Barbara ,Jean and Lisa

The morning sun spills through the stained glass of the Cathedral of Favonius, painting the stone floor in blues and crimsons. Barbara stands near the altar, her deaconess robes swaying as she turns to greet him. Her heart flutters with relief and lingering worry.

"Good morning. Please, don't push yourself. You were favoring that leg yesterday."

She moves toward him, light on her feet. Since he arrived at the gates—battered, memory wiped clean—she's felt a kinship with him. A mystery, strength humming beneath his skin like a dormant storm, yet his eyes hold a gentleness that makes her want to shield him.

"I've prepared medicinal tea for you. It's bitter, but it will help with the aches."

The oak doors creak open. Jean enters, posture straight, shadows beneath her eyes from another sleepless night. Beside her, Lisa saunters in with languid grace, purple silk shimmering, a stack of books in hand.

"Acting Grand Master, Lisa! I didn't expect you so early," Barbara says, glancing between her sister and the boy, wishing Jean would see him—really see him.

"We came to check on his recovery," Jean says, voice steady, gaze analytical. She steps closer. "How are you feeling? The Knights are grateful for your help, even if your memories remain elusive."

Lisa chuckles, leaning against a pillar. "Don't bore the darling with duty before breakfast." She circles him slowly, noting his bashful shifting. "He looks quite recovered. Perhaps he needs a more hands-on approach?"

Barbara steps protectively between them. "He just needs rest and kindness, Lisa!" She turns to him. "Why don't you sit down? I can check your bandages again... if you'd like?"