'Overdependence on magic. It's a problem.'

Zephyr watched in silence as Elenor worked, his mind drifting to the inherent flaws of their reliance on magic. It was really a problem.

'People forget the fundamentals when they have miracles at their fingertips.' He sighed.

Then he watched the cloth move with practiced efficiency over the raw edges of the wound. She worked methodically, spreading a fine white powder over the laceration before binding it in clean linen. It was a standard procedure, executed with a grace that suggested she had done this many times before.

But then Zephyr's gaze drifted lower, to the man's knee.

It was a grisly sight.

The bones had been forced entirely out of their socket, the lower leg twisted at an angle that made Zephyr's own skin crawl.

The flesh was already deepening into a bruised, sickly purple as the blood circulation began to fail. Muscles and ligaments were likely screaming under the tension, and if the blood vessels remained compressed much longer, the tissue would simply die.

He found himself wondering how she intended to fix that without surgery.

Elenor, however, didn't hesitate. She paused for only a heartbeat, her eyes scanning the deformity with focus.

"Binding Spell."

The mana flickered into existence, anchoring the man's torso firmly to the ground so he wouldn't slide during the alignment. Once she was satisfied with the stability of her patient, she gripped the lower leg. With a sharp, practiced motion, she twisted and pulled upward in one fluid arc.

Pop.

The sound was wet and heavy. It was unmistakably the sound of bone sliding back into its rightful place.

Meanwhile, the reaction was instantaneous. The man who was previously unconscious jerked back into reality by a bolt of pure agony. He didn't just wake up; he convulsed, a primal, guttural scream escaping from his throat as if his very soul were being forcibly extracted through the joint.

Zephyr winced, a phantom ache blooming in his own body. He understood that kind of pain. After all, losing an arm was a particularly vivid way to learn the limits of pain tolerance.

"Is it done?" he asked.

"Yes," Elenor replied.

She turned her attention to the woman hovering nearby, who was watching with a mixture of terror and hope. Elenor reached into her robes, pulling out a couple of small, paper-wrapped packages.

She looked like a certain fictional character with an infinitely large pocket at that time.

Zephyr smiled.

Meanwhile, Elenor handed the packages to the wife.

"He needs bed rest for a month," she said, her voice dropping into an authoritative tone.

"That is a healing powder. Mix a portion no larger than a pea with warm water and feed it to him daily. It will help heal the internal injury and the fractured ribs."

She stood up, brushing the dust from her attire. "Do you understand?"

The woman didn't answer with words; she merely sank to the floor beside her husband, nodding frantically.

"Ensure he stays in bed for at least a week," Elenor added, perhaps sensing the woman's shock. "And change the bandages every day."

Zephyr watched the exchange, feeling pleased.

Despite the stiff posture and the mask of professional detachment Elenor tried so hard to maintain, the genuine concern was there, buried just beneath the surface. Proving it was the fact that she hadn't even mentioned payment.

The act of kindness made him trust his seniors a little more.

'The boss princess and the lady attendant,' Zephyr thought. 'They really are kind.'

However, his thoughts were broken short by the murmurs around him.

In the background, the low hum of the villagers' voices continued. They were still blaming Tom for what happened to the man.

Zephyr felt a flash of irritation spark in his chest, but he forced it down. They were ignorant, fueled by fear and a lack of understanding. There was no point in trying to correct them; logic was a poor weapon against a mob that had already made up its mind.

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and stood up.

The tension in the air shifted slightly as Moss finally appeared. Then he explained in detail what had transpired.

—

"So, you are saying that the man fell while climbing onto the roof to fix a leak?"

Moss nodded.

"That's unfortunate," Zephyr remarked, though his mind was already dissecting everything he heard. In his mind, he secretly connected all the information he heard, forming a general sequence of events.

"How did he fall exactly? From the roof or the ladder?" He asked.

"Ladder."

"While climbing up or coming down?"

"While coming down."

"What happened to the ladder? Did it break or did he simply slip?"

Zephyr was relentless, asking every question that came to his mind.

"Neither. The people who saw it said the ladder tilted, causing him to slip and fall to the ground."

"It tilted?" Zephyr's eyebrows drew together. "How? I assume it was placed on solid ground. It's common sense to ensure a ladder is stable before putting your weight on it, especially when climbing down."

"That's right."

"There might be more to this story." Zephyr glanced toward the others. "Can I see the ladder? And the ground where it was placed?"

Moss nodded again and began to lead the way. Aurelia, Zephyr, and Elenor followed him a few meters toward a small, weathered structure.

It was a humble house, built entirely of timber and mud, with a thick thatched roof that looked like it had seen better days. The half-finished repair work hung overhead, a silent witness to the accident.

Zephyr's eyes immediately fell onto the small ladder. The man fell off it and onto the stacked wood below. The bloody ground and sharp wooden strips were proof enough that it was the same place.

Then his eyes moved to the exact point where the ladder's feet should have been anchored. Immediately, a seed of suspicion sprouted in his mind.

There, just inches from the primary indentations, was a patch of freshly overturned soil. It looked disturbed, but not in the way a falling ladder would have scarred the earth.

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