In the study, Vivian sat at her desk, her expression unreadable as she listened to Sebastian and Rendon discuss the logistics of her reputation-rebuilding efforts. Zach played in the corner, seemingly distracted by Miya, the snake, and his summoned demons, but Vivian knew better. Her son was always listening, always
Rendon hesitated for a moment before responding. "Medical assistance. Providing healthcare is not only essential, but it gives people a tangible reason to respect you. Unlike trade or law enforcement, which many still see as benefiting nobles first, medicine directly impacts their lives."
Vivian's eyes flickered with realization. It was perfect. Health concerns were universal; no one could argue against helping the sick. And more importantly, it was necessary.
She turned to Sebastian without hesitation. "Arrange it immediately. Gather every medical specialist in the kingdom. I want an event organized as soon as possible."
Sebastian nodded and left to begin preparations. However, the message would take time to reach its intended recipients.
Far from the noble mansions and political discussions, a weary doctor sat at his desk in a dimly lit clinic. Dr. Aldric rubbed his temples, exhaustion weighing heavily on him. His clinic was always open, yet few ever walked through its doors.
He wasn't like the other so-called "physicians" who drained their patients' purses before offering a remedy. He charged almost nothing for checkups, sometimes nothing at all. Yet people still refused to come, believing all doctors were out to exploit them.
Aldric sighed as he recalled past tragedies. He had seen parents refuse treatment for their children, convinced that he would demand an impossible fee. He had watched men die from infections that could have been treated with a simple herb.
And worst of all, he had seen nobles weaponize healthcare, turning medicine into another tool to drain the poor of what little they had.
Unlike Ravennest, where at least medical services were encouraged, many other towns used it as a business rather than a necessity. In Ravennest, the problem wasn't the lack of Money it was the lack of trust.
Aldric splashed cold water on his face, trying to shake off his exhaustion. As he straightened, he caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror.
Then he heard it.
A sickening thud.
His body reacted before his mind could process it. He turned and rushed toward the window just in time to see a child sprawled across the dirt road. A carriage rolled away, its driver not even stopping. The noble inside didn't care enough to glance back.
Aldric's heart pounded. He grabbed his medical bag and sprinted outside. The people gathered, murmuring in distress but no one moved to help. They hesitated, uncertain. Some likely feared the cost of treatment. Others assumed it was already too late.
Aldric didn't have time for their doubts.
"Move!" he barked, pushing through the crowd. He knelt beside the child, checking his pulse. The boy was still alive but bleeding badly.
For a moment, frustration burned in his chest. ''This is what happens when people fears of medical fees they just accept their fate easily"
He lifted the child into his arms and rushed inside, already barking orders to his assistants.
However though this might look like a heroic act. many people saw that aldric was just doing it for a living
Aldric laid the unconscious child carefully on the wooden examination table, the dim glow of oil lamps flickering across the boy's pale face. His breathing was shallow, but steady. The boy's left arm was bent in an unnatural direction, the bone beneath the skin clearly misaligned. A fracture. Possibly worse.
He had no modern machines to assess the severity no metal splints, no anesthetics beyond what crude mixtures he could prepare. This was medicine in its rawest form.
The gathered assistants and apprentices exchanged uneasy glances. Even among them, there was hesitation. They had been taught to heal, but how many truly trusted their own craft?
Aldric exhaled sharply. No time for doubt.
He turned to one of his apprentices. "Boil water. Bring clean linen and honey. Now."
The boy rushed off. Aldric began removing the child's torn shirt, exposing the swollen and bruised skin. The unnatural angle of the limb confirmed what he already knew: the bone had been twisted out of place, and if not set properly, it would heal incorrectly leaving the boy crippled for life.
No margin for error.
"Hold him down," Aldric instructed, and two of his assistants obeyed. "I need a splint, thick bandages, and" He turned as the apprentice returned, arms full of steaming cloths and a jar of thick golden honey.
