Chapter VI

Gallad couldn’t remember the last time he had moved this fast in his life. It had certainly been a while, and though the king made an effort to keep himself in shape, he was breathing much heavier than he would have liked. Regardless, he didn’t care too much, all he cared about was reaching the infirmary in time to see his old friend before his condition worsened.

Admittedly, Gallad didn’t know much about what had happened to Laurence. All he had heard is that a crash had been heard in his study, and one of the sages went to check on him and found him collapsed and unconscious on the floor next to his desk. When he came to again, he was noted as delirious and disoriented, and appeared to not know where he was or what had happened to him. Other than that, Gallad knew little; whether or not he had any wounds, whether he was poisoned, or even if he was dying or would make a recovery.

When the guard posted outside of the infirmary saw his king running at him at full tilt, he didn’t hesitate to open the door for him so his liege didn’t have to so much as slow down before he entered. Once inside, Gallad attempted to slow himself down, and ended up almost crashing into one of the beds while attempting to arrest his momentum. Such a commotion caused everyone in the room to stare almost incredulously at their sweat-drenched, heavily breathing monarch gasping for breath as he made his way, much more slowly, over to Laurence’s bedside. The old arch-sage lay almost completely still in the bed, looking very frail and weak despite it only being a few hours since his initial collapse. His eyes, while open, seemed unfocused and cloudy, and his skin seemed thin and unnaturally stretched over his bones. It was as if his body had already begun to waste away before the man had even died. Gallad laid his hands gently on Laurence’s own.

“I came as soon as I heard, my old friend,” he said, gaining more control of his breathing and taking much more measured breaths. Laurence did not react to his voice or touch, in fact he barely even seemed alive, save for the small movements of his chest when he breathed.

Gallad looked over at his royal physician, whom he had personally ordered to attend to Laurence.

“Morgan, how is he? Do tell me he will pull through,” he asked, the desperation in his voice subtle but still there. The physician looked at his king with sad eyes, and shook his head. He motioned for the king to follow him away from the bed, leaving Philippe, Edric, and Martyn standing at Laurence’s side.

“It doesn’t look good, your highness. I have tried several treatments already to mitigate the symptoms, but his condition only appears to worsen despite my best efforts. I can not for the life of me determine what is causing his condition. Neither any of the medical nor magical tests I know of have had any success in revealing anything. If such a test or treatment exists, it is beyond my knowledge or capability,” Morgan said, his voice low, and Gallad’s already despairing demeanor fell even further.

“Is there anything at all you can do for him? Name anything you would need and you shall have it,” Gallad said, but Morgan only shook his head.

“My king, I am afraid that at this point, the only thing I can do for the Arch-Sage is to ease his pain and help his passing as smoothly as possible,” he replied. Gallad opened his mouth to reply, but closed it and nodded solemnly. He moved past the physician and back over to Laurence’s bedside. Laurence still stared blankly upwards, not registering anyone’s presence or any of the attention paid to him. Gallad looked back at Morgan.

“Morgan, my friend, would you mind finding a chair for me? I would most appreciate being at my oldest friend’s side if his end is truly near,” he said.

“Of course, my king. I shall return shortly,” Morgan said, while bowing his head, before leaving to find a chair for Gallad. He returned quickly with one, finding Gallad holding Laurence’s hands again. The king barely acknowledged his presence, leaving Morgan standing awkwardly with the chair in his hands. He exchanged a glance with Martyn, who simply shrugged, but looked back to Gallad and cleared his throat.

“Uhh, my king,” he said, causing Gallad to look up from Laurence at him. He pointed to Morgan standing behind Gallad, who followed the gesture to the physician. When he looked at Morgan, he could see silent tears streaming down the king’s cheeks, and his eyes were already bloodshot from crying.

“Ah, thank you Morgan, I most appreciate that,” Gallad said, his voice mostly firm but hinting at a tremble, and went over to Morgan to take the chair from him. Morgan bowed his head in acknowledgement, but Gallad barely seemed to notice as he immediately returned to Laurence’s bedside and placed the chair next to it. There he sat, hands clasping Laurence’s and tears streaming down his cheeks.

After a short while, Edric and Martyn excused themselves and left their king to attend to the rest of their business for the day, but both promised to return. Philippe remained a while longer, tears of his own falling profusely as he could only watch as his master and father figure wasted away before his eyes, but even he too eventually left, the sadness of the situation too much for the young man. Morgan sat in the corner, ready to attend to Laurence at any moment, but also wisely giving Gallad his space to grieve.

When everyone else had left, what little composure Gallad had retained completely evaporated, and he began to weep and sob openly and loudly, his cries echoing off the stone walls of the infirmary, and could even be heard through the thick wooden door and in the hallway.

Gallad cried until his voice went hoarse, and when he became choked up that no more sound came out, he began to gag and struggled to breath. Laurence still made no discernible reaction to this, and stared blankly at the ceiling, his chest still rising and falling with shallow, raspy breaths. Morgan stood up from his seat out of concern for his king, but just then Gallad’s wife, Queen Katheryn, entered the infirmary. She shook her head and waved Morgan off, gesturing for him to sit again. He sat back down while she made her way over to her husband, concern evident in her eyes.

For a moment, Gallad did not register her entrance, but eventually he did look up to see the concerned look in his beloved’s eyes as she moved to his side and began to rub his back to console him. He let go of Laurence’s hands and instead embraced his wife’s waist, crying into her dress as she held his head and stroked his hair.

“There, there, my love. Let all your grief out, it is okay,” she said softly as he wept, until eventually he had no more tears to cry and he was simply left red-eyed, hoarse, and snot-ridden. He looked up at Katheryn from her dress, a damp spot from his tears evident in the pale blue garment. She knelt down and took out a handkerchief and began to dab at his face, wiping away excess tears and snot, and then held his face in her hands as he looked sorrowfully at her. His hands came up to cover hers, and she kissed him gently. Then she pulled him in for another embrace, and the royal couple sat in silence next to their dying friend, finding solace in each other’s embrace and company.