The discussion veered toward talks of marriage, Niala's despair growing with each of Agatha's requirements for it.

  David listened with half an ear, his mind going back over the discussions they'd had up to now.

  He still had many questions, but one remained at the forefront of his mind.

  His mother addressed him. “David, you look concerned. Is it about the wedding or the reception?”

  “Hmm? No, it's something else.”

  Agatha glanced at Niala, who was halfway to crying over the corpse of her plans, before returning her attention to her son. “We can return to this topic at a later date. What has you disturbed so?”

  David scratched the back of his neck. “It's about father. I sort of understand what you told me, how I was a reminder of his failure or something like that. I don't understand why he still had me thrown out, especially since you said he'd been afraid to have the family's enemies grab me for their own use.”

  His mother's mood sobered. “It's true, he banished you because he couldn't bear the thought of having to look you in the eye. Before you speak, I know, he was being a hypocrite. Touting strength when he was fleeing his own weakness.”

  She shook her head. “But that was his justification, the lie he hid behind; you had proven a failure, unfit for rule, and the Wardenfels had no use for one such as you. It is the lie he offered as the truth to everyone, even to Isaac.” She said, glancing at her younger son, who was looking back with a hard stare.

  Agatha continued. “As for our enemies, Jacob made certain that the tale of your failure was known far and wide. He had false reports drafted, ones that spoke of your inability to properly control your mana. We “leaked” information about the failures of our experiments, leading to destroyed facilities and dead bodies. We did everything we could to ensure everyone believed you were a complete and utter failure. As his last act of subterfuge, he reminded everyone that, failure you might be, you still had the blood of a Wardenfel patriarch. Any attempts on your life would be met with the full force such a thing deserved. The wardens were then ordered to observe you from afar and foil any plot aimed at your person. And then, Jacob forced himself to forget you, and told me to do the same, cruel as it was...”

  She took in a deep breath, meeting David's stare. “The misdirection worked. Only one group ever dared to try to lay a hand on you, and Jacob used this as a demonstration. The line was purged. Nobody tried after that. Even if they doubted that the story might have been false, the gains weren't worth the risk anymore.”

  David slumped back into the couch, his mind racing after itself. He brought his eyes back up to his mother. “You're saying that my banishment was...”

  He couldn't bring himself to say the words that followed.

  His mother nodded. “In a cruel, roundabout way, it was for your benefit, yes. Jacob never outright said as such, not even to me, but I know this was his way of freeing you from the burden this family carries.”

  She looked to her younger son. “And, Isaac, I understand this might sound callous to you. We offered your brother his freedom, and yet we kept you chained to the name.”

  Isaac scrunched his face. “Mother... to be the heir is a great honour. I do not regret anything. I simply wish my brother had been there to help, as I would have done if the roles were reversed.” He said, throwing a hard glance at David.

  Agatha's brows curved downward. “Isaac, my son, if you must blame someone, blame us. We're the ones who sent David away. Your father was aware of how unjust this was. That's why, unlike with David, he was easier with you. Brought in more tutors, allowed you days of rest, even granted you whatever manner of freedom he could. Your brother never got to go visit places that interested him. He always went where his father wanted him to go.”

  Isaac stared into the distance. Eight years of certainty on who was to blame were not unmade in one afternoon...

  He sighed, turning his gaze to his mother. “It doesn't matter now. David will come back to my side, and things will be as they should.”

  “I will what, now?” David asked.

  “Come back to my side. You swore you would if your... if Niala couldn't cure our father.”

  “Isaac, I'm not coming back to the family,” David said.

  His brother's eyes flared up. “What? But you swore! Are you going back on your words as a Wardenfel?!”

  The older brother held up a hand. “No such thing. Niala is going to cure our father, that's all.”

  “From a poison even the best healers couldn't identify, let alone counteract!?”

  David nodded. “Yes. No matter what, Niala will cure him. She is the best.”

  The Wardenfels' eyes turned to the small catkin, whose ears snapped upward as she shrivelled under their gaze.

  David squeezed one of her hands, his face smiling, looking at her with faith and confidence.

  She stared back at him, her form puffing out from his silent encouragement.

  Niala took a deep breath and braved the Wardenfel's stare. “I will. Your father will live. Just make sure you respect your part of the deal, Isaac.”

  The young noble quirked an eyebrow.

  She looked back at him innocently.

  They both stared each other down.

