Chapter 152: The Shape of Old Wounds

Chapter 152: Chapter 152: The Shape of Old Wounds

The moment the field surgeon hurried past the edge of the tent, Cassiel’s eyes followed him.

His brows drew together.

But before he could ask anything, Vaelen stepped forward and held out the sealed letter.

"His Majesty sent me. There is an important letter. He instructed me to place it directly in your hands. You were in council, so I waited outside."

Cassiel took the letter.

His gaze fell briefly to the royal seal before lifting towards Vaelen.

"You were outside. Did you see your aunt?"

Vaelen’s mind immediately flashed to Elysia sitting on the ground, one hand clutching her knee, her scraped palm pressed against the earth.

A thread of guilt tightened in his chest.

He kept his expression steady and nodded.

"I did."

One of the guards nearby opened his mouth, clearly intending to report what had happened.

Vaelen noticed at once.

"Uncle."

Cassiel glanced at him.

"Yes?"

"His Majesty is waiting in the palace. Perhaps you could read it now, so I can report back."

Cassiel’s eyes rested on him for a moment.

Then he unfolded the letter.

The commanders and guards nearby stepped back, careful not to glance at its contents.

Vaelen quietly let out a breath.

Cassiel read through the letter.

His expression remained unchanged.

When he finished, he folded it neatly.

"Tell His Majesty I understand. I already have a response in mind. I will go to the palace later to discuss it with him."

Vaelen hesitated.

"You won’t send a written reply?"

"No."

"Then... would you consider going now? We could head back together."

Cassiel’s gaze cooled.

"Are you telling me how to manage my time?"

Vaelen immediately lowered his head.

"No, Uncle."

"Then return."

Cassiel’s voice was cold.

"Don’t linger in camp."

Vaelen bowed.

"Yes, Uncle."

He turned and left without another word.

His steps were quick.

Almost hurried.

Cassiel watched him disappear beyond the tents.

Only then did he look towards the guard who had tried to speak earlier.

"Now. What were you going to say?"

The guard immediately bowed.

"Your Grace... the Duchess fell."

Cassiel’s expression changed.

"She fell?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"How?"

The guard swallowed.

"Her Grace was walking towards the waiting area when His Highness called out to her. She did not stop, so His Highness caught hold of the edge of her cloak and pulled her back."

Cassiel’s gaze turned cold.

The guard continued carefully.

"The ground was uneven. Her Grace lost her footing and fell. She struck her knee and scraped both palms."

For a moment, Cassiel did not move.

His fingers tightened around the royal letter.

Now he understood.

Vaelen’s hurried manner.

His sudden insistence that Cassiel return to the palace with him.

The way he had left the camp almost as soon as the letter was dealt with.

Vaelen had known Elysia was hurt.

And he had tried to leave before Cassiel found out.

Cassiel’s expression darkened.

"Where is the Duchess?"

"She is resting in the side room, Your Grace."

Cassiel turned immediately.

"Take me there."

The guard bowed.

"Yes, Your Grace."

Bran followed at once.

---

Elysia sat on a chair near the window, her injured leg stretched slightly forward.

Bertha knelt beside her, looking worried.

The field surgeon carefully examined Elysia’s knee.

"Does it hurt here?"

He pressed lightly around the old injury.

Elysia’s fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.

"Yes."

The surgeon moved his hand slightly.

"And here?"

Elysia drew in a breath.

"Yes."

He examined the joint carefully before sitting back.

"The old injury has been aggravated."

Elysia lowered her eyes.

"Is it serious?"

"There does not appear to be a new fracture. However, the joint has been strained, and you should avoid putting weight on this leg for several days."

Elysia nodded.

The surgeon then turned his attention to her palms.

The scrapes were shallow, but tiny pieces of gravel had lodged in the skin.

He carefully cleaned them.

Elysia winced.

Bertha looked distressed.

"Your Grace..."

"I’m fine."

The words came automatically.

The surgeon glanced at her.

"You may be fine, but you should still take care of the injuries properly."

He finished cleaning one palm and moved to the other.

Elysia watched him work.

Her knee throbbed with every small movement.

It was the same old pain she remembered from years ago.

For some reason, an absurd thought suddenly crossed her mind.

Perhaps her next heroine should be outrageously strong.

The kind of woman who could drop an orc with one punch.

