While the village recovered, Percival retrieved his scarf and waterskin from his room in the inn. When he descended the stairs, the innkeeper was clearing debris, picking up splintered furniture and shattered wood..
The old man looked up when Percival entered. "Ah," his eyes glinted with reverence. "Awakener. I must offer you my greatest thanks."
He lowered his aged head. "I owe my life and that of my daughter's to you."
Percival stared at the bowing man, then looked away, uncomfortable with the display. "Please stand, sir," he said.
"Mhm?" The innkeeper looked up before raising his head, standing as straight as his weathered body allowed.
"How is your daughter?" Percival asked.
The innkeeper glanced at the door behind the counter. "The demon poison spread through her arm, but I applied the herb in time. It didn't reach her vital organs. She will be fine."
He looked at Percival with wet eyes. "Thanks to you."
