The room smelled of a blend of floral perfumes and fresh air. The curtains let a thin beam of morning light through, and the silence of the still-slumbering palace was soft to the ears. I sat upright on my bed, appearing to stare into nothingness for Elora, who sat on her chair, but in truth, I was observing the interface.
The latest unlocked entry floated before my eyes:
[Muscle Rehabilitation:
Walking and Strengthening Exercises]
"Elora?"
I asked calmly.
The cat-eared maid lifted her head, interrupting her personal reading that seemed to delight her. Her ears twitched nervously.
"Yes, Your Highness?"
I pointed to the blank parchment lying on the writing desk.
"I need you to write down what I dictate. Word for word."
Elora obeyed, dipping her quill into the ink. Her hand trembled at first, then the words began to flow onto the parchment in rhythm with my voice. Thus, she wrote the article on muscle strengthening for the Encyclopedia, and I added diagrams to it. It took me several tries with the quill and ink, both because my arms were still weak and because it was nothing like modern ballpoint pens, I only managed to blot ink everywhere.
When the article was finished, I pressed my finger against magical sealing wax, affixing the royal seal that could not be copied.(It was apparently very expensive and used exclusively by the highest authorities.)
Then I called one of the guards posted outside my chambers.
"Deliver this to the royal physician."
I ordered.
Less than an hour later, Master d'Aldebran arrived.
Behind him followed a young man with curly blond hair, blue eyes, and a look both sharp and candid at once, his arms full of instruments. He resembled the painted portraits of young angels from Renaissance painters.
The royal physician bowed respectfully, though he struggled to hide his agitation.
"Your Highness. I received your missive, and I came at once with my apprentice, Alix of Bellifort… but from where did you obtain this knowledge?"
(Of Bellifort? I hope he takes after anyone but the drunken Duke, otherwise he'll make a poor physician…And what can I answer the physician? I cannot tell him the truth about my 'magical' Encyclopedia…)
"I cannot tell you, Master d'Aldebran, but I thought it wise to share it with you, so that you might aid me in my recovery."
The old man reread the text, his lips moving silently. At first, his expression remained impassive. Then his brow furrowed.
He read it a second time. A third. His fingers clenched around the parchment.
"But…," he murmured. "This does not exist anywhere in the archives… And yet… it makes sense. By the gods! That is why men lose their strength after months of being bedridden and never regain it… You hold knowledge here that could save countless people from a slow, painful death!"
The apprentice leaned over the parchment, his eyes shining.
"Master, it says the body can be rebuilt slowly, through repetition, no need for costly healing magic, which we don't have in our kingdom anyway!"
"Yes, yes, I see that!"
The elder snapped harshly, though his eyes betrayed excitement. He turned to me.
"Your Highness… where does this truly come from? I will not breathe a word to anyone, I swear it on my life, my library, and my knowledge!"
(Damn, I'll have to resort to the classic trick so often used in fantasy books… the old: 'Shh, it's magic.')
I took on a grave tone to reveal the "secret":
"The gods whispered it to me in my sleep. They chose me as their messenger. To question me further, Master d'Aldebran, is to question them."
The words fell like a sudden downpour. The old man's face paled. He prostrated himself on the ground, pressing the parchment to his forehead. He seemed to sob.
The days melted into a rhythm of sweat, pain, and words.
Every morning, the Duke of Ervalion brought stacks of books from the royal library: chronicles, registers, manuals, and more.
Elora sat in her usual velvet chair, reading them aloud.
"…and in the year of the third eclipse, the revolt of the Black Cave dwarves was quelled…"
"Continue!"
I said through clenched teeth, while the Master and the apprentice physician stood on either side of me, making my legs move as if pedaling slowly through the air.
Elora resumed, her voice hesitant at first, but quickly growing steadier.
"…and thus King Gargahon IV gained access to the mines…"
The interface often shimmered, granting me knowledge points. I hoarded them like a dragon piling up treasure, giving myself no respite.
At the same time, I increased my physical stats. Not in an exceptional way, but considering I started lower than a newborn, any progress was a victory.
