Even after the carriage arrived with supplies, it was unloaded, and the drivers were able to rest up enough to do the journey home, Irene remained out like the sun at night. She was so unbelievably worrying, but each time Arthur felt her nose to see if she was breathing, he gave silent sighs of relief that she hadn’t passed away without him knowing.
Before he could load her into the comfortable bed they had made in the carriage, Arthur spoke with Stanley.
"You must occasionally squeeze water from a towel into her mouth," the mage directed. "I believe this sleep might last for a few days longer. In the meantime, make sure she’s consuming at least something hydrating. If it’s restorative tea that you get her to swallow bits of at a time—even better!"
The mage spoke nervously with his hands waving about. It seemed that the battlefield had gotten to him a bit as well. Perhaps the truth was that Sir Arthur had made him unbelievably on edge when he nearly attacked him after waking up without a hand.
Arthur couldn’t fault the mage for being afraid of him. He wasn’t in his right mind when he woke up to a missing limb.
"I will keep this in mind," Arthur responded evenly, but he couldn’t take much more of the mage’s utterings, so all he did was produce a pouch full of coins. "Thank you for taking care of these knighthoods. Especially my daughter. I don’t believe most of these people would be standing if it weren’t for you."
At compliments, Stanley stiffened up even though he seemed pleased at the praise.
"Yes, well," the mage muttered as he quickly snatched the coins and dropped them into his long sleeves. He acted so quickly that it almost seemed like a trick. "The poison cleansing isn’t perfect, but it’s something."
Arthur could tell as much. After all, he hadn’t been at the battlegrounds for a year and a half like the others. Everyone seemed to be coughing. Whenever he tried to rest, he was always woken up by someone hacking a lung out. He didn’t know how some were standing while sounding like that.
He felt a bit grateful that Irene’s injuries didn’t have anything to do with poison. At least physical injuries were straightforward. She merely needed to rest and then heal so she could decide what the next steps were for her.
It was finally time to take Irene from the battlefield.
When he was given the okay, he gently lifted her lifeless body from the cot, and he was surprised to see the mages standing in a row, lining the walkway he would use to escape the tent. They all looked on so empathetically that his heart clenched.
When the tent flap was held open for him, he stepped onto the dirt path that went between the tents and looked up, surprised to see that snow was falling. It caused his general mood to be even worse.
The world felt unbelievably heavy. The burden of his daughter in his arms, even heavier.
As he walked down the pathway, he was surprised to see more people lining up along the sides. Every squire, apprentice, and knight seemed to have come out to bid farewell to Irene.
There wasn’t a smile to be seen.
All eyes stared at Irene contemplatively. Were they jealous that she was able to go home? Perhaps not considering the circumstances that had gotten her there.
No one envied someone else who went mad enough to gravely injure themselves.
He made it away from the tents, but the line of people looking on did not cease until he was all the way to the carriage. Before he stepped inside, he turned to everyone and nodded once, silently acknowledging everyone who had come out to say their silent goodbyes.
After she was gently placed on the comfortable bed, Arthur shut the carriage door so that she would remain warm.
He turned to Commander Lothian and Sir Gunnar, the last two knights in the long lines.
"Thank you for everything," Arthur said to Gunnar, embracing his forearm with his prosthetic hand. The other man returned the embrace and squeezed his arm. "Let me know if you need absolutely anything."
Arthur then turned to Commander Lothian. He gave the man a tight-lipped smile.
"I can only imagine how my child responded to you, old friend," Arthur realized. "You are far beyond any Chemoian’s understanding."
"I suppose we’re even," the Commander stated. "Because a girl wanting to hide herself to participate in battle is beyond my understanding as well."
Arthur clenched his jaw at that, but it didn’t wipe away the faint smirk on his lips. He didn’t feel the need to explain himself to the expanse of men that looked at the interaction taking place. It was obvious to anyone that a Sünstoian child would want to face battle, but that her gender wasn’t yet understood by anyone enough to accept that she was good enough to face any of them.
With a final wave, he stepped into the carriage as well and knocked so that the driver would know to set off.
As they pulled away, Sir Arthur stared down at his daughter. Her chest that had been wrapped snugly so that the faintly healed wound wouldn’t reopen rose and fell in her slumber.
He was glad that she hadn’t been awake for their departure because she would undoubtedly resist as much as she possibly could.
"You needed to come home for a while, my sweet girl," he whispered. "But after you regain your strength, we will revisit how you are to fit yourself back into the knighthood. Things will never be as they were. But I know that you are more than equipped to handle it."
He let out a slow, even sigh.
The journey would be long. The healing would be longer.