If she ever met another walking curse, she could simply grab him by the collar and slam him into a stone wall.

That would certainly save her a great deal of trouble.

Elysia almost smiled.

Unfortunately, she had not yet reached the stage where she could throw people through walls.

For now, she could barely put weight on one leg.

The thought made her sigh inwardly.

The surgeon finished dressing her palms and began preparing something for her knee.

"You must rest it."

"I know."

"And no riding."

Elysia gave him a resigned look.

"I wasn’t planning to ride."

"Good."

He packed away the ointment after applying it.

"I’ll prepare medicine to ease the pain and reduce the inflammation."

Elysia nodded.

Bertha looked towards the door.

"Should I inform the Duke of Draevenor?"

"No."

Elysia answered immediately.

Bertha turned back.

"But Your Grace—"

"His Grace is still in council."

Elysia glanced towards the direction of the command tent.

"They are discussing military matters. I already interrupted them once."

"But your knee—"

"I’m hurt," Elysia said calmly, "but that doesn’t outweigh military business."

She looked down at her freshly bandaged palm.

"And His Grace isn’t a surgeon. Even if he comes out, he can’t treat my knee."

Bertha fell silent.

Elysia was right.

There was already a field surgeon attending to her.

There was no reason to disturb Cassiel.

"Then I’ll wait here until His Grace finishes," Elysia said.

Bertha reluctantly nodded.

The field surgeon began putting away his medical supplies.

Just then, footsteps and the sound of wheels came from outside.

The door opened.

Elysia looked up.

Cassiel was at the entrance.

Her eyes widened slightly.

"My lord."

Cassiel’s gaze immediately fell upon her.

His eyes moved from her pale face to the bandages around her palms, then finally to the injured knee she was carefully keeping elevated.

His expression tightened.

The field surgeon immediately rose and bowed.

"Your Grace."

Cassiel’s voice was low.

"How serious is the injury?"

The surgeon answered respectfully.

"The Duchess has aggravated an old knee injury. There is no indication of a new fracture, but the joint has been strained. She should avoid putting weight on it for several days."

Cassiel’s jaw tightened.

"How long before it recovers?"

"That will depend on how well she rests it. I will prepare medicine to reduce the pain and inflammation."

Cassiel nodded once.

His gaze returned to Elysia.

"Does it hurt?"

Elysia hesitated.

"A little."

His brows drew together.

He knew that answer.

Whenever Elysia said something hurt "a little", it usually meant more than she was willing to admit.

His gaze dropped to her hands.

"And your palms?"

"They’re only scrapes."

The surgeon nodded.

"They are superficial. I have cleaned and dressed them."

Cassiel remained silent.

Elysia could feel his gaze on her.

She gave him a small smile.

"You don’t need to look so serious. I’m fine."

His expression did not soften.

"How did you fall?"

Elysia lowered her eyes.

"It was an accident."

Cassiel said nothing.

The silence made it clear that he did not consider that answer sufficient.

Elysia glanced towards the surgeon.

"He has already examined me. I’ll be fine after some rest."

Cassiel’s gaze remained fixed on her.

"You were hurt while waiting for me."

"You were in council."

"That doesn’t matter."

"It does."

Elysia’s voice remained gentle.

"You were discussing military matters. There was no reason to interrupt you again when there was already a field surgeon in the camp."

Cassiel’s expression darkened slightly.

"And yet you were hurt."

Elysia fell silent.

She did not know how to answer that.

The field surgeon cleared his throat quietly.

"Your Grace, the Duchess should avoid putting weight on the injured leg."

Cassiel nodded.

"Take care of her properly."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Cassiel looked towards Bran.

"Make sure everything she needs is prepared."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Elysia glanced at him.

"My lord, you should return to the council."

Cassiel’s eyes settled on her.

"The council can wait."

Elysia blinked.

"But—"

"It can wait."

His voice left no room for argument.

Elysia fell silent.

A strange warmth spread through her chest.

She had deliberately refused to summon him because she knew his military affairs were important.

Yet the moment he learned she was hurt, he had come without hesitation.

Cassiel looked at her for another moment before turning towards the door.

Then his gaze briefly shifted towards the direction Vaelen had left.

The coldness returned to his eyes.

There was still one matter he had not dealt with.

And this time, he had no intention of letting it pass.