"Hello there! Yes, it's me."
"Oh! It's such a good thing to see you here!" A bulky man with grey hair and a thick beard spoke enthusiastically. His massive arms, shaped by years of blacksmithing, made it clear he was a craftsman.
"Indeed, I've been wanting to talk to you ever since you presented us with the blast furnace that day," he continued.
"You changed everything! Everything!" A small group of men gathered around Rafael, all eager to express their gratitude. They spoke in awe about how incredible the blast furnace was and how it had revolutionized their work. Their excitement was palpable, drawing the attention of passersby. Some people paused for a moment, curious but soon returning to their tasks, while others stopped entirely, drawn in by the crowd's enthusiasm.
"And you were right! We followed your instructions, drained the slag out, and forced cold air into the chamber. In the end, we had pure iron flowing out and into the molds!" one of the men exclaimed, a wide grin on his face.
"Well, I'm happy that you got to test it and see for yourselves that the process works," Rafael replied, his chest swelling with pride. The crowd continued to grow around him, their praises only intensifying. There was a growing rumor in the capital that the king had a new advisor, and with all these new innovations springing up, the workers had deduced that Rafael was the source. They couldn't help but admire the young man, flanked by soldiers, his work recognized by the very people he had helped.
As Rafael conversed with them, a man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, slipping through the gathered workers. His hasty movements drew little attention at first, with many assuming he was just another admirer. They paid him no mind, too caught up in their own excitement.
"How did you know that by mixing limestone with the ore, you could melt it more easily and separate the impurities?" one worker asked, nearly drooling as he looked at Rafael, awe shining in his eyes.
"Well... that I cannot—" Rafael's words were abruptly cut off as a sharp pain lanced through his stomach. He gasped, feeling an intense, searing agony. In a flash, the man who had got through the crowd pulled out a knife and plunged it deep into Rafael's gut.
"Oh my God!" someone screamed in horror.
"Nooo!" Others who were close by shrieked in panic, rushing forward to stop the attacker, but the man kept stabbing Rafael, his movements frantic and erratic. The soldiers, initially frozen in shock, finally sprang into action, rushing forward to restrain the assailant.
Rafael staggered, his legs giving way beneath him, and he collapsed onto his back on the ground.
The crazed man made a move to jump on top of him and continue the attack, but the crowd overwhelmed him, pulling him back, desperate to stop the violence. The man struggled against them, but it was a futile effort—one man against many was impossible to win.
Holy shit, that hurts! Rafael's mind screamed. The world felt like it was spinning. The chaotic sounds of shouting and struggling filled his ears, preventing him from focusing on anything else. He felt hands gripping his arms, lifting him, and the next thing he knew, two soldiers were pulling him into a carriage.
What the fuck just happened? Who is trying to kill me? Rafael's mind raced, his hand instinctively going to his abdomen and chest, where the knife had struck. But to his surprise, there was no blood, only the rough fabric of his protective coat, which had absorbed the force of the stab.
The sounds from the streets grew fainter as they moved farther away, the carriage rattling over cobblestones, speeding towards the castle.
"Sir, please don't move! We're almost at the castle where they'll treat you!" One soldier hovered over him, panic evident in his voice, his hands gripping Rafael's shoulders as if holding him still would prevent any further harm.
"Don't worry, I'm okay," Rafael said, his voice surprisingly calm despite the pain that still throbbed across his body.
"No, sir! Trying to move will only worsen your condition!" The soldier's panic was contagious, and Rafael couldn't help but wonder why the soldier was more worried about him than he himself felt.
He was stabbed multiple times, but he thinks he's fine? The soldier thought. Then, as he looked at Rafael's green tunic, he noticed there were no visible signs of blood staining it.
"Aah, shit!" Rafael winced as he shifted slightly, the pain in his stomach sharp with every movement, but otherwise, he felt fine. He needed to think fast. How the hell do I explain how I survived this?
