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| Residential Wing - Detritus, Inculta |
| The main hallway widens abruptly, opening into a high-ceilinged chamber that follows the curve of the dome above. The farthest point east is marked by a wide staircase that leads up to an open second floor surrounded by an ornate balustrade all around that level of the chamber. The floor on the main level is covered entirely in white marble, and the southern wall contains high, arched windows over which a protective shutter can be dropped in case of emergencies. The second floor is carpeted, muffling the footsteps of the residents that wander between the doors leading into various rooms or beneath the archways that lead down hallways farther into the depths of the Dome.
The entrance to this chamber as well as the second floor is carefully guarded as the members of House Dalton value both their peace and their privacy. The hushed atmosphere is maintained by eletronic sound cancelers installed above many of the doorways to deter eavesdropping. Despite the closely guarded confines, the traffic here is steady as tourists are ushered in to admire the artwork contained within the many niches along the wall: portraits, pottery, technological prototypes and rare plants. |
| August 17, 3013 |
Neck injuries are no fun at all, especially not the sort that felled Sir Cynan Dalton earlier this week. The local physician who treated him in the battle's immediate aftermath was rather /shocked/ to hear that he'd been able to stand up after taking the hit, let alone keep fighting and make it back to the city under his own power. Since then, he's been kept more or less immobilized, much to his consternation. There are still Hostiles outside the walls, damnit.
And so he sits here in the residential wing of the family palace, under 24-hour guard, with servants at his beck and call. He gets one of the most comfortable recliners in the mansion, a selection of fine food and drink at his fingertips, and access to whatever he'd like to read or watch. In short, he's thoroughly miserable.
There's a little glance up at the nearby wall clock. The specialist from the Ring should be here soon.
Lord Doctor Hadrian Orelle was quite good at what he did. Although, primarily, a researcher in his own words the good Doctor still found time to run a private practice for those well off enough to afford the care of an Orelle. With his medical bag in hand he came to Inculta, to Detritus. He was quickly ferried along, and led to Lord Cynan's side. Introduced, of course, by a servant, 'My Lord,' The servant says, 'Lord Doctor Hadrian Orelle to see you.'
"Bring him in, bring him in…" Cynan's neck has healed to the point were speaking is reasonably possible, though his voice still won't rise about a harsh whisper. A servant dutifully brings in a chair for Hadrian to occupy if necessary. "Good day, Lord Hadrian," the Knight continues, managing to crack a little forced smile as the Doctor arrives. "You'll forgive me, I am sure, if I do not stand to greet you properly."
Hadrian chuckle softly, "Of course, Lord Cynan. You shouldn't be moving anyways. The information I've received labels you as a patient who should be moving as little as possible. Just relax while I do what must be done. Have you been given any pain relief?" The doctor wonders as he opens his bag, and removes a portable medical scanner from his bag. He begins to scan the site of injury.
"A bit. Bone pain is… rather difficult to tolerate, at times." Cynan's smile gets a little wider, but it's more grimace than grin. "One of the servants will bring you the records of my treatment thus far, I am sure." That's not quite an instruction, but it works as one as said servant scurries off in a flash.
"I'm sure." Hadrian replies softly, as his scanner makes a beep and he takes a look at the readout. He takes a hypo from his bag and gently presses it at Cynan's neck. The hiss of the thing injecting a local anesthetic is easy to hear. "You're lucky not to be paralyzed. You have crushed vertebrae in your neck. Nothing I can't help heal, but you'll need to keep your physical activity to a minimum for a week or two." He speaks almost flatly about this potentially life changing injury. In the mean time, Hadrian waits for the documents on Cynan's current treatment plan. Undoubtedly, the files are brought quickly and Hadrian begins to read, pulling a chair over so he can sit near the patient and work at his level. "We'll want to stabilize the injury. I'm sure I can find something stylish, if you'd prefer."
Indeed, it doesn't take long for the servant to bring back the files, not that Cynan pays him much heed at all. "To a minimum. Yes, I think that can be arranged… but 'minimum' is a relative term, Doctor." Blue eyes flicker over to rest on Hadrian's for a long moment. "There are still thousands of Hostiles camped outside my city. I cannot be expected to remain here while our entire populace is threatened. Surely that is clear." A little sigh. "Style is unimportant. It needs to be functional, and as light as possible."
