Tightly Wound

[Erica]

Mr. White was heavier than she expected, inspiring a minor grunt as she assisted him back into the bed. Meanwhile, he berated her for her assistance, effectively evaporating the kind thoughts she had been nursing for the man. As she silently reminded herself that he was in pain and likely disoriented, he stared at her in the dark. She adjusted his covers as best she was able and watched him check the wound.


Then the questions started. Ones she wanted to answer (again), but now she hesitated. Then he mentiond the Cotillion and she truly began to worry. If his memory was not clear of that night, did that mean the injury was worse?


Without thinking about it, she laid a hand on his forehead then the back of his neck in an attempt to gauge whether he had a fever. He seemed warm but not overly so: certainly no more than would be explained by being asleep under the covers. "No, you are correct, Mr. White." It was not difficult to adopt the formal tone again, although for the first time it seemed odder than using his given name. Since he seemed to find the prospect of their dancing ludicrous, she allowed herself to succumb to the urge to provide him minor details. "We danced at the Cotillion. It was the only solution to save you from dancing with Melva Snyder." She grimaced, unable to help herself from adding, "Miss Snyder remains displeased, as the scratch on my neck can attest."


Anna paused, looking at him curiously. "You truly recall none of the Cotillion?" Frowning, she shook her head. "Perhaps we should call Dr. Gilley. Or minimally, get you some food. I can have the servants bring some broth and crackers now, or we can wait until morning. But I fear we have reached the limits of the fluids they have been forcing into you." While these seemed like questions for him, she seemed ready to answer them on her own. "Perhaps both. I will call the doctor while the food is brought up...."

 

[Chordling]

"Anna. Anna, stop," he muttered through his fatigue, and unconsciously dropped the tone of formality. He tried to twist his head away from her hand, feeling it had been completely unnecessary, then focused on listening to her explanation when he hand had dropped. It was surprise to Mr. White that Melva had something to do with the dance, and it made the situation make a little more sense. However, he never took Melva as a person to physically harm someone. Sure, the devious, blonde woman practically tried to drug him at the recital's after party, but truthfully Robert believed that was the full extent of Melva's motivation, and could only imagine Melva's displeasure, now that he was healing under Anna's watch. His thoughts nearly made him chuckle as he ran over the idea that the women had been fighting over him, given Melva's fragile temper and the minor scrape on Ms. Stroud's neck. That was a scenario that hadn't happened for quite some years, and was most certainly not the case that took place during the Cotillion.


No, aside from the waltz, Mr. White did not recall any other details of the social event that took place during the evening. He would have answered her, but then Anna went on in a relaxed yet frantic state about his condition. His blue eyes reeled as she talked over his options. They could retrieve the Doctor, or forcefully feed him once more in hopes it would restore some of his energy. In all honesty, he just wanted to go back to sleep, but it seemed that the decision had all ready been made. They would retrieve the doctor and fill his stomach. Truly wonderful. This was a plot that rarely occurred in the senate. Normally you sided with him, or with her, never both. It was impossible. No such option ever existed.


Robert decided to share more of his thoughts before they completely faded from his memory while he waited for Anna to order around her staff. His hands began to clasp around one another, probably foreign to the absence of his cane, then he began to speak again. "The King's speech, there was quite the crowd." There was an underlying tone of uncertainty, as if he were asking for confirmation. "People just everywhere; the square, the streets, rooftops..." he trailed off as he tried to recollect his ideas. "This may sound absolutely crazy, but I dreamed there was this drunk street urchin dancing on one of the rooftops." This let out a giggle from Robert, not because he still found the idea of the alcoholic character amusing, but because he was sharing the scene from his dream with Anna. With Anna. Maybe seeing the doctor and a bit of food wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

 

[Erica]

His words did not concern her; they seemed to incidate that he was piecing together his memories. That provided a salve for some of the anxiety inspired by his lack of memory around the Cotillion. He had just fallen out of the bed and it was the middle of the night, she reminded herself.


Then he giggled. Giggled. Mr. Robert Amos White, grand leader of the monarchist and general uptight ass, giggled.


That really worried her, but she answered his question as she tried to ignore the concern taking strong root in her mind. "It was not a dream," she began gently, then shook her head. "Or I should say, you may have dreamed of it, but that event did happen. The day of the King's speech. During it, actually. Just before..." Her words trailed off and her gaze fell to the quilt decorating the bed, unable to acurately make out the intelocking pattern of diamonds and squares in the dark. She swallowed, but the next phrase still carried with it more emotion than she intended. "Before you were shot." Surely that was not too much to share with him. Purposefully omitting how he had pushed her out of the way, seemed an appropriate if painful compromise.