"We're almost there, just a bit more, and you'll be saved," the soldier murmured, his voice shaky as he feared the consequences of failing to protect one of the king's most important advisors.
"Oh God! The almighty Lord saved me!" Rafael declared suddenly, raising his hands to the sky as if the answer had come to him in a divine revelation. "He doesn't want me to leave without completing his mission yet!"
"What? Sir, stop talking—"
"It's divine intervention!" Rafael interrupted, his voice gaining strength. "Look! I'm perfectly well!" He slapped his chest and patted his body, ensuring his movements were exaggerated enough to show he was unharmed.
The soldier froze, staring at him in disbelief. What is going on? He had just witnessed a man stab Rafael, yet now he was somehow fine, no blood in sight.
As the streets of the capital grew quieter, the carriage sped through the gates of the inner circle. The soldier announced the emergency to the guards, who quickly opened the gates, allowing them to pass without delay.
Outside, the commotion was already beginning to spread. Word of the assassination attempt on the king's advisor spread like wildfire, igniting whispers among the townsfolk. Who would dare try to kill someone so close to the royals? the city wondered. If the assassin was caught, their entire family would be held accountable for the crime.
At the castle, the news reached the royal court. Most were struck with shock and fear for Rafael's life, though a few others merely showed surprise—perhaps more intrigued than worried.
Pepin walked swiftly through the castle halls, a scowl on his face. He was certain he knew who had orchestrated the attempt on Rafael's life.
Such stupid acts! Why would anyone want to kill him? Pepin's thoughts churned. He knew that Rafael was an invaluable asset to the kingdom—his innovations had the potential to propel the nation forward. Even Pepin had come to respect Rafael.
The thought of Icarus crossed Pepin's mind. He couldn't imagine anyone else being foolish enough to send an assassin after Rafael. Determined, Pepin left the castle to confront Icarus at his mansion.
Meanwhile, in another room inside the castle, Rafael was surrounded by concerned faces. An old man, a healer, stood at his side, clearly perplexed by his refusal of treatment.
"Please, sir, we must examine you to ensure you're okay," the healer insisted, his voice gentle but firm. The room was thick with tension. Threo, both dukes, three advisors, the queen, and the high priest all stood silently, eyes wide as they took in Rafael's uninjured form.
"There's no need, I'm fine," Rafael replied casually, his tone dismissive as he stood up from the bed, much to the shock of everyone around him.
"But how are you unharmed? The guards said you were stabbed multiple times!" someone asked in disbelief.
Rafael smiled, his gaze drifting upwards, as if the answer had come from the heavens. "It was a miracle! The Lord above all has a mission for me to fulfill, so He protected me when I needed it most."
His voice rang out with sincerity, though inside, he was only hoping this would work. If this doesn't convince them...
The room fell silent for a moment. Everyone stared at him, their eyes wide in disbelief. The high priest, standing in the back, was particularly taken aback.
"Look at these holes in my clothes, but no blood beneath! It's because my mission is not done yet." Rafael spread his arms wide, his confidence growing as he spoke. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his heart raced as the silence stretched on. Then, Threo broke it with enthusiastic fervor.
"This... This is indeed a miracle!" Threo exclaimed, a fire igniting in his eyes. "You truly have a divine mission, Mr. Rafael! I believe I know what it is! Don't worry, we'll do everything we can to fulfill the Lord's wishes." He spoke with such conviction that it was clear he was already imagining the expansion of his kingdom under divine favor.
"But milord, how do you know what mission the Holy Father bestowed upon him?" one of the clerics asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I still don't understand how you're unhurt," the queen murmured, her voice a mixture of wonder and concern.
"And who was the filthy criminal that tried to kill him?" asked one of the Dukes, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Threo didn't reply, his mind already drifting to thoughts of conquest. The others remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Who sent the murderer after you?" asked the high priest, his voice full of suspicion. "Was there a mastermind behind this?" asked the high priest.