Chương 199: Chapter 57: Correct and Unalterable

The following days passed in a tense calm, the quiet that precedes the storm or the judgment. Until the royal steward appeared in her quarters with a laconic summons. The King was receiving her in his private study. This time, upon crossing the threshold, there was no waiting. Thaerón was sitting in the large chair of purple velvet, a solitary throne in front of the clear desk. The sunset light filtered through the tall windows gilded his shoulders but left his face in deliberate shadow.

With a gesture, he invited Selena to sit in the opposite chair. There were no preambles. —I have finished reading the treatise —began the King, his deep voice echoing in the empty room— I had consulted with the chief royal physician. He paused, and for the first time, Selena thought she saw a spark of genuine wonder, almost of discomfort, in the monarch's eyes. —He says you are an unmatched genius in the history of Erabergh's medicine.

The way you classify, the manner in which you improve health protocols, the quarantine procedure… all of it, added to the scientific method you have already instructed, will save more lives than all the medicine practiced in the last five centuries. —Thaerón narrowed his eyes, sighed in a contained manner and continued— He even mentioned a list of severity distinction among patients. The man, who has seen plagues and cures across two reigns, was… truly impressed. I lack words to describe the emotion on his face.

It was something close to reverent awe. Selena held her breath. The praise, coming from that man and filtered by the supreme medical authority, was overwhelming. —On behalf of royalty, on behalf of the Royal Council, and by the express recommendation of the chief royal physician —continued Thaerón, articulating each word with the weight of a decree— I, Thaerón IV Volgthar, approve the implementation of the measures described in the Hospital Codex. Some gradually. Others, the most urgent, immediately.

The book will be adopted as a medical standard in all royal hospitals and recommended to noble houses from today. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. —You, Lady Countess Selena of Solendra, alongside the great chief physician of the path, Anselmo Wick, will be decorated. The sentence fell with implacable smoothness. Selena felt how another chain, golden and heavy, closed around her neck, but it was one she had already been willing to accept. —Anselmo will be publicly honored.

For his exceptional service to the realm, he will be elevated to the nobility with the rank of hereditary viscount. An unprecedented social ascent for a commoner. —Thaerón paused, studying her, looking at every expression— In turn, you, countess, will be named marchioness. Marchioness. The title echoed in the silence of the room like a gong strike. A rank so high that it was only surpassed by dukes, grand dukes and the monarch himself. In the entire royal court serving the Volgthars, there were barely nine.

With her, there would be ten. A deep, involuntary sigh escaped Selena's lips. It was not joy; it was the weight of the slab becoming tangible. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. —I know that, as before, you do not desire direct political power —continued the King, as if reading her thoughts— Therefore, I will leave the additional administrative responsibilities under the jurisdiction of house Solendra. Valerius has shown himself to be…

accommodating with what was agreed. The term "accommodating" sounded loaded, as if behind it there were hours of tense family negotiation. —I would give you a seat on the Royal Council, but I cannot. You are a resonant, Selena. And as a resonant, your value to the crown is incalculable, but you are also a state secret. Your nature must remain in the shadows for most. Selena nodded slowly. She expected it. The double life was consolidating.

—So, in exchange for the noble title advancement and in recognition of your unique capabilities —the word "unique" Thaerón pronounced with a subtle emphasis— I will give you the direction of Project Hammerer. The name fell in the air like a stone in a frozen pond. Project Hammerer. It did not sound like medicine, nor research. It sounded like forge. Like industry. Like war. —Selena of Solendra, officially and without public ceremonies that attract unwanted gazes, I grant you the military rank of colonel.

A rank that, once Project Hammerer is underway and demonstrates its efficacy, will be elevated to brigadier general. Thaerón touched a small silver bell on his desk. Instantly, as if he had been waiting behind the door, an impeccably dressed steward entered. Over his outstretched arms he carried a military uniform. It was a suit of practical yet flawless cut, of an intense, deep red, like freshly spilled oxygenated blood. The crimson color of the former crimson duchess but dyed with the authority of the crown.

—The Royal Crown of Erabergh congratulates itself —said Thaerón, with the ritual formula— that its generational nobility is decorated with duties that honor and defend the realm. Therefore, I grant you the attire fitting your new rank and mission. Selena looked at him, then at the blood-red uniform. A shiver ran down her spine. I always knew I would draw more chains to myself, she thought, with a bitter aftertaste of irony. But I never imagined they would be chains in service of the machinery of war.

Perhaps that was what the halom had tried to warn her in fragmented dreams: giant metal beetles, men and women under her command, the thunder of something huge being forged. They were not omens of glory; they were whispers of the future that now materialized before her. A sigh, and the sound seemed to weigh twenty times more in the quiet room. It was all for the greater good. No longer just for Terracanto, for Kaela, for the faces she knew.

It was for all the people of Erabergh, for the anonymous mass that depended on decisions made in rooms like this. Was it not the same justification as Eliud when he committed his errors? The question, sharp and poisonous, arose from deepest depths. She shook her head, an almost imperceptible gesture. No. I will not become that. But then, a memory whipped her with the force of a lash.

The words she had read so long ago, in the dream world of the blindfolded mage, during her curiosity about the halom:"First of all, the mage must accept, with humility bordering on despair, that the halom is not omnipotent. Many, in their anguish, want to use it to escape fate, to bend the thread that is already woven. But what this servant has noted, after thousands of visions and their corresponding fulfillments, is that the fate seen in the true dream is correct and unalterable." Correct and unalterable.

The words echoed in her mind like a sentence. A slight, uncontrollable tremor ran through her hands. She looked at the red uniform, then at the King's impassive eyes. There was no escape. Not on this path. She would comply with the King's orders in Project Hammerer. She would study, direct, and forget whatever was necessary. Just as the dream fate and the chains of her new rank seemed to dictate, Selena of Solendra, physician, resonant, now marchioness and colonel, would go to war one day.

Not as a soldier on the front line, but as the mind behind the hammer that would strike. The weight of that certainty settled on her shoulders, heavier than any title, colder than any steel.