“Chamberlain, why hasn’t His Highness the Crown Prince said anything yet?”
Freck’s eyes widened as he looked at the two unexpected figures approaching.
Dr. Bamid and the assistant chief, who were rumored to have a strained relationship, stood side by side, wearing the same expression.
“What do you mean? Did you have an appointment with His Highness?”
Seeing Freck’s puzzled response, the two physicians exchanged glances.
Sensing something amiss, Freck set down the luggage he was holding and focused on the conversation.
The assistant chief cleared his throat.
“We don’t have an appointment, but we thought His Highness would come looking for us.”
“So, what’s the matter?”
“Didn’t you deliver the urgent report from the palace infirmary to His Highness?”
“An urgent report? Ah.”
Only then did Freck remember the bundle of documents Pailson had brought.
[Freck! Where is His Highness?]
Since Julion had been confined to his office lately, Pailson had come straight there without checking.
But when he found only Freck, he asked in surprise.
[He’s not in the palace. It seems he left, given that he granted me an extended leave.]
[He’s gone? Did he go to find Her Highness after all?]
[He asked me to deliver this to you as well.]
What Freck handed over was a hastily scribbled note.
As Pailson read the hastily written contents, deep furrows formed on his forehead.
<I’ve submitted a recommendation letter to His Majesty, so start working at the Imperial Palace tomorrow.>
He threw the crumpled note on the floor.
Pailson, with determination, stomped on the fallen note with his foot.
[P-Pailson?]
[Why do you get a vacation and I get a letter of recommendation? Why!]
Becoming the Emperor’s aide was a family honor, but Pailson just wanted to rest now.
He had secretly hoped for an extended leave, like Freck.
Pailson retrieved the resignation letter from his pocket.
Now was the time to submit it.
It was now or never, he thought.
Becoming the Emperor’s aide would mean he would be stuck in the palace for the rest of his life.
[Damn it! It was a mistake to be tempted by the salary in the first place!]
Pailson tore his resignation letter into shreds with a shaky hand.
Now that things had come to this, he would climb the ranks and become the Emperor’s right-hand man.
He vowed to suck every drop of benefit from the nobles until his last breath, completely revising his life plan.
[Huff… Then, I guess I should submit this to His Majesty.]
He picked up the bundle of papers he had brought to deliver to Julion and headed to the Imperial Palace.
Freck watched his determined back, wondering what on earth could be so important that he would seek out the Emperor at such a late hour.
“I see the papers are related to the palace infirmary. Perhaps the report has been sent to the Emperor.”
“To the Emperor? And the crown prince’s…?”
“Hmm, the official announcement is scheduled for tomorrow, but His Highness isn’t in the palace right now.”
“What? Where did he go?”
“I don’t know, but he’ll be away from the palace for a while.”
The two physicians exchanged puzzled looks.
Just this morning, he seemed completely engrossed in his work.
“Anyway, since I’ve also been granted leave, don’t come to the Crown Prince’s palace anymore. Go straight to the Emperor’s palace.”
“Oh, understood.”
With somber responses, the assistant chief and Dr. Barmid left Freck’s room.
They returned to the palace infirmary, but this time they were surprised for a different reason.
“Y-Your Majesty!”
The Emperor, with black hair, was waiting for them at the palace infirmary.
He seemed to have arrived quietly, with little entourage.
The two physicians respectfully bowed their heads and greeted him.
“Greetings, Your Majesty, the sun of the Empire.”
“Yes. I assume you’ve been to the crown prince’s palace.”
“Yes, yes. Due to certain circumstances…”
“And so I came to you in secret, thinking you should hear it for yourself.”
The Emperor’s voice was gentle yet imposing.
He looked at the bowed heads of the assistant chief and Dr. Barmid in turn.
“Now, tell me in detail about the situation in the Mormic territory.”
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Leaving the imperial palace, Julion walked out of the capital without hesitation.
His direction was westward. There were reports that Rohiriel’s tracks had been found there.
The sun had fallen and it was getting dark, but instead of seeking an inn, Julion chose to hike the mountains.
He didn’t want to waste any time sleeping if he wanted to find Rohiriel as quickly as possible.
So he ran through the night until dawn, arriving at a small village.
‘Is this it?’
