The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 106: “My apologies, sir… but…”

Unsettled, Alaric stepped out of his tent long after the encampment had grown quiet.

The air felt heavier than usual. Still and almost watchful as the faint sounds of distant movement, guards shifting their stance and embers cracking softly in dying campfires only made the silence between them feel deeper.

He stood there for a moment while letting the breezy air touch his face, hoping it might steady the restless unease sitting in his chest.

But, it didn’t.

The High Priest’s expression from earlier would not leave his mind.

That look of pure disbelief... not admiration, not simple surprise but something closer to reverence and Alaric had never seen that man react that way before. Not during sacred rituals, divine manifestations, and not even in the presence of relics blessed by the Temple itself.

But when he looked at the land surrounding their encampment... he had looked shaken.

And all of it had been Soren.

Afterwards, Alaric exhaled slowly while dragging a hand down his face. The more he tried to piece things together, the more something inside him resisted settling.

It wasn’t guilt, not exactly.

He still held firmly to the belief that he had never directly wronged Soren. He had not mocked him, had not mistreated him openly, had not gone out of his way to cause harm.

But...

He had never truly seen him either.

That thought lingered longer than he wanted it to.

With quiet steps, Alaric moved away from his tent with his boots pressing softly against the packed earth. He didn’t have a clear destination in mind, only a vague pull toward someone who might know more...

About Soren.

Or perhaps... he simply needed to confirm that this was all real.

As he walked, he found himself replaying memories he had never given importance before where Soren moving silently through the camp, always present yet never imposing... Soren standing just slightly apart from everyone else... Soren never speaking unless spoken to... never asking for anything... and tried to never draw attention.

At the time, it had seemed natural.

Like someone was quietly holding something together while making sure no one noticed the effort.

Then, Alaric slowed his steps when a strange thought surfaced again, one that made something tighten faintly in his chest.

How long had Soren been exhausted... while none of them thought to ask?

The question lingered in his mind, unanswered, as he continued walking through the paths between tents. Then, a few guards greeted and bowed respectfully as he passed, but he barely acknowledged them with his mind remained elsewhere... circling the same realization again and again.

If the High Priest had not seen the magic...

If divine sight had not revealed it...

Would they have ever known?

Or would Soren have continued protecting them quietly... until he simply collapsed one day and they would have called it weakness... or insignificance... or fate?

Again, Alaric stopped walking. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

For the first time since leaving his tent, something close to discomfort pressed firmly against his ribs, something that’s too heavy to ignore.

He resumed moving, this time more slowly, while scanning the outlines of the camp as if expecting answers to appear in the shadows. He needed to speak to someone.

Anyone who might have seen and noticed more... understood more than he did.

Because the truth was beginning to settle in a way he could no longer dismiss.

Soren had been there the entire time...

Holding something vast... sacred and something impossible...

And Alaric, who believed he oversaw everything had never once realized what stood right beside him.

Just as Alaric was about to move again, the tent beside him rustled softly when the entrance flap shifted and Caelius stepped out.

For a brief moment, neither of them had realized how close they were standing. The silence between them felt abrupt and almost intrusive, as if they had accidentally walked into something private neither of them wished to share.

Caelius was the first to react.

"Your Grace..." That was all he said.

The words were polite and proper, exactly what was expected of him but they came out quieter than usual like they had been forced past something tight in his throat. Also, he didn’t say anything more after that. Didn’t ask why Alaric was there, didn’t even offer conversation.

He simply stood still with his rigid shoulders and gaze lowered just enough to remain respectful... but not enough to invite interaction.

Because the truth was, Caelius did not want to speak to him.

He did not want to speak to any of them.

Not now.

Not after everything.

The weight in his chest had not left him since the truth about Soren was revealed, and seeing Alaric standing there who looks calm and composed only made that weight settle deeper.

Because Caelius knew.

He knew more clearly than most just how Soren had been treated... how easily they had all allowed it to continue... how not a single one of them had truly stopped to question it.

And when Soren left...

No one even stopped him.

No one followed, apologized and even realized what they were letting walk away.

They just had let him go carrying everything alone.

While looking at Alaric, a bitter thought rose in Caelius’s mind.

The Davenmores are shameless to the very end and may the Empire forgive him because Cael, who was a prince was no better.

Raised with honor, dignity and responsibility... yet he had stood among them and allowed the same cruelty to exist unchecked. Whether through indifference, distance, or quiet tolerance, it did not matter. He had still treated Soren poorly.

He had still been part of the weight that pressed Soren down.

And that made him just as shameless.

’What is he doing here...?’ Caelius wondered silently.

He did not look directly at the Duke but he was acutely aware of his presence as though nothing had changed. And that alone stirred something sharp and restless beneath Caelius’s calm exterior.

Even so, he did not allow any of it to show.

No matter how much he disliked standing here... no matter how much resentment quietly stirred within him... he still inclined his head properly. His tone remained respectful and his posture remained formal.

Because whatever turmoil lay beneath, Caelius had been raised to never forget his place.

And so he stood there... composed on the outside while the silence between them carried everything neither of them was ready to say.

"Lord Rennovar, can I have a moment of your time?" Alaric asked nonchalantly making Caelius face’ twitch a little.

Meanwhile, Soren remained unconscious with his body unmoving as the carriage continued its journey. They had been traveling for nearly a full day now, yet there was still no sign of him waking.

The steady rhythm of the wheels against the road only made the silence inside feel heavier.

"Why isn’t he waking up? Is something wrong?" the captain asked as his right-hand man seated beside him who’s equally troubled, both of them watching the pale figure lying inside the carriage.

The healer, who had been tending to Soren under their client’s orders, hesitated.

"My apologies, sir... but..."

The captain frowned. "But what? Speak clearly."

The healer swallowed, visibly uncertain. "It seems like... he’s refusing my healing, sir. W-well I cannot be completely certain... but whenever I try to channel my healing magic into him... it doesn’t settle. It’s as if his body is rejecting it... or perhaps..." He trailed off, uneasy. "...as if he simply doesn’t want to be healed."