Chapter 186: Year 31 - 36 Elisa

Year Thirty-Six

Even with the return of better weather, many families were still struggling to recover from the years of hardship. Some had found steady work or received help from relatives, while others continued to scrape by on occasional wages and what little food they could afford.

Lucian continued purchasing grain for the worst-affected districts, but the strain on the treasury forced him to be more selective. He still accepted costly shipments when the need was urgent, but he could no longer afford to meet every request at whatever price a merchant demanded.

It was an uncomfortable position for a man who had once possessed enough reserves to meet unexpected needs without threatening the house’s ordinary affairs. His decisions still made sense, but there was little room for error. Grain sent to one settlement might leave another waiting, while delaying a purchase could prolong the hardship of families already struggling to feed themselves. He had to consider not only how much help was needed, but how long House Veymont could continue providing it.

It was not always easy to determine who needed help most. Some families had lost their harvests, while others could no longer afford food on the wages they earned. Those arriving from distant settlements often had little to support their accounts beyond their own word. The officials investigated where they could, but some decisions could not wait for every detail to be confirmed. Lucian wanted aid to reach families who genuinely needed it, even when his officials could not verify every claim before deciding whether to help.

It was against this background that his first daughter, Elisa, was beginning to find her own place in the family’s efforts.

At fifteen, Elisa had grown into a lovely young noblewoman whose gentle appearance often made people instinctively careful around her. She stood at an ordinary height for her age, with a slender frame and graceful movements, while her long, thick curls fell well past her shoulders. Her hair was a warm golden brown, light enough to appear almost blond where the sun caught it, much like her father’s had been in his youth. Soft features, clear skin, and large, warm brown eyes gave her an open, tender expression.

Even when troubled, she rarely looked severe. A slight change in her eyes or the faintest downturn of her mouth could make those around her wonder what had upset her and whether they could do something to help.

She dressed with the quiet taste expected of a daughter of House Veymont, favouring well-made gowns in soft colours rather than anything conspicuously lavish. Her sleeves were usually fitted neatly at the wrists, though she had grown accustomed to securing them out of the way whenever she worked with the physician.

There was something gentle about her presence, but it did not come from weakness or an inability to face unpleasant things. Those who knew Elisa well had learned that the girl who seemed to need protecting was often the first to worry about protecting someone else.

That concern had been part of her since childhood. As she grew older, she tried to help in whatever ways were available to her. She offered comfort to distressed servants, helped when she could, and gave away some of the coins meant for her own small purchases whenever she encountered beggars or struggling families on the road.

Sometimes she returned to the castle satisfied that someone had been able to buy food or obtain a little relief. At other times, the memory followed her home. She would wonder how long the money would last, whether the person’s circumstances had improved, and what would happen when that small help was gone.

She had gradually come to understand that kindness could ease a person’s hardship without removing its cause. A few coins might buy a meal, but they could not guarantee another the next day.

A comforting word might reassure a frightened child, but it could not heal the injury that kept the child’s father from working. The realisation did not make Elisa less willing to help. It made her search for something more substantial that she could offer.

The answer had begun to take shape two years earlier, when she was thirteen.

She had been walking through one of the castle corridors when she passed an open doorway and noticed the family physician tending to a wounded guard. The man sat with his injured arm supported on a folded cloth while the physician carefully cleaned the wound and prepared a fresh dressing.

The faint, sharp scent of the medicinal wash reached the corridor, mingling with the smell of linen and the wood smoke drifting from elsewhere in the castle. The guard’s face tightened when the physician worked near the deepest part of the injury, but he remained still while the older man explained what he was doing.

Elisa stopped to watch. She had seen injured guards before, and she knew that the physician was often called when someone was hurt or taken ill. What caught her attention was the change that knowledge could bring.

The man had arrived in pain, uncertain of how badly he had been wounded. Now the bleeding had been brought under control, the wound was being treated, and he had begun to relax beneath the physician’s steady reassurance.

It was not a miracle. His arm would still need time to heal, and he would not be returning to his duties immediately. Yet the physician had done something Elisa could not have managed with money or words alone.

He understood what the injury required and knew how to help.

After the guard had been settled, Elisa asked the physician how he had learned to treat wounds and how he knew which medicines to use. He answered her questions without making her feel foolish, explaining that different injuries required different care and that even a familiar remedy could be unsuitable if it were used without understanding the patient’s condition.

One herb might help with swelling, another might be useful in a prepared salve, and a dressing could protect a wound while the body recovered. Knowing what to use, how to prepare it, and when to use it mattered as much as possessing the ingredients.

Elisa left the corridor with more questions than she had arrived with. Over the days that followed, she sought the physician out whenever his duties allowed, asking about his medicines, the herbs kept in his stores, and the kinds of injuries he treated. Her interest did not fade after the first conversation.

If anything, the more she learned, the more she wanted to understand.