Gaddiel began tending to the woman, peeling away the crude, blood stained dressing at her side. A ragged gash seeped its crimson fluid, staining the table upon which she was set. He made his way about the room, gathering what he needed in silence from amid the clutter of instruments and medical paraphernalia. Holding up a needle to a lighting unit, he deftly threaded it. His long fingers worked skillfully to close the wound, after which he bound it in a new bandage. The Captain and the Father waited, and watched. It was some time before he wiped his brow and addressed the Bridge Guard Captain and Father Knopf. Leading them to an adjoining room he said, "She'll live, but her recovery will take time. I'll have someone call you when she wakens." The Captain nodded and made to return to his post when the crash of collapsing glass called out from the medical ward.<br/><br/>The trio burst into the room once more, and was met by the Knight. She leaned heavily against the counter. Some growing spots of red marked the re-opening of her wound beneath the bandage. About her feet lay the shattered remnants of a beaker. Gaddiel rushed forward, reaching out a supporting hand lest she fall again. "You need to rest. Your wounds are significant," he urged, but she weakly brushed him aside replying, "I need to find an Electrician." Looking up from between the wayward strands of her hair she noticed Father Knopf for the first time. Making the sign of the cross she bowed to the man. "Father, I need you help." For a moment the lights flickered erratically. "The Holy Citadel has been attacked."<br/><br/>"Attacked?" exclaimed the Captain incredulously, "How? By who? What of Lord Marlough's forces?"<br/><br/>"Crabmen," she offered in answer. "We had received reports of a small tide pressing at the northern boarder. A call to arms was issued. A force was drafted, mostly of Lord Marlough's men, and a few of the Knights Chargers. We met the crabs, but there were more than we received in our scout reports. The Tracks. They slipped past our lines through the underground and came from behind." Her face contorted into a grimace of pain as she clutched her wound. Gaddiel brought forward a stood, resigned that the headstrong knight was not going to lie down. Nodding in appreciation she took the seat and resumed her tale. "We fell back, and sent out warnings. The plan was to hold them off for as long as possible while the people evacuated, but we couldn't stand against that many. The survivors made for the Citadel. It was the best place to defend, but I'm not sure how long they can last. The Citadel isn't a fortress and with the flood of refugees I don't know how long their food will last." She turned her brown eyes on Thomas, "Father. I need your help. We need the forces of King Barlow."