Good. Honey was expensive, but its ability to prevent infections made it invaluable.
Aldric examined the injury once more, his fingers pressing gently around the distorted joint. The child moaned weakly. Even unconscious, pain found its way through.
This was going to hurt.
"Steady him," Aldric warned. He grasped the child's forearm firmly, his fingers pressing against the displaced bone. He exhaled, focused, and in one swift motion
Crack.
The bone snapped back into place.
The boy convulsed, a sharp, strangled cry escaping his lips. The assistants flinched, their grips tightening. Sweat formed on Aldric's brow, but his hands remained steady.
It wasn't over yet.
"The linen," he ordered. One assistant passed him the steaming cloth, which he wrapped around the swollen area. The warmth would reduce inflammation and numb the pain. Next, he took the honey and spread a thin layer over the barely visible scratches near the fracture a natural antiseptic, preventing infection.
Finally, Aldric retrieved a pair of carved wooden slats from the supply shelves. They weren't perfect, but they would hold. He positioned them on either side of the arm, securing them with long, thick strips of bandage.
"There," he murmured, inspecting his work. The limb was now straight, immobilized. Healing would take weeks, but the boy's future was no longer doomed to a crippled fate.
Aldric wiped his hands, exhaling in relief. One battle won. But the war was far from over.
As he cleaned his tools, the weight of the night settled over him.
This child had been lucky. He had been nearby, and Aldric had been able to intervene. But how many others were suffering because they feared stepping into a clinic? How many had already died because they thought all doctors were greedy frauds?
His grip tightened around the damp cloth in his hands.
As he looked down at the sleeping child, a flicker of determination settled in his chest. Maybe this was the start of something. Maybe it was time for doctors to reclaim their purpose not as merchants of health, but as healers.
He just didn't know yet that a certain noblewoman had already made her first move.
Aldric had just extinguished the lantern in his chamber when the noise started.
A loud, frantic pounding on the clinic's front door, followed by the sharp cries of a woman. The words were muffled, but the raw emotion in her voice sent a chill through his tired bones desperation, fear, and something else, something darker.
Without hesitation, he grabbed his robe and made his way downstairs.
As Aldric unlatched the door, a woman stumbled inside. Her face was pale, her eyes wild with worry. Dirt clung to the hem of her dress, and her hands trembled as she clutched at her chest, struggling for breath.
"Where is he?" she demanded, her voice cracking. "Where's my son?"
Aldric frowned, already understanding the situation. "If your child was brought here tonight, then he's resting in the clinic. He suffered an injury, but he's stable"
Before he could finish, the woman pushed past him, storming toward the patient beds.
The moment she laid eyes on her son, still unconscious but peacefully sleeping on the cot, she rushed to him, dropping to her knees. Her hands hovered over his body, hesitating as if afraid to touch him. Her breaths came in short, ragged gasps, relief fighting against the storm of emotions in her chest.
Then, as quickly as the relief came, it vanished.
"We're leaving," she announced, reaching for the boy.
Aldric stepped forward immediately. "Wait! Moving him carelessly could make things worse. His arm was broken, and if it's disturbed"
"I don't care!" she shouted, her voice raw with panic. "We can't afford this! We're just poor folks how are we supposed to pay for this kind of care?"
Aldric's chest tightened. This again.
"It won't cost you anything," he said firmly. "Your son needed help, so I treated him. That's all."
But the woman shook her head violently, gripping her son's body protectively. "No doctor helps for free. There's always a price, always a debt. We'll leave before you demand something we can't give."
Aldric wanted to argue, wanted to explain the risks—how a mistreated fracture could cripple the boy for life. But the sheer terror in the woman's eyes told him that words wouldn't reach her.
She had already decided. She would rather risk her son's future than gamble on trusting a doctor.
A heavy silence filled the room.
"…Help her," Aldric finally ordered, turning to his assistant, who had been awoken by the commotion. "Make sure the boy is carried carefully to their home."
