Spreading the Antidote

Westley turned his neck, which was stiff from the poison, just in time to catch a glance at them. Two of the veterans that had left with Arlo carried him in and placed him down gently. A squad of servants and medical professionals started to tend to his wounds.

They had placed him further into the tent and just out of Westley's vision. He could only listen to the hushed whispers of the professionals as they discussed his wounds, while he stared at the blood trail that he left behind.

The only solace Westley could find was in the fact that Arlo probably wouldn't die.

Gerhardt peaked into Arlo's tent and saw that he had plenty of people working on him. Shaking his head, he returned to a campfire where the rest of his group was.

They watched as the servants started to follow the recipe Arlo had left behind. They weren't trained for this so they fumbled about and ruined a few of the ingredients before they managed to make a batch.

Arlo knew this and expected it. He had trained for over a year under a Master Poison Maker and would be able to make it easily while they couldn't. Luckily, the main ingredient, the star flower, was the real antidote. Everything else just played support in the recipe. So even if they messed it up, it wouldn't have any adverse affects and would just be somewhat less effective.

They took the first batch and, seeing as how Westley was still in relatively good shape, they fed it to some of the other soldiers first. This was for two reasons. First, they could take care of the more serious cases quicker, thus saving more lives, and second, they could test out the medicine before giving it to someone of importance.

While they trusted the recipe that Arlo had given them. They weren't sure that they had made it correctly and thus, didn't want to feed it to Westley without testing it first.

The black poison that spread throughout the soldier's veins turned a lighter shade. Clearly still there, but much more faint. The man gained some color to his face and his breathing stabilized.

The doctors and servants cheered in joy as they began to make more batches just like that.

The next person to receive the antidote was Westley. The doctor walked in with a vial in his hands but when he saw the man laying on the fur bedding, he gasped. Wesley was pale and unmoving. The doctor calmed down and sighed in regret.

'How foolish of me. I should have given Westley priority with the antidote whether it was perfect or not.'

He looked further back in the room and saw the Prince wrapped up in bandages. He didn't know how he would break the news to the Prince. He turned to leave when he saw the corpses eyes open. The doctor let out an uncharacteristically girly scream and stumbled back, almost spilling the antidote.

Westley extended his hand that was covered in black veins.

"Ahem." The doctor cleared his throat and after handing over the antidote, he left the tent with a red face.

Westley brought the antidote up to his lips and started to drink it, careful not to spill a drop. Immediately, he felt some of the stiffness in his muscles disappear. 'At least twenty to thirty percent', he estimated as he stretches.

After waiting a few minutes for the antidote to relieve him more, he stumbled to his feet and finally got a good look at the Prince.

Since Arlo had ordered the servants to place him on Arlo's bed before he left, they could only place Arlo down in Westley's spot. Being reminded of the Prince's kindness didn't make him feel any better, it only made his anger swell.

Anger and shame mixed together and it was all pointed at him, and since he can't take it out on himself, he had to think of another person he could blame. The veterans.

His face turned cold and a smile creeped up on his face. It wasn't really their fault but having them punished might alleviate some of what he was feeling. After this thought crossed his mind, he heard a small voice. It was so weak that he normally would not have heard it but the wind seemed to carry it straight to his ear.

"Westley..."

Westley thought that he was just hearing things but knew that wasn't the case when he saw the wrapped up Arlo start to move.

"Young master don't move. If you need anything, I'm here, I'll take care of it for you."

Seeing his young master like this seemed to wake him from his wrathful thoughts and tears started to form. He never cried, not even in front of his master, King Humphrey, but he was too touched by the boy's actions that his emotions could only escape in the form of tears.

"Gerhardt..."

The pain still racked his brain leaving him only able to whisper out one word at a time.

However, upon hearing this name, Westley's mind started to think up many scenarios and guessed at Arlo's meaning.

'Could it be that Gerhardt and his men had done something to him while out in the forest, making him want to seek revenge after arriving at camp despite his wounds?'

"Reward... them..." After saying these words Arlo fell unconscious again, leaving Westley with a dumbfounded expression.

'Reward them? I was just about to kill them!'