves, thinking about what he said as he worked. How many generations removed had it taken before he had lost attachment to his family? Could he fondly name grand children, or great-grand nieces?

She felt compelled to do the same. Not to ponder the mortality of shorter lived peoples, but to smooth out the sheets on her own bunk and fluff the pillows. It also served to occupy her long enough to let Sabinian say how he truly felt about his Dusker counterpart. Cyd acted equal amounts surprised and concerned. She was neither.

"Don't forget, Syr Sabinian, I'm off the clock~" Cyd's things were sufficiently tidied. She tied the laces on her bag shut and even had enough spare time to turn around and waggle her fingers mischievously at Sabinian. "Think of me as your helpful island guide. You'll have to keep Syr Silas in check on your own. I will, of course, be here to cheer you on."

The waves were getting choppier, even Cyd was was starting to feel the salty, cloying air of the ship's underbelly. And unlike the dark-haired elf, she was not keen enough to the ocean's roil to brace for the next heavy sway. It caught her off guard. She stumbled forward and had to grab on to whatever was in front of her, which happened to be the side-seams of Syr Sabinian's robes. Her face planted squarely into the center of his chest. Only for a moment, before the ship came out onto the other side of the wave and keened her balance backwards again.

"Wow, that was a big one," she said, somewhat dumbly.
 
"He never listens to me," Sabinian sighed, slugging onto his shoulder his extra change of clothes and books. "I remind him that I am much older than him and have been a knight longer than him and all he does is roll his eyes at me. The disrespect in his face is very unpleasant for me to look at and I think he does it on purpose to get a rise out of me. He's quite the brat."

Silas also made it very hard to get him in trouble. He always stopped his cursing around Sabinian, never drank on the job despite having that flask with him wherever he went, and was quick to agree with Sabinian the moment before things got too heated. The elf knew there was darkness in Silas' heart, probably because he had to eat something to turn into it. A disgusting sort of magic, Sabinian found it to be barbaric and outdated.

He had also written to the Captains that Silas should not be allowed to shape shift because of the mess it made. He was still waiting to hear back on their answer. When he returned he would follow up on that.

Another rough and tumble roll, but Sabinian had been prepared while the blonde beside him had not been. Her fingers reached for him, which Sabinian had shirked away from but it was no use. Even he could understand that it was instinct to reach for something to hold onto, he just hadn't understood why anyone would want to hold onto him. Sabinian was wide but he was hardly stout, and if he filled out his clothes that usually meant he needed to go back on a diet and stop baking for awhile.

Feeling her face press upon his chest filled the man with disgust, his upper lip curling up, wrinkles forming between his eyes. Sabinian shook his head, the expression smoothing out to his usual look of dismissal. The look in his eyes said it all clearly enough for him. Sabinian inspected his robes first, making sure that Syr Cydonia hadn't ripped the seams or gotten snot or spit on his chest. A hand was used to smooth out any invisible wrinkles that he saw before he could finally address her. His green gaze was hardly sympathetic.

"You may be off the clock but I believe personal space is still quite important. Let us be on our way, Syr, before another wave makes it so you steal a kiss from my lips." Sabinian let go of the railing and turned to leave their quarters.


As the Knights stepped off from the boat, the sky above was a poor blue and mostly gray due to an abundance of clouds. The winds carried the salt of the ocean far. Seabirds floated along the waters or stepped over shiny black rocks and sun-bleached white seashells. It was a given that plenty of the birds coasted above the heads of the people who made their home in the Astersaar Archipelago.

Boats from the mainland rarely went straight to Lasaretinkari and so the trio went from one ship to a small weathered boat that needed a new coat of paint. It's owner was a short man with a gruff exterior. Everything about him looked mean, like one of the ugly bull dogs Sabinian had come across once in the free states. His beard was a grizzly mess and he only wore a hat to protect the ever growing bald spot on his head from the sun. Sabinian wrinkled his nose at how the man decided to meet them while wearing a coat with a myriad of dark stains.

"You here for the good doctor?"