Though he wanted to move on to the next location without delay, Julion paused and headed towards a small inn on the outskirts of the village.
He made his way to a small inn on the outskirts of the town.
“Welcome, traveler! Would you like a meal, or shall I offer you a room?”
“Meal. The quickest one you can prepare.”
Julion replied curtly and took a seat in the corner.
Soon after, a man sat across from him.
“Leon. It seems like the location has narrowed down.”
Blonde hair pulled up in a high ponytail. And scarlet eyes.
It was Ares, wandering around, scouting the city at Julion’s behest.
While preparing to leave the palace, Julion sent a message to Ares, specifying a meeting place and time.
Fortunately, Ares arrived promptly, bringing good news.
“Here’s the vegetable soup and baguette.”
It was a meal that truly adhered to the request for the quickest option.
“What would the new guest prefer to eat?”
“Just whatever’s quickest.”
“Yes, sir!”
The innkeeper enthusiastically responded to Ares’ order.
The innkeeper was overjoyed to have not just one, but two guests in the village nestled in the mountains, where outsiders were uncommon.
Watching the innkeeper hurriedly enter the kitchen, Ares returned to the main topic.
“Rangel. It’s a small territory to the southwest.”
“Southwest? I thought you said west in your last report.”
“Indeed. But…”
Julion dipped the baguette into the soup and popped it into his mouth.
The crusty, soggy texture slid around in his mouth, then down his throat.
As Julion quietly ate, Ares continued speaking.
“It is said that in Rangel, a young woman saved a man’s life by practicing a gruesome medical technique.”
Julion stopped dipping the bread into the soup, his body tensing.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘gruesome medical technique’?”
“Rumors say she used needles to draw blood… She wore a robe, so her hair couldn’t be seen, but her eyes were in the blue spectrum.”
“Any further details?”
“Some say she had two companions, but the information is not precise.”
At this point, she was almost certain.
Although Ares left room for uncertainty by saying it wasn’t precise, in reality, it was uncommon for a young woman in the Empire to save people using gruesome medical techniques.
Especially if it wasn’t just common Imperial practices but rather unfamiliar ones.
“Let’s get moving.”
“What? Can’t I at least finish my meal before we go?”
As Ares groaned, the innkeeper brought soup and bread.
Though Julion frowned with displeasure, he didn’t utter any harsh words forbidding him to eat.
“Leon, finish your meal too. We have a long way to go, and we need to fill our stomachs.”
Ares, truly famished, hastily dunked the bread into the soup and shoved it into his mouth.
But soon his expression soured, and he spat out the bread.
The bread, as hard as a rock and faintly smelling of mold, paired with the soup, emitting a musty odor as if it had been sitting for ages.
Despite the appalling meal, Julion emptied his bowl without saying a word.
“Leon… what on earth…”
Swallowing the last bite, Julion looked at Ares questioningly.
“Why?”
“How can you eat this? This is… this is… ”
That’s not food for humans!
He wanted to scream out loud, but Ares held himself back, feeling the innkeeper’s gaze upon them.
As Ares contorted his face in confusion, Julion’s response reached his ears.
“I haven’t been able to taste anything for a few days now. I didn’t realize it tasted strange.”
“Why are you telling me this now? You should see a doctor—”
“Enough. What matters is eating, not taste.”
It was a casual remark, but Ares blinked furiously, mouth agape, as if he’d just heard something shocking.
“What kind of nonsense is that? If you remove taste from food, what remains?
“Nutrients, I suppose. Isn’t that the most important thing?”
“Sigh… It seems like something is seriously wrong with you.”
Ares, unable to conceal his astonishment and disappointment, muttered in disbelief.
Julion set down his spoon, indifferent to Ares’s reaction, and got up from his seat.
“If you’re not going to eat, let’s go. Time is precious.”
It wasn’t that Ares didn’t want to eat.
It was because there was no taste. It was not just bland, but so tasteless that it was almost nauseating.
Julion, on the other hand, had just finished paying and was opening the door, blowing a cold breeze.
“Ah, this is driving me crazy… Wait up!”
Ares ruffled his hair, let out a muffled yell, and followed Julion out the door.
And he prayed to himself.
‘Please, Your Highness, stay in Rangel!’
May Rohiriel heal Julion quickly.
