With another day of rest and a fresh change of bandages, the Prince of Yarzat returned to the labor of ruling.
His ear throbbed with the same violence of a hammer clashing against a bell.
Under any other circumstance, he would have called for willow-bark tea to dull the fire, but Jarza had not been exaggerating when he described the carnage of the medical tents.More like under-sold it.
The battle had been a glutton; the stores of bark were exhausted, and all that remained in the apothecary's chests were small, precious vials of opium. Alpheo had refused them. There would be some that would die in pain so that he could dull the pain in his ear, otherwise.
Besides, a man cannot steer a state through a storm while his mind is adrift in poppy. Even now that they were out of the thick of it, it would not be appropriate.