Looking back up at him, she searched his eyes in the dark, knowing her dark hair, eyes, and skin, combined with the dark green dress she had chosen to wear, likely made her as much a shadow to him as the quilt's pattern was to her eyes. She wanted to ask him more, to prompt him to remember, but he needed his rest. "I think that memory is a good sign. We will discuss it with Dr. Gilley. Perhaps in the morning." She smiled as gently as she could and patted his knee before she stood up beside his bed. "Try to get some more sleep. I will ensure food is waiting for you when you wake, if you feel up for it, and arrange for Dr. Gilley to come calling."





Rather than leave his side, however, she stood and waited for him to rest once more.

 

[Chordling]

Robert's subtle laughter seized when Anna began to tell him that his dream was in fact a reality that occurred during the King's speech, and his expression went flat. His blue eyes searched Anna's facial feature's for any signs of fraud in disbelief as he rethought the image. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that yes, it was a strange piece of his memory. For an odd reason, Robert felt as if he should experience relief that his memory was beginning to come back to him, but he didn't. Perhaps it was because he only had one piece of the puzzle, and the rest were still missing. His memory still obliterated the part when he had been shot, and much of the preceding occurrences before that. Mr. White grimaced as he wanted to remember more, but his mind refused to obey.


Calling for food and medical services seemed less urgent now, but still were not a bad idea. Robert let out a sigh, and turned his head away from Anna. He didn't bother to settle himself further in the bed, given the short period of time before daylight, and felt he would be more secure from falling over the edge again. It was rather odd having Ms. Stroud stand by and watch him as he rested, yet there also had been a sense of comfort. Robert eventually fell asleep again, but it did take a short amount of time for him to shake away the unusual feeling he gathered from Anna's presence.


The image of the drunk man played over and over and over in Robert's mind as he started to wander while he rested. It gravely reminded him of his father and how he used to come back from the coal mines drunker than he had left home, but at the same time the character entertained the unconscious senator, and took away the the melancholy intensity.


Chapter VIII

A silver tray with a small, white plate of eggs and sausages sat by the pitcher of water and sunflowers when Robert woke up the following morning, and he was kindly being prompted by one of the nurses to eat. It was the same young, green eyed female who changed his bandage the previous day.


"Are you sure you don't to eat anything, Senator? I'd eat it for you, but I'm afraid I've all ready had my morning meal. You haven't been eating very well, sir, you'll starve to death!" her cheery voice tried to coaxed.


Mr. White pressed a set of fingers against the side of his head as his annoyance towards the nurse began to settle. "Perhaps if you give a man the chance to wake up, he might want his breakfast then," he spoke as calmly as he could.


"Why sir, you've been up for half an hour," the nurse indicated, oblivious to Mr. White's offset tone. "Surely you must be hungry by now."





His limits with the young nurse had been reached, and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, perhaps I would be hungry by now, but it seems that I've run into a series of tragic events lately, shot in fact. Don't let the cook take it too personally, but I am just not hungry at the moment," he went off, and glared at the nurse.


"Sheesh, Anna was right about you," the nurse spoke with a noticeably weaker voice before she left Mr. White's side. Robert simply groaned.

 

[Erica]

“You’re damned right I am not pleased, Ms. Stroud.” Mr. Millberry’s mustache twitched in annoyance on his red face. Anna’s attempts to placate the Chairman’s complaints about her choice to house Robert during his recuperation were failing miserably. “First you dance at the Cotillion together, and then this?! Do you have any idea the rumors now circulating? On top of the assassination attempt!”


Anna had been contrite up until that point. Mr. Millberry had a valid point about fanning the flames of rumors. Yet those rumors were so ridiculous, she had a hard time taking them seriously. Perhaps it was her fatigue, her worry about Robert, or the stress of everything she was juggling at the moment, but whatever the cause, she felt something inside her snap when he brought up the dance again and tossed in the assassination attempt as a personal annoyance for him. “Yes, I do, Mr. Millberry. I am acutely aware of the rumors circulating. I simply cannot find it within me to care at the moment,” she snappedMr. Millberry stopped talking, shooting her an incredulous look as his face turned beet red. “It has been less than four days since the King’s speech, since Mr. White nearly died. I am aware that some people mistook our dance at the Cotillion as a sign of a pending conspiracy. They are idiots. I will issue whatever statement you require to denounce the idea that the monarchists and anarchists have suddenly decided to align their... what?” She tossed her hands up in exasperation. “I cannot even begin to guess what they think we are aligning! Our ideas? Our wardrobes? We are as diametrically opposed in our views on government structure - on almost everything - as we ever have been. I cannot even conceive of what we would agree on...”


Mr. Millberry opened his mouth to interrupt, but Anna continued speaking right over him: something she would never do under ordinary circumstances. Even aware of this, she could not help herself.


