loren
Loren had given up hope of convincing anyone that staying in the Launceleyn Manor was a good idea. Although he still had reservations about the temple—and he hadn’t actually been given the official decision by Wessex—he’d been throwing himself into preparations at the Rathskeller and Infirmary. If people were going to insist on staying there, then he’d do what he could to keep them safe. However, he still couldn’t help but feel that they were endangering everyone by not insisting they stay in a more secure location. Still, forcing the issue would cause more problems than it was worth, and people wouldn’t stay where they didn’t feel safe.
He knew that better than most, considering the reaction they’d had to the Manor. Though he wished someone had raised these objections before he’d started working and before he’d gotten his hopes up, all his dreams had been crushed recently, and he’d messed up with the Fae. All that was to say he wasn’t exactly in a position to complain or to make decisions.
What he could do, at least, was make sure they were ready as they could be. Which was why he entered the infirmary, fully intent on assisting the other volunteers in stockpiling supplies and securing the windows. However, the sight of one volunteer in particular stopped the Launceleyn in his tracks: Jigano was there, and the summoner’s jaw nearly dropped.
Oh sure, they’d put up the perch together without incident, and the bard had seemed fine then. But that was a far cry from letting someone with the blight near their medical equipment. They still didn’t know how it was spread, and though it wasn’t through any known method, this seemed ill-advised. Plus, although people claimed the Roses had worked and the blight was receding, the Launceleyn didn’t know that he trusted the miracle cure.
So as he approached the white-haired man, Loren had a way expression on his face. ”Jigano. What are you doing here?” The words weren’t hostile, but they were devoid of pretty much any and all emotion. Instead, they carried a bone-deep exhaustion and a sense of hopelessness that grew deeper with each passing instant. Jigano might be on the mend, but the Launceleyn certainly wasn’t.
He knew that better than most, considering the reaction they’d had to the Manor. Though he wished someone had raised these objections before he’d started working and before he’d gotten his hopes up, all his dreams had been crushed recently, and he’d messed up with the Fae. All that was to say he wasn’t exactly in a position to complain or to make decisions.
What he could do, at least, was make sure they were ready as they could be. Which was why he entered the infirmary, fully intent on assisting the other volunteers in stockpiling supplies and securing the windows. However, the sight of one volunteer in particular stopped the Launceleyn in his tracks: Jigano was there, and the summoner’s jaw nearly dropped.
Oh sure, they’d put up the perch together without incident, and the bard had seemed fine then. But that was a far cry from letting someone with the blight near their medical equipment. They still didn’t know how it was spread, and though it wasn’t through any known method, this seemed ill-advised. Plus, although people claimed the Roses had worked and the blight was receding, the Launceleyn didn’t know that he trusted the miracle cure.
So as he approached the white-haired man, Loren had a way expression on his face. ”Jigano. What are you doing here?” The words weren’t hostile, but they were devoid of pretty much any and all emotion. Instead, they carried a bone-deep exhaustion and a sense of hopelessness that grew deeper with each passing instant. Jigano might be on the mend, but the Launceleyn certainly wasn’t.
Never judge a book by its cover.
