Chapter 9: The Scholar’s Dilemma
Two days had passed since Scholar Crowin had departed.
His arm was still healing from the beast attack, but his mind was sharper than ever—rattled by the prince who healed without magic, by methods that defied everything the Royal Medical Council had taught. Elric had watched him leave without a word, knowing that silence often carried louder echoes than speech.
He didn't expect a response so soon.
That morning, a carriage rolled up the dirt path, its wheels kicking up dust in the soft light.
Lira peeked through the window. "We've got another guest."
Elric didn't look up from his desk. "A patient?"
"Not unless fevers wear robes and carry scrolls now."
The door creaked open.
A thin, nervous man stood at the threshold. He wore fine but dusty scholar's robes, a satchel full of parchment over one shoulder. Behind round glasses, his eyes darted anxiously around the clinic like he was expecting ghosts to leap from the walls.