"We are," it was Syr Silas who responded first. "You must be Pende." The old, weathered man nodded his head, he matched his little boat as if they had the same mother. While Sabinian bemoaned having to go onto another boat, thankfully this journey was shorter and much calmer. Even if waves still rocked against the boat, at least he didn't have to be the one to help with the rowing, that had fallen on Syr Silas. Sabinian saw it as fate being on his side.

"I should warn you since you all seem like the nosey sort," Pende broke through the quiet pleasure of waves and gull calls. Sabinian rolled his eyes, resting an elbow on his knees so he could lean a cheek into his hand as he admired the flat scenery of the other islands. "The sick like to keep to themselves. Don't peep through their windows."

"Why would anyone do that? Why would we do that if we are here to help?" Sabinian was insulted by the advice. Did he look like a crooked burglar, or worse, some sort of pervert? Pende handled it with one nod of his chin, hat tipping over just enough to cover his eyes within it's shadow.

"You're going to hear things. You'll hear things that will make you worry. I'm telling you don't act on it. You wouldn't be of any help to them anyways now that the doctor is dead."
 
"Of course, Sabinian," Cyd responded flatly as the boat righted itself and she was prompted to find her own balance again. She wasn't some young blushing maiden, no matter how often her great skin allowed her to play the part. She knew what a rebuff looked like long before it need be spoken aloud. Leave it to Sabinian to say the obvious out loud, anyway. When he turned his back on her, she let her eyes roll and an exaggerated pout occupy her expression.

"Didn't need to bring up the last bit," she muttered under her breath as soon as she felt he was a safe distance down the noisy narrow hall. "That's all on you, Syr."

Regardless of station, status, or current level of annoyance, it was a woman's solemn duty to do last checks. Cyd gave a scan of the creaking cabin for any personal effects left behind. There was one: a little paper package of something on Silas's side of the bedside table. Without reading the label or looking inside, she snatched it up into a pocket, making a mental note to hand it back later.


The wind which rocked their boat was also bringing some impressive rain clouds. The sort that shifted and weaved together until they became one solid, misty veil of blue-grey above the world. With that kind of weather rolling in, Cyd worried about their chances of getting back off of Lasaretinkari once the day was done, but she kept this to herself. Neither Sabinian nor Silas needed any extra help finding things to be pessimistic about. Besides, they weren't delving into uncharted wilderness. People lived on the little, rocky-shored island. Surely they could survive a night or two there.

Cyd sat at the end of the boat, where it bobbed and rocked in the water the most. Her hands were folded neatly around the soft leather pack in her lap. The white and gold striped panel coat she wore was loosely wrapped round her frame, because Cyd believed that tying an outer layer was unfashionable. This let the breeze tickle her inner arms and sent the hems of the fabric flapping, but the boat ride was not yet cold enough to sacrifice her silhouette by bundling all the way up.

The advice the old ferryman gave was unprompted, and not ordinary. Sabinian was too incensed to notice, and Silas must have been out of breath rowing the boat. That left Cyd to tune in to it, even though she wasn't supposed to be working.

"Pende, is there no one else helping tend to the ill?" The boat swayed and water sloshed against the hull with each dip of the oars. "Did people resent the doctor's work?"

Ostracizing the sick was nothing new. When folks didn't know what caused something, or how to cure it, uncertainty overwhelmed empathy and they could do cruel things to their neighbors. She wondered how much of the islander's desire for isolation was because of their illness, and how much of it was fear of what the healthy might do to them.
 
"No, the doctor was loved." Pende answered, finding it easy to talk despite all the rowing. "He wasn't from here, only came when he was young and studying a thesis. We all thought he was an ass, but that's how youth is, always knowing more than your elders, thinking he was the smartest on these isles because he went to some fancy college." The crooked smile had his eyes filling with warmth as some memory entered his mind.

"He said he would come back to help, no one believed him. Just chalked it up to him to saying the usual pleasantries. We wouldn't have blamed him if he stayed away, being around people with one foot already in the grave is hard enough. Years later he did come back, started working on cures, researching the ailments."

