The King looked away. Something wet glistened at the corner of his eye, quickly blinked away.

"Then what would you have me do?" His voice was hoarse, scraped raw. "Watch my people die in a war we cannot win? Watch my wife waste away while I play at being a king? Every day she grows weaker. Every day I sit in council chambers discussing tariffs while the woman I've loved for thirty years fades."

He laughed—a bitter, broken sound.

"You don't know what it's like. To be helpless. To have all the power of a kingdom and none of the power to save the one person who matters."

Northern was quiet for a moment.

'He's not wrong. I don't know what it's like to watch someone I love die slowly while I'm powerless to stop it.'

'But then again... I'm not powerless.'

"Your Majesty," Northern said slowly, "what exactly is wrong with your wife?"

King Ruger blinked at the shift in topic. "It's... a wasting disease. Her vitality drains day by day. The royal physicians have exhausted every treatment. Caevlyn Citadel's finest healers have examined her. Nothing works. The source of the affliction remains unknown—that's why Roma was searching for the origin, trying to trace the stimulant that triggered it."

"Symptoms?"

"Fatigue that never lifts. Muscle deterioration. Her soul essence is... scattered. Fragmented." The King's hands tightened on the edge of the table. "As though something is slowly unraveling her from the inside."

Northern's mind was already working.

'Soul essence scattered. Fragmented. Unraveling from the inside... Aoi?'

[That sounds less like a disease and more like a curse. Or a talent effect. Something that's actively working against her, not just natural deterioration]

[Target will need to be closely analyzed for a more correct analysis]

'If I'm able to copy her form or copy the sickness, is it possible to create a variation that will later breed a cure?'

[Recursive Generation works on probabilities. There's no way to know what the variant evolution will be until after they evolved]

[If the disease has a soul signature, it is possible to copy her form, you can also iterate her muscles. Your Origin abilities can be used both on you and other people. Although the later bears upon you a great deal of burden]

Northern was silent for a while.

'I see... but we'll need to see her.'

[Correct]

He fixed the King with a serious look.

"I want to examine her."

King Ruger stared at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"Your wife. I want to examine her. Tomorrow, if possible." Northern's voice was matter-of-fact, as though he were discussing the weather rather than inserting himself into the King's most private grief. "I have... certain abilities that might provide insight your healers lack."

The King's expression shifted through several emotions—hope, skepticism, suspicion, and something that looked painfully like fear of disappointment.

"Lord Northern, the finest healers in Ryugan have—"

"I'm not a healer from Ryugan." Northern's smile was thin. "I'm not a healer at all, really. But I can see things that healers can't. And if your wife's condition is what I suspect it might be..."

He let the implication hang.

King Ruger studied him for a long moment. The candlelight cast deep shadows beneath his eyes, aging him another decade.

"Why?" he asked finally. "Why would you help her? This isn't altruism—you've been clear about wanting land, wanting strategic advantage. My wife's health is..."

"Leverage," Northern finished. "Yes. It is."

He met the King's eyes without shame.

"If I can heal your wife—or at least identify what's killing her—then suddenly surrendering to the Empire becomes less appealing, doesn't it? Suddenly you have something to fight for again. Suddenly my offer of alliance becomes significantly more attractive."

The honesty seemed to catch the King off guard.

"You... admit you're manipulating me."

"I'm negotiating with you," Northern corrected. "Manipulation implies deception. I'm being completely transparent. I want land—though it's not entirely about the land itself. That's just to establish a foothold here. What I really want is to give the Empire a run for their money. I want Ryugan to resist rather than fold. And if healing your wife achieves all of those goals while also keeping an innocent woman alive..."

He shrugged.

"I fail to see the downside."

'And if she's suffering from what I think she might be suffering from... then this isn't just about Ryugan anymore.'

King Ruger was silent for a long moment.

Then, slowly, something shifted in his expression. Not hope—not yet. But the absence of hopelessness. A crack in the wall he'd built around himself.

"You're a strange young man, Lord Northern."

"I've been told."

"If you're lying to me—if you're offering false hope to secure an alliance—"

"Then you'll have every right to have me killed," Northern said pleasantly. "But I'm not lying. I don't know if I can help your wife. But I do know that I can see things others can't. And right now, you have nothing to lose by letting me try."

The King considered this.

Around them, the banquet continued. Nyssira had moved on to what appeared to be an entire roasted bird, attacking it with the kind of focus usually reserved for sworn enemies. Sael was having an increasingly animated conversation with a Ryugan noble about something that involved extensive hand gestures and what looked like barely contained excitement. Shae remained vigilant at her post, and Ellis had found wine—enough of it, apparently, to warrant a second glass.

None of them seemed aware of the negotiation happening at the head of the table.

Finally, King Ruger nodded.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll arrange for you to see her."

"Good."

"And the matter of land—"

"We can discuss that after I've examined your wife," Northern said. "Consider it a gesture of good faith. I'm not asking you to commit to anything tonight. Just... keep an open mind."

He picked up his chopsticks and resumed eating, signaling that the heavy part of the conversation was over.

"Besides," he added, almost as an afterthought, "if I can heal her, my asking price goes up significantly. Best to establish a baseline now, don't you think?"

King Ruger stared at him.

Then, despite everything—despite the grief and the exhaustion and the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders—he laughed.

It was small. Fragile. But real.

"You're insufferable."

Northern smiled.

"I'm not, really. I'm just... sort of desperate to prepare an amusing homecoming gift."

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