Julian was a middle-aged man, thirty-five years old to be exact. He wore the light blue robes common to most scribes. Edwin knew there wasn't a unified dress code scribes must follow; it was more of a current fashion trend. Besides the robes, Julian wore a pair of spectacles, tied to his face with a thin rope.
Julian was short, very short; in fact, Edwin could confidently say that he would reach his height rather soon. His hair was a light red; it reminded Edwin of Sir Cripple. He knew both men were Dunvarrian, though Julian's accent was not nearly as noticeable as Sir Cripple's.
"Thud." The book sent a plume of dust not unlike an explosion when it landed on the table.
"This is what we will study today," Julian started, "As the largest city this close to the border of Dunvarra, you need to learn everything you can about our neighbors."
Arthur raised his hand, "We already know a lot about them. Should we be learning about Freidan, the Empire, or even the Emerald Island?"
"We will get to those subjects in due time, Arthur; however, as tensions rise again, the duke instructed me to focus your studies on the Dunvarrians," Julian explained, "This book contains all the information and records we have of the Dunvarrian Kingdom dating back two hundred years. Lists of Kings, the three dynasties that have ruled the land for the past two centuries, the different clans of nobility, economy, culture, and a dozen more things."
Edwin reached across the table to grab the thick leather-bound book. With a puff, he blew off the remaining dust caked onto the cover of the tome.
"So, where should we start?" Edwin asked, Arthur, nodding beside him.
Julian smiled. As a scribe, he found little more exciting than discussing history and knowledge. "From the beginning of the course. Two hundred years ago, Oskar Buchan waged a bloody war of conquest against all other Dunvarrian clans, which ended when all of Dunvarra and much of Northern Anlett were united under the Kingdom of Dunvarra. This brutal war created the nation that remains one of Anlett's greatest Enemies and laid the foundations for most of our two nations' conflicts. Now open the book to... Arthur, are you ok?"
Edwin looks at Arthur; his companion's face had turned a deep shade of red. "Arthur?"
Arthur was swaying in his seat, sweat began to stain his clothing around his chest and armpits, "Im not feeling so..." Before he could finish speaking, he leaned to the side of the table away from the book and released a torrential rain of vomit on the floor.
For a moment, Julian and Edwin stared at Arthur in a stunned silence, "By god Arthur, what did you eat?" Edwin asked, rising from his chair, he began looking for a bucket or any available container.
"Here, use this," Julian handed Edwin a bucket he retrieved from across the room.
Edwin placed it under Arthur's head, careful not to get any of his friend's vomit on his hands or arms.
Arthur adjusted the bucket, "Thank you," He paused to vomit once more, "I'm not sure what's come over me."
Sweat now almost completely covered Arthur's clothes; oddly, Edwin noticed a faint aroma of flowers coming from Arthur.
Julian pulled Arthur's right arm over his shoulder and motioned for Edwin to do the same, "Come, let's get him to his room."
Constant stops plagued the way to their shared room; by the time they reached the room, they had to get an entirely new bucket because the last one was so full. Arthur curled up in a ball the second he hit the straw-filled mattress.
Julian placed a hand to Arthur's forehead, seemingly unsettled by what he felt. Julian turned to Edwin, "Go to the well and fill a bucket with water; we need to keep him cool." He commanded.
Edwin made to leave but turned around at the door, "Will he be ok?" he asked.
"Most likely, I believe he has contracted a simple cold or food poisoning. As long as he stays cool and hydrated, he will recover in time." Julian assured, "Now, go get that water."
With haste, Edwin sped off through the halls of the keep, then down a flight of stairs until he had emerged out onto the courtyard where he had been sparring with Arthur at so recently.
Unfortunately for Arthur, the primary well for the keep that Edwin was allowed to use lay some distance away in the second layer of the castle walls. Further complicating matters was the stream of traffic clogging the gate. Edwin had to squeeze past groups of servants, duck under construction workers carrying long planks of timber, and awkwardly excuse himself from passersby who wished to engage him in conversation.
