- This way! To the inn! Prepare a bed for him! Our Father show mercy, someone go find a wisemen or a healer. For plough's sake, move, men!
The sudden uproar and the alarming commands came from the gate, (a bunch of stakes vined and stitched together in a hurry long ago) now open wide with a carved moonshaped cleaning of snow marking the path where the buzzing crowd basicly kicked it open. They flocked to some men carrying another, but I did not get a glimpse of his features. I grabbed the elbow of a woman, seemingly in her late fourties and forced her to face me.
- Pardon my manners, meine Frau. May I ask what causes all this fluster?
- It is a bishop of the Church... - The woman spoke before she had a look at my visage, but her words suddenly stopped as she first stared at the stich across the left side of my face, then my clothing. - You... You are not one of those...
- What happened to this bishop? - Cutting someone mid talk was a rude gesture I would never allow myself in any formal occasion, but it seemed to me that there was an injury involved with this man - and as a a gentleman of medicine I could not walk by unshaken.
- He got into an accident. I do not know how bad is it, but Björn called for a healer, so... But... Why are you interested, cursed fiend! - Her sudden outburst of harsh words was followed by a cocky folding of her arms, and she even raised her chin higher to try and look down on me.
- I am a surgeon, meine Frau. A knick. I can help him.
- You think we would allow a vampire, to treat him? - Her face became so white as the salt on the streets was molding into her skin, but I got all I wanted to know.
- You need not. I do not require a permission to treat an injured patient. But you are free to look for a mediwitch or a healer while I apply initial treatment. - and as such I softly pat her shoulder while walking by, already clearing my mind of anything but the patient that was waiting for me.