The Grand Duke's Soulmate

Chapter 596: A Path Found in Defiance

The day had begun without pause, and the streets were already alive with movement and purpose. Nothing lingered for long—people, voices, even attention drifted quickly from one thing to the next.

The inn they had taken was modest, tucked just beyond the busiest stretch of the waterfront—close enough to Port Luminara to keep watch, yet distant enough to have a pleasant repose.

Its wooden verandah overlooked a steady flow of passersby, merchants, and travellers traversing through the waking city.

Kyren sat alone along the railing.

Even at rest, he drew eyes.

People slowed as they passed by, some stealing glances, others less subtle—whispers trailing from their lips.

The grand duke’s broad frame and upright posture set him apart immediately, and though a thick beard and heavy sideburns partially obscured his face, there was no hiding the sharpness of his features nor the intensity of his gaze.

One by one, those who dared to look found themselves meeting his eyes, only to withdraw. Conversations halted, and steps quickened, heads turned away.

Kyren did not move. His gaze followed them briefly before settling back into the distance.

Footsteps approached from within the inn, and a figure emerged at the main entrance.

Rafe approached the verandah, his presence quieter and less imposing. He glanced briefly at the street before turning to Kyren.

"Have the knights returned?" he asked.

Kyren shook his head once. "Not yet."

"Maybe, it’ll take a while for them to go around and get the information," said the healer.

"Maybe not," said Kyren, his chin lifted, pointing in a direction. "Eric and Luke are back."

The two mentioned figures emerged from the corner of the street, their steps pushing forward to the inn.

As they arrived, no formal greetings were performed, only a subtle nod. Since they had disguised themselves as travellers, any salutation or royal greetings were dropped.

"How’s the survey?" asked Rafe, eyes eager in anticipation.

"We’ve gathered what we could about Semeta," Eric began.

Kyren’s attention shifted fully to them.

Luke continued, lowering his voice slightly.

"It’s not a place one simply walks into," Luke began. "The island is reserved for royalty and heavily guarded. Strangely enough, from what the locals say, it cannot even be seen with the naked eye."

"As expected of the Mederians," Kyren said calmly, unsurprised. "Their magic must seal it. A barrier strong enough to conceal it entirely."

Both knights nodded in agreement.

"It doesn’t appear on any common charts either," Eric added. "But the people confirmed one thing—its position lies to the northeast."

"Hmm... so the path of the eagle was correct," Rafe muttered. "It’s close... yet unreachable by conventional means."

Kyren frowned slightly, absorbing the information. "Is there any other way in?"

Luke exchanged a glance with Eric before answering. "All routes are restricted and require permission, and even that is difficult to obtain. Unless one has direct business with the royal family... or manages to draw their attention through more drastic means."

"What do you mean by that?" Rafe asked.

"Defaulters," Eric replied. "Those who violate the kingdom’s laws are apprehended and brought there for judgment. But not petty offenders—only serious criminals. Traitors, smugglers, or those guilty of high crimes against the crown."

Rafe exhaled, feeling the weight of it settle in. He looked at Kyren, with concern showing on his face.

"We’re not considering doing any of those crimes, are we? I understand the urgency to reach Semeta, but I still have my conscience."

Kyren met his gaze, steady and resolute. "You need not worry. We will not stoop to such means. We are men of Cassian, and we do not abandon our honour for convenience."

Before the discussion could continue, a sudden commotion broke out from the other side of the building.

Voices rose sharply, a heated argument slicing through the air and shattering the brief calm. As they listened, their attention was drawn—more so when they recognised one of the voices.

Without hesitation, the men moved at once. The noise led them to a nearby shopfront, where a small crowd had already begun to gather, murmuring among themselves.

At the entrance of what appeared to be a Healer’s House, Drystan stood restrained—Alex gripping his shoulder firmly.

"Calm down, will you!"

Drystan’s eyes darkened. Despite the warning, his expression burned with fury, his body taut with restrained violence. He was barely holding himself back from lunging forward and striking.

Two burly men stood blocking the doorway with arrogant ease—the source of his anger.

A woman trembled on the ground as she held her son close, her voice breaking through her tears as she tried to soothe him.

Kyren stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the scene.

"What is going on?" he asked.

