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| Willowtree Hospital — Landing, Imperius |
| The walls of the top hospital in Haven are painted in bright, pastel colors, presenting a calm, cool facade. Cleaning and nursing drones bustle down the hallways around human nurses and doctors, staying out of the way of their living counterparts. There are triage rooms meant to hold dozens of patients, two-person rooms for those with severe wounds or illnesses, and operating theaters filled with scanners, laser scalpels, and every sort of medical technology available to the people of Haven. |
| March 21, 3014 |
Willowtree Hospital has calmed down from the mid-day flurry of regular doctor activity and scheduled surgeries, leaving the evening shift with a great deal of tending the fields. The Emergency Room being what it is, busy as always, the sitting war and recovery rooms on the higher floors are left for a quiet staff of busy-work nurses and maintaining the status quo. The floor is quiet, and the doors to the rooms are peaceful, undefended things.
Garus Leonnida, is anything but peaceful. Having warded off medication that would leave him sleeping, the tired knight is sitting alone in his room with his attention pasted to the outside window. His left arm is immobilized to his chest, and he's been forced into a semi-permanent lean while the heavy bandages around his chest work at repairing the deep wound from an axe-blade. With a distinct need for sleep in his eyes, Garus waits, with his only useable hand beneath the blankets where a semi-rectangular outline can be seen hidden beneath the violet-colored blanket.
Finding his way through the maze of the hospital, becoming ever-familiar to the Senator, is Alistair, wearing a Leonnidan blue tunic with mustard-colored pants. He checked his bow at the door. He presents himself at the door of the room, giving a clear knock and bow, waiting to be allowed in. He's got contacts and knows of the Lord's physical condition, and even a Senator with the best of intentions doesn't survive by being completely naive. He's a native of Leonnida and knows precisely what the rumors could mean. "My Lord Sir Garus." Even injured in his bed, the man garners respect.
After receiving Garus' message, Solon decided that it would be best to visit Garus alone for the time being. There was that slight hesitation at wanting to ask Eirene if she would want to come, knowing that she would be worried about him as much as anyone else, but… a part of Solon considered the the wording of the message over and over, and finally he couldn't help but think that this would be a situation that might best see Eirene safer wherever she was at, and not at this hospital room. Eventually, as it had seemed to take quite some time to decide on the best course of action, Solon arrives at the hospital. Speaking with a nurse, he is directed to where Garus is being looked after.
Entering Garus' room, Solon gives off an air of casual indifference as he inspects it, and Garus' current condition. A nod of respectful greeting is given to the good Senator Hartcliffe as his gaze takes in the man's presence. Finally closing the door, he steps over to a chair and positions it to face Garus before taking a seat. "You know, based on some of the reports that were being given, one would have thought you to have lost both of your arms." A slight smirk crosses his lips as he leans back into the chair, "So how are you doing, Garus? I received your message, and all you need to do is give the word and we can have you taken to, and looked after in a private room at Phlyon, as an honored guest of Cindravale, of course."
The footsteps already alerting the knight to incoming visitors, Garus' bare, tattooed arm tightens around whatever it is he's holding under the blankets. Turning his head, his soft, blue eyes release some of their pinch at the sight of two men he views as allies. The muscles in his arm slacken, and his hand rises above the blanket, but not before the steel pommel of a dagger can briefly be seen.
"Young Lord Solon, Senator Hartcliffe." Garus replies, voice rising clearly to be heard with his standard, wolfish tone. Giving their direction a single, stoic nod, he motions them towards the chairs in the room. "Please, be my guests, you're a welcome sight to me." His teeth flash, though something is off with the man. "We did our duty at Primus and if my lord would honor me with healing under his watchful eye while his armor is repaired, I would be grateful." Words within words. "How goes your house, My Lord, and how goes your campaign, Senator?"
Alistair closes the door behind him, his eyes ever wary for potential bugs and eavesdropping devices. Content that he's seen none, even when he glances casually behind the bed, the Senator gives a polite smile to the knight. He gives a protocol-expected bow to the Young Lord Cindravale before taking the seat further from the bed. Under usual circumstances, one might question the paranoia…but those in the know from Leonnida have almost come to expect it.
"You are gracious to ask, my Lord Sir Garus. It goes as it has. The ever-shifting alliances of endorsements and soon-to-be-held debates. The cycle continues as it has." Senator Hartcliffe looks pointedly to Solon, wondering if the heir has been well-versed in this particular vassal, and how much is correct to speak on. "I'm glad to see you're in one piece…with all your limbs."
