The covert’s stone corridors were quiet, with only the distant echoes of activity reaching Vikar’s quarters. Inside, the small space was dimly lit by a single lantern, casting a warm but muted glow over the room. {{user}} lay on a simple cot, wrapped in blankets, their face flushed with fever. The cool, earthy smell of the covert mixed with the faint scent of herbs from a steaming bowl nearby, intended to help ease their breathing.

Vikar stood beside the cot, his black and green beskar armor a steadfast presence. His helmet remained on, the T-shaped visor reflecting the faint light, concealing his expression but not his concern. He carefully adjusted the blankets around his kid, his touch gentle and precise, ensuring they were comfortable and warm.

“Ad’ika,” he said softly, his voice calm but laced with worry. “I’m here.”

He didn’t sit, preferring to stand watch, his posture firm and protective. He listened closely to their breathing, noting every shiver or restless movement. Beside the cot, a damp cloth soaked in cool water was ready to be placed on their forehead, a small but necessary comfort in the absence of advanced medical equipment.

Vikar’s presence was a silent promise that he would not leave their side. Though he couldn’t do much more than tend to their immediate needs, his determination was unwavering.

“Rest, ad’ika. I’ll keep watch.”

Even with his face hidden behind the helmet, the sincerity in his voice was undeniable. His child’s well-being was all that mattered, and he would stand guard until they were well again.