Her Graceful War Song by Summer's Blaze

Chapter 1473 Inside Salvador's residence, Dawnspire Palace, Desmond and Robert stood silently to the side. Meanwhile, Rafael and Derek remained at the king's bedside, waiting as Sebastian examined him. After a long moment, Sebastian withdrew his hand and asked for the previous examination records and prescriptions.

Robert immediately retrieved them and handed them over with great respect. "Here, Mr. Dalton, please have a look."

Though Sebastian held the title of Miracle Healer and should have been called Healer Dalton, barely anyone dared to use that term of address after the Royal Medical Department had previously been purged of all Miracle Healers.

Sebastian accepted the records, flipping through them page by page. The room was so silent that even the faintest sound of turning parchment seemed deafening.

Everyone held their breath. This was their last hope. If even Sebastian said Salvador only had three months left, then that would be the final word.

Salvador appeared calm, but his eyes were slightly narrowed and his palms were damp with sweat. He was waiting for his sentence.

After carefully examining every detail, Sebastian looked up and stated, "The records indicate that His Majesty has suffered pain for over a month, is unable to sleep at night, and has lost his appetite."

It was a simple observation-nothing more than what was already written in the records. The others nodded in confirmation, but what they truly wanted to hear was whether he had a solution.

However, Sebastian offered nothing further. Instead, he turned back to the beginning and read through the treatment records again.

Desmond and Robert tensed, worried that he would disapprove of the medication that had been administered. Several of the treatments had been experimental, not the conventional prescriptions. They had been desperate to find something, anything, that might work. But the results had been discouraging. Finally, it was Rafael who broke the silence.

"Sebastian, what do you think?" he asked, his voice tight with tension.

Without realizing it, he had seated himself at the edge of the bed, his broad frame instinctively positioned as if to shield the king. It was an unconscious gesture, one he hadn't considered whether or not was appropriate.

the contrary, he felt

them aside. "The previous treatments have helped slow the disease's progression. But with this illness, deterioration is inevitable. When I say it's worsening, I mean the lung condition is starting

struck everyone like ice water poured over their heads, leaving them chilled to the bone. Salvador's eyes darkened briefly with disappointment,

just speak plainly. How much time do I have?" he asked, his expression as

was already calculating which combination of medicines could

weak smile. "Speak freely. Three months? Five

to meet the king's directly. "If I use my own methods you may have a year. But if I apply Jonah's formula-along with the cases he documented and the treatment methods he devised-then, conservatively, you

of light sparked in Salvador's eyes, but it quickly

had

as the crown prince,

night. He had witnessed firsthand how Jonah, a famed physician from outside the palace, had

had condemned

Desmond falter as well. He remembered it clearly. Back then, he was not head

consulted with them,

evident that he was extraordinarily knowledgeable, well-versed in

experienced in treating co

had even shown signs of

no

Sigmund's condition. But the

beast, relentless and

god. He

died unjustly. His reputation had been too great, his name too