Having ordered Martha to remain silent about her son's recovery, Lucien spent the next week buried within the family's vast library. He wasn't reading the heavy tomes stacked on the shelves.He was writing.
With E.Y.E's guidance, he documented everything about King's Evil, Scrofula. He described the disease in meticulous detail: its symptoms, its spread, its effects on the body. Then, with almost surgical precision, he recorded the ingredients he had used for the cure, the mold, the willow bark, the honey—and the exact steps of its creation. E.Y.E even helped him transcribe complex chemical structures and formulas, notes that would appear like nonsense to the common man, but to a trained physician, they would speak of genius.
When he was done, he bound the pages neatly and sealed them with the Valemont crest. He didn't intend to claim discovery but he wanted validation. The word of a doctor could make his work legitimate without exposing his true intellect or E.Y.E's existence.
That afternoon, he approached his mother.
"Mother," he said calmly, "could you send for Doctor Drummond? I've been studying medicine and would like to show him something."
Lady Valemont, ever proud of her son's scholarly pursuits, asked no questions. Lucien's odd habits had long since become normal to her.
The following day, a carriage rolled into the estate courtyard. Doctor Kane Drummond stepped out. He was an old man with silvering hair, sharp eyes, and hands that carried the steady calm of experience. He was known across their province as one of the kingdom's most skilled physicians, often summoned by nobles and occasionally by the royal court itself.
That night, he would dine with the Valemonts, unaware that the quiet boy he was about to meet had just rewritten the course of medicine.
Lord Valemont and Doctor Drummond spoke at length over dinner, mostly about politics and the aftermath of the recent rebellion. The smallfolk were still recovering, they agreed; trade routes remained unstable, and whispers of dissent lingered in the outer provinces.
Lucien listened quietly, barely touching his food. He wasn't interested in politics—at least, not yet.
When the plates were cleared and the servants dismissed, he stood and said politely, "Doctor Drummond, may I borrow a moment of your time?"
The physician agreed, curiosity piqued, and followed Lucien to his father's study.
"Your mother tells me you've taken an interest in medicine," Drummond said as he settled into a chair.
Lucien shook his head. "Not exactly."
The doctor frowned. "Then why have I come all this way?"
Lucien placed a neatly bound booklet on the desk and slid it toward him. "Because I think you'll find this valuable."
Drummond adjusted his spectacles and opened the first page. His eyes darted across the neat handwriting, from one line to the next, then widened. He turned another page. And another. His lips parted in disbelief.
"This is…" he breathed, voice trembling slightly, "…a full dissertation on King's Evil. Symptoms, progression, and… a cure? These chemical diagrams, where did you get this?"
Lucien leaned back in his chair, expression calm but eyes gleaming. "I wrote it."
Drummond froze, staring at him as if unsure whether to laugh or be impressed. "You… wrote this?"
"Yes. Every word. Every formula."
The doctor looked back at the notes, scanning the intricate structures and detailed annotations. "But these reactions… this precision… this is beyond anything taught in our academies."
Lucien smiled faintly. "Then perhaps the academies are behind."
Drummond exhaled, disbelief slowly giving way to fascination. "If what you've written here works, if this is real—it could change everything we know about treating King's Evil."
"Scrofula," Lucien corrected calmly.
Drummond blinked. "What?"
"I call it Scrofula. It's a form of tuberculosis, as I explained in the notes."
Drummond flipped another page. "And you claim to have tested this remedy already… and succeeded?"
Lucien nodded slightly. "You know Martha, the maid?"
"Of course," said Drummond. "She has a son with King's Ev...Scrofula, yes."
Lucien clasped his hands, his tone quiet but assured. "Then let's pay the boy a visit… shall we?"
---
They walked through the dim corridors in silence. Doctor Drummond carried the booklet under his arm like sacred scripture.
The servant cottages stood quiet at the edge of the estate. A single lamp burned faintly through a crack in one of the shutters.
Martha answered the knock almost immediately, eyes widening when she saw Lucien beside the doctor. She bowed deeply.
"Young master… Doctor Drummond, sir."
Lucien nodded. "We've come to see your son."
The doctor stepped forward, his tone gentle. "May I?"
Martha hesitated, then opened the door wider. Inside, her small room smelled of herbs, wax, and clean straw. The boy sat on his bed, awake this time, pale but smiling weakly. His neck, once swollen and discolored, was now clear except for faint pink scars.
Drummond blinked. "By the gods…"
He hurried to the bedside, setting his bag down and pulling out his small instruments. He pressed his fingers gently against the boy's neck, then his wrist, checking his pulse, his breathing.
"Any pain?" he asked softly.
The boy shook his head. "No, sir."
Drummond leaned closer, inspecting the skin. The lesions had scabbed cleanly.There was no infection, or heat. It was healing naturally.
He looked up at Lucien, disbelief etched into every line of his face. "This… this is impossible. I treated this boy myself three weeks ago. The infection had spread. He should have been dead by now."
Lucien said nothing. He only stood there, arms folded behind his back, his calm gaze fixed on the boy as though observing a scientific experiment rather than a human life.
Drummond turned back to the notes in his hand, flipping rapidly through the pages. "Bread mold… willow bark… honey extract… You actually derived this from organic cultures? How- how did you even know to attempt such a thing?"
Lucien shrugged lightly. "Observation and logic. Nature leaves clues for those willing to see them."
The doctor sat back, exhaling hard, his old mind racing between disbelief and awe. "You've recreated a curative compound unlike anything in our realm. If this can be replicated..."
Lucien interrupted softly. "It can be replicated. But not yet. I'm still… refining it."
Drummond nodded slowly, clearly torn between professional curiosity and moral astonishment. He looked to Martha, whose eyes glistened with gratitude and reverence toward Lucien.
"I don't know what you've done, young master," Drummond said at last, voice trembling slightly, "but this… this could make you a legend one day."
Lucien smiled faintly, stepping closer to the doctor. "Let's not rush. I prefer to work quietly for now. Consider this a private experiment between us."
Drummond hesitated. "You don't want this published? The credit..."
"Belongs to no one yet," Lucien interrupted again, his tone calm but firm. "This world isn't ready for certain truths."
The physician stared at him for a long moment, then gave a slow, respectful nod. "As you wish, young master."
Lucien's gaze flicked toward the faint blue bar hovering above Drummond's head.
[Loyalty – 21%]
It was still low but not hopeless. A mind like Drummond's wasn't swayed by fear or force; it was drawn by curiosity, by the promise of discovery. And Lucien knew exactly how to exploit that. An intellect of this caliber could become the cornerstone of his Order.
"Doctor," Lucien began, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "I have a proposal for you. One I believe you'll find… stimulating."