“... aside from, perhaps, that one of us does not deserve to die.” One of her servants stepped into view behind the Chairman, the poor girl’s head apologetically low as she attempted to catch her mistress’s attention. Anna meet the girl’s eyes briefly before she closed her eyes and took a slow breath, smoothing out her skirts before she continued addressing the Chairman more calmly, “Forgive me, Mr. Millberry. I am sleep deprived and irritable as a result. My phrasing and manners are admittedly lacking, but my point is no less valid: these rumors are ridiculous, and I will not send Mr. White away at risk of his health in an attempt to quell them.”


“I see,” came the measured and clearly displeased response from Mr. Millberry. His cold tone implied so much more - none of it good. “I judged you the more reasonable party here, Ms. Stroud. I am sorry to see that my esteem was poorly placed.”


Anna glanced only briefly to the servant, who was growing more frantic behind Mr. Millberry, before she dipped her head, unconsciously mirroring the servant’s posture earlier. “It grieves me to displease you, Sir,” The submissive posture only lasted a few moments before she stood tall again and met the Chairman’s gaze evenly. “But I must, as in all things, do what I feel is right. I sincerely believe that sending him away would gain us nothing. The damage, such as it is, is done. I take full responsibility. As I said, I am happy to issue whatever statements you feel are required.”


Mr. Millberry replied tersely, “As is only right. I will be in touch. Please give Robert my best. Good day, Ms. Stroud.” Then he turned on a heel and headed for the door, briefly performing an impromptu dance with her servant as they both attempted (repeatedly) to side step each other.


It took almost everything she had not to sigh aloud, but Anna managed it. She looked at the girl who had come to her. “I am sorry to interrupt, Ms. Stroud, but... Nurse Pressler is waiting for you in the foyer.”

~ * ^ * ~

​

Anna entered Robert’s room quietly, shutting the door after her carefully as well. She wore a dark green dress with ivory trim, but no hat or gloves, although she carried his cane in her left hand. Glancing to the bed, she offered him a smile, taking in the untouched tray and the color of his skin. “Good morning.” Leaning the cane against the wall and approaching the bed, she began with, “Please do not get any ideas about getting out of bed just yet. However, when you are ready, the cane will be here: for once, you may need to actually lean on it.”


She sat on the edge of the bed near the foot, amusement decorating her lips as she continued. “I remember asking you to be nice to my servants,” she teased. “Although, technically, Miss Pressler is not my servant, she is in my employ on your behalf.


“She came to me, upset that you will not eat and complaining about your temperament. Did she sour your appetite by prattling on excessively?” Anna’s smile remained in place in an attempt to get him to focus on something other than his wounds. Perhaps this would help her focus on something other than Mr. Millberry’s displeasure as well.

 

[Chordling]

A short moment had passed after the nurse had left the guest room, then Anna arrived. Curious, Robert turned his neck to see what she was holding in her hand, then noticed the thin, cherry wood staff and jade orb. It made him wonder how on earth she managed to gain possession of his cane, but then he realized someone must have delivered it to her.


His eyes rolled as she continued to speak with him and smile. In truth he could have been a lot worse if he had wanted, but had held Anna's request in the back of his mind, and decided to compromise. His face could have turned red, his voice could have raised, but neither of those things had happened. He kept his temper under control. In hindsight, he had been nice.


Why had the nurse cared about his eating habits if she was so upset by his mild temperament anyway? And if she had been employed on his behalf, why did it matter to Anna how she was treated? Either the world had turned crazier, or he was still too tired to understand what was occurring. Robert liked to believe that the world had turned crazier, and thus caused his confusion towards the passing events.


"My appetite never existed, Ms. Stroud," he answered flatly. "I know mind is not on straight, but I believe I remember you telling me I would receive food, should I be up for it," he glared at her in the eye, frustrated that he was being told to eat a meal like some ten year old child. Ten years old was over two decades ago for the grown man, he didn't need someone to tell him when to eat. As if to make it his statement more obvious, he blatantly stated, "I'm not up for it."

 

[Erica]

Her humor was obviously lost on Robert. Anna knew Cheryl Pressler was a chatterbox and could only imagine how much that must have irked Robert. While the thought of him getting irritated at the nurse was amusing, his being snippy with her was less so. Her smile faded minutely as she weathered his glare and tantrum. For that was precisely what it was: a fit of attempting control when his body was providing him little.


She folded her hands in her lap and let the silence stretch after his last declaration. Eventually she decided what to say that she might not regret later. “I am glad to see you are feeling better. I have to admit the weakness of your usual caustic replies yesterday had me worried.” Motioning to the now-cold breakfast, she continued. “I will have Miss Pressler or one of the servants take this away. But it has been almost four days, Mr. White. If you wish to recover, you will need to eat something - or Doctor Gilley is likely to stick another needle in your arm, and this time I will not attempt to stop him.” While the words were combative, her tone was wearied rather than argumentative.


She stood up again, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking a small breath before she spoke again. “I thought you might prefer some discussion about events while you were... asleep. Chief Engineer Harper has been supplying reports on their progress, but I doubt they provide full disclosure.” She stepped to the nightstand, setting a glass of water beside him before taking the tray to the table near where she had slept so often the past few days. “I still believe he arranged for the spider to be present in our audience with the king, although I do not know why.”