Silas scoffed and shook his head. Sabinian shared much the same expression with the Knight, both of them rolling their eyes dubiously in unison. Pende continued on, the faraway look enough to keep him from seeing how the two grumps failed to grasp his heartfelt sentiments. Whatever he imagined, whatever memory he was quietly playing through in his head wouldn't be shared.

"He was a very good man." Pende said after the gulls quietened their calls.

"But he was murdered." Sabinian said dully. "So someone must have found him to be a very bad man."

"You say that," Silas grunted, continuing his rowing of the boat, "like people only do bad things if they have a reason for it. You're naive if you believe that." Sabinian scowled, shooting green daggers into his broad back. The elf leaned back, readying the bottom of a boot to stomp onto the broad back of the Dusk knight. He only stopped because Syr Cydonia was behind him. Sabinian settled back into his seat with a huff, now crossing his arms over his chest.

Pende stared at the sea, forlorn, a broken shell lost to the waves. He didn't have the heart to keep talking now. It wasn't much longer until they came to the docks, the isle looking quite like the others but with less buildings. Compared to where they had first arrived a barrenness could be felt like a old garden wishing to be tended once again. When the Knights got off the boat, Pende went off to row away, saying something about errands still needing to be done.

A cold sea breeze blew Sabinian's hair out of his face as he continued to pout. He purposefully kept his back turned to Silas as he went to speak to Syr Cydonia. His items were held close to his front as if a pickpocket might try to sneak their little greedy, grubby hands inside.

"We will go to your cousin first, won't we? Perhaps he will be more useful than that fisherman was since Syr Silas decided to be so uncouth."
 
It was a good thing that syr Sabinian had not kicked syr Silas, because syr Cydonia would have picked up a boot and kicked him back. The bare minimum of constraint kept the rocky little boat from devolving into violence. It did not, however, give light to any promising leads. The other two's bickering cut Cyd's line of investigation short. She tried not to be bitter about, and failed. Slinging her pack over a shoulder and taking an off-balance step onto solid ground, Cyd was the last one out of the boat. She was still finding her gait when Sabinian asked about her cousin.

"Yes, I knew the good doctor," Cyd's cousin spoke for himself. The voice was slow but high pitched, giving it a hollow quality. Its origin was not immediately clear, but it seemed to be coming from a wispy white birch tree growing in the sea grass near to them. Two round black eyes opened somewhere up high underneath a cluster of tawny yellow leaves, as the tree continued to speak:

"He wanted to know if my skin had the same medicinal properties of bark. I let him take a few samples."

A creaking, swishy sound joined the bluster of wind as the animate tree shook to life and stepped forward. Really, he was more man-like than tree-like, but it took a few moments for the eyes to adjust, because he was so very tall. Rollyn was not in the habit of bending down for people. He had a spine and hunching over all the time hurt his back.

"You must be Syr Sabinian. Cyd wrote ahead about you." The tree extended a gnarled hand. "My name is Rollyn, pleasure to meet you."
 
Sabinian didn't bother hiding his surprise as his gaze went up, up, up. After giving his long speech to Cydonia and dismissing her worries, he had considered that Rollyn wouldn't have looked that funny. Maybe he was growing out a tail or a pair of horns, maybe he had a ugly birthmark on his face, or maybe he wasn't elven and was actually a dwarf.

The elf couldn't have been more wrong. Whatever was wrong with Rollyn was a tragedy, indeed. At best, Sabinian pitied him, at worst, he was revolted. Sabinian looked down at the woody hand, held his pack ever closer to his chest and turned to Cydonia. Whatever Rollyn's affliction was, he had to first make sure he was going to get it. Trying to write with fingers like those must be impossible.

"Go on, Syr Cydonia, hug your cousin hello." He said like a mother trying to force their child to hug an aunt that they had never met. Sabinian forced a strained smile but the twitching of his eye made him looked mad. "She told us how much she missed you, it would not be fair for me to take this moment from her." Silas snorted.

"He's not contagious or else he wouldn't try to shake yer hand," the Dusker busied himself by bending down to retie his boots. Sabinian was jealous of Silas's quick thinking to avoid touching Rollyn before confirming it was safe, Silas only meant to hide his face that he was frustrated that Sabinian had been the one to get all the attention once again.
 
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