Chapter 5 - A White Strangle.md

He trodded along the busy street, left arm having made itself highly present as its throbbing got worse. That was no mere, scratch. Looking for the next best person that would not suspect anything, he approached an old lady for help. After feigning to be not of this place, and asking for help, she gave him direction to the next apothecaries place. Thanking her, he made off and after just a few turns away from the busy street, he stood in front of an open wooden door.

Just a few steps in he freezed. There, right next to the presumed owner of the officina, he again saw the girl from before. And the words of the shadows he encountered were still on his mind: "It is not here". Had he been fooled, by trickery of mind, to see her? After a few moments he stepped forward and closed up on both of them. They were engrossed in a whispering discussion and stopped as they became aware of him. Her eyes met his for a moment and he was wary of her. The practitioner, an older man, had a somewhat surprised, but kind look, in his face. Alwyn relaxed as he stepped in front of them and turned to speak.

"Are you the doctor of this place?"

"You could say so, yes. What do you want?" His voice appeared stern, and he had obviously taken note of his bloodied arm, alongside the sword that hang on his hips.

"I had an ill-fated encounter. My arm was sliced and...". Alwyn stumbled in place. His arm shot up to steady himself, grasping air. His head swirled, becoming nauseous for an instant, before turning into a pulsating pain. Slowly he got up again. "I've been poisoned" he wanted to utter but his voice did not come out, only a croak of breath. Their faces were blurry and slowly, slowly became dark.

The stranger seemed to faint, body collapsing on the floor. "Nimweh, help me put him up on the table". "Are you sure you want to help someone like that?" Her voice was skeptic as she took a long look at his sword. She knelt down, and struggling managed to draw it from its sheath. Bloody.

This earned her a stern look from Gelon. "Stupid question. He's here now, is he not?" A sigh escaped her lips. "I guess you're right". Even as they both tried, the man was too heavy to be dragged on the table. And so they just had him lie on the floor. Gelon opened the strangers shirt. He seemed healthy, and though unsteady, the heart was pumping strong. Then, carefully peeling the sticking cloth from his arm, streaks of white came into view. White strands, where there should have been blue veins before.

"Strange shapes..." he mumbled, as his fingers traced the sick blood vessels up the strangers arm. It was cold to the touch, and as the white veins toward the shoulders turned blue again, so did the warmth return.

Nimweh stood beside him and tried to get a closer look. "Don't touch it, I don't know what it is. Never seen something like that." With that, he got up and made for the his book compendium, which did feature poison among other things. "The white strangle". Gelon had not even removed the first book from his shelf. "What did you say?" He turned towards her. "The white strangle" Nimweh said, now more certain. "I heard about it a few times. Old Morcant described it in some of his stranger stories, the old ones. About the Old Guard, I think." Gelon was old enough to remember the rumors of them. Decades ago. "What do you know? Are you sure? You should not draw that connection lightly, Nimweh. Im surprised enough that you know of them at all." "I don't know. He never quite liked to tell stories about them... I could go back to his place. Maybe he's back and would tell me more about it!"

After a moment Gelon spoke again.

"Go, but before that, did he tell you anything about the poision itself? Any remedy?"

Nimweh's eyes jumped up, trying to remember something. A small candle caught her eyes and she grinned widely. "Fire!". And with that she sprang away, leaving Gelon behind with the stranger lying on the floor.

"Airhead of a girl... what am I supposed to do with that?" The man on the floor was still unconscious. he touched his arm again. The cold had crept up, even as they had been speaking. The white veins had not stopped. From shoulders ti his fingers, the white gleams now decorated that arm.

If the Old Guard was involved, and the rumours he had heard were true, he should not treat him. Not if they could draw a connection. But here he now was, seeing a strange condition he never saw before. Maybe, could it be that those rumours he never quite believed had some truth to them? Old man Morcant was strange, but versed in the lore of the world, more than any he knew. The Old Guard - could they truly be?

He wouldn't now suffer to watch this man succumb to whatever ailment he had. No, this was a riddle to solve. A grim smile spread across his jaw. "Fire, huh? Time for an experiment."

"I couldn't find him". Nimweh stood, short of breath, in the doorway, where she had suddenly appeared again. It seemed she sprinted all the way to Morcant's house and back again. With fast breaths she moved close and knelt next to Gelon who was holding a candle below the mans upper arm. It smelled strange - of burnt hair and seared flesh. Gelon had begun treatment. He was eyeing the arm closely, and he appeared to not take any note of her. But then he spoke, in a curious voice.

"Look at this white streak here". He traced a finger where it changed from white to the healthy blue it was supposed to be. Numerous burn makrs were scattered about the top parts of the arm.

Gelon moved the candle now the the color changes' boundary. Slowly, the white seemed to retread and make way for a healthy blue to return. He seemed to have gotten into a rhythm, pulling the flame closer and farther from the spot. Only a subtle mark remained this time. He moved the flame now to the next streak.

"Are you... enjoying yourself?" Nimweh asked. The old apothecary had been grinning throughout the whole ordeal. He turned towards her, appearing confused. "Why yes, of course. Never seen this white crawling poison. And now I even get to play with it, perhaps shovel my grave at the same time." The next vein had returned to its original color. "You were right. If Morcant really knew what he said, perhaps the Old Guard is here, right now!". His eyes gleamed, and hands steadily moved to the next white streak. "I feel so alive." And he laughed as he spoke those words. Nimweh on the other hand did not seem delighted at all. "Oh, and fetch another candle for me, would you?".