The meal had now concluded.
The Marquis fixed his eyes on Cassian at the other end of the table. "The letter from Veythral contained bold claims."
Cassian wiped his mouth with a napkin and straightened in his chair. He was the one to speak. He did not beat around the bush.
"I will get straight to the point, Marquis Aldren," he said, his voice clear and confident. "I can cure your son."
The room froze for a moment. The expression on the Marquis's face hardened. He had heard these words many times before. From charlatans, peddlers of hope, failed mages...
"How will you do that?" asked the Marquis, his voice trembling with anger and desperation. "I assume you have knowledge about my son's illness. Demonic Mana Poisoning... Even the best healers in the Empire, the high priests of the Holy Church, could not cure him. They left him to die."
