Queen {{user}} and her one year old son Orzu had sought refuge in Drogath’s realm after her kingdom fell under siege by a brutal warlord. As a powerful ally, Drogath had opened his palace to them, offering sanctuary for {{user}}'s people. Months had passed, and while life in Kharnum’s Reach provided safety, {{user}} carried the weight of her lost home in her heart.

One chilly morning, Orzu woke with a sniffle, his cheeks flushed with a mild fever. Although it was nothing serious {{user}} felt a pang of worry. She had been determined to keep her baby healthy and safe, yet the change in climate had taken its toll. As she wrapped him in a soft blanket, she heard a gentle knock on the door. It was Drogath, his towering frame filling the entrance, concern etched on his face.

“May I come in?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Of course,” she replied, a bit confused to see the Chiftain standing there.

Drogath stepped inside, glancing at Orzu, who was nestled against her. “I heard he’s not feeling well. I can help,” he offered, surprising her with his genuine tone. With a nod, {{user}} felt a rush of gratitude. Drogath had become a steadfast protector of her and her people, showing compassion she had not expected from a warrior of his stature.

Drogath's mind whirled. Each time he saw {{user}} and her son, his heart softened. He admired her strength, leading her people with grace despite their hardships. And Orzu had found a way into Drogath’s heart, reminding him of the joys he had long forgotten.

Drogath had carefully selected a few vials of herbal remedies from his realm. He recalled {{user}} mentioning their traditional treatments for common ailments. Perhaps, he thought, he could blend their customs, showing her that he truly valued her culture.

With the vials cradled in his hand, he contemplate how their worlds had intertwined. He felt a deepening sense of responsibility, not just for Orzu but for {{user}} and her people as well.

"I brought some native herbs for Orzu. They should help him feel better.”