Caspian stood right at the edge of accepting that he might not win. But all of a sudden, out of nowhere, a servant appeared in front of him.
The servant's eyes were wide with urgency. His chest heaved as he gasped for breath.
"Couriers from the North and West, your Majesty," the servant gasped.
"They have come through the mystical portals and now await your presence in the antechamber, your Majesty."
Caspian's forehead wrinkled as he thought hard. The portals were like secret pathways for traveling.
And they were only used when things were urgent and important.
When these portals were used, it meant something serious was happening. It was like there was a big problem that couldn't wait at all.
And it needed to be dealt with right away.
Caspian's gaze shifted toward Lady Elara. He observed the flicker of fear within her eyes.
It was a reflection of the uncertainty that mirrored his own.
"Lady Elara," Caspian began. "You need not concern yourself. Return to the ceremony. I will join you shortly."
The words escaped his lips. It was a carefully crafted assurance designed to shield her from whatever news the couriers brought.
Lady Elara's gaze, which flickered with concern, turned to the King.
"Be careful, Your Majesty," Lady Elara said. "If you find yourself in need of assistance, you can count on me. I'm not just an ordinary woman."
And she gave him a cheerful smile.
A corner of Caspian's lips curled up as he heard Lady Elara's words of support.
'I know,' he whispered to himself. The memory of their shared bravery flooded his mind.
He remembered the time they spent at the Whispering Groves.
She was brave and helped him a lot when they worked together to free the Umbrathrax from a tricky trap.
Caspian looked at Lady Elara with his blue eyes, as if he was studying her.
He felt both impressed by her and wanting to be close to her at the same time.
But he was good at keeping them hidden and not showing them.
He felt sad that he was about to leave. But he still bent down in front of her.
His movements were smooth and polite.
"My lady," he said, his voice conveying a mix of gratitude and farewell.
Caspian's footsteps echoed with purpose as he swiftly entered the antechamber, where the couriers anxiously awaited.
His piercing blue eyes met theirs. His gaze commanded their attention.
Without hesitation, he spoke, his voice carrying authority and curiosity.
"What brings you here with such urgency?" Caspian inquired. His words direct and to the point.
He leaned forward and rested his hands on the edge of a nearby table.
The courier took a deep breath. His hands trembled slightly as he delivered the grave news.
"The healing spell, Your Highness," the courier began. His voice was tinged with disbelief.
"It... it had an adverse effect. Instead of mending the wound, it amplified the injury of the Duke of Sylvanwood."
Caspian's brows furrowed in concern. "Explain," Caspian urged.
He gestured with a commanding hand, prompting the courier to provide a thorough account.
The courier hesitated for a moment. His eyes darted nervously before continuing.
"A healing spell was used on the wound of the Duke of Sylvanwood, Your Highness. But it deepens. The pain intensifies, and the bleeding has increased. The healing energy seems to have turned against the Duke."
A mixture of concern and frustration clouded Caspian's features as he absorbed the gravity of the situation.
The Duke of Sylvanwood was a trusted ally.
And he now faced heightened suffering due to the very spell that was intended to bring him relief.
'How can this be?' Caspian pondered, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation.
'He has the most experienced and skillful healer in Veridia? How can they have failed?'
But, the urgency of the Duke's deteriorating health superseded any lingering questions.
"Send for the Royal Healers to Sylvanwood. And summon the Duke's healers to the Palace," Caspian commanded, his voice firm and resolute.
"The well-being of the Duke must take precedence over all else."
The chamberlain, ever obedient to Caspian's authority, bowed respectfully before swiftly carrying out the order.
Another courier, a weathered traveler with fatigue etched upon his face, spoke up. His voice was tinged with urgency.
"Sire, I bear bad news from the Western Infirmary," the man said, his tone steady and serious.
Caspian's brows furrowed, his mind racing to grasp the situation.
"Tell me exactly what happened," he demanded, his voice strong and direct.
The courier's eyes met Caspian's without hesitation.
"A healer tried fixing a kid's neck wound with magic, but something went wrong. The tissue started growing uncontrollably, making it hard for the child to breathe. It turned real bad, real fast."
Caspian's mind swirled in disbelief. "Is the child... gone?" he managed to utter, his confusion evident.
"Yes, my lord," the courier confirmed, his voice unwavering.
Caspian's fists clenched involuntarily, his rational mind struggling to accept the news.
The Western Infirmary offers free treatment for the ailing commoners who have no crystals to get treated.
'That child must be one of them. Poor boy,' he muttered, in sympathy his thoughts racing.
'How could such a healing attempt end so tragically?'
His gaze shifted to the surroundings, as if searching for answers among the stone walls.
'No, this cannot be.' The implications of healing magic in two opposite locations in Veridia gone awry were incomprehensible to him.
"Prepare a meeting," he said, determination coursing through him. "We must convene the council immediately."
As the messenger left to carry out his command, Caspian leaned against the window ledge, gazing out into the kingdom he swore to protect.
The urgency of the situation was clear. He couldn't afford to let uncertainty rule.
Something bad was happening to Veridia. And he must stop it at all costs.