Filed To Story: Queen of the Battlefield Her Return to Glory Novel Online Free
After taking the pill, Rafael claimed that the pain in his chest had lessened. Robert took his pulse and, sure enough, the improvement was remarkable. The Snowdrop Pill worked better than the medicine he had prescribed.
Though a skilled physician himself, Robert had heard much about Sebastian’s renowned expertise. Now that Sebastian was here, there was no need for Robert to stay the night. Sophie saw how exhausted he was after two days of treatment. So, she kindly gave him a token of gratitude and had someone escort him back to his residence.
Once Robert left, Sebastian prepared another prescription, instructing someone to head to Arcane Sanctum to fetch the necessary ingredients and brew the medicine. After taking the new concoction, Rafael felt as if the heavy weight pressing on his chest had been lifted, leaving him much more at ease. “Mr. Lester will probably come by again tomorrow. So, you’ll need to wait until tomorrow evening to leave the capital,” said Sebastian.
Sophie’s brow furrowed with concern. “But if Mr. Lester comes tomorrow to check Raf’s pulse, won’t that expose everything?”
“We’ll have someone watch the door,” Sebastian replied. “If he comes, I’ll just give His Highness another dose…”
“Another dose?” Sophie’s eyes widened in alarm. “He can’t take any more!”
Sebastian gave her a sidelong glance. “If you were so worried, you shouldn’t have had him take the half pill in the first place.”
Seeing the regret in Sophie’s eyes, Sebastian explained, “I’m not talking about giving him another half pill. What we’ll give him is a Frostbane Pill. It’s a cold-acting medicine, specifically for treating extreme heat in the body. After taking it, we’ll have him circulate his inner force. His pulse will still be chaotic, but it won’t appear as alarming.”
Sophie nodded, then asked, “But the previous pill has already affected his heart. Won’t circulating his energy after taking the Frostbane Pill clash with the effects and weaken his constitution?”
“It’s not a problem. There are plenty of other pills to help stabilize his body,” Sebastian reassured her.
Travis, who had been listening nearby, couldn’t help but speak up, “If we had used the Frostbane Pill from the start, His Highness wouldn’t have suffered from that chest pain for two days.”
Sebastian shot him a glance. “How could it be the same? If it weren’t a genuine heart ailment, do you think the royal physicians wouldn’t have noticed? Just a chaotic pulse isn’t enough.
“Mr. Lester has already made up his mind, believing it’s a sudden heart ailment. Tomorrow, when he diagnoses His Highness’ pulse as still erratic, he’ll just confirm that more rest is needed.”
Travis quickly fell silent. Sebastian had never been that harsh before. Today, he was downright fierce.
Back at the palace, Salvador had asked all the questions he wanted to. Between Galen, Derek, and Robert, Rafael’s condition had been thoroughly explained.
Later that night, the Nightsteel Guard reported that after Sebastian returned, he had sent someone to Arcane Sanctum to fetch medicine. It was clear that Salvador’s earlier worries had been unnecessary. With his doubts dispelled, he now felt a twinge of regret for ever suspecting his younger brother.
But given the internal and external pressures, he couldn’t afford to be careless. The true mastermind behind the rebellion had yet to be uncovered. Who could have the influence to manipulate those around Yuvan?
Salvador cursed his doubts, but in his heart, he found a justification. His suspicions were not unfounded. What if Rafael was hiding behind a supposed illness, planning to slip away to Valken? Or perhaps there was some other hidden agenda?
He firmly believed that Sandoria’s resurgence was fueled by great confidence. Over the years, they had been relentlessly waging war, nearly draining their resources. They wouldn’t launch a decisive strike now if they weren’t confident of victory.
This suggested that traitors had colluded with them, setting up plans at the Southern Frontier. And for someone to arrange such plans without Louis and Timothy noticing-who could it be?
It wasn’t just Salvador being overly suspicious. There were simply too many unanswered questions. How could he not know that Oliver’s abilities were limited? But the entire Earl of Silverstone’s family- men, women, young, and old-numbered in the hundreds. Oliver would never betray his kingdom. Salvador didn’t need Oliver to be a great warrior. He just needed him to rally the troops with a few loud shouts and boost morale. So, even if Oliver stayed seated in the marshal’s residence, it wouldn’t negatively impact the battle.
At the Southern Frontier, Oliver could scarcely sit still. He hadn’t expected Sandoria’s army to really arrive, yet here they were. The letter from the Spencer family had been true.
