Chapter 1319

A bowl of chicken noodle soup sat before Rafael, insufficient to quell the emptiness gnawing at his stomach. Louis mentioned the roasted lamb and skewers he'd ordered, a stark contrast to the lean times of the Southern Frontier. Even the common folk now enjoyed plentiful meat.

Rafael shakily lifted the bowl, draining the salty broth in a single gulp, followed by a whole jug of water. Slumping back, he felt his strength gradually return, though a strange sensation lingered, as if the sway of horseback still clung to him. The faces around him blurred, requiring a conscious effort to discern their features.

Alec's voice, thick with emotion, broke the silence. "Your Highness, you look utterly exhausted."

Rafael rubbed his cheek. "Have the medic give me needle treatment for my face. It feels…off-kilter."

Everyone examined him, noticing the slight asymmetry.

Louis spoke. "Marshal Sanford, you haven't rested at all during the journey, have you?"

"There was no time," Rafael admitted, then revealed a startling truth. "I feigned illness, then secretly joined the battlefield. All this time…" He sheepishly produced a handful of medicine, his head bowed in almost embarrassed contrition. "Actually, I was ill. I've been taking these medicines, sometimes forgetting. I need to take them again, or Commander Sinclair will have my head."

Concerned glances were exchanged, but they forbore pressing further. Instead, they summoned the military physician. Rafael's health was paramount; other matters could wait.

Brandon checked Rafael's pulse, sighing deeply afterward. "How did you reach such a depleted state?"

"Is it serious?" Timothy asked anxiously.

Brandon paused, but Rafael waved a dismissive hand. "It's nothing. A little rest, and I'll be fine."

Brandon's face, however, grew grave. "The body can gradually recover with care, but this depletion of vital energy… I fear it won't be easily remedied. You may experience difficulties in… intimate matters going forward, