Return of the General's Daughter
Chapter 54: His Wound Worsened

Chapter 54: His Wound Worsened

Indeed, the two gashes on Darius’ arms had festered. Lara clenched her fists. That damned healer. When she left, Darius’ wounds had been looking good.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. There was no time for anger.

"Abel, go get some moringa leaves. Add just a little water and pound them to extract the juice," she instructed.

Abel nodded and hurried out.

"Give me boiled water, a spoon, a mug, and some vinegar," she said next.

Cyrus dashed out of the room, returning moments later with everything she’d asked for.

Barett carried in the basin. Though Lara did not ask for it, he knew it would become handy.

Soon after, Abel returned carrying their only two porcelain bowls—one filled with dark green liquid, the other holding pounded leaves turned into a thick salve.

Lara reached into her backpack, pulling out a bag of cotton. She’d bought two sacks just yesterday from a peddler at the market, watching as he carefully removed the seeds from freshly harvested cotton flowers. From him, she learned that farmers had begun growing cotton alongside rice and wheat, making it more accessible.

She had prepared the cotton herself, exposing it to the sun from midday until late afternoon before sterilizing it the only way she could—by placing it in a clay pot over the fire. It was part of her emergency supplies, though she also had another purpose for it. With no modern conveniences, she planned to use the cotton and carefully cut fabric scraps as makeshift menstrual pads.

Turning her attention back to Darius, Lara mixed equal parts water and vinegar in the mug. She dipped a piece of cotton into the solution and gently wiped around the inflamed wound. The infection had set in deep. Pus had already formed, and the bandage stuck stubbornly to the raw skin. Removing it would be painful, but she had no choice.

Darius’ forehead furrowed, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face even in unconsciousness.

"Darius, this will hurt," she warned softly. "Just bear with it a little longer. We need to drain the abscess." She spoke regardless of whether the injured boy heard her or not.

Without looking up, she issued her next instructions. "Delia, when cleaning the wound, please wash your hands with soap and water, then disinfect them with vinegar. After that, press gently on the sides of the wound. Use cotton to absorb the pus."

Delia swallowed hard, but she took note of what she needed to do. She watched Lara expertly and gently press around the wound, watching the infection seep out.

A sharp gasp filled the room. Darius’ eyes flew open, tears spilling down the sides of his face. He bit his lip, struggling to suppress his cries.

"Little brother, it’s alright to cry," Lara murmured.

But in her mind, another voice echoed—a deep, stern one from her past.

’Damn you, Lara! Didn’t I tell you not to cry? Only the weak shed tears!’ Then a resounding slap caused her to flinch.She held back the tears despite the pain. She knew better than to let them fall. She was only six at that time.

She pushed the memory away, offering Darius a small, wry smile. "You’re still a child. There’s no shame in pain."

Despite her reassurance, Darius clenched his fists, determined to endure the burning sensation.

"Breathe in... and out," she coached him. "It will help."

Darius’ chest rose and fell in slow, shaky breaths. When he saw his family’s worried gazes—and Sir Kane standing close by—he exhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax.

Lara took a small piece of cotton, dipped it into the green liquid, and squeezed the juice over his wound. She repeated the process until the entire gash absorbed the medicine, then carefully spread the salve over it.

Finally, she covered the wound with a clean cotton cloth, tying it securely with a neat knot just below his elbow and shoulder socket. There was no plaster, so she had to use what available resources she had, which were strips of fabric.

She retrieved a small, light-brown pill from a wooden container lined with white cloth. "This has honey, so it shouldn’t taste too bitter," she assured him.

Darius weakly accepted the pill, slipping it into his mouth with his uninjured hand. Delia quickly propped him up, helping him drink some water.

Lara passed the container to her. "Feed him this twice daily—after breakfast and dinner," she instructed.

Delia nodded, clutching the container. "Thank you, Sir Kane. I don’t know how to repay you." Her voice wavered, her eyes reddening.

"No need, Madam. But I may impose on your hospitality when I pass through the village," Kane said with a small smile. "Please, just call me Kane."

Delia inclined her head in gratitude. "Abel, prepare breakfast for Kane."

"No need," Kane said. "I already ate. I’m heading into the mountains—I just stopped by to check on Darius and collect the items I commissioned from Lina."

Lina, who had just stepped into the room, perked up at the mention of her name. "Sir Kane, perfect timing! I finished everything you asked for," she said, beaming. "They’re in the living room. That bag with the shoulder straps turned out amazing!"

Her excitement was contagious. Delia chuckled softly, watching her younger sister practically bounce on her feet. She had spent all of yesterday sewing the clothes and the bag.

Lara cast Darius one last glance before following Lina a few steps into the living room.

She smiled as she inspected the finished products. Lina’s craftsmanship was excellent—the bag was sturdy, and the stitches were neat and strong. It was clear she had spent extra time adding pockets and partitions.

Lara reached into her pouch and pulled out fifty more coins.

Lina’s eyes widened, hands instinctively rising in protest. "I can’t—"

"If you refuse," Lara interrupted, arching an eyebrow, "I won’t ask you to make my clothes next time."

Lina hesitated before reluctantly accepting the payment.

"There’s still plenty of fabric left," she said, motioning to the extra material.

"Good. Make me two more backpacks—smaller, about half the height of this one," Lara instructed, adjusting the bag slung over her shoulder.

Lina nodded and gathered the fabric, preparing to take it home.

But before she could leave, a firm knock echoed through the house.

Abel opened the door.

An icy voice cut through the air.

"What are you doing here?"

***

Author’s note: This is a work of fiction. The treatment methods mentioned here were researched online and not provided by a medical practitioner.