Chapter 135: The Physician’s Verdict

Chapter 135: Chapter 135: The Physician’s Verdict

"Doctor Grey, you can’t leave!"

Bran hurried after Wulfric, panic evident in his voice.

"His Grace’s legs haven’t healed yet. He still needs the wheelchair every day and can barely even stand. You’re the only one who can help him!"

Wulfric glanced over his shoulder and gave a cold little laugh.

"The patient himself doesn’t seem particularly concerned. Why are you the one panicking?"

He continued towards the door without the slightest intention of stopping.

Bran was at a loss.

He could hardly drag the renowned Doctor Grey back by force.

Desperate, he turned towards Cassiel.

"Your Grace, please say something!"

Cassiel remained seated on the chaise, looking entirely unhurried.

"My legs aren’t my immediate concern."

He paused.

"My concern is my wife’s old injury."

Wulfric’s expression went blank.

Wife.

Again with his wife.

My wife this.

My wife that.

"His Grace is certainly very proud of being married." Wulfric rolled his eyes and strode out.

Cassiel’s voice followed him from behind, still calm and measured.

"My wife’s maternal grandfather has the family name Nyxe."

Bran stared at the doorway.

What did that have to do with anything?

The urgent matter was clearly persuading Doctor Grey to stay, not discussing Her Grace’s family history!

Yet before Bran could voice his confusion, footsteps sounded from the corridor.

Wulfric had returned.

He walked straight back into the room and stopped before the chaise.

The careless expression had disappeared from his face.

"Nyxe?"

Cassiel nodded.

"Yes."

For a moment, several emotions crossed Wulfric’s features. Surprise came first, followed by hesitation.

Then Cassiel added calmly,

"Her family doted on her. After the accident, the Hartwells consulted physician after physician in the hope that someone might restore her legs and relieve her pain."

Wulfric’s expression changed slightly.

"Even the imperial physician was consulted."

Wulfric’s eyes sharpened.

"And?"

"They all gave the same answer."

Cassiel paused.

"There was nothing more they could do."

For a few moments, Wulfric said nothing.

His earlier reluctance had vanished.

An injury that had defeated physicians from the Hartwell family, and even the imperial physicians, was no longer something he could simply dismiss.

His professional curiosity had been thoroughly piqued.

Finally, he asked,

"What is the nature of your wife’s leg injuries?"

Cassiel gave a small gesture towards the stool.

Wulfric understood the invitation.

With a heavy sigh, he returned to his seat.

Cassiel explained, "She was involved in an accident a few years ago. Both her legs were injured. Her knees took most of the impact, and she also suffered some fractures."

His voice remained even.

"Since then, she hasn’t been able to ride."

Wulfric’s expression became thoughtful.

"That sounds like improper initial treatment left lasting damage."

Cassiel looked at him.

"You can cure it?"

Wulfric shrugged.

"No physician in the world could promise that. Not even if the legendary Imhotep himself were somehow reborn."

He leaned back slightly.

"I can only promise that I’ll try my best."

Cassiel’s brow furrowed.

"To the best of my ability," Wulfric amended.

Cassiel nodded.

After a brief silence, Wulfric looked towards him.

"And you?"

His gaze travelled down to Cassiel’s legs.

"You aren’t planning to treat that?"

Cassiel answered calmly, "It isn’t a serious problem. They will recover on their own with time."

Wulfric stared at him.

"One might mistake you for the physician."

He gestured towards Cassiel.

"Give me your hand."

Cassiel did not take offence. He simply extended his arm.

Wulfric pressed two fingers against his wrist and felt his pulse for a while. Then he examined Cassiel’s legs, tapping along them and carefully assessing the response.

Bran hovered nearby, unable to contain himself.

"Well?"

Wulfric snorted.

"Not a serious problem, is it?"

His eyes narrowed.

"You forced yourself to stand? Twice?"

Cassiel thought back.

The first time had been when he was still unconscious.

