Fresh air was something Luitwin would never get used to, guarded from the cool night by his heavy robes as he stood at atop the deck. For a monk, he spent most his days and nights indoors. Whether he was revising his notes by candle light, sifting his fingers through a corpse, dining with his brothers, Luitwin breathed in the stagnant air that permeated the stone walls of the abbey most his life. If anything, the times his chores involved the sweeping of the cloister's walkway were a blessing. This had been a gift, a free promotion in other words, from the Abbot himself. He was attending these hearty sailors and a Herzen ambassador on their trip to neighboring cities. His purpose was to simply be there, bless their meals, promise them safe travel under god's will, and act as accommodating a guest as possible.<br/><br/>Luitwin scaled down the steps into his quarters, consisting of a small, claustrophobic room that opened up into a larger living space sparsely littered with old, stiff beds. He was used to it, having to watch so that he didn't hit his toes on the wall when he'd get up and dress for the day, how everything lacked decoration or any personal touch beyond perhaps a pair of slippers left beside the door. The monk treated the room as a priviledge regardless, knowing it was favorable compared to the bunks the crew slept in, at the mercy of the waves. Luitwin would stay here and write until late into the evening hours most nights, until the crew was called for supper and he could provide the good men with a little morale.<br/><br/>Above the surface however, before the final hours of evening came to a close, a boy in loose linens had started to make a lot of noise, calling the attention of the crew in uniform.<br/><br/>"There's a boat coming up port bow!" He cried, having the men slow the ship to a crawl. "Any later and I would never have seen him."<br/><br/>The captain, a wealthy looking man by the name of Bertrand, peered over. He was quick to hush the men who questioned if it was worth dragging a corpse on board. The well tailored ambassador seemed to be too wary of words and oversaw the mess from a distance. "I won't hear any of you talking like that with a priest on board. Bring it up, check if he's breathing." The captain remarked bitterly, but it wasn't until a "hurry, now! Before the man's really dead." that more than a small handful of crew members got to it. One scaled down with rope and an oar, pushing the boat so that he could tether it to the pulleys. He gave the body a small, rough shake of the shoulder, taking any modicum of movement as a sign to signal the others to pull them up. It wasn't long before the bloodied stranger was hoisted up with some support under the arms, and by Bertrand's word slowly dragged downstairs where Luitwin lingered in the hall.<br/><br/>He'd been on his way up, curious as to the noise that sank below deck, but the sight of a large man with a blade just sparing his torso put him on a familiar alarm. Luitwin ushered them over to set the injured on one of the spare beds, "Alcohol, something strong please." The crewmate disappeared while Luitwin left the body to grab a leather case, clearing a sidetable to unfold it's contents of basic, steel tools. When a bottle was set beside him and the man dismissed, Luitwin, leaned in close to the stranger's chest to carefully cut the fabric loose from where the knife handle jut out of him. It was better than trying to pull the shirt off of him and risk yanking at the thing, though he wasnt quite sure if this man was even awake.<br/><br/>Luitwin set a gentle hand on his shoulder, "Can you hear me...? I'm going to remove  the knife." Honestly though, a pained scream would've been a good sign once he had, but the warning was still polite. Not feeling it time yet to question just who the large, grizzled figure was and how he ended up here at all, Luitwin set a soaked cloth aside and peeled the rest of the man's shirt away from him now that it was torn down the middle. "You're smart, aren't you...?" He offered idle chatter, quiet and mannered as he learned to be, "Or maybe it was the pain.. I've had to deal with worse where the young ones tried to remove things such as these." One hand on the stranger's shoulder, and the other on the handle, sure not to fidget it so much as to cause unwanted pain, he pulled it out as fast as possible, pressing a cloth in it's place that'd sting at the wound as well as any surface contaminants. Coldly, he brought the bottle up to pour a shot's worth in, before pulling away.<br/><br/>Luitwin forced the stranger's hand up to keep pressure on the rag as he readied his sutures, all of his actions  practiced. Even if he were home with all of the resources the monastery had to offer, anesthetic still would've been omitted from his choices. Without knowing how long the stranger had been adrift, or what events led up to this, the last thing he wanted was to knock out his own patient for good. "Here..." He spoke softly, pulling the man's hand away from himself as he leaned in. "This won't hurt a touch as much..." Enough time seemed to have passed that a good portion of the stab wound had stopped bleeding profusely, though with the blade out he did take a moment to dab away blood with a new cloth between single stitches.<br/><br/>"So he's alive then?" The voice failed to break the monk's concentration, but he let the sight speak for itself. Captain Bertrand had leaned in with a hand on the mouth of the hall. He seemed relieved, but there was obvious suspicion in his eyes. Of course he wouldn't have let a castaway like that die out in the cold, but the strange circumstances, paired with the look of him, it was certainly something to question in due time. "God's on your side, you know that?" Luitwin nodded along, adding "It's a wonder he ever got picked up, so far from the coast."<br/><br/>Looking over his work, Luitwin relieved the man from the needle, putting his tools back in their case and keeping a mental note to boil a salt soak later to properly wash them. "I'll leave him to you, and have the boy bring down your meal if it suits you. I'm sure we all want an easy night." Luitwin left the stranger's bedside to return his things, stopping to thank Bertrand for the offer and bid him a fair night with a bow of the head and a short prayer. He stood once they were alone and stared down the odd man who lay there, running a clean hand over the back of his white-blond hair after rubbing between his fingers with a kerchief. Luitwin motioned to the bottle left at his bedside. "You can have it if you like, would help with soreness.. It's no sin of course, you don't have to worry about vice at times like these."