Chapter 5: A Fever and a Whisper
The boy was laid across Elric's cot, his small frame twitching with each shallow breath. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead, and his skin had a reddish hue beneath the chin. His mother stood nearby, wringing her hands.
"Please, Your Highness. He collapsed this morning. He's burning up."
Elric didn't reply at first. His eyes scanned the boy like a scanner in his old life. Pulse weak. Lips dry. Muscles spasming lightly. Breathing rapid.
He reached into his satchel of hand-made tools—some sharpened bone, cloth strips, a sealed pot of crushed frostleaf mixed with vinegar. Nothing sterile. But he'd worked with less before.
"Lira," he said without looking back. "Boil water. Two kettles full. Add rosemary if we have it."
"Yes, right away!"
He turned to the noblewoman. "Did he eat anything strange recently? Fall? Bleed from anywhere?"
She shook her head. "No, my lord. He only played in the field yesterday... near the old well."
Elric's fingers paused. "The well?"