[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke-Chapter 208: The Name That Tastes Like Poison

Darius Rael Darkhelm stood at the highest parapet, where the wind never ceased, and the cold made even the stones brittle. His long hair fluttered, almost fading into the falling snow.

Below, the soldiers trained in silence. There were no songs. No shouts.

Just the rhythmic clash of weapons and the crunch of snow beneath disciplined feet as they fought with both blades and bursts of mana.

The North had always been silent, or at least, the halls of House Darkhelm’s palace were always steeped in silence.

It was how His Grace preferred it.

Most men wouldn’t have dared stand there so long, exposed to wild mana. But Darius had long ceased being "most men."

Ray stood just a bit away from His Grace, observing everything around him with his sharp gaze.

His breath fogged in front of his face as he snorted soundlessly while he thought about those imbeciles sitting in Myrthiana, the royal capital.

The royals would be wringing their jeweled hands right about now.

Darius, the sovereign of the North, was no longer bound to his majesty like he was in the past.

He did not have to pay any tributes despite the scarcity of food supplies, nor did they have to give any taxes to that old fool of a king.

His Grace could crown himself king and not a single soul would challenge him.

But he didn’t.

He remained the Archduke. Not out of humility — no, His Grace wasn’t particularly fond of pretending.

He remained because the title alone was enough to keep the old king clinging to his throne with white-knuckled desperation.

It was ironic that the thirteen-year beast they sent to the battlefield, who made the nobles tremble with his smirk, seemed almost cute to them now.

If the teenager Darius was the devil, this present archduke was the demon king. And that had made even the crown prince tuck his tail between his legs.

Nonetheless, they had no idea what changed him.

Most blamed the Moonshade Affliction. They thought that Darius ate the curse, and in return, it consumed his humanity.

However, no matter the rumors, one thing was certain: he had survived, and he had become something far more dangerous.

And the people? The common folk actually loved him.

That love burned hotter than any hearth in the North, and at the same time, it was poison to the Crown Prince’s pride.

Ray allowed himself a brief smirk.

The royals thought they could tether the North again with some silk-clad Saintess. Drop a divine veil over the cold and call it a blessing.

And yet, not a single banquet was thrown in her honor. No golden bedchambers were prepared. No courtiers gathered to kiss her hand.

They didn’t throw her out, but they sure as hell didn’t roll out any red carpets either.

"She wants to bless the people?" His Grace had said, glancing out the window with that empty look in his dull eyes. "Then she should live with them."

Ray had almost winced at the casual cruelty of it. Almost.

Yet when word spread of the Saintess staying in the old cliffside church, the commoners had erupted with joy.

The same people who once cursed the burning of royal churches now whispered their thanks to their lord.

Some even claimed His Grace had destroyed those churches due to the influence of the Moonshade Affliction. And with the curse gone, His Grace was back to "normal".

Ray scoffed. He was genuinely baffled this time.

He had actually prepared for riots and even tightened the patrols in the vicinity.

Instead, he got flower offerings.

And then he saw Allen. Ray would bet his sword that half these rumors had been fed to the people by that alchemist alone.

Thanks to Allen, Darius the Devil had become Darius the Devoted.

Ray almost choked the first time he heard that one.

Still, if the lies worked in their favor, who was he to complain?

The capital was scared. The Crown Prince was seething. The nobles were watching from afar, desperately hoping the Saintess would uncover some weakness they could exploit.

They couldn’t find any though. At least not in the north.

Ray pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders and turned his eyes southward.

He silently wondered what that rabbit was doing right now. Well, he already had a general idea of what Xion had been doing.

He was the one who had sent special guards after Xion when he heard about the healer with black hair at the southern border.

It had been two years since then. Two years since he had seen his grace’s eyes light up and then the dullness had returned.

Darius hadn’t asked him to bring Xion back, which left Ray perplexed.

But Allen had explained it, and suddenly it made sense — too much sense, in fact.

"His Grace is letting Xion do as he wishes, but once he falls into His Grace’s palm again... there would be no hiding anymore."

Ray sincerely hoped that Xion could return. At least, that way, there would be someone to scold his grace when he stayed up all night or when he didn’t eat anything for the entire day.

"Ray."

Ray instantly straightened his back, "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Find what that cousin of mine and her people are up to," Darius ordered while staring at the sky which was soon turning dark. "Let’s return."

Ray bowed, "At your command, Your Grace."

The night fell and as always, it was dark, silent, and utterly cold.

And yet instead of sleeping, the sovereign of the north went to the special chamber.

He opened the wooden chest and saw them all — a tiny shimmering bottle, a hairpin adorned with angel wings. The thought of an angel wing near him was absurd on its own.

However, what stood out the most was not the little trinkets adorning the room but the huge life-sized painting.

It wasn’t the ornate frame, inlaid with glimmering gold and precious jewels, that caught his eye.

It was a simple room of an inn painted on it. At the heart of it lay a small bed, where two teenagers with opposite hair color huddled close together to sleep.

The artist had drawn the scene so masterfully that every stroke evoked a sense of intimacy.

Just by looking at the darkness peeking through the closed window, one could feel the precious warmth the two boys shared on the chilly night.

"With big glowing wings, they chase away fear,

Sleep safe and sound, for the angel is near."

Darius tapped at the frame. His dull green eyes finally had a glimmer of shine in them.

Then a smirk crept up on his lips.

"How long do you think you can hide from me?" His voice dropped, almost tender. "Are you still that silly little kitten... or have you grown a bit more mature, Xion?"

The name felt like a poison on his tongue. It was deadly but so damn sweet that even after four long years, Darius was willing to speak it like a chant.