  Isaac groaned, slumping back into the couch. “I give up. It's a lost cause. This woman is entirely oblivious.”

  “Hmm?” Niala hummed happily, her ears wiggling, the tip of her tail swishing.

  Completely oblivious, as Isaac had said.

  His mother and brother left soon after, heading back to the mansion to attend to their duties, and making sure Jacob would be ready to see Niala on the morrow.

  Waving them goodbye and closing the door, Niala turned her head to David, peering at his visage, ears raised.

  He looked back, squinting. “Do I have something on my face?”

  She shook her head, but kept staring at him.

  “What's wrong, then?”

  It took her a few seconds to reply. “Are you feeling ok?” The concern in her voice palpable.

  It was his turn to stare back silently. He sighed. “I guess I will be, once I digest everything. Right now, I still kind of want to scream at my mother for abandoning me.” He said with a hint of anger.

  She kept her eyes on him.

  David tilted his head. “What?”

  “You... keep talking about how your parents kicked you out.”

  “I do, because it's what they did. What about it?”

  “It's not the only thing they did to you.” She said softly.

  After a few moments, he exhaled through his nose, then turned and went to slump on the couch, putting an arm over his face.

  She followed after him and nudged herself against him, remaining silent, not pushing any further.

  He eventually spoke once more. “That... other thing. The imbuements. It still feels like something I watched, not something I lived.”

  She shifted, roping an arm over him, giving him a few rubs with her face, and waited.

  His voice was lower. “I have to force myself to think about it, and, even then, the memory is like a soap bubble; it pops once I stop looking at it. It's like I don't even want to remember it.”

  “But, don't you blame your parents for it?” She asked softly.

  “Not... really. I kind of agreed to it, in a way. I know I should be angry about the event, but it's all so... fuzzy, and maybe a bit scary and painful, when I try to understand how I feel about the whole thing.”

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  They remained on the couch, Niala lying on top of David, for a while.

  She listened to his heart slowly beating, the sound of his breathing, rode the wave of his chest as he did, felt his warmth against her body.

  “If you don't want to talk about it, it's ok. But if you do, please tell me, I'll listen to everything you want to say.”

  He peeked from under his arm, right into her big, bright and loving eyes, and couldn't help but smile through his burdens.

  She smiled back, and he thought, yeah, she's the one.

  The next day, Isaac and Agatha brought Niala to Jacob's bedroom, with David staying in the hallway. He wasn't ready to face his father, and Agatha feared the reverse was also true. Her husband needed to remain as calm and composed as possible.

  The noblewoman rapped at the door, and after a few moments, the chambermaid who had been looking over her lord came to answer, bowing her head at the matriarch.

  “How is he?” Agatha asked.

  The maid murmured back. “Resting, my Lady. The Lord has been drifting in and out of an uneasy sleep since you both left this morning.”

  Agatha bowed her head. “Thank you, Mireille. Please step out and wait nearby. We must speak with my husband.”

  The maid bowed and stepped out, standing by the door.

  Niala followed the Wardenfels into the gloomy room. A musky, distracting odour reached her nose. Not overpowering, but strong enough to be noticeable. The nobles didn't seem to notice, or maybe they were used to it.

  An older man, mid-forties, lay on the large bed abutted to the wall. His eyes were sunken, his greying black hair was matted and stuck to his scalp. A faint sheen of sweat made his pale skin glisten in the dim light.

  As they approached, steps muted by the heavy carpet, he cracked open one eye, taking in his visitors and landing his sight on Niala. The gaze of a dying predator, its body failing, but its will unbowed. She swallowed and kept walking until they reached the man's bedside.

  Agatha took one more step, leaning down over her husband and planting a loving kiss on his forehead. “Dear, we have brought the girl, Niala. She wanted to question and examine you. Do you feel strong enough for it?”

  Jacob glanced up at his wife and then back to Niala. He grunted in affirmation after a few seconds.

  His wife smiled and rose, stepping aside and motioning for Niala to approach.

  Before she could take her first step, Isaac cleared his throat and leaned toward her, whispering. “Remember the honorifics. I might overlook them because of my mother and brother, but my father will not. Do you understand?”

  She glanced at him and nodded, turning back toward Jacob and making her way closer. As she approached, she noted that the peculiar smell gained in strength.

  Niala recalled her etiquette lessons from so many years ago, the ones that her Father had foisted upon her so she wouldn't embarrass him at the balls. She clasped her hands over her stomach and performed a rather fetching curtsy.

