Discharge
Alaric found himself roused from his slumber by the hushed voices permeating the stillness of his ward. As awareness returned, he discovered that a conversation was unfolding between the Duke, his father, and one of the doctors who had been summoned from the capital. Despite the fog of drowsiness lingering over him, Alaric strained to discern the contents of their discussion.
The Duke's voice, though steady, carried an undertone of concern, a reflection of the worry that had etched lines on his face during Alaric's ordeal. The doctor, perhaps the only present figure of authority and medical expertise, responded with a measured tone, each word calculated to convey both information and reassurance.
"-solutely extraordinary. I've never encountered a case quite like this," the doctor remarked, his words drifting into Alaric's awareness.
The Duke, his father, responded with a mix of curiosity and urgency, "Extraordinary? What do you mean? Is there something unusual about Alaric's condition?"
A momentary pause ensued, filled only by the muted hum of medical equipment and the distant sounds of the manor beyond. Then, the doctor began to elucidate, "His recovery, Your Grace, defies conventional medical understanding. The vitality he's displaying is remarkable, given the dire circumstances we witnessed just days ago. I must admit, it borders on miraculous. The constitution within your family has always been astounding but this furthers suspicions that you are beyond just average humans Your Grace."
As Alaric gradually regained full consciousness, he absorbed the implications of the doctor's words. The acknowledgement of his inexplicable recovery hung in the air, leaving a sense of wonder and curiosity. Miraculous — a term not often uttered within the clinical confines of medical discourse. Of course, he knew the details surrounding his, "Miraculous Return" but he did not need to reveal anything.
The Duke, ever vigilant and protective, pressed for more details. "Miraculous? Can you explain it? What exactly happened during those moments when he was declared... gone?"
The doctor's response, though couched in medical terminology, carried an essence of both professional awe and uncertainty. "In layman's terms, Your Grace, we couldn't detect any signs of life. Alaric's condition had reached a critical point. It was as if his body was beyond the limits of what we understand about life and death. And then, inexplicably, his vitals stabilized, and he awoke."
A perplexed silence enveloped the room, mingling with the weight of the revelation. Alaric, now fully conscious, took in the exchange with a mix of anticipation and intrigue. His inexplicable return from the brink of death had stirred questions in the minds of those around him. Yet none of it weighed on his mind, he had other matters, far larger than that requiring his attention.
Alaric lay in the quiet of his ward and the hushed conversation of the duke and the doctor went on in the background. The soft sunlight filtering through the curtains cast a tranquil morning hue. The events of the past days swirled in his mind, and as his strength gradually returned, his thoughts shifted toward the unresolved matters that awaited him beyond the infirmary walls.
Lysandra and Voss, figures from his previous escapades, loomed in his thoughts.
The absence of his presence for six days would undoubtedly have raised questions and concerns. In a world where political intrigue and strategic manoeuvring held sway, Alaric couldn't afford to be perceived as weak or vulnerable. His extended unconsciousness might have sent ripples through the currents of power that dictated the dynamics of the underworld.
As he contemplated his next moves, Alaric couldn't shake the feeling that Lysandra and Voss might have seized upon his absence to advance their own agendas. The delicate balance of power within the city could have shifted, a soul and someone's life's work traded for protection.
A strategic mind, honed through both his military training and experiences in the world of Hartman, guided Alaric's thoughts. He needed to reassess the political landscape, gauge the loyalty of his supposed allies, and discern any subtle shifts in allegiance. The realm he once knew might not be the same after his prolonged absence. At this point, he was not completely against the idea of a small-scale genocide, quick and efficient doing away with the gang leaders and crimelords.
One question echoed in his mind: How would he address Lysandra and Voss, knowing that his prolonged unconsciousness might have been interpreted as vulnerability or, worse, a sign of weakness?
The glow of his cosmic eyes illuminated the room as he mulled over the possibilities. His family, the Astreaus, had undoubtedly maintained a semblance of order in the city, but the broader political canvas remained a mystery, at least to them. He was aware of what would become of the duchy should they let the vermin grow.
A plan began to take shape in Alaric's mind. He would first seek counsel from his family, particularly his father, the Duke. Perhaps he would approve of the straightforward culling if done in a timely fashion.
As he pondered his course of action, Alaric's resolve solidified. The challenges that awaited him beyond the infirmary were significant, but his experiences in both Hartman and the cosmic realms had shaped him into a leader with the wisdom to navigate the intricacies of power and influence. The memories that had been locked away were now everpresent, and lessons learnt in his past would become weapons wielded in his future.