"You need not tell us that you did your duty, Garus, no one here questions your dedication to duty. Oh, and feel free to be less formal here. You are in pain, and you probably should restrain yourself on how much you do or say right now." Solon smiles as Alistair describes how his campaign is going. "I should tell you, Senator, that because you were the lone Dove candidate I endorsed, I received rather… curious words from your Hawk opponent who felt that I slighted her. I almost regret getting involved in the whole political thing all together, since there is so much to do with the war and all."
Returning his attention to Garus, he comments, "Things are going well in Phylon, and rest assured, if you seek safety and shelter, you can return with me, and you shall have it for as long as you need."
Eyes turning back to the window while Alistair does a sweep of the room, Garus melts back against the soft comfort of his pillows as his ever-need to stand strong before his Cindravale overlord is released from him. Another sigh crosses his lips as his fingers brush through his eyebrow-length brown hair. "The Hostile nearly took my arm off with one swing, I'm lucky to have it." Garus replies, motioning to his left arm. "The chop to my chest was worse, but you should know, Solon, that Sir Canis from Ligonier fought honorably, he's a credit to your vassal-house. As for the campaign…" Garus trails off. "…I wish you the best still, Alistair. I do."
Turning back to the two of them, Garus hesitates to speak, his lips parting to reveal the mild sharpness of his canine teeth that oh-so match the tone of his voice. Need wins over. "I'll trust you both, each, with this private matter. For reasons I do not yet understand, my armor's shielding and some of its joints were not functioning properly, which I learned at a very poor time. I'm lucky to be alive." His eyes flit to Solon, more than Alistair, for a brief moment. "But I do prefer our lands to Landing, itself, aye?" A smile comes to his lips. "I could use trees outside of my window while watching the campaign news on the holos."
"And for that you have my thanks." Alistair says to Solon, though his attention seems mostly focused on the Leonnida. "Most who get involved in the nasty affair of politics wish they hadn't in the first place, though I apologize if you felt I misled you in any way." Rather than sounding like a cursory statement, the man sounds sincere. "If I may be frank, we both know that experienced hands are needed to guide the ship during wartime. And, coming from a Senator who knows, the more a Senator feels slighted, the worse they feel about their chances."
The Senator considers the optics of the moment. Would the Leonnidan seem weak if he were to be transported in secrecy to a Phylon hospital? Was it worth the risk to move back to Leonnida, where more danger could await? It remains clear that Garus needs true rest to recover, but can one afraid of fratricide achieve that anywhere? "Young Lord Sir Solon…" Yes, Alistair uses the full mouthful of a title. "If I may be so bold, a private transport would be necessary for this. And people you trust absolutely for the task. I can provide contacts if necessary, but perhaps protection for your guest in the hospital in Phylon?" Alistair looks again to Gaurs, eying him warily, trying to gauge his mental state. "And you may die from boredom and frustration if you watch campaign news."
Solon remains outwardly serene during the entire conversation, but his mind is running at a thousand miles per hour going over various possibilities regarding Garus' armor. Finally he just asks, "Where is your armor now? I can have Cindravale people work on it, that way you will know that it is being handled by good people with your safety in mind." Or at least they had better have his safety in mind, no Cindravale has ever had malfunctioning armor that wasn't due to a serious event occuring to actually cause that malfunction. If they had, he was sure his mother would put a stop to something like that in a fast and decisive manner.
To Alistair, Solon nods, "Indeed, it would have to be handled with care and discretion. We could use your contacts, or we could use knights that I trust with my own life to do the deed. That may garner some attention though, depending on how we approach things. As to protection in Phylon? He would be a guest in my own home, if we could not provide him with protection, then what good would our promise of guestright be to anyone in Haven?"
"While I'm thoroughly inclined to die on my feet with a sword in my hand, Senator, I believe for the moment I'll take my chances with the editorials." Garus fails to laugh, despite the brief moment of sarcasm. Lips flattening into a simple line, he reaches to thumb the medallion around his neck, adding his mind to the brainstorming of the moment. "My armor is here, stored in the locker at the foot of my bed. It had to be removed from my body prior to surgery. It could be easily moved."
The pendant falling to bounce against Garus' collarbone, his hand rises to scratch against the recently-formed worry-lines in his forehead, made all the more evident from the lack of sleep he has suffered. "If I may be so bold, My Lord," Garus starts, and though he considers Solon a friend, the station and respect drives his repeated use. "But if House Cindravale sought to reward one of its vassals for guestright after a hard-fought battle for the war effort, one even Lord Sir Nikomachos views to be a united effort, it may travel far under the radar than one would think." They're really openly talking about this, aren't they? Garus grimaces, growing uncomfortable at the fact he need not openly verse his worries that his armor may have been sabotaged. This is his house in question, unofficially. "I thank you both for your support. You are good men, each of you. I would owe you each a boon."
"Perhaps your trusted knights, then, my Young Lord?" Alistair says, even if word got out, it'd show clear support from paramount to vassal. A language even Lord Peter Leonnida must speak on some level. "I'm certain that I can make some sort of distraction at the entrance here, to provide some cover for the move. And, my Lord Garus, no boon required but to continue doing what it is that you do - give the people hope for a different future." He then looks to Solon.
"Nonsense, Garus, you would owe me nothing. What I do, I do because you are a valued friend, not for any sort of boon." Solon shakes his head at the very idea of being rewarded for doing something that any friend should be willing to do without question. "Of course, if there is a way to spin this so that we are rewarding Garus for his valiant service to the people of Haven and of the Vale, I believe we should go down that path. It is not as if it would be false, he has done great service for the people, and has been wounded in doing that service." This last is directed at Alistair, of course.
Garus' blue eyes bounce between Solon and Alistair, watching the two handle between each other the matter of stealing Garus away for just enough time to be sure that his armor wasn't sabotaged. Readily apparent that he's lost his say in the matter, Garus opts to try to handle the thoughts and mind of his own house, still unsure if there is reason to fear. "I would request nothing too flattering, you know how I prefer to just work and stay a part of the gearwork with the rest of the lads." Garus holds up a hand slowly, finding it hard to move with the tight hold of his chest bandages. The knife beneath the blanket is a wasted effort; a last line of a pitiful defense. "I know that Jane Wyre is currently filming her movie, but when this does happen, whatever your plan, would you tell her where she could find me? I'm sure she'll be distressed by this."
"I think that'd be most fitting, my Young Lord." Alistair begins, giving a polite nod to a man far his superior in the chain of command. "Maybe a brief statement about how Garus Leonnida has your confidence. Nothing with too much flair." It is a Cindravale heir he's dealing with, gotta put the brakes on before a Tournament and parade get put on the table, right? "You give me the signal, and I'll provide the cover." His eyes turn to Garus, eyes brimming with pride and a touch of awe. "Absolutely, I'll tell her in person, as a matter of fact."
"That seems fair enough." Solon says in response to Alistair's suggestion about what could be said. Giving it some thought, it is indeed a fair statement that is both factual and to the point. It seems the Senator may have a career in being a PR person for a Paramount if he ever decides to retire to an 'easier' job once he tires of being a Senator. At the mention of Jane's name, Solon glances over to Garus, a smile on his lips. "I do not mind offering Miss Wyre our hospitality so that the two of you can remain close." To Alistair, again, he says, "Of course, we should make sure that this is done sooner than later. I can put things into motion here in a moment, and then wait here until they arrive." To keep an eye out on Garus and all.
"At the very least the two of you are getting a meal and a bottle of something expensive on my behalf." Wincing in pain, Garus reaches under the bed and slides the dagger out from beneath the sheets. It would be uncouth to explain why, even when the two seem to understand the rumors of his house. Still, the blade is flopped quietly onto the mattress towards Solon. "I hold your words, each of you, at great value, and having said that I should call the nurse and up the dosage on the painkillers and try to get some sleep." Garus admits to them, settling back into the pillows. "Would it be rude of me to sleep, even though you've just arrived?"
"Not at all…perhaps once we get you comfortable, we can even make the journey. Please, my Lord, you need to rest." Alistair notes with a friendly, trusting smile. And more cooperative too. He looks to Solon, giving a nod to the Young Lord. "Think you might stay with him till your knights arrive? I'm going to speak to one of the nurses, one I trust." And make sure his plan may work.
Solon stands and glances at the dagger for a brief moment before taking it and laying it on a nearby table. "You should rest, you look as if you have not gotten any sleep at all. How can you expect to recover without rest, Garus?" Shifting to face Alistair, Solon nods, "I will stay with him for as long as it takes, have no fear on that count, Senator. I do not expect it to take very long for us to begin this… 'extraction', and you also have my thanks for your help in this. I shall consider it recompense for my endorsement." With that said, he gives the Senator a wide grin before taking a seat to stand watch over Garus.
Seemingly satisfied that the latent paranoid that Garus has with being hospitalized has been met, the Leonnidan pulls his blankets just a little higher over his body, ensuring his bandages are kept warm. As he turns his head, the long, thin scar that lines his throat becomes visible, an old war-wound from an even older rumor. "It's times like these, gentlemen, that I'm honored to have such good comrades." Garus breathes out slowly, eyes closing with one final, careful scan of the room. "Once again, you have my gratitude."
The nurse enters with the pain medications as Alistair gives Solon a pointed look through the glass as he heads down the corridor. Hopefully, by not very long, he meant not very long at all…