"Please refrain from touching me." His words went to everyone in the room. His tone was lackluster and overbearing—different from the usual Alrick.
The doctor looked physically displeased with him but tried not to show it in front of the other man. "Your Highness, please do not be offended. We just wanted to make sure you were well. You need to lie down to rest. You seem to be out of it."
Alrick could only chuckle at the audacity of this mere physician to speak to him… Lucien… like that, but he didn't say anything. The doctor popped open the brass latches of his case and pulled out a stethoscope made of polished brass and ivory. "Let's see if we're still in one piece, shall we?"
Alrick said nothing. The doctor took this as permission.
"You know," the man went on conversationally as he worked, "When Miss Martha saw you had collapsed again, she was dreadfully distressed when she ran to me. Said she feared another… well, incident."
He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. "You must know, Your Highness, how… fond the court is of its gossip. Always whispering about your health. Or moods. Or temper. Sometimes all three!"
Alrick arched his brow. "Meaning, Havellin?" Alrick addressed him without cordial respect, causing the physician to grit his teeth but quickly put on a smile.
"Oh, don't take offense, sire," Havellin added quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "It's quite natural for people to worry. After all, you've always had a rather… singular temperament. Why, I still recall the time you threw an entire tea set at Miss Vandra for suggesting you looked peaky. Nearly took her eye out!"
He laughed again—too loud, too unaware of the tightening line in Alrick's jaw.
"Such fire! Though I imagine that's what they call 'royal spirit,' eh? Not madness, of course. No, no." He paused, then looked up with sudden seriousness. "You've always reminded me of the former Emperor Caldrien, you know. So full of passion. And he also had… outbursts. Grand ones. Burned down a conservatory once. Of course, he ended his days in a velvet-lined cell, but that's neither here nor there."
Alrick stared at him. "Why are you learning my maid's name, Havellin?" He found that really suspicious. The doctor looked nervous at first but quickly hid it well. Even Martha, who had been standing in the background, flinched when she heard that question, bowing her head slightly to hide her expression.
"Of course I have to know those that'll administer medicine to you. It's only a given, Your Highness," Havellin explained it so well that Alrick almost doubted himself. This guy was too good an actor.
The doctor did not notice the weird expression on Alrick's face and continued with the check-up.
"Ah! Your pulse is steady. That's new. No tremors. And your pupils are less… well, less feral than usual but still the same nonetheless. Whatever change you've undergone—it suits you, sire. I daresay, you even sound saner." Why did it sound like Havellin seemed disappointed?
Alrick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me something, Doctor. Do you always speak this freely to members of the royal family, or is that just reserved for patients you think are too stupid, too mad, too drugged or to blind to respond?"
The doctor paused, clearly mulling over the question with all the grace of a cow trying to do arithmetic.
"Oh, heavens no, Your Highness," he said, entirely sincere. "I'd never be so impolite. You've always been a unique case. Special treatment, as it were. I'm terribly fond of you."
Alrick smiled slowly. "I can tell."
The doctor beamed, his smile terribly forced.
"Stop with that hideous smile and confirm to me if my body is truly well." He didn't mince his words and waited for an answer. The doctor could only grit his teeth and pull something from his briefcase. It was something like a short bronze staff with the caduceus symbol on top of it.
The staff glowed green as the physician began chanting something way different from the gibberish of a language they had been speaking and he seemed to understand. Alrick was confused but then realized something from bits of Lucien memories that had just popped up.
This was a world of magic.
The green light then enveloped him like it was scanning every cell of his body. The physician finished the chant and stopped—his face pale and full of sweat.
"Y-you seem to have… fully recovered, Your Highness…" His words stunned everyone in the room to silence.
"What?" Martha couldn't help but blurt out, her face entirely pale as well. She knew the doctor wouldn't give a fake diagnosis, but she secretly hoped he was lying. The look on his face told her all she needed to know.
"What? Aren't you two supposed to be happy for my recovery? Why the sour faces? Am I missing something?" Alrick deliberately probed the two before turning to the other man in the room. "Isn't that right, Reynolds?"
The young knight nodded. They were indeed acting strange but didn't say anything and just stood by with his poker face. Alrick was disappointed at his lack of reaction but soon focused elsewhere.
He got out of bed and stretched while slowly walking to the large windows overlooking what seemed to be a garden, they all gave him confused looks. What exactly was he looking at?
"Reynolds?" he said, still looking out the window, ignoring the mortified expressions of those behind him. The young knight with the poker face stood straight, waiting for his command. "Be a dear and arrest those two for attempted murder."
How did he come to this conclusion? It's quite simple, really. The earlier migraine had been a result of recollecting some basic fragments of Lucien's memories from young. Just before he arrived here, Lucien had been supposedly murdered by these two scheming opportunists.
Lucien always had a weak constitution from birth and was a very overbearing and rude bastard, he wasn't very likeable to anyone in the palace. His additional blindness didn't make it any better. But he was still a prince, so why would anyone go against him? Simple, it was because he was born without magic.
A Mudblood, the first ever in the royal family.
The servants were rude to him, they only respected him on the surface level, but no one gave two damns about this useless prince. So why bother to murder him? He wasn't sure why they hadn't done it either, he didn't care at the moment.
He was furious for Lucien for some godforsaken reason; he could see the memory of him dying in pain and having to listen his killers laugh down at him. What a terrible way to die, at the hands of those you were supposed to trust.
Reynolds was surprised, his expression faltering for a second before he regained his composure. He wasn't really sure how the idiot prince had come to the conclusion of the maid and doctor trying to kill him, and honestly, it wasn't his business.
As long as no one was being harmed in anyway at the moment, then he would do his job as told. He pulled out the sword from his waist and pointed it at the two.
"Yield, your case will be presented before the Royal Court by order of the Fifteenth Prince, His Highness Prince Lucien Aurellen of the Aetherion Empire."
"What foolishness is this?! I bet he and this wench planned it together just to get to me, I demand justice!" Havellin pointed at Martha behind him as he tried to defend himself.
Alrick just laughed at his words, "Are you so important that I'd go out of my way to affiliate with a common maid just to bring you down? Havellin, you think too highly of yourself really," he laughed as if it was funny.
"Your Highness, wait! I did nothing wrong! I was framed, your high—" a crisp slap on the cheek knocked her down to the ground and shut her up for good. Alrick didn't do it of course but the highly efficient Reynolds; he—or better yet, Lucien—would never touch filth when there's someone else to do it.