The oil lamp in the corner of the room began to flicker as the wick ran dry, leaving a haunting dimness in the Crown Princess's chambers. Julian sat motionless on the hard wooden chair beside Elara's bed. His hand remained within reach of the Princess's fingers; she was asleep, her breathing finally beginning to stabilize. Julian's back felt as if it were being sliced by a blade every time he tried to straighten his posture—the whip wounds from Ironspire Prison were demanding their right to be treated, but Julian ignored them.
His mind drifted far into the future, to the sterile operating rooms where he truly belonged. Here, he had only instinct and a mad brand of courage to defy death and save his patient.
CRASH!
The silence of the early morning shattered into a thousand pieces. The double mahogany doors, which should have been locked tight, seemed to explode open. The hinges groaned in protest as they slammed against the marble walls with a deafening thud.
"WHERE IS THE BASTARD?!"
The voice thundered, filled with a vibration of power that made the windowpanes rattle. It wasn't Cedric's slick voice, nor the King's grief-stricken tone. This was a voice from the battlefield—heavy, gravelly, and bloodthirsty.
Elara bolted awake, her eyes widening in sheer terror. Instinctively, she gripped Julian's sleeve with a desperate strength. "Uncle... Duke Valerius..." she whispered, her lips trembling.
Julian stood up slowly, facing the threshold. A giant of a man in silver armor, draped in a black wolf-fur cloak, strode inside. Duke Valerius, the Supreme Commander of Aethelgard and the King's own brother, looked like a wrathful god of war. Behind him, Baron Cedric and Maester Valerius followed, their expressions unreadable—half-fearful, half-satisfied.
"Uncle, stop!" Elara tried to speak, but her voice was raspy.
Duke Valerius ignored his niece. His hawk-like eyes locked onto Julian instantly. He marched forward, each stride of his metal-plated boots echoing with an ominous clang against the floor.
"You..." Duke Valerius pointed at Julian's face with a leather-gloved finger. "You are the prison rat who dared to touch royal blood with your filthy hands?"
Julian met the Duke's gaze without blinking. "I am the doctor who ensured the Crown Princess did not become a stone statue this morning, Duke. If that is what you mean by 'touching,' then yes, I did."
"Insolent!" Valerius roared. He snatched the collar of Julian's torn prison tunic and hoisted him up until Julian's toes barely grazed the floor. "I heard the reports from Maester Valerius. You stripped my niece? You performed a 'massage' on her sensitive areas? You slept by her bedside?!"
"Uncle, Julian saved me!" Elara screamed, trying to climb out of bed but falling to her knees as her legs were still weak. "He extracted a poison that your Maester couldn't even see!"
Duke Valerius glanced at Elara for a brief moment, his eyes softening for a mere second before flashing with rage again as he turned back to Julian. "He has poisoned your mind, Elara! A knight does not stand by while his family's dignity is trampled by occult methods and such harassment! This is not medicine; this is an insult to the knightly honor of Aethelgard!"
Julian, though his breath was slightly hitched from the grip on his throat, maintained his cold expression. "Honor is useless in a grave, Duke. If I had followed your rigid knightly 'protocols,' Princess Elara would have frozen to death by midnight. Would you prefer to see her pure but breathless?"
"You speak as if you have the right to determine life and death!" Valerius growled. He slammed Julian back into the chair so hard the wood creaked, nearly snapping. "Maester Valerius says you used black magic disguised as healing. Your techniques... your hands going beneath her gown... that is a sin that can only be redeemed with blood!"
Baron Cedric took a step forward, adding fuel to the fire. "Indeed, Duke. We all saw how he treated the Princess like his experimental object. This is an insult to us all."
"Shut up, Cedric," Julian cut him off sharply, straightening his clothes. He turned his attention back to Duke Valerius. "Duke, you are a commander. You know what strategy is. My strategy last night was to save vital organs. If you consider human anatomy an insult, then you are actually insulting your own Creator."
"Stop using your strange words, Julian Vance!" Duke Valerius took a step back, but his hand moved toward the hilt of the massive greatsword hanging at his waist. "In the world of knights, if someone defiles the honor of a noblewoman, there is only one way out. And that way is not through debate."
