Chapter 171

Chapter 171
Chapter 171
## Chapter 171: The Old Hero (6)

— Dust.

— I’m coming in.

As he crossed the threshold of the room where Sirine was being attended to, Derek’s gaze met a disproportionate volume of bedding. For an instant, bewilderment washed over him until he understood the scene: the noblewoman, usually impeccable, had discarded her dress and found herself buried under a mountain of lace pajamas.

— Derek…

— What is all this for?

— My father ordered every wool blanket from the main residence brought here because the weather is freezing… He insisted that I must preserve my body heat at all costs.

Despite his astonishment, Derek scrutinized Sirine’s countenance with attention. He noticed her skin radiating unusual heat. Between intermittent sneezes, she spoke weakly, her eyes kept moist by discomfort.

— I begged him to let me just rest… but he suspended the banquet with such a stern expression. I am very sorry you made the trip in vain.

— The feast was not our priority, so don’t worry… Although it seems your feverish state is more acute than I imagined.

— The maids already took care of drying me and changing the compresses. Honestly, this is an exaggeration…

The employees must have contemplated that in silence. The fact that no one dared to question the situation demonstrated the absolute weight of Melberot’s directives. It was understandable: who could have foreseen that the impetuous young woman, capable of running shoeless through snowy tundras chasing magical beasts, would end up prostrated by a simple cold?

Derek sat beside her and took her hand, evaluating the circulation of her internal energy.

— You have overexerted yourself.

— You think so? I don’t feel that way…

— It’s likely you consumed your magical reserves while trying to protect yourself.

— The creatures are heading towards this place.

Sirine’s skill in traversing the snow barefoot stemmed from a natural gift for transformation magic; she used acceleration and state alterations instinctively without having received prior instruction. However, upon integrating the battle magic and chaos magic that Derek taught her, her range of abilities grew, leading her to severe exhaustion during her frenzy in the snow.

— You must be experiencing more cold than usual.

— I suppose it’s the effect of returning to the Rochester region after spending time in the warm prairies… Perhaps I have become somewhat careless.

— It is logical. Sleep should be enough for you to recover.

— I still feel bad for having ruined the dinner…

— We will organize another meeting as soon as you are recovered.

The serenity in Derek’s words managed to appease Sirine. His unwavering composure instilled calm even in such peculiar moments. Between moans and sneezes, she began to fight against the weight of the blankets.

— Eek… ugh…

— Whoosh!

With Derek’s assistance to free herself from the layers of fabric, Sirine was finally able to sit up. She was not suffering from a critical illness, only a common cold, although she touched her forehead with a mixture of strangeness and curiosity.

— Wow. Your hands feel very cold… that confirms my body is burning.

— That doesn’t necessarily mean my hands are cold.

— You don’t need to look at me with such fascination…
— So this is what humans experience in the face of the cold…
— It is obvious.

— You are right. It is obvious.

Sirine fixed her gaze on the large window, contemplating the snow falling behind the tower, a place loaded with bitter memories. It was unusual to observe it from the safety of the mansion and not from its heights. In that place, an eternal sentence awaited her, but now her world was changing. All thanks to a stubborn magic teacher who put his existence at risk to rescue her.

— There are many things I don’t fully understand.
— …

— It makes sense. What notion of reality can an assassin confined to a tower have, taking lives while drowning in her own misery? It’s not that I care about others’ opinions; I only act according to my desires at Rosea Salon.

She evoked the image of Lady Tricia losing consciousness from fear when she released her lethal aura, a reaction to which she was already accustomed.

— It comforts me that you are here, Derek.

Sirine was not given to beating around the bush and preferred direct honesty. It was an atypical confession; perhaps the fever clouded her judgment for an instant, as she suddenly averted her gaze, whether out of discomfort or shyness.

— Keep resting.

Outside, the snow gave no truce. It was a recurring vision for those who remained static, like Melberot, who observed the northern wastelands with a fixed stare.