She had been speaking mostly to herself in order to form and organize her thoughts, but she turned back to him as she finished. “Is this what you would rather do? Focus on the scheming of the Engineers and the Senate? Or would you prefer to do what’s necessary to get yourself well and out of my guest room?” This time her tone was calm but her posture challenged him, meeting his eyes evenly and without apology.

 

[Chordling]

A scowl remained on Robert's face as Anna spoke to him, and his eyes rolled again. He was not concerned about eating, Dr. Gilley, or the nurse, he was more worried about collecting his mind together again, then leaving. Though, the bright smile on Ms. Stroud's visage also concerned him, and he wondered what she had gotten into that put her in such a bright mood. Perhaps she had gone on an early morning flight with Mr. Volos, but the idea was very unlikely. Her hair and clothing were still neatly kept, and he didn't recall hearing the ship leaving the dock.


Her next topic intrigued him very much, and he seemed to push himself in a straighter sitting position. Robert also questioned Clint's actions and the presence of the mysterious automaton, and shared Anna's assumptions. The man looked like a little rat anyway, he didn't seem to hold any good intentions, not for them at least.


Anna's last statement shocked Robert. After all of their years debating with one another, did she truly believe she was going to sway him in that manner? "Ms. Stroud, I would suggest you think on what you're doing," he strongly spoke and eyed her. "You are the one who brought me here, and are the only one keeping me here. My servants would probably be more than generous to take me off your hands, however you seem to be oddly content in my presence, so it appears to me that I shall be staying until I am released. Your offer to discuss of the Engineers and the Senate does intrigue me, and it is precisely what I would prefer to do than sit around in a bed all day." She was right, it had almost been four days, and Robert had yet to move from his location, aside from the fall the previous night. His expression had become angry by the time he finished his sentence, and his breathing was rather heavy. When he realized his imperfect state, he quickly turned his head away from Ms. Stroud, and scowled to himself. Eventually his expression softened, and he was able to look at Anna again.

 

[Erica]

Anna should have known better. Robert was not a reasonable man on his best day, and today was not his best day.


Neither was it her best day, as evidenced by her quickly mounting temper. Her hand curled into a fist at her side as she looked at Robert, the compassion she felt for him evaporating in the heat of her anger.


She did not yell. She did not raise her voice. Instead, her tone was quiet, measured, and cold. "You are wrong, Robert. You are not a prisoner. Not of me, not of this room, not of Miss Pressler, my servants, nor the whim of my chef attempting to provide sustenance to strengthen you. Nothing but your injuries and your attitude hold you here.





She took the tray in hand again, her knuckles white as she gripped it."If you prefer to recover in your own home, let Nurse Pressler know. We will make arrangements."





She glanced at the tray of food purposefully loosening her hold on its edges, then back to him, "The power is yours. Stay or go, eat or do not eat; but if you wish to discuss anything with me as a guest in my home, I require more than technical civility. A modicum of courtesy will do. I do not believe that too much to ask, no matter what your state." Shoving down the impulse to make his eating an additional requirement of her return, she turned on a heel and headed for the door.


Despite her resolution to the contrary, she left him alone. It was best, she told herself, for it would not be dignified to strike a man so injured.


Even if he deserved it.

 

[Chordling]

There had been no time for Robert to verbally respond between the end of Anna's sour statement and her departure. He glared at the back of her head as she left the room, then let out a deep sigh. Guilt was an interesting emotion, it never came to Robert like it should have, or in proper amounts. Appropriate dosages came in rare occasions, this moment being one of them. Now he felt remorseful, but he couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was because he chose the wrong set of words, and without any intention, had injured Anna's feelings in some way. Robert didn't want to spend excessive amounts of time trying to understand his regret, and eventually let the issue slip from his mind.


His boredom led him into another sleeping session, and brought back the same vision as before; a drunk townsman dancing along the rooftops above the mass of people. This time a new element had been introduced, and caught Robert's unconscious attention. King Roghan, his son, McCallister and the Blackcastle Engineers stood on the wooden platform located in the market square. A light had been shinning over Clint and his group of representatives, and the little man bowed to the loud applause of the crowd. He suddenly remembered that he and Anna had also been present on the stage at that time, but it appeared that their figures did not exist, at least he was sure Anna's did not exist. Robert realized he had been standing among the crowd in his dream, and something compelled him to find Anna in the enormous set of people. He felt himself begin to push through the plethora of bodies, and before the seemingly impossibly task could be completed, his brief nap had come to an end.


