"I-I cannot believe it." The physician who attended to Lyle said in shock as he loosened the cloth that had been wrapped around the cut hand of Lyle.
"I have never seen an elf heal so fast before. Tis impossible. How can—" The old man's words hung on the tip of his tongue as Thaddeus, Lyle's right-hand man now had a sword pressed upon his neck.
"Speak of this anywhere and your head shall be of no importance to the rest of your body." Thaddeus warns. Trembling, the old man nods. "Now leave." A pouch of coins is tossed his way and the man packs up his things, taking the silver with him as he scurries out of the place.
After the physician walked out, Lyle's only functioning hand reached for the goblet of wine placed on the table next to him and took it to his lips.
He gulped down the contents without pause. Wine dripping all over his jawline down to his neck, staining his tunic.