Sring!
The sound of metal sliding against metal rang out clearly. Duke Valerius unsheathed his legendary greatsword, Stormbreaker. The wide, shimmering blade reflected the dim candlelight. In one swift motion, the cold, sharp tip of the sword was pressed firmly against Julian's jugular vein.
"Uncle, no!" Elara shrieked hysterically, crawling across the marble floor toward them. "Sir Kaelen! Please stop him!"
Sir Kaelen, standing at the doorway, looked conflicted. He respected the Duke, but he had witnessed Julian's miracle with his own eyes. However, under the authority of the Supreme Commander, his hands were tied.
"Don't move, Elara!" Valerius commanded without looking back. His eyes remained locked on Julian. "This bastard must learn that in this kingdom, the sword holds more power than a silver tongue."
Julian felt the icy sensation of steel against his neck. One small movement and his carotid artery would be torn open, sending him back to true death. However, as Alistair Thorne, he had faced stopped hearts thousands of times. Death was an old friend.
"You wish to kill me now, Duke?" Julian asked, his voice incredibly calm, almost as if he were giving a medical lecture. "Go ahead. But allow me to tell you one thing. The moment my head hits this floor, you aren't just killing a prisoner. You are killing your niece's only chance to see the sun rise tomorrow."
"You threaten me with her life?!" Duke Valerius pressed the tip of his sword deeper, until a drop of fresh blood trickled down Julian's neck, staining his soiled white collar.
"Not a threat. A diagnosis," Julian countered. "The parasite is still there, hiding in her deepest nerve tissues. If I do not continue the blood stimulation procedure within the next two hours, the petrification will begin again. And this time, it will attack her brain. She will be fully conscious as her entire body turns to stone—unable to speak, unable to blink, only able to wait for death in the darkness."
Duke Valerius's hand trembled slightly—not out of fear, but from a rage that had reached its peak. "You think I'll believe your nonsense? You have defiled the Crown Princess of Aethelgard before my very eyes!"
"Defilement is in your eyes, Duke. Healing is in these hands," Julian raised his hand, which was slightly smeared with dried blood from his own whip wounds. "You consider my methods an insult to knighthood? Fine. Then what kind of knight has the heart to kill an unarmed man who just saved his family?"
"I am no ordinary knight; I am the law here!" Duke Valerius raised his sword, preparing for a decisive decapitating swing. "Your death need not wait for dawn, Julian Vance! You shall die a traitor and a molester!"
"UNCLE!" Elara grabbed the Duke's leg, tears streaming down her face. "If you kill him, you kill me too! I won't let any other healer touch me!"
Duke Valerius froze. He looked down at his favorite niece, kneeling at his feet for the sake of a convict. His rage reached a boiling point, but a flicker of doubt appeared in his eyes. He looked back at Julian, searching for a sign of fear, but all he found was a resolve as cold as ice.
"You think you're so clever with her life as your hostage?" Duke Valerius hissed, his voice dropping to a wolf-like growl.
Julian looked straight into the Duke's eyes, noticing something intriguing about the Duke's pupils and facial muscle movements. Another diagnosis was forming in his head.
"I don't need a hostage to win against you, Duke," Julian said provocatively.
Duke Valerius took a deep breath, the muscles in his arms tightening immensely. He shouted with a voice that shook the chamber's ceiling:
"Your death need not wait for dawn! Prepare to meet your end!"
The tip of Stormbreaker began its lethal swing toward Julian's neck. Elara closed her eyes and screamed, while Cedric wore a faint smile of victory. However, just before the steel touched Julian's skin, Julian did not dodge. Instead, he took one step forward, letting the sword's edge graze his shoulder, and whispered something into the Duke's ear that caused the Commander to suddenly force his swing to a halt. His silver armor clattered loudly from the sudden jolt.
Duke Valerius's face instantly turned from a deep crimson to as white as snow, his eyes staring at Julian with unspoken horror.
"Y-You... how could you possibly know about that?"