The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 87: “As you command, Your Holiness.”

For Arctelle’s whole life, he had never once experienced being made to wait.

From the moment his talents revealed themselves, doors had always opened before he could even knock. He was praised as a prodigy, spoken of in reverent tones, and regarded as someone destined for a future far brighter than those of his peers.

His presence was acknowledged and anticipated. He’s never ignored. Time, it seemed, had always bent to accommodate him.

Yet now, hours passed in heavy silence with each one stretching longer than the last, and Arctelle could do nothing but wait. It was a quiet humiliation, subtle yet unmistakable and its gnawing at him with every passing moment.

Somewhere along the way, everything had shifted.

His life, once orderly and predictable, had been overturned so thoroughly that he could scarcely recognize it anymore and at the center of that predicament stood Soren or at least, that was the conclusion Arctelle had come to.

Whether it was truth or merely a convenient target for his resentment, he could no longer tell.

All he knew was that ever since Soren entered his path, nothing had remained as it once was.

Only after exactly three hours had passed did the door finally open. The High Priest, the very man who had summoned Arctelle, at last appeared.

He looked old and frail with his body bent with age, but his eyes were sharp and alert. They made Arctelle uneasy. He felt as though, with just one look, the High Priest could tell how irritated he was after being made to wait for so long.

Now, it was just the two of them, sitting across from each other with a cup of lukewarm tea that had been served again. Arctelle sat stiffly while feeling confused and nervous because the High Priest still hadn’t said a word.

Instead, the old man simply watched him.

Sometimes he smiled, smirked, or maybe it was something else entirely.

At moments, his expression felt full of pity. At other times, he looked bored, as if Arctelle didn’t matter at all.

The shifting expressions made Arctelle angry, though he kept it hidden since he couldn’t show his frustration openly, not to the High Priest. After all, the man in front of him was his path to power and success, and offending him was not an option.

"Hmm... I’ve heard a lot about you," the High Priest said as he lifted his teacup and took a small sip with his eyes still on Arctelle.

"I’m honored that people have spoken of me, Your Holiness. I’ve also wished to meet you," Arctelle replied as he rested his hands on his lap and forced a polite smile, careful not to show his unease.

Then the High Priest hummed softly. "A prodigy, they say." His eyes narrowed just slightly as they lingered on Arctelle’s face. "And yet, I find it... curious that such a talent was dismissed during the subjugation."

He paused, then added, "Did you hear that His Highness, the Second Prince, and Duke Davenmore found a way to purify the curse?"

Arctelle swallowed. "W-well... yes. I heard about it, Your Holiness," he said.

It was a lie but one he delivered smoothly.

Outwardly, he appeared composed and almost confident but the truth was, they had only been ordered to do nothing more than tend to wounded knights in the north. Their assistance only meant to avoid unnecessary risk, to reduce casualties, and to save time.

Nothing more.

Seeing how confident yet anxious he look, the High Priest nodded slowly, as if considering the answer. He didn’t argue or press further, yet his quiet attention made Arctelle uneasy. It felt less like an interrogation and more like being weighed carefully and patiently by someone who already knew more than he was letting on.

"Well, that’s not really my concern, is it?" the High Priest said. "Surely you know why I called for you."

Arctelle gulped but remained composed while maintaining his straight posture and his carefully polite expression. "Yes, Your Holiness."

"Hmm." The High Priest tilted his head slightly. "Tell me, young heir of the Solven household, how far are you willing to go to reach the top of power?"

"I will do anything," Arctelle replied without pause. An answer with confidence and without hesitation while looking straight at the High Priest’s eyes. For Arctelle, that was always how it is for him. "Whatever it is, Your Holiness."

Hearing what he said, the old man jjust chuckled softly. "That’s my boy, I like that attitude. Keep it, and you’ll have my support."

He then leaned back in his chair with one hand slowly stroking his beard as his gaze drifted toward the ceiling, as if lost in thought. "You know who Soren is better than most, don’t you?" he continued. "He’s capable and talented but his heart is broken, and his life has been filled with misery. There’s little hope left in him now."

Arctelle gritted his jaw. Beneath the table, his fingers curled into his palms with his nails biting into his skin as he struggled to keep his reaction hidden.