300,000 soldiers were marching in, their advance relentless. Over the past few days, Oliver had been discussing strategy with Timothy and the others. They didn’t seem overly concerned.
“Let them come. We’ll fight,” they said, their confidence bolstering Oliver, though it didn’t ease his mind entirely.
However, the battle ahead would be brutal. Once the fighting became fierce, Oliver knew he wouldn’t be able to stay Redstone Manor, issuing orders from a safe distance.
And even more troubling: Did Timothy and the others truly have the strength to win? The Devin Army and Hell Monarch Army had long been unruly and difficult to control. On top of that, they had spent the past two years focused more on farming than military drills. If it came down to an actual fight, he believed their chances of victory weren’t very high.
Oliver ran his hand over his leg, lingering on his knee that ached every time it rained. A jagged scar ran down his thigh-a reminder of how close he had come to losing that leg on the battlefield. After spending months recovering in the capital, he could now walk without limping, but it still wasn’t easy.
He still remembered the feeling of being close to death on the battlefield. Everyone was blinded by bloodlust, exhausted in body and mind. Lifting the heavy saber felt like an impossible task, and his arms ached as if they weren’t even his own.
His armor had been too heavy for him to escape from an enemy ambush. If not for the intervention of others, his neck would have been cut by the enemy’s sword.
Of course, Oliver was a marshal now; he didn’t have to lead the charge anymore. But at the Southern Frontier, there was a tradition: even marshals had to lead their troops on the battlefield, not hide away in the marshal’s residence giving orders.
That was one of the bad rules Hector and Rafael had set.
Louis and the others had absurd explanations for this. They claimed that during the Southern Frontier battle to reclaim the lands, the marshals had gone to the front lines to inspire the troops. That was why they could take back the cities that had been plundered.
The door creaked open, and Celeste entered with a cup of coffee.
Oliver quickly masked his worry, turning toward her. As his gaze fell on her, he noticed her reddened eyes, the faintest hint of tears still clinging to her lashes. Her delicate face was troubled, and he immediately knew she had been crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, rising and speaking gently. “Are you worried about the battle?”
Celeste set the cup down on the table, her eyes growing redder as fresh tears welled up.
She walked over and gently pressed Oliver back into his chair. Then, kneeling before him, her delicate hands rested on his knees.
“Do you still remember what you promised me, my lord?” she asked, her voice raspy and laced with sorrow.
Her eyes were red from crying and her entire form seemed fragile, like glass on the verge of shattering before his very eyes. His heart aching at the sight, he quickly reached out to steady her.
“Foolish girl, don’t worry. I’m the marshal. Even if we go to battle, I won’t be on the front lines.”
Tears slid down Celeste’s face, her voice breaking she spoke, “No, I haven’t told you this… but for days now, I’ve been dreaming of war at the Southern Frontier. The enemy forces kill you, decapitate you, and hang your head on the gates of Simonton City. They throw me into a brothel camp, and our son is butchered in the chaos. I can’t let you risk your life.”
Oliver was shocked. “You’ve had these dreams for days?”
Crying harder, Celeste continued, “Not just for days… Ever since I received the letter from my adoptive father, I’ve been having the same dream over and over. I even consulted a witch. She said our family faces a grave fate, so that’s why I urged you that day. If war breaks out, we must leave the Southern Frontier immediately.”
Oliver was so shocked his eyes nearly popped out. He was a man who believed deeply in these things. When he first came to the Southern Frontier, he had sought out fortune tellers, asking whether his journey would bring him fortune or disaster.
As he thought back on it, he realized he had definitely obtained fortune-he had pocketed a fair share of the military funds and gained a beautiful wife.
But as the saying went, fortune came with misfortune. Now, disaster was finally upon him.
At the time, Oliver had promised Celeste he wouldn’t fight in a moment of tenderness. But later, he realized it was impossible. The world belonged to the king-if he fled in the heat of battle, where could he go?
Now, hearing her say that she had dreamed of those horrors night after night, he realized she was trying to warn him through her visions.
As cold sweat broke out across his skin, he suddenly stood, urgently saying, “Where is the witch? Send for her at once!”
The witch slipped quietly through the back door of Redstone Manor. After just a brief moment, barely 15 minutes, she was hastily escorted out again.
But by then, Oliver was paralyzed with fear. His chest felt tight, as though he couldn’t catch his breath. It felt as though he had been thrown into a vast, endless ocean and was unable to reach shore, choking on the suffocating sensation.
The witch had come in for only a short time, scanning the room before she fixed her gaze on him and uttering a simple sentence, “Be safe, Marshal Prince.”