The feverish haze clouding Luther's mind had yet to break when my sensitive ears picked up on the approaching disturbance down the hall. Sharp clamouring footsteps and harsh unintelligible voices grew louder with each passing second, setting my instincts on high alert.
I knew those sounds could mean nothing good. Gently laying a cool cloth across Luther's burning forehead, I stood to brace the door—our only defence in his weakened state. My heightened strength and reflexes from the potion had barely warded off Stanis' wrath; against a full mob, the outcome seemed grim.
Taking a steadying breath, I strained to make out their angry murmurs. "The Master lies vulnerable—take what is ours!" one growled. Rebels seeking to overthrow Luther's rule in his hour of illness, it seemed. I steeled m