The Second layer of Blychester Castle walls was undergoing much-needed repairs and reinforcements in case of war with Dunvarra. Scaffolding bound up the sides of walls or towers, upon which dozens of stone masons, metal workers, and common laborers worked day and night.
Edwin chose to stay close to the wall as he walked towards the well. He relished the long shadows cast by the towers as they kept him out of the increasingly uncomfortable spring heat. "Spring," Somehow, an entire winter had passed since he arrived at Blychester. He missed his family, especially his father, but he had been kept so busy that he had almost no time at all to dwell on it. Edwin was thankful to be kept busy, and with the rumors he had been hearing lately, he had come to believe he would be a whole lot busier soon.
"Look out!" Someone shouted from the scaffolding above.
Without thinking, Edwin threw himself forward, his elbows smacking hard into the dirt in front. He spun around on his back to look towards where he had just been. A large stone block, about the size of his chest, had embedded itself halfway into the dirt. Thick knots held a rope harness together around the stone; a single longer rope at the center of the stone lay strewn about, its end torn and shredded, likely from the strain, Edwin believed.
Disbelief suddenly punched him in the gut; his hands rose to his head to confirm that it was still connected to his body and had not been turned into a bloody pulp.
"Kid!" A worker shouted from the scaffolding, dragging Edwin back into reality, "Are you ok?"
Edwin pushed himself off the floor, "Yes, I'm fine, I jumped out of the way!" he shouted back towards the worker. A dozen other masons, laborers, and servants had gathered to witness the commotion.
"What happened?" A castle servant asked at Edwins right.
Edwin Shrugged, "I think the stone was too heavy for the rope; the strain must have torn the rope."
He turned to look back up at the scaffolding. A large primitive crane built onto the battlements of the wall itself had been holding the stone high above the ground. Edwin felt lucky that the stone didn't take the entire contraption down with it.
A large, burly man pushed his way to the front of the crowd; his shirtless figure revealed a lifetime of hard labor and extreme hardship. Edmund was the foreman of this section of the wall. Edwin had spoken to him a few times when the duke had sent him to deliver letters to the Foreman.
"Alright, everyone, back to work," He ordered, "You don't get paid to gawk, you get paid to work."
Quickly as they had assembled, the gathering began to depart, murmurs of the accident still on their lips as they walked away. Once the last of the crowd had left, Edmund turned to Edwin, who was still in a semi-daze over having been an inch away from death.
"Edwin, right?" he asked
Edwin replied with a nod.
"You're lucky to be alive, Edwin," he said. Edmund spun Edwin around and brushed some of the dirt off Edwin's shirt. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Edwin found the bucket he had been carrying lying next to the stone, having been as close to death as he had been, "If you can walk with me, I have to get water for my friend; he's sick."
Edmund nodded, "As foreman of this section of the wall, I need to be aware of everything that happens, so can you explain to me what you saw?"
"I already told everyone," Edwin moved around a cart being drawn by an ox, "I didn't really see anything, I heard someone yell 'look out,' and I jumped out of the way."
The well was located in the center of the second layer of defenses. It was made of stone that went so far down into the earth that one could not make out the bottom of the well in the darkness. A large wood canopy made of rotted wooden planks had been built to keep the well shaded. Edwin tied his bucket to the rope and lowered it until it had been filled with water.
"In my opinion, the rope may have needed to be replaced or strengthened on that crane," Edwin said as he used the pulley to bring his bucket back up. "But I couldn't tell you, I don't know how all that works."
Edmund shook his head, "Impossible, we check and change those ropes every single day, you are sure that is all you know?"
Edwin thought hard for a moment, "Had I seen anything else?" he asked himself, but nothing came to mind. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything else. Maybe ask the person who shouted for me to look out, he was near the crane."
"You're right," Edmund agreed, "I'll leave you to it then, lad."
Edwin watched the foreman make his way to the wall. He began to follow the man but stopped suddenly, "Maybe I'll keep clear of all the construction work," he mumbled to himself.