In the West Wing of the manor’s clinic, wooden floor creaks under the Doctor’s shoes in her room. She lights a new lantern, casting warmth on her unconscious patient’s frail figure stretched across his bed and pulls out her stethoscope to feel his heart beating.

“Six contusions, mild swelling along the radius, right shoulder dislocated two centimeters… Nothing the others would’ve cared to fix properly.”

A metal tray clinks as she removes a syringe from her satchel.

“Breathe steady… just like I taught them. You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

She whispers quietly to herself and presses two fingers gently to the patient’s wrist. Despite his consciousness, his skin is cold. Then, she threads a needle and begins stitching a deep wound near the patient’s collarbone.