The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 67: “Haa… forget it,”

After going so far as to plead with Alia to return to the capital, only to be firmly refused, Soren found himself with no other choice. If he wanted to secure her future, he had to face the nobles overseeing the encampment, namely the Davenmore’s and the youngest prince of Elarion, Cael.

Naturally, when the moment word reached him that Soren was asking for an audience, Alaric set aside the remainder of his work. He even dismissed the twins from his tent without hesitation since Sylas and Lyric had yet to reconcile, and Alaric knew all too well that Soren’s presence would only sharpen the distance between them.

The interior of the tent fell into a tense stillness.

"So," Alaric drawled, his voice cool and measured, "what do I owe this visit?"

Though his expression was indifferent and almost bored, there was a sharp attentiveness behind his eyes. He had been quietly wondering what Soren had been doing these past few days, and this sudden request only deepened his curiosity.

"Greetings, Your Grace," Soren said while bowing politely.

"Cut to the chase." Alaric leaned back in his seat with his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. "Don’t you see I have things to attend to? But I made time for you, so speak."

Soren swallowed under the weight of that gaze while feeling as though he were being looked down upon from an unscalable height.

Still, he steadied himself.

"Your Grace," he began carefully, "may I ask for a favor?"

Alaric raised a brow. "That depends entirely on the nature of the favor. So? What is it?"

Soren drew in a breath. "Your Grace, I wish to ask that you employ Alia here in the encampment. Or anywhere would do, as long as she is given work." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

A brief silence followed.

"Hmm. Alia?" Alaric repeated, his tone edged with irritation. He then rested his chin against his hand while tilting his head slightly as his eyes fixed on Soren. "Isn’t that the woman who was given to you?"

The coldness in his stare was unmistakable and sharp enough to make Soren’s throat tighten as he waited for what would come next.

"She was given to me by Lord Hawthorne," Soren said quietly. "But, Your Grace, I am not fit to have a servant. If I may be bold, please give her work here instead. Anywhere is fine. I beg you."

After saying that, Soren bowed low with his hands folded in front of him.

Then Alaric let out a short scoff. "How ungrateful," he said. "She was given to you, yet you refuse to take her? Who do you think you are?"

His tone sounded sharp, but it was more confusion than anger. To Alaric, a commoner being given a servant was a rare honor. It was something many would be grateful for so he could not understand why Soren would turn it away.

"You should know," Alaric added, "that keeping what is given to you would only help you."

"My apologies, Your Grace," Soren replied at once as he lifted his head for a moment, then bowed again. "But I truly cannot accept someone serving me. I tried to send her back, but she said she wants to stay here."

His voice was calm, but his resolve was clear, and it made Alaric watch him more closely.

"Hah," Alaric said with a short breath. "I see you truly will not change your mind. Very well. I will have someone fetch her and send her to the stables."

His lips curved slightly, but his eyes stayed cold.

’Let us see if you still stand by this choice. The stables were where the horses were kept. They were not a cruel place, as the area was always kept warm to stop the horses from falling ill in the cold. Still, it was no easy place to work. Most of the labor there was done by men as it required strength especially hauling water from the stream to wash the stalls. Her fate depends on you,’ Alaric thought as he leaned back once more while crossing his arms over his chest, and watched Soren, who had fallen silent and lost deep in thought.

"I am truly grateful, Your Grace," Soren said with a small bow. "I will tell her that she will finally have work here."

"What?" Alaric’s brows drew together. "You are truly letting that woman work in the stables?"

Soren looked at him, confused. "It is your decision, Your Grace. Who am I to question your authority? On the contrary, I am thankful that you granted my request."

At those words, Alaric stood up. Then he walked toward Soren with eyes cold enough to make the air feel heavier.

"How foolish," Alaric said. "Are you always this stupid? Why can you not see my intent?"

"Pardon, Your Grace?" Soren lifted his head, clearly confused. "I do not quite understand."

"Of course you do not," Alaric replied flatly. "You are stupid, after all."

Soren flinched but said nothing.

’What did I say this time to anger His Grace?’ he thought. ’He truly is hard to understand.’

With no answer to give, Soren bowed once more with his head lowered in silence.

Without another word, Alaric simply stared at him. His gaze lingered for a long moment before he let out a deep sigh. He then raised a hand to his temple and rubbed it slowly, as if his patience was finally wearing thin.

"Haa... forget it," he said. "Instead of the stables, I will see if the kitchen needs help. That will be all. Get out."

Soren froze for a brief second, then bowed deeply. He did not even say another word. He just turned and stepped out of the tent at once.

Outside, Lyric and Sylas were standing in the cold while both wrapped in thick fur robes, their swords hanging at their hips. White breath even escaped their lips as they waited.

The moment Sylas’ eyes met Soren’s, he moved.

Ignoring Lyric’s quiet call, Sylas stepped forward and walked straight toward Soren.

"You!" Sylas shouted. "What the hell did you do to my brother?!"

He grabbed Soren by the shoulder and yanked him forward, leaning close with a sharp glare.

"Ugh, My Lord..." Soren let out, caught off guard.

"Brother, what are you doing?" Lyric cried out. "Stop pulling him! You will hurt him!"

Lyric hurried forward and grabbed Sylas’ arm, trying to pull him away from Soren’s wrist. Seeing his brother panic, Sylas only scoffed with a mocking smile crossed his face as he looked at Lyric.

"Wow," Sylas sneered. "You really have changed, brother. What is it about this rat that makes you act like this? Born low, filthy, and shameless enough to seduce you."

"What nonsense are you saying?" Lyric snapped. "Let go of him at once!"

Caught between the two brothers as they argued and pulled at him, Soren could only stand there as his eyes moved around in panic. He then noticed Caelius nearby, standing with a man he did not recognize. Cael was with Gideon, the two of them just finishing a conversation as they headed toward Alaric’s tent.

One by one, they all stopped and looked over.

"Both of you, stop this at once!"

Alaric’s voice cut through the cold air as he stepped forward. His brows were drawn tight, clear annoyance on his face.

"How childish," he said sharply. "To behave like this in front of so many people."