A loud grumble erupted from his torso, and Robert sent an angry glare towards the source. "All right, all right, I get it," he succumbed. "Where is that woman anyway?" he asked to himself, and turned his head about the room as if it were to make great progress in his search. His eyes settled upon his cane, and for a brief second, he considered pushing himself out of his misery to find Ms. Stroud. Just thinking about moving from his position made his chest ache, so he shook his head and decided against it. Anna would have to come back, eventually. Right?

 

[Erica]

The doors opened not long after Robert had awoken, revealing a tall man with frizzy blond hair and wide eyes. He was over six feet tall, but hunched slightly, as if trying to make his presence smaller and less intimidating. He wore a tailored suit and carried a large black bag with him. Spotting Robert in the bed, he nodded. "Quite right, quite right. Rest is for the best, Mr. White." Graceful strides carried him to Robert's side, at which point he set his bag on the nightstand and picked up the other man's wrist without any preamble, feeling for a pulse. He frowned, moved his fingers, then nodded, pulling out a wrist watch and timing the other man's pulse.


When he was satisfied, he dropped Robert's wrist and looked the other man in the eye. "Now then. Let's have a look at your side." When he realized Robert did not recognize him, his eyes widened slightly before he nodded. "That's right. You were rather out of it the other night." He cleared his throat once, pausing long enough to supply the necessary information, but even this seemed a hurried formality. "I am Dr. Wilfred Gilley. I was not the one to remove the bullet the other night, although I was called in to assist with patching you back up." He had a reputation, and he knew it by the way he held Robert's gaze, awaiting recognition. He was the best surgeon in Silchester, or so his adverts claimed. Whether Robert recognized him or not would only affect the expression on his face, not the care he provided his patient.


He repeated, "Now, then. Let's have a look, shall we?" Without begging permission, he pulled back the covers enough to expose Robert's side, removed the bandage and gently prodded the affected area, watching for Robert's reaction. "Hmm... seems to be healing quite nicely, although I suspect you still have some pain."

 

[Chordling]

Wrong.


Anna did not return. Instead, a hunched over, wide eyed, crazy looking figure entered the room. It took Robert a moment to understand who this new character was, but by the bag he brought with him and the way he spoke, Robert was able to identify him as the doctor Anna spoke of earlier. A slight smile grew on Robert's lips after the doctor had formally introduced himself at a rather swift pace. He would have reciprocated, but it seemed that the doctor would know who Robert was by now.


Without any warning Dr. Gilley began to examine Robert's side. The injured man grimaced as Dr. Gilley tenderly pressed upon the fleshy area around the bullet wound. "Yes," Robert confirmed through his tense expression. "You wouldn't happen to have anything to get rid of it, would you?"





The doctor smiled as Robert spoke to him, and he continued to investigate the wound. "Only my strong advice for you to gain as much rest as possible, and to do whatever it takes to allow your injury to heal." The smile on Dr. Gilley's face remained, but Robert's expression deepened. It had not been the type of remedy he had been looking for.


"That shocks me, Dr. Gilley," Robert began. "Out of all the doctors in Aneora, I would expect more from you. You come in here with a rather large sack, and all you can give me for my misery is words of advice?" He paused briefly to stifle a grunt of pain when the doctor pressed the wound too close for his personal comfort. "What has that woman put you up to, Anna? Where is she anyway?"





Dr. Gilley let out a laugh, then turned to the side table and began to search for medical supplies from his bag. "Perhaps I should revise my statement, hm?" he grinned widely, and showed Robert the new bandage he would replace the old one with, and a bottle of strong disinfectant. He did not explain to Robert what the bottle solution was, however, and began to pour a decent amount onto a separate cloth. "Ms. Stroud, you mean," he corrected the senator. "She has only given me the task to further examine your condition, Mr. White, and her whereabouts are unknown to me." With no notice, the doctor pressed the dampened cloth onto Robert's side, and placed his other hand on the patient's shoulder. "This may sting a little."





Robert nearly screamed when the felt the "light" sting of the disinfectant, and had to restrain himself from physically attacking Dr. Gilley. "Get rid of the pain, I said get rid of it," he scorned as he glared at the doctor.


"Your wound was beginning to get infected. Had I not administrated this solution onto your injury, more pain would have come your way. I will leave this with Ms. Stroud and her care takers in case you should need another dosage. You should be fine as long as they continue to change your dressing daily, however. Now, let's a new bandage for you, shall we?" In Robert's displeased state, the doctor carefully placed a new, clean piece of cloth over his injury, then smiled. "There you are, senator. I'll leave you to rest now, if there is nothing else I can do for you." The only way Robert could reply without an outburst was by shaking his head. "Excellent, should I see you next time, I hope you are in a better condition." Dr. Gilley lowered his head, and raised his hand as if he were tilting a hat, then gathered his belongings and left the guest room. He wandered about the halls, asking nearly every passing servant where he could find their mistress to update her on the guest's current condition.

