“What are we supposed to do? The parade in the square starts in just a few hours.” Knight Théodore continued to mutter anxiously.
“Calm down. You’re only making the situation more complicated. I’m already prepared to meet His Majesty the Emperor.” Gérald, Lucien’s knight and right-hand man, spoke in his firm, heavy voice.
“Where’s that wooden box, Théodore?”
Lucien’s voice was deep and hoarse, shattering the silence of the room, which reeked of a pungent, fishy stench.
The man was Lucien de Ravenna, Grand Duke Besaçon and supreme commander.
He lay on his back in agony atop an intricately carved wooden bed. His body trembled faintly as he endured the stabbing pain that reached all the way to his bones.
A foul, corpse-like stench seeped from his pores. Cold sweat dampened his temples and neck, yet his eyes glowed a terrifying red behind their tightly shut lids. And tonight, a victory banquet for their war was supposed to be held at Auremont Palace.
“I-it’s...” Théodore stammered.
“What is it?” Lucien asked in his hoarse voice. “Did she not send it again?”
Théodore stood frozen beside the bed. Next to him, the royal physician shook his head with trembling hands.
The medical equipment he had brought was completely useless. Even the holy temple’s envoys, who had arrived an hour ago, had given up and chosen to leave after their purification prayers failed to calm the turmoil raging through the supreme commander’s body.
“We’re still looking for it, Your Highness,” Théodore whispered, lowering his head. “If this doesn’t work, we’ll send the knights throughout the capital.”
“No, she promised me. She said so... in the letter she sent in reply through the bird I dispatched.” Lucien struggled to hold back the violent turmoil that threatened to take control of his body.
Gérald roughly rubbed his face. As Lucien’s right-hand man, he knew this torment all too well. The curse had been eating away at Lucien for nearly five years.
The first year had been hell. Whenever an attack came, Lucien would transform into a monster beyond control, forcing the guards to inject him with a high dose of animal sedative just to stop his rampage.
Everything changed after the great battle by the river a few months later.
When his body suddenly collapsed into the mud and the knights panicked, Lucien discovered a wooden box floating in the water.
Ignoring his subordinates’ warnings, he drank the liquid inside a crystal bottle found within it.
The result was extraordinary.
His body recovered instantly, and the pain disappeared for an incredibly long time.
From that moment on, messenger birds became the go-between for Lucien and the apothecary who made the medicine—unbeknownst to him, Éloide, the youngest daughter of Duke Bellmont, who was considered weak and frequently ill.
Hurried footsteps sounded from the corridor outside. Knight Bastien burst in without knocking. His knight’s uniform was drenched, but his face was radiant.
“Your Highness... Your Highness! We found it! This box was caught along the riverbank!” Bastien shouted hysterically.
He set the wet wooden box beside the bed and quickly opened it.
Lucien opened his eyes and moved his trembling hand to take out a small crystal bottle.
“Yes, this is the medicine.” Lucien spoke. Without hesitation, he drank every last drop.
Within seconds, his ragged breathing began to steady. The pallor in his chest slowly faded, and the foul stench was replaced by a soothing herbal fragrance.
Gérald picked up a sheet of paper tucked inside the box. “There are several bottles of medicine for the imperial knights who were seriously wounded as well, Your Highness. And there’s a letter.”
“Read it,” Lucien ordered, his voice beginning to stabilize. “What did she write to me?”
Gérald unfolded the paper and read aloud. “I know this war was much more difficult than expected, and that you were all seriously injured. I’ve included several potions to help the imperial knights of Valérine. This may be my last shipment for a while. My family is preparing an arranged marriage for me, so it will be difficult for me to make medicine in the near future.”
Lucien snatched the letter from Gérald’s hand. His eyes scrutinized every curve of the handwriting he knew so well.
He fixed Gérald with a sharp stare. “Have you still been unable to find any information about this apothecary’s identity?”
Gérald slowly shook his head. “Forgive us. We still have nothing, Your Highness. The impoverished people on the outskirts would rather die than reveal her name or whereabouts. She has the fierce loyalty of the street people.”
Lucien clenched his fingers until the paper in his grip crumpled slightly. “Damn it. What do I have to do to find and marry this apothecary?”
“Your marriage has already been signed by the Emperor with the youngest daughter of the Bellmont family,” Gérald interjected firmly as he straightened his cloak.
“You cannot marry another woman. The Emperor has also arranged for you to meet Lady Bellmont tonight. You must prepare now, Your Highness.”
Lucien threw the paper onto the table, then let out a hollow laugh.
“That damn marriage.”