Her Graceful War Song

Inside Salvador's residence, Dawnspire Palace, Desmond and Robert stood silently to the side. Meanwhile, Rafael and Derek remained at the king's bedside, waiting as Sebastian examined him. After a long moment, Sebastian withdrew his hand and asked for the previous examination records and prescriptions.

Robert immediately retrieved them and handed them over with great respect. "Here, Mr. Dalton, please have a look."

Though Sebastian held the title of Miracle Healer and should have been called Healer Dalton, barely anyone dared to use that term of address after the Royal Medical Department had previously been purged of all Miracle Healers.

Sebastian accepted the records, flipping through them page by page. The room was so silent that even the faintest sound of turning parchment seemed deafening.noveldrama

Everyone held their breath. This was their last hope. If even Sebastian said Salvador only had three months left, then that would be the final word.

Salvador appeared calm, but his eyes were slightly narrowed and his palms were damp with sweat. He was waiting for his sentence.

After carefully examining every detail, Sebastian looked up and stated, "The records indicate that His Majesty has suffered pain for over a month, is unable to sleep at night, and has lost his appetite."

It was a simple observation-nothing more than what was already written in the records. The others nodded in confirmation, but what they truly wanted to hear was whether he had a solution.

However, Sebastian offered nothing further. Instead, he turned back to the beginning and read through the treatment records again.

Desmond and Robert tensed, worried that he would disapprove of the medication that had been administered. Several of the treatments had been experimental, not the conventional prescriptions. They had been desperate to find something, anything, that might work. But the results had been discouraging. Finally, it was Rafael who broke the silence.

"Sebastian, what do you think?" he asked, his voice tight with tension.

Without realizing it, he had seated himself at the edge of the bed, his broad frame instinctively positioned as if to shield the king. It was an unconscious gesture, one he hadn't considered whether or not was appropriate.

Salvador did not rebuke him. On the contrary, he felt a rare warmth settle in his chest.

Sebastian closed the records and set them aside. "The previous treatments have helped slow the disease's progression. But with this illness, deterioration is inevitable. When I say it's worsening, I mean the lung condition is starting to spread to other areas. It's already showing signs of spreading, and it's happening very quickly. If I had been called earlier, there might have been more hope."

His final words struck everyone like ice water poured over their heads, leaving them chilled to the bone. Salvador's eyes darkened briefly with disappointment, but he quickly composed himself.

"Mr. Dalton, just speak plainly. How much time do I have?" he asked, his expression as warm and serene as ever.

Sebastian didn't answer right away. His mind was already calculating which combination of medicines could be used to treat the condition.

However, Salvador mistook his hesitation for reluctance and forced a weak smile. "Speak freely. Three months? Five months? I can bear it."

Sebastian deliberated for a moment before raising his gaze to meet the king's directly. "If I use my own methods you may have a year. But if I apply Jonah's formula-along with the cases he documented and the treatment methods he devised-then, conservatively, you could have three."

A flicker of light sparked in Salvador's eyes, but it quickly dimmed. He knew exactly who Jonah was.

When Sigmund had fallen gravely ill,

Salvador, as the crown prince, had

remained by his bedside day and night. He had witnessed firsthand how Jonah, a famed physician from outside the palace, had been summoned in a desperate attempt to save the ailing king.

But Sigmund had condemned him as a fraud.

The mention of Jonah's name made Desmond falter as well. He remembered it clearly. Back then, he was not head physician yet and hadn't overseen Sigmund's treatment directly. However, he had been present during the medical discussions.

Jonah had consulted with them, and

it had been evident that he was extraordinarily knowledgeable, well-versed in medicinal theory, and

experienced in treating co

illnesses. His prescriptions had even shown signs of stabilizing

no

Sigmund's condition. But the

disease was a beast, relentless and merciless.

A physician was not a god. He could not perform true miracles.

Jonah had died unjustly. His reputation had been too great, his name too revered. Sigmund had pinned all

his hopes on him, and when he had ultimately failed to save the king, Sigmund's rage had sealed his fate of death by execution.

Now, Salvador faced an impossible choice.

If he accepted Jonah's treatment method, he would be acknowledging that his father had wrongfully condemned the man. If he refused, then the three months left to him-perhaps even less-would be his final days.

But in truth, it was no choice at all.

Salvador gave his answer without hesitation: "I trust you and Healer Claude, Healer Dalton."

The words nearly brought tears to Sebastian's eyes.

Jonah should never have been burdened with the label of a quack.

Regaining his composure, Sebastian said, "I must reside in the palace. It would be best if I stayed within Dawnspire Palace. If you have concerns, you may assign men to watch over me, Your Majesty." The room went utterly still.

Sebastian's request was nothing short of outrageous.

Dawnspire Palace was the king's own residence. Though its outer halls could accommodate guests, no

one would dare make such a request. Who would even dream of having such an honor?

Yet before anyone could react, Sebastian went further, adding, "If you cannot allow it, then I ask that you move to Arcane Sanctum, Your Majesty. You will need me close at all times."