The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 24: “Just a healer?”

The day they faced the sudden attack with several kinds of beasts appearing at once on the sacred grounds of the four nobles, Cael quickly ordered one of his men to return to the camp and start an investigation.

By the time they finished clearing the beast corpses, Theron of the Imperial Army had already taken charge and begun looking into every detail.

Two days later, after Cael had a light conversation with Soren that he found unexpectedly amusing, a pigeon arrived at his window that night saying that the culprit had already been caught.

The dungeon was cold and quiet except for the sound of weak crawling on the stone floor. The moment Cael stepped inside, the knights around him stiffened.

He still hadn’t slept, and the anger in his eyes made everyone avoid his gaze.

The captured knight was no longer chained as he had already been beaten and slashed by him, now lay on the ground, crawling helplessly while trying to push himself away even though he had nowhere to go.

Cael walked toward him, slow and unhurried while still holding the bloody sword.

"So," he said, voice flat, "you’re telling me someone just came to you and told you to release those beasts?"

"Y-yes, Your Highness!" the man cried, dragging himself backward until his back hit the wall. "I—I’m telling the truth!"

Cael kicked his hand, sending him sprawling. "Did you see his face?"

"N-no, Your Highness... he wore a robe..."

Cael crouched beside him. "So, you didn’t know him. You didn’t know his name and you still did what he asked?"

"I-I needed the money... he said he’d pay me a thousand gold coins..."

Cael smirked. "A knight of Davenmore, selling himself for gold coins. Surely, the Duke will be thrilled."

The man shook violently, trying to shield himself with his arms when Cael grabbed him by the collar and dragged him a few inches across the floor like he weighed nothing.

"You know why we went to that place," Cael said. "So, tell me why would someone order you to release those beasts? To kill us? Or to repeat what happened years ago?"

The man froze, eyes wide.

"Y-Your Highness... you weren’t the target..."

Cael’s expression hardened. "What do you mean it wasn’t for us?"

"T-the healer!" the man shouted. "T-they told me t-that he’s a hindrance to their plan!

"What plan?"

"They never told me what the plan is, I swear! Please, Your Highness! Spare me!"

A moment after, Cael let go of his collar, letting the man collapse back onto the ground.

He stood and looked at Theron. "Wrap things up here."

"Understood, Your Highness."

The man immediately tried to crawl toward Cael’s boots, begging again, but Cael didn’t even spare him a glance as he turned and walked out of the dungeon.

While Cael walked out of the dungeon, the echoes of the prisoner’s cries still rang behind him. He didn’t look back. His footsteps were steady, sharp, and cold against the stone floor. As soon as he reached the corridor, he gestured to a few knights.

"Send letters to the Duke about the investigation here. Immediately."

They bowed and rushed off without question.

Cael continued down the hall, rolling his shoulders slightly as if trying to shake off the dungeon’s heavy scent. ’So... it’s for Soren.’ The thought lingered in his mind, irritating him more than he expected.

"But why him?" Cael muttered under his breath. "Yes, he’s an exceptional healer but he’s still just a commoner. Why go through all this trouble for him?"

For a moment, his expression darkened with annoyance. "This is entertaining, but they chose the worst day possible."

His robe smelled of dust and iron, and there were faint stains of blood along the hem, definitely not something he intended to wear any longer. So, he headed straight toward his chamber, craving warmth to wash off the chill of the dungeon when a young knight caught up to him and bowed. "Your Highness, the letters have been sent. What are your next orders?"

Cael stopped walking, thinking for a brief moment.

"Send a scout back to the site," he instructed. "I want every corner checked."

The young knight straightened. "As you command, Your Highness."

Cael turned his head slightly before entering his room. "Good. We return to the camp tomorrow morning."

The knight bowed deeply. "Understood. You may rest now, Your Highness."

Cael waved him off and pushed open the door to his chamber, already reaching to untie his robe. Then the warmth of a waiting bath greeted him, a stark contrast to the cold dungeon he had left behind.

For the first time that night, he allowed himself a quiet sigh.

Tomorrow would be another long day.

Meanwhile, inside one of the tents at the camp, a nervous figure paced in frantic circles. He kept biting his nails, unable to keep still as panic slowly took over.

"That useless fool!" he spat, kicking over a small wooden stool. "If he hadn’t just gone straight back to the fortress like I told him, he wouldn’t have been caught! Damn him, useless fool!"

"Sir, please calm down," the knight beside him whispered, glancing at the tent entrance worriedly.