Xanther had barged into the room and tried to take advantage of Elysia. His body had reacted before his mind had fully awakened, forcing him to stand despite the state of his legs.

The second time had been today.

He nodded.

"Yes."

Wulfric’s expression darkened.

"Both times, your legs felt as though countless needles were being driven into them?"

Cassiel did not deny it.

"Yes."

Wulfric’s frown deepened.

"You’ve convinced yourself that it’s nothing serious because you can still force yourself upright."

His tone became stern.

"But if you continue doing that, you’ll cause permanent damage."

Cassiel’s gaze sharpened.

Wulfric continued, "A few more attempts, and you may ruin your legs completely."

Bran’s face drained of colour.

"How can that be?"

He turned anxiously towards Wulfric.

"Doctor Grey, His Grace’s legs cannot be ruined! There must be something you can do."

He clasped his hands together.

"Please, think of a way. Cure him. I beg you, Doctor Grey!"

Wulfric looked at him as though Bran had just announced something utterly obvious.

Then his eyes shifted towards Cassiel.

Cassiel considered the matter quietly.

If his legs were permanently ruined, what would happen the next time Elysia encountered danger?

If she were in trouble again, he might only be able to sit helplessly in his wheelchair and watch.

The thought alone was unacceptable.

So he decided to cooperate.

He adopted the same earnest expression Bran had worn moments earlier.

"I beg you, Doctor Grey."

Wulfric’s face twisted as though he had just swallowed something unpleasant.

"You."

He pointed at Cassiel.

"Shut up."

Bran lowered his head, desperately trying not to laugh.

After a moment, Wulfric sighed.

"Your legs aren’t beyond treatment."

Cassiel waited.

"But this won’t be fixed overnight. It will require time and meticulous care."

Cassiel readily agreed.

"Tell me what is required."

Wulfric shook his head.

"I’ll give those instructions to the person who will be looking after you day and night."

Bran immediately straightened.

His chest puffed out.

He was already preparing to volunteer.

"I—"

"Then you’ll need to speak to my wife."

Cassiel’s lips curved into a faint smile.

Bran froze.

Wulfric closed his eyes for a moment.

There it was again—My wife.

Every time he heard those words, goosebumps seemed to crawl across his skin.

He had finally lost patience.

Wulfric pushed himself to his feet.

"Fine. I’ll go and see her."

"Wait."

Wulfric stopped and turned around impatiently.

"What now?"

Cassiel looked at him with a smile.

"As a favour, for old times’ sake, help me with something."

Wulfric’s expression immediately became wary.

After Cassiel explained what he wanted, Wulfric stared at him for several moments.

Then his face twisted in disbelief.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Cassiel remained completely unperturbed.

Instead, he sighed. "You know I’ve had a beloved all these years..."

"For her sake, I never took a wife or concubine."

Wulfric’s eyes narrowed, looking distinctly unconvinced.

"Is this beloved of yours the current Duchess?"

Cassiel nodded.

Wulfric’s expression became complicated.

He mentally calculated the ages.

Then his eyes widened.

"How old was she when you first decided you loved her?"

His voice was filled with utter contempt.

Cassiel pursed his lips.

"You beast!" Wulfric exclaimed.

For once, Cassiel had no argument.

He gritted his teeth.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Wulfric folded his arms.

"I don’t lie."

Cassiel gave him a meaningful look.

Then he uttered a single word.

"Nyxe."

Wulfric’s jaw tightened.

He was beginning to regret ever coming back to Caelvyr.

---

Elsewhere, Elysia had washed her face and was sitting before the dressing table, carefully redoing her hair.

The quiet of the room should have been soothing.

Instead, her mind remained crowded with the events of the day.

As she adjusted the last strand, a deep ache suddenly flared through her legs.

She stiffened.

The pain was especially sharp around her knees.

Her fingers tightened around the comb.

For a moment, she simply sat there, silently enduring the familiar ache.