Chapter 4: The Spark of a Scholar
Morning mist hugged the villa like a lingering ghost. Elric stood barefoot in the courtyard, watching the chickens peck lazily at the ground. His robe hung loosely around him, ink stains blotched near the cuffs.
Lira approached quietly, holding a bundle of cloth in her arms.
"You asked for these, Your Highness."
He took them—a set of worn towels, a threadbare blanket, and what looked like a long-unused apron. "Perfect," he said, already turning away.
"Um... if I may ask," she said, hesitant, "why do you need old cloths?"
Elric didn't stop. "To prevent death."
She blinked.
"I'm making something," he added, "that can clean wounds better than any potion. But I need fabric that won't fall apart when boiled."
He disappeared into the villa before she could respond.