 

[Erica]

The update from Dr. Gilley displeased Anna. Snippets of their “conversation” may have reached Robert’s room, even through the doors. It started with Anna clearly needing to raise her voice to interrupt someone.


“ ... understood, but...”


“No reason to raise your voice, ... A simple ...”


“... pain? You are renown for ... Sir. Does that include empathy, or is that too mundane for a clinician? ... You will provide... ”


“See here!” Dr. Gilley’s words were followed by an extraordinarily long period of silence before he could be heard barking from the foyer - presumably at a servant. “I will see myself out.”


Footsteps followed within a few minutes, Anna’s heels hitting the floor in frustration but landing more gently as they neared his door. A long pause followed, along with the lighter step of someone else’s approach, before Anna opened the door. Nurse Pressler arrived beside her, carrying a tray with a covered plate and a small, sealed, amber-colored bottle. For her part, Anna carried a pitcher of lemonade. The women moved in concert to the table where Anna had sat earlier, far enough away that he could not reach the tray.


Anna looked at the nurse and nodded with a smile. “You may go now.” She looked at Robert in the bed as the nurse started for the door. “Unless, of course, you have decided to leave?” God help her, but she could not resist the trace of a smirk on her lips. Nurse Pressler, having reached the door, paused with her hand resting on the grip to turn and look at Mr. White expectantly.

 

[Chordling]

Robert had given Dr. Gilley the same glare he had given Anna as he walked from the room, then was left alone to sit in the bed. The question of Anna's whereabouts was quickly answered when he caught the sound of her voice down the hallway. It seemed that Dr. Gilley's report had upset his political counterpart, and became increasingly curious as to what had upset her to the extent where she would have to raise her voice.


Just a few minutes had passed when Anna an Nurse Pressler made their appearance. His curiosity no longer rested on the subject about the obscure conversation, and shifted to the contents of the tray. There had been an awkward pause from Robert before he was able to take his mind off the silver tray to respond. Slowly he turned his head and placed his gaze upon Anna before finally answering. "I didn't believe your offer had been serious, so I did not take the time to made a decision." In truth, he had thought about it, very briefly during his wave of guilt. He didn't want Ms. Stroud's anger still hanging over him when he left, so thought it would be best to make amends before he made his departure. His answer cued the young nurse to leave, the door shut, and Anna and Robert were alone in the guest room.


"You want to tell me what's on that tray?"

 

[Erica]

Robert’s blue eyes seemed glued to the tray. Good. That was progress. A long walk and the catharsis of her discussion with Dr. Gilley had brought calm back to her. Anna was not proud of how she had responded earlier, but she was proud of her restraint, considering. Uncertain whether she believed his statement that he had not considered leaving, she did not refute him. Instead, she smiled at his question.


“Yes, I do.” She walked to the side of the bed, looking at his bandaged side. “But first, Dr. Gilley shared with me that he found traces of infection. Are you in pain?”


She kept her tone as level and clinical as she could. The mention of infection had worried her, but no more than Dr. Gilley’s assertion that Robert would not need any sort of sedative or pain killer. Having experienced her share of pain in the past, she knew that getting bed rest was difficult when you were in pain. The doctor’s cavalier attitude to discovering infection in Robert’s wound had infuriated her, but Robert did not need to know that. He only needed to understand that, sympathetic as she was, she intended to see him recover if he was going to stay under her roof.

 

[Chordling]

"I hope your memory isn't going, too," Mr. White started as he turned his head to face Anna. "Of course I'm in pain." He was, however, unaware of the infection, but so had the nurse, and so had Anna. It would have been hard to guess where the pain had been coming from, be it the wound or an infection. To Robert, pain was just pain, it made no difference upon its location.


Then he recalled the developed vision he saw during his nap, and contemplated on sharing his thoughts with Anna. There hadn't been too many details about the event that returned to him. The Blackcastle Engineers, Anna and himself were standing upon the stage and waited to be called upon by King Roghan while his son patiently waited in the distance, nothing that seemed to significant to the unfolding mystery.


"Now, the tray, what's on it?"

 

[Erica]

Anna's smile slipped only slightly when he provided a trademark churlish reply. Still, he was focused on the tray. She reminded herself that was good.


She sat on the edge of the bed, mostly to draw out his suspense. "The tray has a new sample of food. A vegetable soup, crackers, cheeses, and some fresh bread and whipped butter. If they do not suit you, we can have something else sent from the kitchen." She motioned to the tray. "Once you have eaten something, I can give you some of the laudanum in that bottle. It will help with the pain, at least until the infection is past, but you need to have something in your stomach or it will only make you ill."


She paused to take a breath, looking down at her folded hands. "Please, before you jump to a rejection of this proposal, understand: you need to get better." Looking up, she met his gaze. "We have work to do."

