May I assist?

“I’ve done all that can be done, for now. We shall see the results of my efforts soon enough, my liege...s. My lieges.”

Jakob takes a humble bow. 

“Perhaps I would have been faster if I wasn’t wearing this shackle....”

He glances at the ball-and-chain portion of his Harvest Festival attire.

“Well, I suppose it’s just desserts for choosing the side opposite of my liege. I have no choice but to follow milord Takumi from here on.”

“Hohoh. Then I suppose I’m in the minority, cheering for Milord Ryoma. None must overlook his diligence. I still haven’t had the chance to change out of my festival attire, however...”

“Wait--I see that most versions of my liege have chosen Milord Takumi... Wait!! Is it possible to change teams--!?”

Dwyer takes a deep, shuddering breath, recovering a bit from the coughing fit. Each cough sent a horrid burning sensation through his chest, and even breathing normally was more difficult than usual.

That fact frightened Dwyer more than the attack. His eyes open again as he hears his horse approach. He rests a shaking hand on the resting mare’s muzzle for a moment before attempting to speak again. 

“Didn’t think… you were much for apologies. I don’t-… I don’t even know what you’re apologizing for…”

His voice is quieter this time, careful to cause him the least amount of pain he can manage. He has to pause once to cough again, and the spasm leaves Dwyer wincing and catching his breath once more. Was his father… crying? He couldn’t quite tell. Surely there would be no tears shed for him.

“Son...” Jakob pleaded, “Don’t speak. The convoy should be arriving shortly.” Not good. There’s so much blood being lost. There’s only so much he can do now... What will Kanna say? And his mother? He caressed his son’s cheek with his hand. 

“You... are meant for so much more than a bloody battlefield. Many of our soldiers get to walk home because of you. You’ve grown so much with us, in such a blink of an eye.” It’s not fair. They already had such little time together because of the effects of the Hidden Realms. “I...” I never should have let him face danger firsthand.

“I’m proud of you, son. So please, you must rest...”

“…!!” Goddammit, you’ve gone and agitated him even further. It was Jakob’s fault he was hurt. The fact that he couldn’t bring himself to talk… The anguish he had to face. He did this. The least he could do was try to be a father to him.

“Shh… It’s alright, Son. I…” He choked on his words, but he holds back any expression on his face.

“I’m sorry, it’s alright. Save your strength.” The silver-haired butler moved Dwyer’s hair from his face once more. The troubador’s steed limped closer, though its armor was dented and stained with dirt and scratches.

As the dust settled, it’s clear that the battle was over for the day, though the butler was in no state to think of whether they’d won or not. The injured, but loyal horse rests next to its master.

“This never should have happened…” Jakob never should have let this happen to him.

Damn it... This is going to need stitching, but he hadn’t the supplies. With the treated bandage in hand, Jakob wraps the bandage around his son’s torso, as tightly as he could muster. That fabric was not meant for mending wounds; the blood seeped through almost immediately. Not good enough... But hopefully the pressure itself will hold for now. 

With a huff, Jakob takes only a second to look over his son’s appearance. He’d grown so much... Dwyer’s father gently caressed his cheek for a moment, an unfamiliar gentleness in his voice.

“...Good. There’s a good lad. Keep it there, now.”

He uttered, Dwyer’s hand once again placed on his chest.

Although the opposing army had been mostly routed, the allied forces remained scattered.  The pitiful, weak whinnies of Dwyer’s steed crying out not too far off from where they were.. Too many others were wounded. But Jakob didn’t care. He pointed directly to a soldier returning back to the encampment. 

“You. Summon a horse and fetch me a stave, a vulnerary, and bandages.”

The soldier, armor scuffed and exhausted, took a moment before he recognized that he was being spoken to. He looked puzzled as he processed Jakob’s words.

“NOW, gods damn it!”

The hapless lancer dashed off, with a salute.

Turning his attention back to Dwyer, Jakob cradled his son in his arms.

“Boy, the battlefield was never meant for you...” He whispered as the emotions washed over him.  The enemy soldier was dead, but not soon enough. He never should have been able to break their formation and hit their support. How could he have been so careless...? 

Jakob moved a strand of Dwyer’s hair out of his face. He always did hate those unruly locks. 

Injury Prompts: # 29: Torso Impaled

( @drowsy-n-dutiful )

As the dagger struck Dwyer in the chest, three more pierced the assailant’s knee, abdomen, and shoulder. Red. white. black flashed before the silver-haired butler’s eyes as his body moved on its own. Before he knew it, Jakob’s foot rested on the throat of a brutalized enemy soldier, a splatter of blood staining his proudly-donned servant’s garments the only thing that snapped him out of his rage. 

His son. Where was his son?

Though he reached for his stave, he felt it snap in his gauntlet, devoid of any healing spell that could help now. Jakob rushed to his son’s side, analyzing the injuries. A bruise on the right of his torso, right between the ribs. The culprit’s dagger had already fallen out and lay inert on the bloodied battleground.

Jakob throws off his gauntlet, and singlemindedly guide’s Dwyer’s hand to the wound.

“Apply pressure. I’ll make a bandage.”

He spoke robotically, his focus unbroken, his rage white.

“Milady... I--”

“Uurgh!!”

Felicia tried to argue, but her body fought back, causing her to wince and bite her words back. The wounded maid’s tear-stained cheeks turned red, awash with indignity at her master and herself. Felicia wrapped one of her hands around the handle of the staff Ruby held. 

“Gunter once told me... A servant’s mess... shouldn’t be left for the master to clean up...” 

She sputtered, pleading at Ruby through the tears.

“Lady Ruby... You always spoiled me...” 

Felicia struggled, trying to right herself with the strength the Moon Festal could grant her...  

“But I can’t... live with myself if you die trying to save something like me...”