Marlon

Marlon had swore a blood oath that when the time was right he would rescue his father at whatever the cost it took. That cost at the moment was his life, a price he thought paled in comparison to his father. Five years ago he had put his plan in motion and payed the previous healer who had resided there before him with a handsome sum of gold to leave the Kingdom and start fresh somewhere new and faraway, and to forget seeing Marlon. When the physician saw the large amount of gold bullion he was overjoyed and happily taught Marlon everything he knew, which took two years, but finally the man made him recite the ancient oath a healer took, thanked him again for his generosity and disappeared.

For three more years after that he had bided his time playing the part by day and  thinKing of ways to seek out his revenge by night. The first task was killing the King, but not before getting the whereabouts of his father first. He looked at her discolored and marred facial features. She looked dead to him. Every inch of her, including her hair, was caked in blood.

It took him over an hour to fully clean, disinfect, and prep her wounds. He heard Zuff's royal toll bell ring eight times, far off  in the center of town, signifying the death of  a Royal, and the beginning of mourning for the entire Kingdom and its people. Far off cries of wailing, disbelief and dismay bounced off the stone walls and echoed into his back room, but he ignored them all, and kept to the task of wiping her delicate gray skin with the once white sponge, now rust red from her blood. He positioned her wrist so he could feel her pulse when he noticed the hieroglyph scar.

He knew within an instant that she was Royalty and the bells were ringing for her. Just then, Lokul, the cobbler, whose business neighbored Marlon's, came inside his place of business in a frantic haste, calling for him.

"Marlon! Marlon !" He was sweating and out of breath from the somber excitement. 

Lokul was a short, fat older man who loved to gossip.

He had placed the girl in his private examination room in the back of his shop because of the law forbidding anyone to cure or heal a punished courtesan or slave once they were sentenced to their fate. Marlon thought it was a barbaric law and had been secretly healing them since he had been here. making sure to give them enough coin to secure a safe passage on a ship and out of this mad Kingdom. He quickly walked up to the marble service counter. On the other side stood his business neighbor.

He still had his flint blade on him and quickly put his Apothecary apron on to hide his dagger before his neighbor noticed. 

"Evening Lokul." He said calmly.

"Did you hear the Royal Bells chime?" Lokul asked in excitement.

"I thought that was what I heard, but I have been in the back worKing on new healing sacraments." He lied.

"Oh yes, your potions. Marlon, my good friend you have a gift. Our Kingdom must be one of the healthiest thanks to you and your healing magic. There's talk of conspiracy going on in the castle. "

"Conspiracy?" That word intrigued him.

"Aye, Queen Bihadlly was murdered by her daughter..."