A Desperate Remedy

Adrian’s brow furrowed deeply as he exchanged a meaningful glance with Ilisia.

Ilisia raised a hand to steady the longsword at her back before turning and stepping outside.

Reaching the horse, she retrieved a small lantern from a bag hanging nearby.

Ilisia returned, handing the lantern to Adrian.

Though small, the lantern’s shade glowed with a warm, golden light, reminiscent of a captured dawn, its illumination both gentle and focused.

Sansa lifted the latch, slowly pushing the door ajar.

Adrian took the lamp and stepped into the room.

The light fanned out across the wooden floorboards, steadily dispelling the shadows from every corner.

Adrian observed a boy lying still on a straw mat in the center of the floor, his eyes closed, his breathing even.

Stepping closer, Adrian gently drew back the blanket covering the boy.

A horrifying sight met his gaze.

Behind the boy, a twisted, shriveled pig carcass lay huddled.

It appeared as though all blood and moisture had been forcibly drained from the pig, leaving behind only a pale, grayish layer of skin shrunken tightly against its skeleton.

Its remaining limbs were stiffly bent, splayed out on the floor.

A gash marred the dried carcass’s back, its flesh peeled open, and the outline of the wound eerily matched the contours of the boy’s spine.

Adrian subtly held his breath.

He slowly crouched down, moving the lamplight closer to the boy’s face.

On the boy’s young face, an expression of profound satiety lingered, tinged even with a faint hint of greed.

Adrian gently replaced the blanket and withdrew from the room.

“Sir, what exactly is happening with our child?” Sansa asked, her face etched with anxiety. “Lately, he’s only been slightly lucid at night, but no matter what we say to him, he doesn’t respond…”

“Did you use some sort of secret remedy on your son?” Adrian inquired.

Sansa hesitated for a moment.

“A few days ago, he went out with his father, and while they were passing through the forest… he was bitten by a wolf. The wounds were severe; he was barely clinging to life…” Sansa finally began, “Then…”

“Sansa!” an angry voice sharply interrupted her.

A man quickly strode into the house, his expression tense and his face alight with fury.

He carried a pitchfork in his hand, positioning himself protectively in front of Sansa.

The man was Thomas, Sansa’s husband.

“My lords, I apologize,” Thomas forced a smile. “Our child is truly fine. You’ve gone to great trouble to come all this way. I’ll pay your consultation fee, but… there’s no need for further inconvenience.”

Thomas mumbled, lowering his head, then shot Sansa a fierce glare, hissing softly, “Didn’t we agree not to call outsiders? How dare you even summon people from the Order?”

“But the child… the child is already like this!” Sansa retorted, unable to hold back, her voice tinged with a sob.

“We have already entered the room and seen your son’s condition,” Adrian stated, having already formed his conclusions.

Thomas froze, then spun around abruptly, his face instantly turning ashen.

“What?!” Thomas seized his wife’s shoulders. “Didn’t I tell you that no one was allowed into his room when I wasn’t here? What were you thinking?!”

“Your son’s condition is highly unusual,” Adrian said, his voice calm. “Do you truly not wish to know what has happened to him?”

Thomas slowly turned, his gaze dark and sullen.

“Let him speak, Thomas,” Sansa interjected urgently. “They’ve already seen everything, anyway.”

“No,” Thomas gritted out. “Sirs, please leave.”

Thomas held the pitchfork horizontally before him, its tines pointed directly at Adrian.

Noticing this, Ilisia’s brow furrowed, her weight subtly shifting as her hand instinctively brushed her sword hilt.

“No, there’s no need,” Adrian said, placing a hand on Ilisia’s arm. He then turned to Thomas. “You should be aware that drawing a weapon on a member of the Order can result in immediate execution.”

Besides, Adrian was no demon hunter; a pitchfork posed little threat to him.

“We can sit down and discuss this properly,” Adrian said, a benevolent smile gracing his lips. “If you are willing to cooperate, not only will your son have a chance to be saved, but I can also offer you a substantial consultation fee.”

“No need!” Thomas suddenly roared, his emotions seemingly spiraling out of control as he thrust the pitchfork forward.

Swish!

A cold glint flashed.

The pitchfork in Thomas’s hand was cleaved in two.

The severed remnants, cut by a sharp blade, clattered to the floor with a decisive ‘thwack.’

“Ilisia…” Adrian sighed softly.

Turning his head, he observed Ilisia’s indifferent expression and couldn’t help but shake his head.

Terrified, Thomas hastily dropped the remaining wooden shaft from his hand.

He was, in truth, a timid man, having only intended to intimidate the physician.

Thomas now understood that the Order’s members were not to be trifled with.

He hadn’t even seen the silver-haired woman move before the pitchfork was severed.

Thomas’s face turned ghastly pale, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

Sansa, standing nearby, her lips quivering, dared not even draw a loud breath.

Adrian slowly took two steps.

“My good people, I truly dislike threatening others,” Adrian’s voice was chillingly calm, “but I detest lies and wasted time even more.”

Adrian turned his head, his dark eyes fixed intently on Thomas.

“My colleague possesses quite a temper,” Adrian chuckled lightly. “Should you continue to be uncooperative, next time it won’t be a pitchfork she cleaves…”

Thomas dropped to his knees with a thud.

“Sir, sir, have mercy…” Thomas stammered, begging for his life. “I… I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything…”

“Not so fast,” Adrian said, raising a hand to interrupt him.

Adrian signaled to Ilisia with a glance.

Ilisia stepped forward, escorted Sansa out of the house, and then closed the door behind them.

“Now, speak,” Adrian said, looking down at Thomas. “However, you would do well to choose your words carefully. Should your account differ from your wife’s, then…”

Thomas trembled, slumping to the floor, and pressed a hand to his forehead.

He took a moment to compose himself, realizing that there was no use in hiding anything; if he didn’t speak, his wife certainly would.

His wife, being from another village, was somewhat naive and incapable of keeping secrets.

Adrian’s tactic of separate interrogation further ensured Thomas would not dare conceal anything.

“Sir… you must believe me, I truly did it to save my son…” Thomas swallowed hard. “My son and I were returning from another village by carriage when we encountered a pack of wolves on the road. I was fortunate enough to grab a weapon and defend myself alongside the others in the caravan. But my son… he was knocked down and severely wounded; the bleeding wouldn’t stop.”

“He’s my only son…” Thomas’s eyes filled with pain. “Upon returning to the village, I immediately took him to the village healer, but the old man was so frail that he actually fainted at the sight of the blood from the wound… he was utterly useless.”

Adrian remained silent, simply standing and listening to Thomas’s explanation.

“Just as we were frantic with worry, a stranger passed by, claiming to be a doctor. After a few glances at my son, he produced a black flower and declared it could save his life.” Thomas recounted the details of that day, his eyes still distant. “He said I had to feed the flower to my son, and also find a living person, bind their hands and feet, and have my son sleep on them for an entire night, ensuring no sunlight entered the room.”

“At that point, I was beyond caring about anything else. The moment I got the flower, I fed it to him… and it actually worked; the bleeding stopped immediately.”

“But where was I to find a living person?” Thomas gave a bitter laugh. “I’m just a farmer, not a bandit; how could I dare seize someone? In the end, I could only use one of our pigs—I bound it, placed it behind my son, then confined him in the small room, boarded up all the windows, and fed him every midnight.”

Adrian gave a slight nod, signaling him to continue.