“For ages untold, poison had always been the assassin’s best friend.” - Old proverb.

“Friede!” Reinhardt yelled with worry and not a little bit of dread when he saw how she crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Even as he rushed towards her – fortunately there were no other assassins left to deal with in the vicinity – he still remembered to signal Hannah by whistle to guide whoever was near that sniper to surround and catch them, however.

He breathed a slight sigh in relief when he nearly reached her and noticed the slight rise and fall of her chest, as well as the location of the bolt that struck her. The bolt went through her left shoulder cleanly, but it was quite a bit far from any vital spot, so clearly that wound alone wouldn’t have caused Elfriede to drop like that.

Something had, though, as Reinhardt noticed how Elfriede’s whole body felt limp and powerless as he tried to help her get up. The only movement he saw coming from her was the slight breathing as well as the movement of her eyes. It was like she had lost control over the rest of her body in its entirety, which in itself was worrisome to say the least.

“May I?” came a question from his side. Reinhardt turned to see the Crown Prince arrive together with two of his guards and the robe-clad dwarf. The question came from the robe-clad dwarf, who if Reinhardt suspected right, should be Mæster Goerenbrandt himself, the famous healer. “I believe I could be of help to the lady.”

Reinhardt expressed his agreement when he noticed the Crown Prince give him a nod. The dwarven healer immediately knelt beside Elfriede, who was still being held up by Reinhardt’s arms. The dwarven healer’s hands quickly grabbed the bolt’s shaft that protruded out from Elfriede’s shoulder and snapped it in half with a practiced motion, before he pulled out the rest of the bolt out from her back.

“What happened to her, Mæster Goerenbrandt?” asked Reinhardt as politely as he could. He was not particularly knowledgeable in medical things, and had no idea what might have caused Elfriede’s condition.

The dwarven healer did not answer him for a moment, though he did lay one hand on Elfriede’s wounded shoulder. The injury closed within seconds, leaving only a small leftover that would later develop into a scar – probably something the healer did on purpose considering how mercenaries and dwarves both tend to consider scars as medals of honor – but Elfriede still didn’t move.

Reinhardt felt his dread redouble when he saw how the dwarven healer frowned.

It was a strange feeling that he felt at that moment. If someone was to ask him about his relationship with Elfriede, he would have likely considered them to be more like good friends with benefits, despite their marital status in the documents. That decision was more for Erycea’s sake anyhow, and their relationship had mostly settled to the same pace they had prior to the accident that resulted in her birth.

He considered himself a pragmatic man. His relationship with others were ones of mutual benefit, like with just about everyone in the Company. He cared for his daughters, sure, but if someone was to ask him, he wouldn’t be able to say whether he loved Elfriede or not. It was a curious thing, considering that they’ve shared beds for the past decade and a half.

Then again, he knew she probably thought in a similar way. Elfriede remained one of those people who almost never cared about another in any true sense. He only really saw her show such an attitude to their daughters, and her old friends. Arguably, she cared more about her old friends than she did for him, though not like either of them ever made an issue out of it.

Yet now that her life probably hung in the balance, he couldn’t help but worry for her sake. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling to him.

“May Pesca rot those hairless cur’s beards!” cursed Mæster Goerenbrandt vehemently, which caused even the Crown Prince to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Apparently the healer was not known for cursing often, considering the surprise on their expressions. “Those goatfucking bastards laced the bolt with Midnight Shadow extract. Fuck!”

“Midnight Shadow?” Reinhardt asked with a worried voice. Either way he knew it was likely not a good thing given the poignant way Mæster Goerenbrandt cursed at its mention. Even the Crown Prince visibly paled upon hearing the name.

“A forbidden poison. One extremely lethal for us dwarves,” said the Crown Prince with an affronted tone. “Its use had been outlawed on the pain of de-bearding and death for many generations. If the antidote for the poison was not administered within five minutes at the latest no victim had ever survived it. It would cause your whole body to be paralyzed and you’d be left unable to breathe until you suffocate to death.”

“Mæster Goerenbrandt has the antidote, right?” Reinhardt asked with obvious worry but also some hope in his voice as he looked up. Elfriede still breathed weakly, and had yet to move anything but her eyes. “Please tell me that he does. I am willing to pay whatever you ask for it.”

“I do. I came prepared with it just in case. The problem is not about money. The problem is that I can’t administer it to her!” complained the dwarven healer in obvious frustration. “She’s human!”

“What do you mean!?” snapped Reinhardt with a threatening growl to his voice.

“Calm yourself, Captain. It’s not what you think,” said the Crown Prince with an authoritative tone. He seemed conflicted with what he was about to say, and looked somewhat guilty as well. After all, Elfriede had taken the bolt meant for him. “The only known antidote for Midnight Shade mainly consisted of Sudasorgh Grass extract. The problem is that it’s also a poison. It’s only a mild one for us dwarves, would make us miserable for a week or two at worst… but it’s also an extremely lethal poison for humans like her.”