— The cold here is inclement.

And constant exposure to these temperatures can break anyone, whether it be a vulnerable girl or a powerful witch who once dominated the world.

***

— Have you verified how she is?

— That is correct. She exhausted her magical faculties facing the beasts.

— I understand. Sleep will return her vitality and her magic deposits.
— Excellent.

Melberot waited in the hallway with his arms crossed, followed by a retinue of nervous servants and a haggard-looking Kalimford. What a nuisance! How did she intend to withstand the northern winter if a slight cold bothered her so much? She looked extremely contrite.

However, the matter required a meticulous approach. Although a natural recovery was normal, there were always risks. A passing weakness could lead to sequelae if an infection arose. One had to be cautious.

— The usual procedure will be to provide her with light food and absolute rest.

— Too simplistic.

— I beg your pardon?

Melberot expressed himself with a seriousness that bordered on anguish. «As a mercenary, you well know that a minimal oversight can lead to a tragedy. What seems trivial today could hide a deeper root. No doctor should be negligent in their diagnosis; I have led Rochester without allowing myself errors. Summon all the doctors and bring all available supplies.»

— What a complicated daughter.

— Is so much deployment really necessary?

— I have taken all the correct measures. — The butler looked extremely pale; it was clear that no word of comfort would calm Melberot.

— If we analyze it coldly, such extreme measures seem disproportionate, — intervened Kalimford.

— What did you say?

The employees saw in Kalimford a redeemer when he continued with rigor: — A magic device designed to balance her declining energy reserves would be much more effective. It is expensive, but it represents an invaluable guarantee.

— The funds collected recently could be allocated to that artifact, redistributing what was assigned to the maintenance of the walls…

— Perhaps we could resort to external financing sources…

— That would imply an additional disbursement of two hundred Roten gold coins…

— Melberot! Sirine is convalescing! Are you going to risk her suffering irreversible damage for a question of money?

— Damn it… But calling so many doctors will drain our coffers. We will have to make a legal restructuring of the budget.

— Health comes first. Trust my judgment.

A medical analysis is what is appropriate! Magic is not the solution for everything!

— Lightning! Baron Ravenclaw already corroborated that it is a magical draining!

— And what if he is wrong? Will you take responsibility for the consequences?

— Me…?

— Good heavens… why did this have to happen now…?

— …

The vehemence of their argument exceeded even that of the preparations for a global-scale conflict. That two six-star sorcerers were lamenting so much over a young girl’s cold was simply ridiculous. Neither possessed experience in child-rearing: their panic reaction and the pressure they exerted on the others were exhausting the servants.

— With all due respect, — intervened Derek, — she only needs nourishment and sleep.

Two gazes loaded with devastating intensity fixed upon him.

— That light attitude solves nothing.
— This matter demands a much deeper deliberation.

The atmosphere became suffocating under such pressure.

***

— After sleeping all night, the fever has remitted. I am fine now.

— Do not worry. I am sorry for having caused such a commotion yesterday.

— …

— Great-grandson, great-grandson.

At dawn the next day, a Sirine brimming with vitality received Melberot in the room, looking totally recovered after having eaten some hot porridge and rested adequately.

Melberot was signing a document while observing her sideways. — I came to inform myself because I assumed you would be restless.

Restless? Just manage your transformation magic better. Falling ill frequently will affect your social standing.

— I apologize for the trouble caused.

— I already told you I was not restless. Having such marked feelings of inferiority harms your public image.

After greeting formally, Sirine withdrew to eat breakfast.

— Hmph. Making such a fuss over an insignificance. — Melberot abruptly signed Derek’s land report, without even dedicating a revision look to it.

“It seems he is not aware of his own reaction,” thought Derek.

Being under the tutelage of two rank 6 mages provided Sirine with exceptional protection, which in turn burdened Derek with a unique responsibility as the mentor she herself had chosen.

A completely inevitable situation.