The room was still thick with tension when the physician arrived. He bowed low, flustered, eyes darting between the bandaged soldier and the pale man propped against the headboard.
Lucian barely noticed him at first. His gaze had settled again on Rei's arm — the linen now dark with blood. It wasn't gushing, but it was far from "nothing."
"Has no one seen to that properly?" Lucian's voice was quiet, but it carried authority.
Rei, seated in his usual rigid posture near the foot of the bed, replied in that same even tone, "It's only a scratch, my lord. Not worth troubling a physician for."
Lucian's brow lifted faintly, disbelief softening into something like irritation. "A scratch that bleeds through cloth? Tell me, soldier, is that what you call endurance or arrogance?"
The servants exchanged quick, nervous glances. Rei didn't move, didn't flinch.
Lucian exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You saved my life. The man who did that will not be neglected. Bring the doctor here."
