"How long has the search been going on now?" Alaric asked, eyes fixed on Gaspar—the vice-captain of his elite knights who had just returned after attempting to look for Soren below the cliff.
"It has been three hours now, Your Grace. But with the snowstorm worsening, we can't risk our men continuing the search." Gaspar stood straight and dignified in front of him inside the Davenmore command tent. Because of the sudden whiteout, the unit had no choice but to retreat temporarily and return to the main camp.
"I see." Alaric leaned back in his seat, looking calm while thinking deeply that Gaspar couldn't help but feel a stab of pity for Soren, lost somewhere in the blizzard.
"Hm. It's not like we don't have other healers," Alaric muttered. "Given the risk, I could just leave him there to freeze and force those useless noble healers to finally stand on the frontline."
Hearing that, Gaspar stiffened. He swallowed hard before speaking, unable to hold back his thoughts.
"Forgive me, Your Grace… but Soren is an exceptional healer. He doesn't show it, but he's truly committed to helping the wounded. Please, if you could allow me to continue the search. We don't know for sure… he might still be alive."
Alaric's gaze snapped to him, icy and sharp since Gaspar had never once defied him, never voiced personal opinions like this.
"Do you hear yourself?" Alaric tilted his head, voice low. "You just said we can't risk our men in a snowstorm, and now you're asking me to let you wander into it looking for a commoner? We're not lacking healers. We still have three."
"Forgive me, Your Grace." Gaspar bowed his head deeply. "Then at least allow me to check once more. Some of the knights he healed feel the same. They… they're actually waiting outside this tent right now to ask for your permission. He helped them. They want to return the favor, even just once. Please, Your Grace."
His voice, usually firm and steady, softened in a way that betrayed his desperation.
Alaric exhaled slowly with an irritated sigh slipping out as he glanced to the side. Cael and the twins stood in the corner, silent, watching Gaspar's plea unfold and each of them noting how unusual it was for anyone to push this hard for a commoner.
Cael, on the other hand, remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.
'Instead of reaching for my hand, he chooses to shoved that woman to my face…' Cael's mind replayed the moment vividly. 'He looked at me like that with calm eyes, unafraid of what's going to happen to him, he also doesn't seem to have an ounce of attachment to life…The blizzard had been merciless. Given the conditions, his survival seemed impossible. If he's still alive after that fall, he's lucky but if not… well, what do we even do? This is a total loss for us but if he's really dead…'
Cael nodded almost unconsciously, as if accepting the grim truth, and the twins' eyes flicked to him, then back to Alaric, silently noting his unusual, rare display of resignation.
Meanwhile, as the people above hesitated, Soren finally regained consciousness below. He lay on the snowy ground, covered in dry leaves, snow, and his own blood. He was awake, but completely immobile.
'Ugh… I'm so dizzy I can't even open my eyes properly. How long was I out? I can't see anything with all this snow.' He tried to move his limbs, turning his head slightly to look for his hand, but nothing responded.
'At least I don't feel too cold… but I still can't move. I need to gather my mana to the center of my body. If I don't, I won't die from my broken limbs but I'll die from blood loss or the cold. Hah… it's not like anyone will come looking for me. I'm just a commoner.' Remembering how hostile everyone had been, Soren shut his eyes completely and focused on healing instead, accepting that no one would waste their time searching for someone like him.
'Besides, there are noble healers up there. How foolish of me to even hope they'd retrieve my body. Though with my healing ability, I'll survive as long as no beasts appear. I just need to heal first.'
He stared now weakly at the tall trees swaying under the strong, snowy wind, then glanced up at the cliff he had fallen from. It looked much smaller from down here.
'If it were an ordinary person who fell… especially that woman knight… they'd be dead for sure,' he thought, before closing his eyes again to focus on recovery.
With his spine shattered, his torso crushed, his hand broken, and even a crack running through his skull, it took Soren nearly an hour and a half to mend his body. Flesh knit, bones realigned, and skin sealed but the dizziness from blood loss clung to him like a shadow that refused to fade.
When he could finally move, he pushed himself up with trembling arms. His vision swam in and out of focus, turning the world into a pale blur of white and red. He then reached blindly for anything such as an icy branch, a jagged stone and the rough bark of a tree, just anything that could keep him upright.
By the time he managed to stand, swaying like a dying specter, his entire body was coated in dried blood. The snow beneath his feet was stained dark, almost black in the dim light, but he didn't even glance at it. He simply walked.
He wandered through the storm in slow, dragging steps until he found a small cave, half-hidden by frost and twisted roots. The moment he crossed the entrance, his strength gave out completely. He collapsed on the cold ground, pale, bloodstained, and barely breathing.
And there, at the mouth of the cave, Soren lost consciousness once more looking less like a man and more like a fallen ghost abandoned by the world.
At that time, a group of knights had already ridden out with their horses pushing through the fading blizzard. Snow clung to their cloaks and armor, and the torches they carried cast long, trembling shadows across the white wasteland. Breath misted from both men and beasts as they marched deeper into the forest.
Prince Cael rode at the center of the group, leisurely holding the reins with one hand, the other resting on his thigh as if this were nothing more than a midnight stroll. His lips curled in a faint smirk, the kind that didn't belong in a rescue mission.
"Your Highness," Gaspar said carefully, voice muffled under his scarf, "the winds are still harsh. Perhaps you should stay behind, for your safety—"
Cael let out a soft laugh. "Safety? From what? Snow?" He clicked his tongue, amused. "If a bit of cold could harm me, what would that say about the future of this kingdom?"
The knight swallowed and fell silent.
Another knight rode beside him, bowing his head. "We will do our best to locate the fallen healer, but… considering the cliff's height, it is unlikely we will find him alive."
Knowing that possibility, Cael tilted his head with eyes glinting with a cruel interest. "All the more reason to go. A hopeless search in the snow, how dreary it would be without me to lighten the mood."
"Your Highness…" a younger knight muttered under his breath, not loud enough for anyone except the man beside him to hear. "Lighten the mood? Someone may have died."
The older knight nudged him sharply. "Watch your tongue."
Cael's smirk widened, as if he had heard anyway.
"We are not retrieving him for his sake," Cael said lazily, twirling the reins between his fingers. "We simply can't leave corpses lying around. It attracts beasts. And besides…"
His voice dipped, dark amusement curling in the air.
"…I'm curious what condition a commoner looks like after falling from such a height."
The knights exchanged uneasy glances but pressed forward, their torches flickering under the cold wind as the prince followed behind them, entertained by the hunt.
'What a shame if you've already died. You could've entertained me a little longer… what was your name again? Ah, Soren.' Cael smirked to himself at the thought, fingers lazily adjusting the fur-lined collar of his cloak as the horses trudged through the snow. The torchlight flickered across his face, revealing the glint of amusement in his eyes while utterly indifferent to the fate of the man they were supposedly searching for.