"Form follows function. Good." Hadrian replies as he looks over the file a moment longer. "That may be, Lord Cynan, but injured as you are you'll want to focus perhaps more on the morale of your people and men than actively defending, unless absolutely required. Otherwise, you won't be able to protect anyone at all." Its just a simple fact. Another instrument comes out of his bag, a small stamp-sized looking technological device. With exceeding care he slides his hand behind Cynan's neck, stabilizing the man with his other hand. "Just relax. These regenerator devices have a tendency to cause a slight tickle." With that item put in place and turned on Hadrian turns next to creating a stabilization platform. A soft (for now) bandage is carefully and somewhat loosely wrapped around Cynan's neck. Its draped ever so slightly about his shoulders. "After I set the bandage you are not to remove it until otherwise told by a medical professional, Lord Knight Lieutenant." The Orelle Doctor says simply. "Ultimately, of course, how you take care of your business is up to you, but understand, I tend to grow impatient with Lords and Ladies who ignore the wisdom of their Doctors."
"Your advice is, of course, noted, Lord Doctor." Does Cynan /ever/ know about taking a doctor's advice. Given his esteemed cousin's choice of profession, after all… At any rate, the Knight does his damndest to relax, letting his shoulders drop, but he's still caught a bit by surprise when the regenerator switches on. "However…" he mutters. "I will be no good to anyone if the city burns, either. The sooner I am able to return to the field, the safer Detritus will be… and need I remind you that the entire Ring depends on Inculta." As though the Daltons would let anyone forget. "I understand your impatience. I imagine that you can likewise understand mine."
"It is among the many Jewels of our region, Lord Cynan. You can trust that your desires are my own. Very simply, my scope is different than yours. Still, the injury isn't life threatening. I should say approximately a week and a half before the regenerator has done its work. It will beep rather annoyingly when its finished. It will tell you when its safe to remove the wrappings." The wrappings now in place, Hadrian places what appears to be a small clip to secure the bandage. Once in place, Hadrian realigns Cynan's head carefully. With a tap, that little clip causes the bandage to go rigid. It retains the lightness of fabric, and the softness as well- but is as sturdy as any cast. Cynan would feel as if his neck were being stretched ever so slightly. "I've placed you in traction. Do your best to keep your neck stable. I would recommend you keep to light duty for the next five to eight days. Should you have any pain, or further injury, please let me know. I am all too happy to assist my noble brethren of the blade. Particularly with the live capture, recently. With any luck, we should soon have an ace in the hole, Lord Cynan."
"Mmmm. I tend to doubt that I will find that sound /annoying/ at all, Lord Doctor, regardless of how loud or frequent it may be." Get it over with already, his expression almost says aloud. It's not the most comfortable thing in the world, granted, but for someone who wears powered armor on a regular basis, traction isn't as unpleasant as one might expect. "So long as the Hostiles are not beating down the walls," Cynan replies, "I will do my best to remain as immobile as possible." The mention of the live capture, though, gets a quirked eyebrow. "One would hope so. Have proper precautions been taken to make sure that no one comes to harm at this prisoner's hands? I well remember the events of several months ago."
"Unfortunately, I am not privy to just how the creature is being held. Were it up to me, it would be held in an off-site lab, connected to appropriate force field, and air-lock technology. A recently spaced corpse can relay many details, even if it would not be ideal. Personally, I hope to find a biological factor we can exploit. Still, we will be taking ever precaution, I am sure." Hadrian says simply. He's cleaning up his small mess, and takes out another hypo. "This is your pain relieving medication. I am not a fan of over prescribing pain relievers to men at arms, generally speaking. You should be sharp of wit- as such, this is very light. It will, however, take the edge off. Do not drink any alcohol while on this medication, it will amplify the effects and take from you your wits." The hypo is placed on the table next to Cynan. "I will leave my contact details with your servants. Should you experience any shooting pains, or numbness in your extremities, call me immediately. I will be at your side as soon as possible."
"Mmm. I should hope so, Lord Doctor. Far too many lives have been lost already, and the war is only just beginning." There's silence for a long moment as Cynan's eyelids flutter closed, perhaps reflecting on… something. On his own nearness to death earlier this week, maybe. At any rate, he's drawn out again by the appearance of a painkiller nearby. "That is a wise choice, I think. Dull the pain enough to allow me to stay on duty, but do not dull my wits, hmm?" With his neck in traction, the Knight can't really manage a nod, let alone a bow, but he gives a respectful wave of one hand. "Thank you, again, for coming here, Lord Doctor Hadrian. We will remain in contact."
"Indeed, we shall. My secretary will undoubtedly be in touch with your servants in the coming days." Hadrian tends to want updates of his patients rather constantly. With servants, luckily, its largely unobtrusive. "I'll set a follow up appointment for a week or so from today." Hadrian stands, "It has been a pleasure, Lord Cynan, as much as such a meeting could be." he gives a respectful bow. "Do feel better, My Lord. Take these few days to relax- but no riding on a horse." he adds, as an after thought. "It tends to be rather harsh on the spine." With that, Hadrian turns towards the door.