The doctor's words resonated in the air, bringing a sense of assurance to the Duke. Alaric, now fully conscious and back to their conversation, heard the doctor's prognosis—assurances that he would be fully recovered from the mysterious ailment in no time. The prospect of resuming training within three days, albeit with a caution for light exercises, lifted the weight of uncertainty that had loomed over the ward.
As the Duke expressed his gratitude to the doctor, Alaric settled into the rhythm of the day. The ward became a transient haven, welcoming a diverse array of visitors. Eldmund, his brother, dropped by to check on him, their interactions a blend of familial banter and genuine concern. Servants, with trays of refreshments in hand, made brief appearances, contributing to the tapestry of well-wishing visitors.
Even his stepmother, draped in an aura of elegance, graced the ward with her presence. Her inquiries and expressions of concern hinted at a familial bond that transcended the complexities of their blended family. Alaric, appreciative of the gestures, found solace in the presence of those who cared for his well-being.
While Alaric navigated the nuances of familial exchanges, the Duke found himself entangled in matters beyond the infirmary's walls. Affairs concerning the Royal family and a minor incident along the border of their territory and the central territory occupied the Duke's attention. Fragments of this information reached Alaric through the whispers of his stepmother, painting a picture of the intricate tapestry of political intricacies that defined their noble existence.
As the day unfolded, the sun gradually descended in the sky, casting warm hues over the duchy. Late afternoon heralded Alaric's discharge from the infirmary. With the setting sun as his companion, he made his way to the duchy's administration building. The purpose of his journey was clear—he sought Elara.
The duchy's administrative halls, adorned with the trappings of governance, welcomed Alaric. His footsteps echoed in the corridors as he traversed the familiar territory, guided by a purpose that eclipsed the transient concerns of his recent ailment. The hunt for Elara, his trusted companion and guide, was underway, propelling Alaric into the heart of the duchy's affairs.
Alaric navigated the familiar corridors and ascended a flight of stairs, his purpose driving each step. Soon, he stood before his sister's office, its door proudly bearing the name "Lady Elena Astreaus." A quick knock echoed, and a moment later, Elena's composed voice invited him in.
Elena, immersed in her duties, began speaking without glancing up, assuming the visitor to be someone else. "Abraham, I said return to me after finding Honorable Arthur's file surely you haven't—" Her words trailed off as she lifted her gaze and realized that the figure before her was not Abraham. Alaric, with a sheepish smile, dispelled any confusion, remarking, "I don't think I've dyed my hair brown yet, Lady Elena."
Surprise flickered in Elena's features, momentarily interrupting her usual composed demeanour. After regaining her composure, she greeted him with a cautious smile. "Hello, brother dearest. To what do I owe this pleasure? Is everything alright, Alaric?" Concern laced her words, and Alaric, with a sigh, assured her that all was well. He then broached the topic that brought him to her office.
"I'd like your help. Could you point me to Elara?" Alaric inquired, and Elena, exhaling a steadying breath, explained the situation surrounding Elara's temporary confinement. As the sole witness to Alaric's collapse, protocol deemed her a suspect, necessitating her detention for questioning. Elena assured him that Elara would be released soon and directed him to her location in the third complex.
Relieved by the news, Alaric shifted the conversation to a more familial tone. "I brought you a gift, Elena. Please take care of it." With a flourish, a blue cube materialized in his hand, emanating a chill that transcended the mundane. It was the unbonded Glacial Seraph,Alaric handed it to Elena, explaining, "This is a Frostwyrm Guardian, probably the last of its kind for a long time. Eldmund, Father, and Mother won't always be around to protect you, but with this, I believe you'll be able to fend off any threats that aren't beyond the conventional."
Elena, her features etched with shock, hesitated to accept the unexpected gift. Alaric insisted, conveying the profound significance of the gesture. Before leaving, he uttered, "I haven't been the best little brother, but I hope that's a start. I have business to attend to, so if you wish to see me before I come back to see you, you are welcome to my study."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Croppedtrolley
Croppedtrolley Hi guys, So here's the thing...I'm not available to write this week, I'm currently doing some Community Service, and no I'm not a criminal. I'm a student, and where I learn we have some mandatory hours we have to perform, so presumably for a week or so I'll only be able to manage a chapter a day, I'm really sorry but I will make it up to you all in due time.
As always, enjoy and take care. :)
Yours Deeply Sorry
TheOneAndOnly CroppedTrolley
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