Chapter 6 - Rumors in the Wind
The next morning, the villa was quieter than usual. The noblewoman had left with her son just before dawn, whispering tearful thanks as they rode away in a small, creaky carriage.
Elric watched them disappear down the dirt path.
"They'll talk," he said simply.
Lira glanced up from the floor where she was scrubbing herbs. "About what?"
"That the 'mad prince' healed a dying child without a single spell."
She paused, hand tightening on the brush. "You don't want them to talk?"
"I didn't say that."
Elric turned toward the rising sun, golden light painting the tips of the trees.
"I just want to control what they say."
---
By midday, a new face arrived at the gates—a young peasant woman clutching her arm, bandaged poorly with torn cloth and dried leaves. Lira opened the door, startled.
"Is... is the prince taking patients?" the girl asked timidly.
Elric overheard from his workspace. He stepped into view. "Let her in."
---
Over the next week, three more villagers came.
A man with a swollen leg from an untreated break.
A mother with a sick infant whose skin had turned yellow.
A young hunter with an infected arrow wound.
Elric treated them all with calm precision—sterilizing wounds, stitching carefully, teaching Lira how to boil water before cleaning, not after.
To them, he was a quiet miracle. They didn't question why a royal knew these things. Most were too poor, too desperate to care.
But rumors don't ask for permission.
And soon, the countryside buzzed with whispers.
The prince who can cure without magic.
The mad one, touched by gods or ghosts.
The fallen royal who sees death... and wins.
---
One evening, as Elric was cleaning his makeshift scalpel, Lira sat on the windowsill watching the lanterns flicker outside.
"Doesn't it bother you?" she asked. "That they're starting to talk about you like... like you're some kind of chosen one?"
He didn't look up. "They'll believe what helps them sleep at night."
"And what do you believe?"
He paused, then said softly, "That knowledge can be louder than power—if you let it grow."
She looked at him for a long time.
"You're not the same prince I met a week ago."
He finally looked up. "Good."
---
Far away, inside the marble halls of the palace, the head royal physician stood before King Taran.
"There's a problem," he said coldly.
The king didn't look up from his scroll. "Speak."
"The prince. He's healing peasants. Without our oversight. Using... unlicensed methods."
The king raised an eyebrow. "He's doing what court physicians fail to?"
The man hesitated. "It undermines protocol. He's attracting attention."
King Taran finally looked up, voice sharp.
"Send someone. A scholar. Tell them to observe the boy quietly."
The physician bowed, his face was pale.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
---
Back at the villa, Elric sat at his desk by candlelight, scribbling new notes:
Observation #31: Infection prevention is possible through boiling and wrapping wounds in clean linen soaked with vinegar. Needs trial.
Outside, the wind rustled leaves like whispers of things to come.
And in the shadows beyond the hills... someone was already watching.
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