 

[Chordling]

"Bread and butter will do just fine," Robert said after a long pause, and nodded his head slightly. He still held his gaze with Anna's as he reached his hand over to the tray, and ripped off a small section of the loaf. Something about Anna's last statement made him realize her efforts to aid him, for whatever reason she held, were genuine. Once the piece of bread had been carefully spread with a light amount of butter, he dipped one end into the soup, chewed, and swallowed.


"The King still wants us to examine the spider then," he stated after his mouth was void of any food contents. This time his hand hovered over the cheese and crackers. Once he was able to successfully separate the slice of cheese he desired, he wedged the small portion between two of the round crackers, and took a bite. "Damn, how did that thing get onto the airship in the first place?" he asked, mostly to himself, then took another bite from the cheese and cracker sandwich. Robert began to mentally analyze that particular situation, and while in mid thought, he finished off his latest snack.

 

[Erica]

Anna moved the tray to the nightstand when he indicated that he wanted to eat, removing the cover to expose the food so he might select what he wished. Bread and butter were not much, but it was a start. She stayed silent as he ate, content to wait until he wanted to speak. Unsurprisingly, he spoke first of the topic of Synge’s work and their audience with the king. The holes in his memory did not seem to extend that far back. Besides, speaking of their work around the Library and their animosity with the Blackcastle Engineers represented safe ground.


She nodded, taking his last rhetorical question as meant for her. “I suspect Mr. Harper’s hand in that,” she said. “I spoke with him briefly before the king’s speech. While he did not admit to it outright, I am confident that he hopes for our collectively falling out of favor, while elevating himself. Keeping to my charade as the easily duped woman,” her lips pursed slightly as she said it, “I commented on how we must be careful with security lest the king think poorly of us. Mr. Harper did not disagree; in fact, he jumped on the point as if it were his own and did not attempt to correct me or demonstrate his own wit.” As she continued, she poured a glass of ice water and set it beside the bed as well. “He was too satisfied with his treatment as an ally.” She scoffed, pouring herself a glass as well. “He even tried to play the part of a concerned friend, mentioning the rumors circulating after the Cotillion, as if he would not love to watch us be discredited.”


Lifting the glass to her lips, she took a long drink of water. Only when she had finished talking did she realize how easy it was to speak to Mr. White of such things. She never would have imagined it a few weeks ago, but this was easily explained by their shared predicament. This was precisely why the topics of their audience with the King and the Blackcastle Engineers were so safe.

 

[Chordling]

"Rumors from the Cotillion?" Robert practically stated in shock. By now he would have assumed they would have died away, but if Ms. Stroud had spoke correctly, his assumptions had been foiled. Robert had been ripping of another piece of bread when he spoke. "If any rumors were to last that long, I would not expect them to come from the event that took place at the Cotillion." He did just as he had done before with the previous piece of bread he ate, then consumed it in a single bite.


"Mr. Harper all ready serves the King, why would there be any need for him to degrade us?" he began to rationalize after he finished swallowing. "If it's for political power, he's going to need another plan. Ridding of you and I will not help him in that way in the slightest." Robert grabbed the glass of ice water and slowly took a sip, then placed it back down on the night stand. "Why else would anyone want to discredit us?" Political power was practically all that Anna and Robert owned, along with the fame that came with it, there didn't seem to be any other reason Robert could conjure that made sense.

 

[Erica]

Anna nearly answered his first comment about the Cotillion, but he changed topics about Mr. Harper’s motives. It was probably for the best. Explaining why the rumors still lingered might mean telling him precisely why she felt so obligated to care for him. Part of her wanted to be able to tell him, but Dr. Gilley had emphasized that it would be best if Mr. White remembered those events on his own.


At least his reasoning was still sharp. That had to be a good sign. She chuckled at his question, though, shaking her head. The same question had been bothering her as well, but she had more time to think on it. “Having us discredited in general does not elevate his station, but discrediting us on this endeavor, then being the one to ‘discover’ an important fact or nuance might.” She stood to retrieve a folder of files from the desk across the room: one she had been examining while watching over him.


She handed him the file. “I have been given regular reports... showing little to no progress.” She ticked off the points on her fingers as she began to pace. “They cannot find or fashion a key. They have not found anything else worthy of sharing except some indecipherable notes...” She frowned and turned to face him, frustration deepening her voice. “They think me an idiot, which was working in our favor when you were awake. Now it is only keeping us in the dark.”

 

[Chordling]

Robert looked curiously to Anna when she stood up to grab the files from the desk, then carefully removed the documents from her hold as she offered them to him. He opened the folder with a single flick of his thumb, then started to analyze the contents. "I still do not understand," he spoke as he continued to glance over the papers. "They have one of the highest possible ranks in the nation. There is no reason for their envy towards us." All of Anna's points had been correct, but it still did not excuse the Engineers, not in Robert's mind at least. "I still do not understand either," he started to add. "They are engineers, for heavens sake. Producing a new key shouldn't be a difficult task. If your mechanic is capable of doing so, then Mr. Harper have no room for excuses." Mr. White sighed and placed any of the documents he held in his hand back into the folder. "Especially if their eyes have been reviewing the same notes we have."





