Editing in progress
"Their lies will be their downfall. From their ashes, I will rise. They will know the pain they inflicted. In their end, I'll find my justice." ~Araneae Ruber.
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ASHBY DABBED and squeezed, inter changing the wet towels from Stannard's forehead, as his temperature didn't seem to be decreasing, which was worrisome for the Aide.
"Young master, please, let me call the doctor. You will die at this point." Ashby pleaded as he clenched his hands together in silent prayers.
Stannard weakly opened his eyes, slightly trailed over to his Aide. He wanted to, but his fears wouldn't let him. He didn't want his brother to find out that he was ill. It could be very detrimental to his life.
Stannard weakly shook his head. "Get me water." He asked, his voice strained and groggily.