The snow fell heavily by the time the small procession reached the northern gate. The white flakes whirled in the air, piling over the frozen stone road until the wheels of the carriages struggled to push forward. Iris, her face pale from exhaustion, raised her wand. Ancient runes glimmered faintly in the air as she murmured an incantation. The thick snow parted, forming a clear path as though invisible hands brushed it away.
In the center carriage, Robert sat close beside Kael. The air inside was faintly warm from the small spell he maintained, a charm he had repeated countless times to keep the cold from worsening Kael's condition. The boy on the seat beside him lay motionless, his white hair damp with sweat, his face so pale it seemed as though all life had been drained from him.
Robert clasped Kael's trembling hand between both of his own. "We're nearly there. Please… stay strong." His voice cracked, but he forced himself to remain steady.
Kael's fever hadn't broken since two nights ago. The violent coughing of blood had stopped for the moment, but every now and then, his chest rattled as if threatening to start again. The wound on his torso had reopened, staining the clean bandages anew. Robert had already sent a secret letter to Reinhardt, begging for supplies—potions, blood packs, anything that could buy Kael time.
"Brother will come," Robert whispered with quiet desperation. His fingers tightened around Kael's. "He will…"
The caravan finally slowed. The creak of the carriage wheels stopped at the gates of Vaelthorn. Armored soldiers, their breastplates engraved with the Vaelthorn crest, stepped forward to halt them.
One of the guards raised his hand. "State your business."
Iris quickly descended from the carriage, her cloak brushing against the fresh snow. She approached, holding out a sealed letter stamped with Reinhardt's personal sigil. "We are members of the Hero's Campaign," she declared, her tone firm though her body was weary. "We request immediate aid from the new Duke of Vaelthorn, Lord Elric Caen Vaelthorn. This letter is from Lord Reinhardt himself."
Before the guard could even read the seal, the sound of hooves echoed from the distance. A lone rider approached swiftly through the falling snow. A woman with short silver-white hair, tied back for practicality, reined in her horse before the gates. Her blue eyes swept across the gathered carriages.
The soldiers immediately bowed. "Duke Elric…"
Elric dismounted with practiced ease, her boots crunching into the snow. Without a word, she walked past the guards and toward Iris. Her gaze was piercing. "This letter is from Reinhardt, you say. And you are…?"
"Iris Chesly, my lord," Iris replied, bowing low as she offered the sealed letter with both hands.
But Elric did not take it. Her eyes had already drifted beyond Iris, scanning the line of carriages. Her brows furrowed. "Isn't Lord Kael with you? Where is he?"
She strode past Iris, pulling open carriage doors, searching. Inside, she saw wounded soldiers—some groaning, others silent, all of them bandaged with makeshift care. Her expression hardened as she saw the bloodied state of the men.
"Why are there so many injured?" she demanded. "Didn't the King send reinforcements? Not even medical aid?"
Iris lowered her head, shame and anger burning together. "His Majesty… he sent none." Her voice was almost a whisper. "Not soldiers. Not healers. Nothing."
Elric's jaw clenched. "He abandoned his own men?!" Her voice rose like a blade cutting through the cold air. "He left them to rot after all they've given?"
From inside the carriage, Robert heard her voice. He carefully stepped down into the snow. The young prince's breath misted in the air as he approached her. He bowed slightly, though his movements were stiff with worry.
Elric turned to him at once, recognizing his face. Her voice lowered, but the fire in her eyes remained. "Prince Robert… What do you mean by this? Did the King truly abandon his soldiers like this? Did he allow them to remain untreated?"
Robert's fists trembled at his sides. He lowered his gaze, unable to look her in the eye. His heart burned with the same anger, but he swallowed it down, knowing his father's shadow still loomed over him. "I… cannot deny it. But right now…" He forced his voice steady, lifting his head to meet her stare. "Right now, Duke Elric, we need your aid. Lord Kael—he needs you."
The moment Kael's name left Robert's lips, something shifted in Elric's chest. Her heart tightened painfully. She took a step closer, her voice demanding but with urgency laced in it. "What's wrong with him? Where is he?"
Robert and Iris exchanged a heavy glance. Robert clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. At last, he turned back to her, his expression grave.
"He's inside," Robert said, pointing back at the carriage he had descended from. His voice shook as he forced the words out. "…But he is badly injured. He hasn't woken since the moment he defeated the Demon King."
The wind howled as Elric reached the third carriage. Her fingers gripped the doorframe for a heartbeat before she swung it open.
Her breath stopped.
Kael lay slumped against the cushions, wrapped in stained bandages and blankets. The man who had once stood on the battlefield like a living blade—the hero she had seen save thousands, the one whose name the world whispered in awe—looked nothing like the legend. His skin was ghost-pale, lips cracked, his breathing shallow and uneven as his damp hair clung to his forehead.
Elric's blue eyes widened; she felt the world tilt. "What is the meaning of this?!" Her voice cut through the snow-laden air, sharp and trembling at the edges. "How could this happen to him?"