Master d'Aldebran and his apprentice guided me through grueling exercises: flexions, stretches of my battered muscles, followed by massages after the effort so they would be ready to work again as soon as possible.
I forgot the suffering, the drops of sweat burning my eyes. I was resolute!
The most important thing in video games is to accumulate points quickly, so I applied myself!
(I deserve this thrilling new life, I will not let a weak body defeat me, even if it is my own body!)
"Again, Your Highness!"
Encouraged Alix.
"You're going to kill me!"
"No…"The boy answered with a smile."…We're going to rebuild you!"
I suffered, but I felt more alive than ever. My broken muscles sang with pain, but it was a living pain, proof that the "corpse prince" was vanishing.
One day, Master d'Aldebran left earlier than usual, called away for a medical emergency.
The evening silence felt lighter, like a well-deserved pause. Alix, his apprentice, now lodged in my small salon on a spare bed set up for him, just like Elora. This allowed us to devote as much time as possible to study and exercise. It almost felt like a dormitory of young students on the eve of an important exam.
Elora had brought a steaming teapot, and we sat on cushions around the low table, my back resting against the couch.
Alix spoke little at first, staring timidly at the worn carpet and the piles of books. But as we discussed the subjects studied that day, he relaxed and began to join in, his eyes sparkling with excitement like ours.
"You truly are from House Bellifort?"
I asked, amused.
He blushed.
"Yes, my father is… well, you know…"
"My minister..."
I completed.
His blue eyes lowered in embarrassment. Elora, ever attentive, gently laid her hand on his arm.
"You mustn't be ashamed of his reputation, it's his, not yours,"
She said softly.
Alix raised his head.
"That's not it. The issue is how people see my father… Where for me, he's a loving father who encourages me to follow my passion even though it's frowned upon. Later, I'll have to choose between becoming a physician or a duke… But he doesn't care, what matters to him is that I'm happy. And yet everyone only sees him as a drunken fool…"
"You're making me discover a side of him I never imagined."
I replied.
"It must be wonderful to have such a father beside you!"
Elora added.
I said:
"Oh, don't care about what the ignorant say! You know the truth, so hold your head high, you are Alix of Bellifort, future exceptional physician, son of the Duke of Bellifort! Make him proud through your happiness, and wear his colors proudly to show the pride you have in being his son! To hell with others!"
A laugh escaped him despite himself. It rang light and sincere, and Elora smiled in return.
We talked for a long time, the three of us, about Alix's passion for medicine, Elora's love for reading and learning, our shared desire to help the less fortunate, and, naturally, jokes flew and laughter with them.
After some reluctance, both agreed to call me "Drago" and use "you" informally when we were alone. I hadn't realized it until then, but now that I had found it, I understood that I needed this closeness with others, to have friends. A kind of void in my heart was slowly being filled with every laugh.
When the teapot was empty, Elora stifled a yawn.
Alix, at ease, joked awkwardly:
"If the gods had spoken to me like they did to you, I think I'd have asked for a magic potion, not torture exercises!"
Elora burst out laughing. Me too.
For an instant, the cursed chamber of the "corpse prince" had the warmth of a home.
It happened on the fourteenth night.
As I slept in my bed, and Alix on his in my small salon, we were awakened by shrill cries, like a terrible tearing.
(Not mine, for once.)
Elora, nearby, convulsed on her cot, her body arched like a bow, froth spilling from her mouth, her eyes wide.
"Elora!"
I shouted desperately, while Alix leapt from his bed, nearly stumbling. He tried to restrain her, panicked, to little effect.
I hurled myself onto the serving table, pushing with all my might from the tips of my feet to reach her as quickly as possible. But the wheels caught on a rug, and in response to my insistence, the table overturned. On the ground, I began crawling, thinking of nothing but Elora.
Alix threw me a panicked look, but I saw that he understood:
The most important urgency was Elora.
.
.
.
.
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The Awakening of Prince Drago
Chapter 9: Mining Knowledge
by Léonardo de Deuille