บท 6: The conspiracy
Priscilla Lombardi had arrived for what would be her last rehabilitation session, the place where she received her treatment was located near the center of the city of Fraxia. The site was an elegant four-story construction belonging to one of the noble families that inhabited the territory.
Unlike the buildings in the slums, the noble houses were built with beautiful stone facades that had been correctly selected and cut for that purpose. Some constructions had wooden beams that fulfilled a decorative function and improved the temperature inside the structures, while the administrative buildings or shops were made of "Mortar", a material that could be obtained with a simple mixture of sand, lime, and water.
To be more precise, it was used to bring the stone together and give it the desired shape, then with the effort of the craftsmen, the carved stone structures resulting from the combination of these two materials were a delight to behold.
In this way, the support pillars that welcomed the visitors of these constructions were magnificent, in them, you could see all kinds of complex carvings and patterns, both the stained glass windows of the constructions and the marble floors deserved a second look from the observers, these were the kind of buildings one would see when visiting the city center of Fraxia.
As Priscilla got out of her carriage, she was met by the familiar sight of Count Freder's office. As usual, the Count's servants welcomed her by helping her out of the carriage.
— "Have a very good morning, My Lady." With incredible elegance the butler who was in charge of receiving the Count's patients welcomed him.
— "Have a very good morning too, Julio." Priscilla took the hand of the butler to facilitate the work of the man who helped her down.
— "Allow me to guide you to the Lord's office." Upon confirming Priscilla had touched the ground safely, the butler will bow while announcing his intentions.
— "Thanks, Julio." Priscilla just followed the butler inside the place.
The place where Count Freder received his patients was extremely elegant, it was a place that was prepared not to inconvenience his visitors since Count Freder only gave medical attention to the high nobility.
It took Priscilla about ten minutes to walk the corridors of the place until she finally reached Count Freder's office. The Butler knocked on the door and after receiving the consent of the person inside, he moved out of the way to allow the guest to enter the place.
— "Oh, welcome, Your Excellency." The Count received his guest with great politeness.
The man in question was going through one of his bookshelves when Priscilla entered the room. His appearance was excellent, to say the least, the 39-year-old man wore a black suit with a white handkerchief decorating one of his pockets, his hair showed some gray from an early age that, along with his generous sideburns and brown eyes, gave him an aristocratic air.
— "How are you, Mr. Freder?" - Priscilla made a routine bow in greeting to the person in front of her.
— "You are probably the only person who does not refer to me as a Count." The man mentioned, as he continued to review one of his books.
— "My apologies. If you don't like me…" Priscilla was stopped by a light laugh.
— "Don't worry, that's not the case. It just seems curious to me that he calls me that way." Count Freder put the book he was holding in place before turning to Priscilla and continuing. "Your treatment ends today; I imagine you must be very happy."
— "It is as it says. I am really happy about my recovery."
— "To be honest, your case is the strangest I've had in my entire career."
— "Is that so?" Priscilla simply asked that question out of courtesy, as she knew better than anyone how strange her situation was.
— "Certainly. I've never heard of anyone whose limbs functioned properly and still couldn't walk. For that reason, I would like to ask you a question.���
— "What can be?"
— "Why did you ask to be helped to walk for long periods of time? From my perspective, that just made my job difficult."
— "I don't know, it just seemed like a good idea."
Priscilla couldn't tell him that somewhere in her memories there was a certain kind of knowledge that told her that this was the best way to go in her particular situation. The normal process would be that a doctor would resort to massaging the patient's limbs or supplying magic to their limbs to speed recovery.
In a world where magic existed, they had simply ignored the body's natural ability to heal itself, the cognitive process that stimulates such recovery was also ignored. In short, if magic couldn't cure a disease, it was classified as incurable.
In Priscilla's memories, there was not only an effective rehabilitation method, there was also all kinds of information that contradicted the knowledge of the doctor in front of her.
— "I see. Well, we'll just do a quick review."
Freder began to massage Priscilla's legs, looking for any damage that would allow him to continue charging the Lombardi family exorbitant sums of money. However, it was evident that her wish would not be heeded, the young woman was in excellent health, so insisting on keeping her in treatment would be suspicious.
— "Everything seems fine." The doctor announced as he leaned on the back of his chair.
— "In that case, I will go and prepare for the celebration tonight." Priscilla got up from a small sofa specially prepared for these kinds of medical attention.
— "Oh, regarding that subject. In the morning a letter arrived from his father." Said the doctor as he went to his desk to get a small letter from the central drawer of the cabinet.
— "Of my father?" Priscilla was genuinely surprised. The doctor simply walked over and handed him a letter stamped with his family's emblem.
Priscilla took the letter in silence, the wax seal was intact and the paper certainly matched the one her father used. However, after opening the letter, she discovered that the handwriting did not match his father's.
This was not a matter of concern, his father did not always write the letters, sometimes he could simply ask one of his assistants to do so. The problem was the content.
In the letter, Priscilla was asked to pick up a shipment from one of her family's properties in the slums. This was not really a problem, what happened is that his father always prohibited him from approaching that place.
After thinking about it carefully for a few seconds. Priscilla came to the conclusion that, due to the preparations for the party, the members of her family cannot attend to the matter regarding the provisions and that is why her father had sent her.
— "Your excellence?" The Count could not resist curiosity as he observed the pensive face of the young woman in front of him.
— "It's nothing, just a commission from my father." Priscilla hurried to put the letter away and produce an unnatural fake smile.
— "I get it. In that case, I am not taking any more time, Your Excellency." Count Freder limited himself to saying goodbye to Priscilla and continuing with his daily work.
Priscilla left the medical consultation room and went to fulfill the request that had been indicated in the letter. Shortly after Priscilla left the consulting room another woman knocked on the door.
— "Ahead." Count Freder gave his approval and the person entered without hesitation.
— "Good work, Count Freder."
— "As requested, deliver the letter you wrote, Your Excellency." The Count expressed the results of the order.
— "That's right, although I must admit that they would have spared me the trouble of doing all this if they had simply poisoned my sister as I previously requested." It was a 20-year-old woman who expressed these dangerous ideas.
— "I understand that the fight for the succession of the high nobility is fierce, but is it necessary to go to these extremes? I mean, if the Duke ever found out that I poisoned his daughter in my office, my reputation would be ruined." Count Freder made a comical gesture with his hands while complaining. "Also, as I understand it, even if His Excellency gets rid of his sister he will not have any right to the succession of the title."
— "I made a deal with my brother, but that is something that does not concern Count Freder."
— "I agree. I'd rather not get involved in this matter more than this." The Count shrugged resignedly as he expressed his ideas.
— "Here's your payment." The woman disdainfully tossed a small bag that made a metallic sound when it fell on the Count's desk.
— "A pleasure doing business with you, Your Excellency Miska." The woman made a gesture of displeasure before leaving the room in an informal way.
—"I'm sorry to do this Miss Priscilla, but this money is worth more than our little friendship." - The Count thought, as he counted the coins in the bag that Miska gave him.
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