The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 117

Chapter 117

ARTHUR LEYWIN’S POV:

Even before I was able to open my eyes, the first thing I became aware of was the soft creaking of footsteps on old wood. Echoes of groaning floorboards resounded in my ears, allowing me to get a vague grasp of the size of the room I was held in.

An array of intoxicating smells—rich with unfamiliar herbs and spices—bombarded my senses, distracting me from anything else. Opening my eyes, the first thing to welcome me was the underside of a cottage roof. Besides the parched coarseness of my tongue from lack of water, my body felt fine; or at least, I thought, until I tried moving.

To my horror, there was no response when I tried to lift my legs; there was no sensation or feedback when I tried moving anything from the waist down. I immediately lifted the blankets covering my lower body, only to see that my legs had been completely bandaged and fashioned tightly to a wooden splint to keep them from moving.

“Your legs are fine, Child. I just had to numb them so that you wouldn’t be up all night from the pain,” a gentle, yet slightly brittle voice stirred my attention.

Turning to the origin of the kind voice, I was met with a tender smile from a woman well past her youth, seasoned with the signs of refined aging. While wrinkles marked her face, they did nothing to hide her dignified and graceful demeanor. Dressed in a simple gray robe to match her hair tied tightly in the back to come down in a braid, my caretaker approached me with sparkling eyes.

Letting out a sigh of relief at her words, I sank back down in the bed. “How do you feel, Child?” she cooed, placing a warm hand on my forehead.

I blinked uncomprehendingly. The last thing I remembered was landing a solid blow on the titan bear before passing out. I turned my head around, scanning my surroundings. I was in a spacious room, well-lit and heated by a fire crackling in a stone fireplace. Beside it was a small kitchen muddled with pots and pans of all sizes either hanging on the wall or stacked high on top of each other. Besides the worn upholstered couches placed around the fireplace and a small dining table in front of the kitchen, there was little else inside this cottage.

“Confused, are you?” the aged woman chuckled.

“Yeah,” I replied hoarsely before breaking down into a fit of coughs. The woman promptly got up from her seat beside me and came back with a mug of lukewarm water. After a few deep gulps of what tasted like liquid heaven, I felt confident enough to form cohesive words.

“Thank you...”

“—Myre. You can simply call me Myre, Child,” the lady finished for me, taking the empty mug from my hands.

As I sat there, a searing pain started creeping up my legs, as if a liquid fire had soaked them.

Mistaking my pained expression for fright, Myre let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t eat you. Although, I did technically kind of steal you away from Windsom. Lucky I did, though. If I had gotten my hands on you any later, I’m afraid your legs would’ve taken a lot longer to heal.”

“I-It’s not that. My legs...” I managed to voice out through gritted teeth.

“Seems like the medicinal rub has lost its effect already." Placing the mug down on the nightstand beside me, Myre began to lift the only thing keeping me from being completely naked.

My hands immediately reached down to cover myself between my legs, which prompted another soft chuckle from my caretaker. Carefully folding the sheets so that only my legs were exposed, she gently hovered her hand over my bandaged legs.

As Myre began unwrapping the bandages, I was able to finally see the full extent of injuries my legs had incurred. I couldn’t help but grow puzzled by the sight of my bare legs. Scars that I never had were strewn across both legs. My knees and ankles had the most cuts, but what confused me most was that these scars looked as if they’d been on my legs for years.

Cold sweat began forming on my forehead as the pain in my legs got worse. Myre began carefully inspecting every inch of my legs after completely removing all of the bandages.

After a satisfied nod to herself, she brought over a bucket filled with a very pungent herbal liquid. I wordlessly observed my caretaker as she diligently cut and soaked strips of cloth and bandaged my legs with nimble fingers. I couldn’t help but fall into a trance from her rhythmic and dexterous movements.

“Elder Myre—”

“Please, Arthur, I would much prefer if you just called me Myre,” she cut me off, her attention still focused on my legs.

“Er, Myre, how long have I been unconscious for?” I asked, afraid that by my seemingly repaired legs, I’d been out for a long time.

“Just over two nights, My Dear." As she finished replacing the last bandage on my left calf, she turned to me, her misty green eyes studying me. “Now, how does that feel?"

“Much more comfortable. Thank you,” I assured gratefully as the pain began subsiding from the cold gel-like liquid soaked into the new bandages.

Accepting my gratitude with a placid smile, she gathered the used cloth and dumped it in a basin filled with water. After pouring some salt-like powder into it, she lifted her dress and stepped inside, using her feet to launder the used cloth.

“Myre, you must be exhausted. Let me wash that for you,” I hurriedly expressed as I willed mana into my hand, preparing to manipulate the water in the basin.

“No no, it’s fine, My Dear. Doing this gives these old bones a chance to get some exercise." She waved my help away with one hand as her other still held the ends of her dress.