Take Me Away, Dark Lord!

He was a man who solved problems with a sword.

If there was an assassin, he cut them down.

If there was a corrupt noble, he seized their ledgers.

If there was a monster, he froze it solid.

But how could he protect her from an enemy he couldn’t see, couldn’t sense, and couldn’t understand?

He was supposed to be the safest place in the world for her.

He had sworn a blood oath to shield her.

And yet, she had suffered right in front of him, and he had been reduced to a helpless, panicking bystander, whispering lullabies while she burned.

A sharp, authoritative knock at the heavy oak door broke the silence of the room.

”Enter,” Kaelus commanded, his voice returning to its usual cold, commanding edge, though the raw emotional exhaustion was evident in the rough rasp of his throat.

The door opened to reveal a tense tableau.

Standing in the doorway was Sir Lucas, his scarred face a mask of concern.

Beside him stood Dr. Thorne, the grizzled, one-eyed chief medical officer of the Black Bastion, clutching a heavy leather medical bag.

And slightly behind them, looking deeply troubled and carrying a silver basin of water, stood Marquess Julian Myer.

Beside Julian was his own personal physician, an older, distinguished-looking man in white robes who was visibly trembling at the prospect of entering the Archduke’s presence.

”Your Grace,” Sir Lucas reported, his voice low. ”The medical personnel have arrived. The Marquess insisted on offering his own chief physician to assist Dr. Thorne.”

Kaelus slowly stood up from the side of the bed.

He did not step away from Seraphina.

He positioned his massive body between the child and the door, his posture screaming territorial aggression.

He locked eyes with Julian.

The Marquess stepped fully into the room, his golden eyes filled with what appeared to be genuine, profound sympathy. ”Kaelus, I came the moment your knights informed me of the situation. I am devastated by this sudden ailment of the child. The child seemed perfectly well at the restaurant. My staff has prepared every healing potion in our vaults. Please, allow Dr. Aris to examine her.”

Kaelus stared at the man.

He searched Julian’s face for a smirk, a flicker of guilt, a shadow of malice.

He found nothing.

Just the perfect, flawless concern of a perfect, flawless noble.

”Examine her,” Kaelus ordered the doctors, stepping aside just enough to allow them access to the bed, though he remained within striking distance.

The two doctors approached the bed as if approaching a sleeping dragon.

Dr Thorne, accustomed to Kaelus’s terrifying presence, moved with grim efficiency.

He pulled a glowing, diagnostic crystal from his bag and held it over Seraphina’s chest, while the Myer estate doctor nervously checked her pulse and peered into her eyes with a magnifying lens.

The examination lasted for a long twenty minutes.

The room was silent save for the heavy breathing of the doctors and the soft, ragged exhales of the sleeping child.

Kaelus watched their every movement, his hand resting casually, dangerously, on the hilt of his sword.

Finally, the two medical men stepped back, conferring in hushed, urgent whispers for a moment before turning to face the Archduke.

”Well?” Kaelus demanded, the single word cracking through the air like a whip.

Dr. Aris, the Marquess’s physician, swallowed hard, pushing his spectacles up his nose. ”Y-Your Grace. We have conducted a thorough examination of the Lady’s vitals, her mana pathways, and her spiritual alignment.”

”And the poison?” Kaelus asked, his violet eyes flashing dangerously.

”There is no trace of poison, Your Grace,” Dr Thorne interjected, his gruff voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. ”Her bloodstream is clean. Her organs are functioning normally. The diagnostic crystal shows absolutely no toxic residue, magical or otherwise.”

”Then what caused the pain?” Kaelus pressed, stepping forward, towering over the two men. ”She was suffocating. She was tearing at her own skin. Do not tell me she is ’fine’.”

Dr. Aris flinched, looking desperately toward Marquess Julian for support. ”Your Grace... children are... fragile creatures. The journey from the North is long and arduous. The sudden climate change, the exposure to the heavy ambient mana of the city, the rich food at the restaurant... it is highly likely the child simply suffered a severe systemic shock.”

”A shock,” Kaelus repeated, his voice dangerously soft.

”Yes, My Lord,” Dr. Aris nodded quickly. ”A severe chill, compounded by exhaustion and perhaps a mild allergic reaction to the change in environment. Her body simply panicked. The rest and the application of your cooling magic have stabilised her. She merely needs sleep, warm fluids, and time.”

Kaelus stared at the doctor.

He looked at the man’s earnest, professional face.

He looked at Dr. Thorne, who was nodding in agreement, unable to find any magical or physical ailment to contradict the diagnosis.

A chill.

They were calling the absolute, soul-tearing terror he had just witnessed a chill.

They were blaming the weather.

They were blaming the carriage ride.

A dark, bitter laugh threatened to tear its way out of Kaelus’s throat, but he swallowed it down, letting it curdle into pure, unadulterated frustration.

They were useless.

The greatest medical minds available to him were completely blind to whatever invisible war was being waged inside his daughter’s body.

They couldn’t see the truth because the truth wasn’t physical.

”Get out,” Kaelus said.

The doctors blinked. ”Your Grace, we should leave some salves for—”

”I said, get out,” Kaelus repeated, his voice dropping to a terrifying, guttural snarl. The shadows in the room actively darkened, recoiling from the sudden, explosive surge of his killing intent. ”Take your useless crystals and leave this room before I test my blade on your ignorance.”

Dr. Aris practically tripped over his own robes in his haste to retreat, grabbing his bag and fleeing through the door.

Dr. Thorne, knowing better than to argue with the Reaper when his eyes glowed that shade of violent purple, bowed deeply and followed his colleague out.