  She heard Isaac scoff behind her and allowed herself the tinniest of smirks before stiffening her features. “Lord Jacob, my name is Niala All Brew. If you'll allow me, I would ask you questions about your condition, and note down your answers.”

  Jacob observed her silently. She clamped down on her rising unease, projecting a calm and collected facade. He eventually nodded, his gaze mellowing somewhat.

  She bowed her head and retrieved one of her notebooks and a pencil.

  “First, my Lord, I will go down a list of the symptoms your lady wife and son told me about. Correct me where necessary.”

  Niala opened to the page where she had collected the information, and listed them aloud.

  “Muscle fatigue, shortness of breath, generalized weakness and a feeling of tiredness, cold yet sweaty skin, lightheadedness.”

  She looked up from her book and at Jacob, who dipped his head. All true so far.

  “Loss of appetite, coughing, especially when speaking, numbness in the extremities. The symptoms began roughly three seasons ago, and have progressively gotten worse. A season ago, you became bedridden, too weak to stand unaided, going so far as passing out. You eat little, beyond light, easy food such as clear soups and vegetable puree.”

  Jacob dipped his head once more.

  Niala tapped at her mouth with the pencil, then turned her head and looked at the room. She resettled her sight on Jacob.

  “My Lord, my utmost apologies if this sounds disrespectful, but are you being washed and cleaned regularly?”

  Jacob's eyes narrowed, but he threw a look at his wife.

  She dipped her head. “My husband is being attended to every day by the servants, who give him a sponge bath, and his clothes and bed sheets are changed at the same time. Why?”

  Niala's ears wiggled. “My Lady, did nobody remark on the smell?”

  Agatha tilted her head. “The... smell?”

  “Yes. It might be too subtle for non-kins, but I have seen kins among your staff, and some of the healers must have been kins as well. I'm certain someone would have noticed it.”

  Agatha looked to her son, who shook his head. “I'm afraid nobody has... are you certain?”

  Niala nodded. “Entirely.” She looked around, spotting a table by the balcony windows. She turned back to Jacob. “My Lord, could I set up a small set of tools on that table? And to pull back the curtains to have more light.”

  Lord Wardenfel cleared his throat. “The table is fine. Keep the curtains pulled.” His voice was cracked and strained.

  Niala's ears lop-sided. She gave a tilted look at the man. “My Lord, is the light... uncomfortable?”

  He closed his eyes in acknowledgement.

  Niala hummed. “Discernible odour and light sensitivity...” She mumbled as she wrote in her notebook. She turned and approached the table, unrolling her cargo cloth upon it. She extracted its content and retrieved a basic set of alchemical tools, water, and some medical apparel. She set a mana burner under a beaker filled with water and left it to boil, returning to the lord in the meantime.

  “My Lord, with your permission, may I retrieve some samples from your person? Blood, saliva, a few hairs, a scraping of skin, and a shaving of nails?”

  Jacob looked up to his wife, who dipped her head. He turned to look at Niala and nodded.

  “Thank you, my Lord.” She said with a small bow. She then proceeded to boil her instruments and let them cool, writing a few notes and hypotheses during that time.

  She collected her samples from Jacob, put her ear to his chest and listened to his breathing, held her fingers against his wrist, and performed many other examinations. She returned to her improvised work station, Isaac approaching and observing her manipulations.

  Her eyes were wide, focused on her hands. Ears fully erect and pointed forward, her movements were paced and deliberate. She aligned her tools in front of her and listed her steps before beginning anything.

  She then began, testing Jacob's fluids against a battery of ingredients and potions, dropping a bead of blood into a clear liquid, swirling it around and noting the resulting bronze colour, checking it against a chart, noting, testing, referencing, and so on.

  The whole process should have been boring to watch, but in the silence of the room, the soft clinks and measured pace of Niala's manipulation transfixed him.

  Before he realized he was staring, half a bell had passed, and Niala wrote a few lines, underlining some things with zeal, and deposited her pencil in the centre fold of her notebook.

  She looked up at Isaac, meeting his gaze, and jolting him out of his trance. He stammered. “D-did you figure out something?”

  Niala, her eyes severe, nodded and used the pencil as a guide to neatly rip out one of the pages from her notebook. She got up and returned to Jacob's bedside.