Another piece of bread was picked, buttered, dipped, then swallowed before Mr. White continued. Though the King's speech was the last thing he currently wanted on his mind, he couldn't help but think of it then. "You don't suppose their party could be responsible for attempting my assassination?" Of course, there had been many errors in this statement. The idea in itself was completely inaccurate. Clint and his band of engineers had nothing to do with the assassination, and the bullet had never been intended for his soul, but Anna's.

 

[Erica]

Anna looked at Robert curiously when he declared he still could not understand Harper’s possible motivation. “It is not about envying us...” she began, but he was onto the most perplexing piece of the puzzle from her perspective. The Blackcastle Engineers were the best in the nation. They should have been able to produce a key. If not the first one (which, she suspected, was part of Harper’s dislike of the senators: they had bested him in his own field of expertise), then certainly a second one given that they had the first as a model.


There had to be a reason they were either delaying their progress or hiding it. What that reason might be, however, she could not guess, despite days of trying.


Then he jumped to a completely false conclusion. She shook her head, answering quickly. “They did not try to kill you. Of that, I am certain.” With a frown, she took a sip of her water and set it aside. “Robert, I told you that I did not believe you were the target. Many suspect the King was the target, which would make no sense at all if they were behind the attack. I suspect the target was ... someone else. But that makes no sense, either.” She was thinking aloud, which would only lead to more questions, but she could not help herself. Firmly suspecting that she had been the intended target, she had a vested interest in figuring out who was behind the attack. Only she could not conceive of who would want to have her killed.


Ironically, Mr. White would have been on the top of the list of people with motivation (although she would have never believed he would order such an attack - not even before she had come to know him better). Even stranger, he was the one she would likely ask to help her reason it out - if he could recall the attack clearly. A line appeared on her forehead as she revisited the question that had been haunting her: who wanted her dead? “I suppose it could be them... but if so, Mr. Harper is an excellent actor and a poor logician. Killing ...” she hesitated “... one of us now would only make us martyrs and not further any aim at elevating his reputation.


“No. He would need to discredit us.” Her expression changed abruptly as she looked to Robert with wide eyes. “Could they be withholding information to disgrace us? That would fit with slipping the other prototype in for the first audience with the king, where Mr. Harper was not invited.”

 

[Chordling]

Mr. White's expression deepened when Anna counteracted his statement. "Precisely," he began his rant, "I never said I was the one expected to be shot. Believing the King was the target is an understandable assumption, however, you continue to say the bullet had been intended for someone else." If only Robert had remembered the very last portion of the King's speech, none of his confusing words would have ever entered the atmosphere. "You and I had been standing next to one another during the King's speech, before the gun went off," he started to explain, but his words were more theory and not fact. "Don't lie to me, Anna." He looked at her seriously in mid consumption of yet another piece of buttered and dipped bread.


A deep sigh escaped Mr. White before he continued to add, "I suspect they have been withholding information from the very beginning." He paused to take a sip from his glass of ice cold water. "Their preliminary report was not quite impressive, if you can recall." He remembered the moment after their small acting game, when Anna's skirt had become a victim to the end of his cane. "They clearly must know something about the new automaton," Robert's tone switched, as if he was beginning to plot something. "Maybe where the key is hidden, or how the machine functions." It was making sense, at least to Robert. With either piece of knowledge, the Engineers could have formulated a plan to discredit their senators. Knowing the King so well and his curiosity, Clint and his team of men knew Robert and Anna would be ordered to examine it. "Are they still researching the chamber in the library, or has the project been stalled entirely due to the condition I've been put in?"

 

[Erica]

"Don't lie to me, Anna."


Mr. White might have noticed her smile falter when he spoke the words. They stung, so much so that she literally had to bite her tongue to keep herself from correcting him. What could she say without jeopardizing his mental health? She had not lied; she had, in fact, been extraordinarily careful not to do so. Yet he still believed so little of her to accuse her of deceit.


It was infuriating, but she shoved that aside to listen to his thoughts on the Blackcastle Engineers. With a more serious expression, she reached for the laudanum and poured a spoonful. “They have continued their research. Hence the flimsy reports I have been receiving. I have attempted to check in on them, but it is difficult to do so at the moment.” She offered him the spoon, assuming he would infer that he could take the medicine now without risk. “I agree with you. They know something, but what...” she shrugged and shook her head. “I hesitate to involve Andrei any further in this, but I may need his eyes on some of the designs.” Her mind began spinning. Perhaps she could request them for her and Robert to review now that Robert was awake. Then Andrei could view them without being announced to the Engineers...


She looked at Robert, patting his leg through the covers as she offered him a reassuring smile. “You should get some rest. I have an idea of how to use your bed rest to our advantage.”