CHAPTER 38: RETURN TO THE CASTLE

"Put on your clothes and bring me the healer Faelor. Don’t let anyone else enter my room," Arthur said, giving her firm orders instead of answering.

She looked into his cold eyes and felt a twinge of fear. Her worry didn’t vanish, but she didn’t want to upset him either. So, she quickly slipped into her simple dress and ran toward the castle’s dungeon.

The moment she left, Arthur sighed and lay back on his bed, feeling a faint warmth where Octavia had been lying. She had clearly spent a long time in his bed, but he didn’t care, he was utterly exhausted and barely able to keep his eyes open.

He wanted to sleep, but he decided to tend to his injuries first; he couldn’t afford to leave them unattended for too long.

About fifteen minutes later, Octavia returned with the old healer, who wasn’t wearing his mage robes. Instead, he wore only a tattered linen garment. His body looked paler than before due to the poor nutrition and freezing cold of the dungeon.

Faelor didn’t act resentful or show any anger. Instead, he bowed calmly as soon as he saw Arthur.

" Greetings, my lord. What has granted this old man the honor of your summons?"

Although he noticed the burn on Arthur’s head, he acted as though he had seen nothing.

Arthur noticed this and mocked him.

"Heh, I can’t tell if you’re a coward... or just very clever."

"I am neither a coward nor clever, my lord. I simply know my place," Faelor replied politely.

"It doesn’t matter," Arthur said with icy indifference. "Since you’ve been obedient, unlike the Baronet—I’ll offer you a chance to regain your position."

Faelor raised his brows. In truth, he had no interest in regaining his position. He was tired of serving tyrants and madmen, and he had hoped with all his heart to gain his freedom and leave this place to live with his family in the provincial capital. But he couldn’t say that out loud, so he feigned a grateful and eager expression.

"Thank you, my lord, for your generosity. This humble old man will never forget your kindness."

Arthur could tell he was pretending but didn’t call him out. He was just as weary of the pressure himself. Even though he had overcome his current problems, many more still lingered in his path. He couldn’t get rid of Faelor or free him, he was far too valuable, being the only healer in the entire barony. Calmly, he said,

"As you can see, I’m injured. Heal me."

Without waiting for a response, Arthur began removing his clothes and bandages, leaving only his undergarments. His body was revealed, covered in burns and scratches.

Octavia’s eyes widened at the sight of his body, and she felt a wave of shock. She didn’t know where he had gone, or why, but seeing his condition made it clear he hadn’t left on a whim. He had faced something dangerous. Naturally, this filled her with concern. He had treated her well, taught her, and cared for her. Unknowingly, her heart had begun to lean toward him, driven by deep respect and growing affection. She hadn’t realized it yet, but she had become attached to him, still exploring her feelings.

Like her, Faelor was stunned. He couldn’t hide his shock as his mind raced, trying to analyze the wounds. They were varied—burns, scratches, even some bruises, making it difficult to determine their origin. But he suddenly ignored the wounds and turned his gaze to the strange bracelet on Arthur’s wrist. He sensed faint mana emanating from it and felt a flicker of surprise. He had seen Arthur use the magical tool before, but seeing it up close now made him realize just how powerful it truly was.

Faelor sighed silently, then calmly said,

"My lord, I can heal your wounds, but some minor scars may remain."

Arthur had expected this. "Do what you must."

Faelor raised his hand and cast a healing spell. A faint green light radiated from his palm, enveloping Arthur’s body. The smaller scratches and light burns began fading visibly. As for the large wound on his shoulder and the burn on his leg, they remained at first, showing signs of healing only after about five minutes. The charred fabric stuck to his burned skin began to shift oddly, and after a few more minutes, it fell away, along with patches of dead, burned flesh. In its place, new, healthy skin and flesh began to grow.

However, some of the burn marks remained, stubbornly refusing to vanish. The same was true for his shoulder, where the wound left a small, shaped scar. As for his head, it was nearly fully healed; his hair would regrow within a few days, and only a thin scar line would remain, easily hidden once his hair returned.

Seeing her master’s condition improve, Octavia exhaled with relief. So did Faelor, who had managed to heal the injuries without leaving any large, disfiguring scars.

Ten more minutes passed before Faelor ended the healing spell and let out a tired breath, not from mana depletion, but from the exhaustion of spending days in the dungeon. Still, he didn’t show his fatigue and said,

"My lord, I’ve done everything I can. As for the remaining small scars, with a few more treatment sessions, I’m confident we can eliminate them completely."

Arthur raised a hand in dismissal. "No. This is enough."

Faelor and Octavia were both surprised. If Arthur didn’t continue the treatment, the scars would remain. But what they didn’t know was that this was exactly what Arthur wanted. He wanted those small scars as a reminder—of what negligence could cost him. He had survived this time, but might not be so lucky next time.

Then he said sternly,

"Faelor, you are forbidden from leaving the castle without my permission. Octavia, assign someone to keep watch over him. And listen carefully, if you do anything I don’t like, don’t expect me to be merciful next time."

Faelor bowed his head. "I will not repeat my mistake, my lord."

"You may both leave."

Once Octavia and Faelor were gone, Arthur placed a magical barrier on the door, then returned to his bed to rest. The moment his head hit the pillow, he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

...

Time passed swiftly, and after nearly a full day of sleep, Arthur awoke. He opened his refreshed eyes and sat up in bed. He walked over to the window, opened it, and looked out at the castle and the vast city below. He watched the common folk going about their work, then glanced at the rotting corpses still hanging on the castle wall, and sighed.

He calmly shut the window, dressed in clean clothes, and washed himself. When he saw his reflection in the water basin, he noticed the left side of his head was bald.

"I look like one of those thugs from post-apocalyptic movies," he mocked himself. His appearance was a bit odd, but he didn’t care. Calmly, he walked to the door and dispelled the thorn barrier. After spending so much time in the forest, he had become slightly paranoid.

He opened the door to his room. As usual, Octavia was standing outside.

"Greetings, my lord. Shall I bring your breakfast?"

"No. Take it to the dining hall." Arthur paused, then added,

"Have someone take down that corpse and burn it. And handle them carefully, they’ve started to rot."

After several days, the bodies of Edgar and his lackeys had begun to decompose. If not handled properly, they could cause disease within the castle.

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Gather all important figures in the castle. I want a full report on what’s happened over the past few days."

"As you command, my lord."

Octavia hurried off to fulfill his orders. Calmly, Arthur made his way to the dining hall and took his seat. He waited only a few minutes before the servants arrived with a rich, nourishing breakfast: fried eggs, grilled meat slices, boiled vegetables, and even some peeled and beautifully sliced fruit.