Drystan turned sharply, barely containing himself. "These b*stards—!"

"Drystan!" Alex cut in, tightening his grip and shooting him a warning look.

Though they were equally displeased by what had occurred, they remained outsiders on this island. Provoking the locals or drawing unnecessary attention would place them in a poor light and invite complications they could ill afford.

The argument had already escalated. Any further hostility, especially if it turned vulgar or violent, would only worsen their position.

Drystan let out a sharp huff, turning his head away.

"They refused to treat the child," Alex explained quickly. "We saw it happen. They threw the woman and her son out without hesitation."

Kyren’s gaze darkened as it settled on the two burly men.

"I was under the impression that Mederians were a respectable people," he said, his tone edged with quiet scepticism. "And yet... You would treat a woman and child this way?"

One of the men snorted, arms crossed. "Because she can’t pay."

"The healer won’t waste his time on those who have nothing to offer," the other added coldly. "No coin, no treatment. That’s how it works."

The woman lifted her head, clutching her son tighter as desperation overtook her.

"Please! I’ve gone to several Healer Houses, and they all refused! I’ll do anything... I can even offer my magic as payment!" she pleaded.

"Hah!" the guard scoffed, clearly irritated. "Your little magic holds no value here. Even if you gave it away, no one would want it."

Rafe had already moved, paying no mind to the argument. His focus had shifted entirely to the child.

He knelt beside the woman without hesitation, his expression sharpening as he studied the boy. Gently, he asked for her permission to examine him.

The woman nodded, and Rafe wasted no time—placing a hand against the child’s forehead, then checking his eyes, ears, and tongue, carefully assessing his condition.

"He’s drained," Rafe said after a moment. "Not fatal... but he needs treatment before it worsens."

He glanced at the mother. "How long has he been like this?"

"Three days," the woman replied.

"Has he received any treatment so far?" the healer asked.

The woman shook her head, her expression heavy with sorrow.

"We have no money... My son was born frail and without any magic. His mana line never developed, so he falls ill often."

Rafe’s brow creased. His gaze returned to the child, his thoughts turning as something in her words stirred a memory.

"Forgive me for asking..." he said carefully. "Could it be that, while you were carrying him, he did not receive mana from his father?"

The woman’s expression crumpled. Tears welled in her eyes as her grip tightened around the boy.

"My husband... passed away when I was newly pregnant..."

That was answer enough.

The fact that she had carried the child to term and that he still lived spoke of quiet endurance. In most such cases, neither mother nor child would have survived unscathed.

A trace of pity surfaced in Rafe’s expression. The knights, too, fell into solemn silence.

Eric stepped forward then, his tone edged with discontent as he turned to the two men at the entrance.

"Are you the healer’s assistants?" he asked. "Does he truly condone this?"

"They’re not assistants. They’re the guards," a voice cut in, drawing a smug smirk from the two burly men. "They’re only enforcing the rules. It’s a common practice here. I’d wager you’re new to the island, judging by your reaction."

Kyren and his men turned towards the speaker.

A portly man in his fifties leaned against the wall of the adjacent building, watching the scene with mild interest.

Around him, the earlier onlookers had already begun to disperse—the commotion no longer holding their attention.

"And who might you be?" Eric asked.

"The owner of the next building over," the man replied casually.

Luke frowned. "And you’d rather stand there and do nothing?"

The man raised both hands in a dismissive shrug.

"I only arrived after the argument began, to ensure you wouldn’t cause a scene that might disturb my tenants. Besides, the guards have a point. If someone cannot pay, the healers are justified in refusing service."

Drystan’s expression tightened.

"Even so, must you treat a woman and her child so harshly? A refusal would have sufficed—there was no need to shove them out like this."

"This isn’t her first time," one of the guards snapped. "We wouldn’t have acted if she hadn’t forced her way in without permission. She’s been causing a disturbance and refused to leave."

"Can’t you see she’s desperate?" Rafe barked, his patience finally wearing thin. "Does your healer not make any exceptions? Even if she can’t pay with money, there are other options—labour, service, or anything of value that could be exchanged."

"She’s dirt poor and has nothing," the guard sneered. "Even her magic is worthless. Look at her! What kind of labour could she even offer with her skinny body? People like her only latched onto others, hoping to gain something for nothing."

