Ardnt's mortar was emptied in a stout, ceramic jar, diluted with water and pressed with cork to ferment. The monk nodded along with talks of hunts and typical Alrian comradery, a soft smile on his face all the while. "Hunting is a good sport, though one I can't say I've ever experienced myself. Good for the body, good for the mind, gives a man of god a time of quiet to reflect on himself should he wish. And if he succeeds, then his family feasts, or his butcher takes his bounty. This is all... good." Luitwin answered simply, guiding Ardnt's hands to peel the thin bark off a woody stalk before letting him have at it on his own. He wasn't all too worried about giving the man a blade, even one as dull as a working knife. After all, a promise was made not to treat him like a convict.<br/><br/>"If you want to talk about.. conquests, however... You know I'd ask you to refrain. Now, cards, that is something to think about." He hummed, taking the stalk's pulp from Ardnt and placing it in a mortar for him that he wiped down, inside and out with warm water. "You'd find the condemnation of gambling and drink very old fashioned in Herzland, even here. I suppose you would say they're a lot alike, in that as long as a man returns home with a good healthy heart then it's hard to call out harm. Addicts and homeless beggars number the sorry souls who fall to temptation, a lot of them, if lucky, find their way to our doorstep." Luitwin cast a sweet glance at his gerettet, "Much like you did."<br/><br/>It was strange, sometimes he didn't quite hate him so much. Or, maybe it was now that he was away from the stress of a long trip, in this house of God... Everything felt more right, more sound. At least since he arrived, Luitwin felt the comfort of familiarity and a lot of that tension fade. It would've been perfect had he not been so paranoid, staring Ardnt up and down a brief moment wondering just how long these good feelings would last.<br/><br/>Because even without a handsome face trailing after him through the whole monastery, they hardly ever did.<br/><br/>"I'm sure that we can find something for you to entertain yourself with. Something that isn't too boring, but I doubt anything will be as exciting as life in Alriah. Few things I can think of that would at least occupy you. Perhaps learning how to write?" While Ardnt continued to work the pestle, Luitwin crossed his fingers and set his chin on top, vials and jars laid out neat before him, all easy to fold up and pocket. Just a few more ingredients to go and they could finally move on from this place. "To learn our phrases. But those are easy if your tongue agrees. Gott segne dich, God bless you. And a phrase you heard after our verses, I am the mouth of God. In Gewisch, it's 'Er spricht durch mich zu euch.' Not a direct translation, but it serves the same purpose. I wouldn't expect you to ever be fluent in Gewisch though, not even many monks are today. It's no longer the language of the people, and that's what really matters."<br/><br/>He stopped Ardnt to sprinkle salt into the mortar, letting him continue to draw the plant water out of the pulp. It was a back of forth of draining, adding more salt, crushing, and repeat. All until Luitwin felt the remains were too dry to work. "I am the mouth of God, it means we're his voice where he has none. God cannot come down to preach for himself, so that is our duty. Saint Isen was the original mouth, a preacher and a surgeon. Though some improvements have been made on his craft, a lot of his methods and ideas withstand time. I believe I spoke little of him during our sail? The statue you see in front of the monastery, that is the image of Saint Isen. Cleansing waters flow through his fingers, or at least that is how it's designed."<br/><br/>Everything was washed down with a warm rag, vials rolled up into a cloth pouch and wound tight with cord. Luitwin had Ardnt help carry things back to be washed alongside other medical dishes, all dipped deep into near boiling waters to sterilize for future use, in a tall ceramic tub that hung over a pit carved out of the stone tiles. The monastery was just as organized in rooms such as these, kept clean and spacious, and in this case even seperate from where any food or drink was prepared. Refreshing, Luitwin thought. He rarely realized how good a system this was till he traveled with sailors, who were content to stack filthy dishes until a boy was finally made to wash them by hand.<br/><br/>A gentle arm on Ardnt's shoulder led him back to the beds, content to settle him into one on the far end, though Luitwin didn't demand he sit. Not far from the rows of beds was one of many shallow tin pans he brought back to Ardnt, quietly sitting in a chair aside him and prying it open to reveal bundles of thick, cast iron emblems. One was placed in the Alrian's hands, cold and heavy. It was shaped like a T with curved arms and devoid of many markings or flair, identical to the one that hung from Luitwin's waist. "All of our patients are gifted with one, and a copy of our scripture should they be able to read. But I suppose I'll continue to read to you instead if you'd have me."<br/><br/>Things were almost serene. It was quiet save for the occasional, hushed voices shared between a monk and their patient, or between two, injured men rolling wooden dice over a board drawn over the tabletop with chalk. Poor brothers they were, who stayed at the monastery for the better part of the day after a scuffle left them injured, and one more than the other, leg wrapped in cloth too thick to walk properly. "You're lucky we arrived during any time but the winter. Things get so busy when the cold sets in. Everyone needs the warmth of a roof over their head and a bowl of soup. It should be calm enough for you, enough room to talk, to breathe even." He held up one side of a bare cord, leading it through wooden beads as he began the process of building Ardnt his rosary. Once he showed him the pattern of small to large beads, he let him start at the opposite end. "Unless you'd rather sleep till tomorrow, when we're done I can see about giving you something.. better suited to your body. All this work with the hands, I know it isn't really satisfying for you."<br/><br/>He gave a low sigh, "I'll be replacing mine soon, I bet the weight of it is going to throw me off my step..." Some silence passed, and he couldn't help but glance up at Ardnt curiously, "I asked about a lot of things, but not your time here. If it's not too much trouble, what brought you close enough to us to end up on a little boat in the middle of the gulf? Unless your crimes were what carried you that far from home. We don't see many Alrians here in Lichtmuhle, but perhaps in more rural towns?" Thin hands continued to pull the cord through beads even without looking, trained into the motions he'd repeated for years now.