CHAPTER 356: RETURN OF BARD

As if answering Xion’s unspoken wish, the healers, who had been tending to patients across the cities and villages, arrived at the Northern border.

Most of them looked battered, dressed in thick but old, worn-out clothes.

Among them, Bard stood at the forefront. He was dressed in a big brown coat that covered his entire frame like a second skin.

But it couldn’t hide the changes in his body. The once thin, sharp-nosed man had grown firmer with the passage of time.

Even with the thick stubble on his face, he was easy to recognize. His features had become more refined, giving off the vibe of a genius about to succumb to the dark side.

Why such a bad impression all of a sudden?

It was mostly due to the dark circles almost reaching his cheeks.

"Bard!" Xion waved excitedly. "You’re finally here."

Though he hadn’t expected many of the healers to return, he was sure about this person. Seeing him again was like seeing a long-lost friend.

Bard, on the other hand, was even more thrilled to see his young mentor than Xion could have imagined.

The man in his late thirties leaped forward and engulfed Xion in a crushing embrace.

"My lord!" Bard nearly shed tears of joy. "I’ve finally found you! Do you know how cruel the world is without you? There was no one to guide me when I nearly messed everything up."

Xion let out a faint laugh as Bard continued to mumble complaints into his shoulder.

Around them, the other healers stood in silence, unsure if they could approach.

A few exchanged nervous glances, shuffling their feet against the snow, yet none moved forward. They were too afraid when there was such an intimidating figure approaching them.

Ignorant, Bard held the thin figure tighter.

"There were patients I couldn’t save, and no one to tell me what to do. I... I started drinking too much, you know? I thought of quitting healing altogether, but then... I remembered your words back then."

Xion arched a brow. "My words?"

Bard nodded vigorously. "’If you can’t heal one person, heal the next. You’ll save someone, even if you can’t save everyone.’ That kept me going."

Grievances spilled from Bard’s mouth in a torrent.

With his feet dangling helplessly in mid-air, Xion patted Bard’s shoulder. "There, there... You’re home now."

If there was anything that broke Bard’s image of an experienced healer, it was the way he showed his emotions when agitated.

Like a child pouring out his troubles to an elder, Bard clung to Xion... until his arms were suddenly empty.

He froze. His dazed eyes fell to the tip of a sword, now hovering inches from his chest.

Xion looked at the Archduke, then back at Ray.

The arm around his waist tightened. Through the thick fabric of his robes, he could feel the tremors thundering against his back.

"He’s not a bad person," Xion said calmly, trying to turn his head to face the Archduke, but the vice-like grip on his body allowed him little freedom to move.

Even with his neck craned, he couldn’t meet those green eyes.

What kind of expression are you making that Bard can’t even close his mouth?

Xion knew the Archduke’s presence brought pressure, but Bard was someone who should’ve been able to withstand it.

After all, he’d rebelled against his noble family just to avoid entering the church, before fleeing to Faymere in search of a rumored healer. Even against all odds, he had persevered till the end.

Hence, when he had rushed to become his student, Xion had rejected him without any mercy at first. Yet Bard had come knocking on his door, the very next day

However, the way Bard’s eyes widened now, his lips parted, his attention fixed not on the sword but on the man holding Xion... it was clear this was about more than social pressure.

"Your Grace..." It was impressive that the healer didn’t stutter while addressing the Monarch of the North. But the others behind Bard weren’t as composed.

"Y-Your Grace," came the echoes, more and more of them bowing, some even kneeling in the snow with pale faces.

Just one glance told Xion they were all terrified.

He sighed, patting the arm wrapped around his waist. "If you scare them any more, they really might have nightmares."

"You’re worried about them."

The low, icy voice made his whole body tremble. Almost like an instinct, he knew Darius was in a bad mood.

Nonetheless, before Xion could ask, another word echoed in his ears.

"Why?"

The question stunned Xion. Why not worry about them? Even without a reason, wasn’t it simple human nature?

"They’re my students," Xion said softly. "Of course I worry about them."

The silly Xion forgot that what was normal for him wasn’t exactly ’normal’ for the Northern lord.

Even his words of explanation had tuned into something else entirely.

All Darius heard was how much Xion cared for others. Useful or not, their status didn’t change in his eyes.

Humans. Nothing more than lumps of flesh strung together by weak souls, clinging to life they didn’t deserve.

Yet here they were, trembling in the snow, daring to lay their filthy, work-worn hands on his Xion.

They didn’t deserve him. They never had.

"Don’t look at them."

Darius felt the tremor of Xion’s soft body against his own and tightened his grip. He was being protective to the point of bruising.

If being a teacher means sharing your time with these wretches... perhaps it’s time to reconsider how long they remain above ground.

After all, burying one, or thirty, of them beneath the snow was nothing new.

The Northern winters were cruel. The lord of these lands was crueler still.

To Darius, even a shallow grave beneath the endless white was salvation only a few deserved. The rest would be better fed to the guarding beasts.

And if they all ended up vanishing for some mysterious reason? So much the better.

The thought alone sent cold satisfaction humming through his veins.