Antaria: Scars

Sister Lyonai looked up. There seemed to be a slight commotion near the front of the tent.

She continued bandaging the leg of the ten-year-old boy she was treating - he needed her attention more, at the moment. When she was finished, she watched the boy hobble off the bench, then turned and found herself looking at a set of glimmering white armor.

Only it wasn't white - it was spotted with blood in a few places.

The owner of the armor removed his helmet with one hand, and Sister Lyonai could see at once that he was a young man of less than twenty years. Judging from the make of the armor, the young man could only have been a knight for a few seasons.

"Healer," the young man said, "I request your service."

Sister Lyonai could now see that most of the blood on the armor was gathered around a single spot on his upper left arm. "What happened?" she asked.

"Drunkards causing a disturbance near the Wyrm's Roar tavern," the young man answered. "One of them had a sword."

"I see," Sister Lyonai said, eyeing the young man critically. "If you would just step back and await your turn, good sir, I would gladly lend you my arts."

The young man looked back at her, making no move as he did so. "Why not now?"

"Others await their treatments, good sir," Sister Lyonai said patiently, "You are but the third."

"Yet I am here now," the young man answered. "Why do you choose not to service my wound before you would service these peasants?"

"All men injure themselves the same way, good sir, whether noble or peasant."

"Nevertheless, Sister," the young man replied, "I have received mine in the line of duty. It is a duty that these peasants' concerns would never match."

Sister Lyonai put the rest of the bandages down gently. "May I ask your name, sir knight?"

"What?"

"Your name," Sister Lyonai repeated, without a hint of impatience in her voice.

"Gavin," the young man said, "My name is Gavin."

"Very well, Lord Gavin," Sister Lyonai said. "Do you know this man?" she asked, gesturing to a man in a leather jerkin nearby.

Gavin studied the peasant, making careful note of the dirt that stained the man's hands. "I can't say that I do," he said finally.

"This man is a farmer," Sister Lyonai said, "One who plows the fields. His friends brought him here this morning because he injured himself scything the wheat for this year's harvest." She gestured towards the long scar, half-healed, that ran along the man's leg.

"Now," Sister Lyonai said, gesturing towards a young woman whose right hand was heavily bandaged, "Do you know this woman?"

"No," Gavin said.

"This woman is a cook and scullery-maid at the palace. She accidentally cut herself preparing the midday meal and managed to make it here before the wound became too serious."

"But what do they have to do with the fact that you refuse to lend me your services?"

Sister Lyonai took a deep breath. "You keep the streets safe, good sir. That is where you have received your scars. But this man toils in the King's lands to make sure that none in Lorendheim go hungry, and that is where he has gained his scars. This woman slaves in her kitchens for the sake of many others, and that is where her scars lie.

"We all have our scars, sir Gavin," Sister Lyonai said. "Yet no matter where they come from, they are still the same scars."

The knight considered this for a moment. He did not appear to be entirely convinced.

Finally, he turned, and, shifting his injured arm around a bit, began moving to make way for the next person. He felt a soft tap on his shoulder plate, and turned to see Sister Lyonai holding up a piece of cloth.

"Keep this pressed to the wound while you wait your turn, sir Gavin," Sister Lyonai said. "It will help stanch the bleeding and make sure that you do not feel too unconfortable."

Gavin smiled. "I thought you would have placed the peasants before me."

"Yes," Sister Lyonai said simply, "But I have a duty to you as well, sir knight, just as I do to them."

And she smiled.