"How am I supposed to calm down?!" the man hissed, raking his fingers through his hair. "If he said my name... if he even mentioned me once, I’m finished! And out of everyone, His Highness Cael was the one who interrogated him!"

"I heard Captain Theron is the one leading the investigation," the knight tried to reassure him.

"Whoever it was doesn’t matter!" he snapped. "I’m doomed either way! I only wanted to teach that commoner a lesson! Just a lesson! Because of him I became impotent yet that fool didn’t even bother checking what day it was! Who knew it was some important event for His Highness and the Davenmore?! Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

He grabbed a cup and threw it against the wall of the tent. Water splashed onto the floor, soaking into the dirt.

"Sir, please," the knight begged quietly, "your voice, people might hear us."

The man froze for a second, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temples.

"...Right," he muttered. "We can’t let anyone hear a single word."

But even as he said it, his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The fear in his eyes was clear because he knew that if even one of the nobles learned the truth,

he was dead.

"Who would’ve thought I’d meet that bastard here of all places?" the man muttered, rubbing his temples as frustration and panic twisted his expression.

He exhaled sharply, pacing again in tight circles.

The knight standing in front of him bowed his head slightly. "What would you like me to do, sir? Based on the information I’ve gathered, he follows a strict routine from morning until late in the evening. And... the noble healers don’t seem to have a good relationship with him."

"Hah. Of course they don’t," the man scoffed bitterly, stopping in his tracks. "So? What will you do with that information? If you carry this out properly, I’ll compensate you, how does that sound?"

The knight kept silent, waiting.

"I don’t care how much gold you want," the man continued with a harsh whisper. "Just bring me that commoner healer. I want him delivered to me, do you understand?"

The knight placed a hand over his chest in respect. "I will do my best, sir. But for now... I advise you to remain calm. Panicking will only make us suspicious."

The man clenched his jaw, hands still trembling slightly, but he nodded.

"Fine. Just get it done. I don’t care how."

Just like that, the knight stepped out of the tent to start doing what he was told.

On the other hand, Soren had just finished tending to several knights who were recovering from fevers brought on by the harsh snow, as well as a few who had returned from hunting beasts. Compared to previous incidents, the injuries this time were minor such as scratches, bruises, or the occasional cracked rib.

Relief settled lightly over him since the work had been taxing, but not overwhelming, and for once he felt he could catch a short break.

"Are you done?" one of the knights asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The two friends beside him watched with an expectant glance, waiting for Soren’s reply.

"Ah, yes." Soren gently tucked the sleeping, feverish knight under a warm blanket, adjusting it carefully so he wouldn’t wake. Then, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, he walked toward the others with a faint, tired smile.

It had been a long while since anyone aside from Elias had genuinely included him in conversation or invited him out. For once, the atmosphere didn’t feel stiff or formal as these knights seemed to be warming to him, taking a quiet interest in his company.

"Alright. Since you’re done, let’s go," Kent said, a faint grin on his face as he motioned for Soren to follow.

"Okay... but where are we going? You sirs never told me," Soren asked, falling into step with them as they left the tent.

"Sirs? How formal of you!" Louie teased, giving Soren a playful nudge. Soren’s cheeks flushed slightly, but before he could respond, Kent grabbed Louie’s collar and tugged him a step away.

"Right. Why don’t you call us by our names instead?" Justin chimed in, folding his arms with a faint smirk.

"I can’t possibly do that, sir. You’re knights, and I’m just a healer," Soren said quickly, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

"Just a healer?" Justin scoffed, shaking his head. "If it weren’t for you, we’d all be six feet under long ago! Every time we go out, you patch us up, you save us... don’t sell yourself short."

"Justin’s right," Kent added firmly, the tone serious but not unkind.

Soren’s mind flicked back to the awkward moment when Kent had apologized for a previous embarrassing incident yet now, standing there, Kent’s sincerity was undeniable.

Soren blinked, surprised.

The playful teasing, the quiet protection, the honest admiration in their words was a new dynamic he wasn’t used to. For a healer who usually stayed in the background, this attention felt strangely... reassuring.

Louie, refusing to be left out, grinned. "See? You’re practically one of us now. Might even be harder to get rid of you than we thought."

Soren let out a small laugh, a sound that hadn’t come so easily in weeks. The tension of the day, the exhausting snow, the near-constant worry over the injured knights seemed to fade just a little.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he belonged.

The four of them stepped out into the crisp air, the snow crunching softly beneath their boots. Soren walked between them with quiet, steady warmth of companionship, the kind that didn’t demand anything but still gave everything.

And then, from a distance,

Alaric appeared.