  Agatha watched her approach, narrowing her gaze as she noticed the catkin's assured steps. Niala handed her the piece of paper. On it were several squares, within each were the names of several ingredients, some unique, some repeating between the squares.

  “My Lady, in order to prepare the antidote and cure, I will need five out of the eight sets of ingredients you see on that page. The better the quality, the more potent the resulting potions.”

  Agatha looked up at Niala, then back down at the “list” of ingredients. This wasn't a formula, what was...

  Her eyes widened. “Dear, is this compound alchemy?!”

  Niala nodded, Isaac stepping up beside her as she did. He looked to his mother.

  “Compound alchemy, mother? Isn't that... dangerous?”

  Agatha looked to her son. “It... can be, if attempted by someone without the proper skills and knowledge, of which only a few individuals in the kingdom possess.”

  Isaac furrowed his brows and glanced at Niala. Before he could say anything, Jacob coughed.

  The lord put a fist over his mouth, his fit dying down. He looked up at the catkin. “Girl, you said antidote and cure. Why?”

  Niala dipped her head. “My Lord, because you are both poisoned and diseased.”

  He stared at the catkin, trying to find duplicity, only finding confidence. “You... identified my ailments? With certainty?”

  She nodded. “As certain as I can be, my Lord. Most of your symptoms stem from the Sunshell spider, found in Sonnel, across the inner sea. Its venom induces lethargy and sensitivity to light, making its prey seek secluded, dark areas, where they end up paralyzed, with their body emitting a noticeable smell. The spider then tracks the smell back to its meal, hidden in a safe, dark spot, where it can feast. One peculiarity of this venom is that it is extremely stable, even outside of the spider's glands. If properly stored, it can last for up to a year. When bound within a potion or stabilizing agents, it can last for decades. It's not very well known in Amberfall, so it is often mistaken for other kinds of venom.”

  Jacob's face betrayed no surprise, though his eyes were like slits, focused on the alchemist. “And what of the disease?”

  Niala dipped her head vigorously, her ears wiggling. “Now, this is where it gets interesting, or maybe devious. The Sunshell spider venom is a fast-acting one. A few hours at most. But! You have the Quickmarch disease. This is a disease that speeds up your system. Makes your heart beat faster, your muscles consume more energy, your brain goes hyperactive, and so forth. In ages past, this was something given to soldiers when they had to travel long distances quickly, given the cure when they arrived. They, huh, don't use it anymore, because repeated use led to depleted bone marrow and lack of nutrients, which had a bunch of knock-on effects... Nowadays, it's used to speed up someone's system to quickly get rid of toxins or intoxicants when other means aren't available, or to speed up the absorption of potions when time is critical.” Niala blabbered out, all decorum forgotten as she slid into her Professor mode.

  “Now, when taken together, the effect is very interesting. The quickmarch disease is why you are so sweaty and short of breath all the time, even while the venom is making you lethargic. Your heart doesn't know to beat fast or slow, so you alternate between high and low blood pressure, which leads to dizziness. But! The devious part is that both afflictions ensure the other one endures.” She continued, half-panting, her eyes manic.

  Agatha blinked. “What... what do you mean, endure?”

  “Ah! Well, if you treat only one of them, the other gains strength and counteracts the treatment. If you are given the antidote, the quickmarch disease will speed up your system, flushing the antidote out of your system quickly. If you are given the cure, the venom will shut your system down, allowing the disease time to adapt and return. The same will happen if your body starts to fight the disease off by itself.”

  Isaac held a hand up. “Wait, if the disease speeds up my father's system and flushes out the antidote, wouldn't it flush out the venom as well? For that matter, how can a venom remain in someone's system for entire seasons?!”

  Niala's ears wiggled, her tail swishing. “Oh, that's the other genius part! The venom, remember I said it was very stable? Whoever did this found a way to bind it to slow-release compounds, which are things widely used in long-term healing potions. Usually, fatty compounds that get stored in the body's fat reserves, and then slowly release the healing agents over time as the fat gets processed. I found the compounds in Jacob's blood just now! If I had to take a guess, I'd say whoever came up with this mix has had extensive experience or training as an alchemical healer!”

  Jacob's eyes locked onto the catkin. “You...”

  “Are amazing, right?!” Niala cut him off, a large grin on her face.

  Jacob's eyes widened in shock.

  Isaac choked.

  Agatha sigh-chuckled.

  Niala smiled happily, the tip of her tail swishing.

  Completely oblivious once more.