’Ugh, Soren this and Soren that. Everywhere I turn, it’s him and always him. I can’t even go anywhere without someone bringing him up like he’s the center of the world. And me? I’m supposed to sit here, smile and nod, act like it doesn’t get under my skin. Seriously, what the hell? I’ve worked my ass off, done everything I could to get ahead, and yet... there’s Soren, standing in everyone’s spotlight while I’m stuck in the damn shadows.

I have to keep it together. Don’t let it show. Keep my face calm and my voice steady. But seriously, why is it always him? Even this old geezer talks about him like he’s some tragic hero or something. Fine. I’ll play along. But one day, they’ll remember my name too. And Soren? He’s going to wish he hadn’t been in my way.’

No matter where he went, the name followed him. Still, Arctelle kept his gaze lowered in respect as though the mention of Soren meant nothing at all.

"Well, Arctelle, is it?" the High Priest asked, even though he looked like he already knew. It even made Arctelle silently lose all his patience while cursing his father in his mind for being born lowly and powerless which had left him, the son, also at the bottom.

"Yes, Your Holiness," Arctelle answered while trying to maintain eye contact with the High Priest.

The task the High Priest gave Arctelle was simple in words but far from easy in reality. Bring Soren to the temple, and do it as discreetly as possible without anyone knowing. How he did it didn’t matter, only that it was done.

The High Priest had also been honest about the dangers.

There were risks as he warned, and any misstep could bring serious consequences. Yet, he reassured Arctelle that if anything went wrong, he would have the High Priest’s support.

Still, Arctelle couldn’t shake the doubt gnawing at him.

He didn’t truly understand how the High Priest operated, or what methods he might use behind closed doors. The promise of protection sounded comforting, but for someone like Arctelle, ambitious but inexperienced felt more like a gamble than a guarantee.

Trusting him blindly would be foolish, yet refusing the task wasn’t an option.

And Arctelle knew better than anyone that if he didn’t take risks, nothing would ever change.

All his life, he had worked tirelessly to outshine everyone around him from studying, training and proving himself at every turn. Yet Soren... he seemed to rise effortlessly, as if the world bent to him without any effort at all. That unfair advantage festered inside Arctelle, turning a surface level annoyance into a deep, burning hatred that gnawed at the bottom of his heart.

Soren was nothing more than a commoner, yet he stood in Arctelle’s way, a risk, a distraction and a thorn in the path to the power Arctelle believed was rightfully his. And Arctelle would do whatever it took to remove that obstacle and claim the future he deserved.

If the only solution was to bind soren to the High priest in the north then Arctelle wont let that chance slip away.

Meanwhile, as Arctelle was finally able to rest, the High Priest met with one of the bishops inside his private chambers. The room was quiet, lit only by a few candles with their flames flickering against the stone walls.

Heavy curtains were drawn shut, sealing the conversation from the outside world.

"Are you certain about him, Your Holiness?" the bishop asked carefully while lowering his voice as he clasped his hands together. "Forgive my boldness."

Then the High Priest hummed in response while slowly turning a ring on his finger. "I am aware of the risk," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "That is why we will not allow that bastard to meet the young man."

The bishop stiffened slightly, understanding at once. The High Priest was referring to the other High Priest stationed at the capital temple, the one scheduled to visit the north to personally investigate the situation.

"I see," the bishop said while nodding. "Then I will assist you, Your Holiness." A faint smile crossed his lips. "If your suspicions are correct, we may have uncovered a diamond hidden within plain stone."

"You’re right," the High Priest replied.

He then leaned back in his chair while stroking his beard as his gaze drifted toward the ceiling. "Soren is exceptional to the point that I am even willing to overlook the lie about him being a noble. How bold of them." His eyes darkened. "This is the northern temple, my territory, and yet His Highness dared to deceive me."

He exhaled slowly, then waved a hand dismissively. "Still, I have no intention of turning the Second Prince into an enemy. That matter can be set aside."

Rising from his seat, the High Priest turned to face the bishop fully. "What matters is this. Soren will be brought to my temple, no matter the cost so, do whatever you must to ensure it."

The bishop bowed deeply. "As you command, Your Holiness."

On the other hand, Soren quite caught that Elias had been beaten and was now on his way to Cael’s tent.