Princess Elara's grip on Alistair's arm gradually loosened as her breathing began to stabilize, yet she refused to let go entirely. At the threshold, Baron Cedric stood with a rigid expression, his eyes fixed sharply on their touching hands. The Baron's presence brought a chill different from the Obsidian parasite—an aura thick with suspicion and resentment.
"Remarkable," Cedric's voice broke the silence, his tone flat yet laced with venom. "Our prisoner turns out to have a grand talent for performance. Congratulations, Julian. You've managed to delay your hanging by a few more hours."
Alistair did not turn. He remained focused on checking Elara's pulse. "Your presence here does nothing for the patient's blood circulation, Baron. If you have no medical business, please step aside."
"Watch your tongue!" Cedric snapped, stepping forward. However, Sir Kaelen raised his hand, blocking the Baron's path.
"My apologies, Lord Cedric," Kaelen said firmly. "The King has granted Julian full authority for the time being. The Princess's safety is the top priority."
King Theodoric nodded, his bloodshot eyes staring at Alistair. "Tell me, Julian. What do you need now? You said the monster is hungry. What must we give it?"
Alistair stood up, gently releasing Elara's hand after ensuring her body temperature was stable. He looked toward Maester Valerius, who still stood frozen in the corner of the room.
"Forget all those mystical-scented herbal concoctions you've been making," Alistair stated loudly. "This parasite consumes its host's glucose and protein on a massive scale to build its crystal shell. The Princess needs an instant energy intake that won't burden her digestion. I need beef broth, filtered three times, pure honey from the western woods, and a pinch of mineral salt. No alcohol, no incense, and most importantly—no interference from Maester Valerius."
Valerius snorted in derision. "Beef broth? Honey? Do you think this is a roadside tavern, hah?! The Princess is dying from a curse, and you give her commoner's food? Where is the medical logic?!"
"The logic lies in science, Maester. Something you clearly lack," Alistair countered coldly. "Broth contains the electrolytes and amino acids the heart cells need to beat. Honey is 'fast-food' energy for the brain. If you give her your bitter potions again, her body will reject them because she is already too weak to process alchemical toxins."
"Enough!" King Theodoric cut through the debate. "Prepare what he asks for. Kaelen, oversee the palace kitchen. Ensure everything is clean."
An hour passed. The atmosphere in the room was slightly calmer, though tension still hung in the air. Alistair sat on a wooden chair beside the bed, while Elara leaned against a stack of silk pillows. The Princess appeared much more conscious, though her face remained deathly pale.
"You've... truly changed," Elara whispered when they were only inches apart. Her blue eyes searched Alistair's, looking for the Julian she once knew as the youth who always looked down in fear. "The Julian I knew would never have dared to snap at a Baron, let alone a Maester."
Alistair was checking the temperature of the water in a silver basin. "Pain has a unique way of changing a man, Princess. Sometimes, you have to die once to truly understand how to live."
Elara fell silent, absorbing those words. "Thank you... for giving me that breath. I felt as if I had truly departed earlier."
"It was a medical procedure," Alistair replied flatly, masking the brief awkwardness. "Do not misinterpret it."
Suddenly, the door opened. A young servant entered carrying a silver tray with a bowl of steaming broth. Behind him, Maester Valerius walked with his hands folded behind his robes, his eyes glittering with a hidden sense of triumph.
"Here is the food you requested, 'Devil Doctor'," Valerius said mockingly. "I personally ensured the royal chef prepared it according to your instructions. Pure beef broth, with no added seasoning."
Alistair stood up and accepted the tray. He smelled the savory aroma of the broth. However, his instincts as a trauma surgeon—accustomed to working with dangerous chemicals—sensed something amiss.
"Why are you so kind as to deliver this yourself, Maester?" Alistair asked while picking up a silver spoon.
"I simply wish to see how your 'miracle' food works," Valerius replied calmly, though the corner of his lip twitched slightly. "Or perhaps, to see you fail and admit that you are nothing but a fraud."
Alistair stirred the broth slowly. He saw his reflection on the surface of the golden-brown liquid. He scooped up a bit of broth, preparing to feed it into Elara's slightly parted mouth.
King Theodoric and Sir Kaelen drew closer, watching intently.
However, just as the spoon was right beneath Elara's nose, Alistair suddenly stopped. His movements froze.
"Julian? Why stop?" the King asked, confused.
Alistair did not answer. He brought the spoon close to his own nose, inhaling the aroma deeply. The smell of the broth was strong, but behind the dominant meat aroma, there was a very faint scent, almost undetectable to an ordinary human nose—a smell like bitter almonds or burning metal.
Arsenic.
Or in this world, perhaps called purified Nightshade poison. Highly lethal, colorless, and difficult to detect when mixed with hot broth.
Alistair glanced at Valerius. The old Maester seemed to hold his breath slightly, his eyes locked onto the silver spoon in Alistair's hand.
"What is it?" Elara asked weakly, her voice trembling. "Why is your face so..."
Alistair lowered the spoon. He stared at the bowl of broth, then turned to look at Valerius with an incredibly thin, cold smile. A smile that made Valerius unconsciously take a step back.
"Maester Valerius," Alistair said, his voice very low yet echoing throughout the room. "I just found out that your royal chef has a habit of adding a 'secret spice' to the Princess's broth."
"What do you mean?" King Theodoric asked, his voice rising with suspicion.
Alistair held the bowl high. "The smell of this beef is delicious, Your Majesty. But the smell of death within it is far more pungent."
"You slander our chef?!" Valerius shouted, his voice shrill with panic masked by anger. "You are just looking for excuses because you know this food won't cure her!"
"Looking for excuses?" Alistair laughed shortly. He approached Valerius, forcing the old man back until he hit the wall. "If this is just ordinary broth, Maester... why don't you taste a bit of it to prove me wrong?"
"I... I am not hungry!" Valerius replied quickly.
Alistair thrust the bowl right under Valerius's nose. "Inhale this, Maester. Tell me, since when does beef broth have such a pure aroma of Arsenic Trioxide? Ah, perhaps in this world, you call it 'Dust of Eternal Sleep', don't you?"
Valerius's face turned from pale to grey. Cold sweat began to pour from his temples.
Alistair gripped Valerius's jaw with his strong left hand, while his right hand brought the bowl of poisoned broth close to the Maester's lips. "Come, drink up. If this is pure broth as you say, then it will give you energy. But if I am right..."
Alistair glanced at the King, who had now unsheathed his own short sword. "Then tonight, it won't just be the Obsidian parasite leaving this palace as a corpse."
Just then, the bowl in Alistair's hand shook—not because of his hand, but because a prison rat suddenly emerged from behind a cabinet, attracted by the smell of meat. Alistair purposely dropped a single droplet of the broth onto the floor right in front of the rat.