He scoffed, folding his arms.

"And even if she somehow managed to pay the service fee, there’s still the tax for the paid service. She defaulted on it before—that’s come back to bite her."

The woman bowed her head, tears gathering along her lashes. Seeing his mother cry, the boy in her arms began to whimper softly.

"I... I was trying to save up... but it wasn’t enough. And then... he fell sick again..."

Kyren raised a brow.

"You impose tax on medical treatment?"

The portly man shook his head.

"Not the healer, the state. It’s mandatory. Any paid service involving healing magic is taxed, and heavily at that."

He gestured lightly, as though it were common knowledge.

"Healing magic is a rare attribute and highly sought after. Naturally, its use is regulated and profitable," he added.

Rafe’s expression hardened.

"Healing magic isn’t the only way to treat an illness. There are conventional methods—herbs, remedies, treatments. That’s how it’s done on the continent."

The guards burst into laughter, the sound grating against the ears of Kyren’s men.

"Outdated methods," one of them said with a smirk. "Too slow and too unreliable."

Rafe glared at them, but none heeded his expression. The building owner gave a small nod in agreement, siding with the guards.

"Conventional treatment isn’t popular here. It takes time, and most remedies have to be brought in from beyond the island, which makes them costly."

He glanced briefly at the woman and child before looking away.

"That’s why treatment here comes at a price."

"So in the end, it all comes down to money for you," Eric said. "Compassion holds no weight, I suppose."

"You can’t entirely blame the system," the building owner replied, lifting a hand. "The healers suffer for it as well. Some patients refuse to pay after treatment. Worse, some threaten them with stronger magic users. There have even been cases of healers being abducted or harmed."

His gaze flicked towards the guards.

"That’s why they hire protection and why they no longer show leniency. Healing drains their mana and strength—it’s not something they can give freely."

"Fine," Rafe raised his voice. "If it’s too much for your people... then I’ll treat the boy myself!"

The remark caught the Mederians off guard—but not the Cassians.

Kyren had expected nothing less. Rafe was not one to stand idle in the face of suffering. For all his constant nagging, he was a man guided by principle... and a heart that refused to turn away.

The woman looked up, startled. Hope flickered in her tear-filled eyes.

"You... you would do that for my son?" she asked.

"Of course," Rafe replied without hesitation. "I am a healer, and I take pride in my conscience. I may not wield magic, but my methods are no less capable."

"You want to treat the boy?" one of the guards said, pointing at him.

Then he and his companion burst into laughter.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing across his face as he rose to his feet.

"What’s so amusing? You think I can’t? You don’t even know who I am."

"It’s not that," the building owner said, shaking his head. "Treating patients here requires a permit and a licensed premise. You’ll be taxed for every case. If she isn’t paying you, how exactly do you intend to cover that?"

Rafe frowned.

"Why would I be taxed? You said the tax applies to paid services. If I’m not charging anything, then there’s nothing to tax."

"What?" The man stared at him, taken aback. "Are you out of your mind?"

Rafe met his gaze without flinching. "What? Is it an offence to offer help freely?"

The man hesitated, his expression faltering—caught between disbelief and uncertainty. "Well... It’s not stated in the law. But no one does that. The tax exists because services are meant to be paid for."

"If it isn’t written, then it isn’t wrong," Kyren added calmly.

"Even so, this is far from ordinary," the man pressed, unease creeping into his voice. "The officials from Semeta won’t take kindly to it. They might drag you there and put you on trial for defying the system."

"Dragged to Semeta, you say?" Kyren echoed, a faint glint surfacing in his eyes.

Even the guards grew serious.

One of them warned, "If they take you to the island... You won’t be coming back. Even we wouldn’t dare cross them."

Kyren’s lips curved up.

A new path had appeared for them to reach that hidden island that didn’t involve committing heinous crimes.

He turned to Rafe and ordered, "Treat the boy. You may use our resources."

The healer nodded, thankful for the permission.

Then, the grand duke shifted to Eric, a plan already forming in his head.

"Secure the necessary permit and premise license. We will establish a Healer’s House—free of charge."

"What?!" the Mederians exclaimed in unison.

But among the Cassians, quiet smiles had already formed, understanding exactly what their captain intended.