She climbed inside without hesitation, kneeling on the floor of the carriage. Her gloved hands reached for him, trembling slightly as she grasped Kael's wrist. The heat that met her palm made her heart sink. "His body is burning—he's feverish…" she murmured.
Robert stood behind her, his own face drawn tight with exhaustion. "Yes. It has been two days since his fever began rising," he explained quickly. "We tried every healing spell we knew, but his body rejected our mana…"
Elric's head snapped toward him.
Robert swallowed and forced himself to continue. "Our soldiers are also wounded, and we can't tend to them all at once. We… we need your help, Duke Elric."
For a moment she wanted to shout at them—at the King, at the ministers, at the gods themselves—for letting this happen. But she swallowed her anger, forcing her voice level.
Elric straightened and turned toward the soldiers gathered at the gate. Her tone became steel. "Get them to my estate immediately," she commanded. "Send word to the nearest city—bring every physician and healer who can still stand. I want them at my hall before sundown."
The guards bowed deeply. "At once, my lady!" They began barking orders to the other soldiers.
Elric turned back to Robert and Iris. "Bring Lord Kael to my room. It is the warmest and most protected chamber we have."
Robert's shoulders sagged with visible relief. "Thank you, Lady Elric," he breathed.
But Elric didn't look at him. Her gaze stayed fixed on Kael's motionless form. She reached out and carefully brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead, her gloves cold against his fevered skin.
"No," she said softly, almost to herself. "This is the very least I can do." She took his limp hand in both of hers, her thumb brushing his knuckles. "Lord Kael saved me once… no—he saved this entire world. All of us owe him a debt. I am merely one of the many who should be repaying his sacrifice."
Robert stood silent. His eyes followed her small gesture, the way she held Kael's hand. A hollow ache spread in his chest. He felt relief that Kael was finally in capable hands, yet beneath it burned a sharper pain—a wish that his own father, King Stephen, could see Kael as Elric did.
He forced a faint smile, but it flickered almost immediately, overtaken by worry. Worry for Kael, and worry for Reinhardt, who even now stood in their father's shadow, fighting a different kind of battle.
As the carriage jolted forward again toward Vaelthorn's heart, the snow continued to fall, burying the tracks they left behind.
-----------------------------------------
The chamber Elric had chosen was warm and high-ceilinged, its stone walls draped with thick tapestries to keep out the northern chill. A fire roared in the hearth, casting a golden glow across the bed where the Hero now lay.
Two of Elric's guards moved carefully, as if carrying a relic, when they lifted Kael from the carriage. His body was light in their arms, far lighter than a warrior's should have been. They laid him gently onto the bed, his damp bandages and white hair stark against the dark quilts.
A physician hurried forward, nearly stumbling in his rush. "Hot water—clean clothes—bring the tincture box, now!" he barked at the apprentices who had followed him in. He pressed his palm to Kael's brow and winced. "He's burning up…"
Robert stood a few steps back, fingers curled tightly around the edge of his cloak. He had to force himself not to rush forward and hover. Instead, he turned to watch Elric, who was already directing the influx of soldiers and healers like a general on a battlefield.
"Iris, take the injured men to the east wing," Elric ordered crisply. "Lay them out in rows, no one left outside in this weather. Someone fetch blankets from the storehouse and sends word to the town midwives—we'll need every pair of hands."
"Yes, my lady!" came the reply, soldiers moving at once.
Iris, dusted with snow, approached her and dipped into a small bow. "Thank you, Lady Elric," she said quietly.
Elric turned her head, strands of silver-white hair catching the firelight. "No… I'm afraid this is only a little thing I can do," she replied, voice softer now. "Even though I'm a Duke, my power is only that of one person."
For a moment Iris's stern face eased into a small smile. It had been a long time since she had spoken calmly with another woman. War had hardened her, drawn her into a world of steel and blood, far from hearth-fires and quiet words. "I just… can't understand," she murmured, eyes drifting toward the bed where Kael lay, "why the King didn't send any aid for us. After everything we went through…"
Elric's gaze followed hers. Her hand lifted and, in a rare show of warmth, she placed it on Iris's shoulder. "I'm sorry I couldn't fight beside you all. I had to hold the northern gate; it was my duty. But please—" she squeezed lightly, her expression softening "—get some rest, Lady Iris. The war is over, for now."
Iris's throat tightened. The words "the war is over" sounded almost like a prayer. She nodded slowly. "Yes… for now," she whispered.
Behind them the physician continued his work, murmuring incantations and mixing tinctures, while Robert remained at Kael's bedside. He brushed the back of his hand lightly against Kael's arm, feeling the heat radiating from him. "Brother will come," he murmured under his breath. "Please stay strong…"
Elric glanced at the young prince's bent head and said nothing. Her jaw tightened instead. She had seen too many men saved on the battlefield only to die when the fighting stopped. This time, she silently vowed, she would not let it happen.
Outside, snow drifted past the high windows, muting the sounds of the estate. Inside, the room was tense but steady—orders given, duties assigned, lives being saved. In the center of it all, the Hero lay still, a pale figure surrounded by warmth and motion, as if the world itself held its breath.