The mother stiffened, surprised by his lack of resistance. Slowly, she looked at him, guilt flickering across her face.
She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you… for helping my son."
Aldric didn't respond immediately. He simply watched as they carried the sleeping child away, the mother walking beside them, her hand gripping his uninjured arm like a lifeline.
When the door finally closed behind them, he let out a slow breath, rubbing his temples.
Even when given freely, help was still rejected.
Aldric had saved the boy's arm, but it didn't matter the mother had still seen him as a threat, a danger rather than a healer.
And she wasn't the only one.
How many more would rather suffer in silence than risk stepping into a clinic? How many had already died, simply because they feared the cost of survival?
He sat heavily on the nearest chair, staring at the flickering candlelight. Medicine wasn't failing because of lack of knowledge or skill. It was failing because people had been conditioned to believe that doctors weren't saviors they were predators.
And as long as that belief remained, nothing would change.
the next day the town of Ravennest awakened to the sound of ringing bells and the rhythmic pounding of town criers marching through the streets. From every direction, voices called out, carrying a message that would shake the very foundation of the city's perception of Lady Vivian Ravennest.
"Hear ye, hear ye! By the decree of Lady Vivian Ravennest, a grand medical assistance event shall commence! All sick and ailing citizens, regardless of wealth or status, shall receive free medical treatment. Medicines, consultations, and necessary operations everything shall be provided under the Lady's watchful eye!"
A stunned silence fell over the bustling marketplace as the words sank in. Then, as though a wave had crashed against the city, murmurs swelled into cheers. Hope, a long-lost feeling for many, began to spread through the people.
In the poorer districts, where the sick often wasted away in dimly lit homes, the news spread like wildfire. Families who had resigned themselves to helplessly watching their loved ones suffer now clutched at each other, tears glistening in their eyes.
"Did you hear that? They'll treat us for free!"
"Lady Vivian… she really heard us? She's helping us?"
"The doctors will be under her command there won't be any tricks this time!"
Men and women who had given up seeking treatment out of fear of crushing debt now rushed into the streets, asking anyone who passed for confirmation. The announcement had come from multiple sources, each crier repeating the decree without hesitation.
"The Lady herself will personally oversee the event to ensure fairness!"
Those words, more than anything, crushed the doubts still lingering in the minds of the wary. If Lady Vivian was truly watching, then this wasn't just another ploy to extract money from the desperate. This was real.
Within the medical community, the reaction was just as profound.
"We… we don't have to turn anyone away anymore?" one doctor whispered in disbelief, his trembling hands gripping a notice that confirmed the decree.
"The Lord will fund everything? Medicines, treatments, even surgeries? We can actually do our jobs properly?"
For too long, they had been forced to prioritize the wealthy, while the poor suffered in silence. Some had tried to offer lower prices or secret free treatments, but it was never enough. Now, the burden of choice was lifted.
"Lady Vivian… I never truly knew her, but now… I will serve her with my all."
Others shared the same sentiment, their respect for their Lady growing.
Not everyone welcomed the announcement with joy.
The very merchants who had been fanning the flames against Lady Vivian now found themselves under siege by the people's backlash. Those who had accused her of hoarding power, of being greedy and oppressive, now looked like nothing more than opportunists preying on fear.
"She's saving our people, and you had the audacity to slander her?!"
"You wanted us to hate her, but look who's actually helping!"
"How dare you try to turn us against her?!"
One by one, shops that had been thriving off distrust and misinformation saw their businesses plummet. People refused to buy from them, choosing instead to support those who had remained neutral or supportive of their Lady.
Vivian had not needed to silence her enemies—her actions had done so for her.
As the town buzzed with excitement, one thing became clear: Lady Vivian was no longer just the wife of Lord Vincent. She was becoming the Lady of Ravennest, trusted in her own right.
The power Vincent had given her was no longer just borrowed authority it was now earned.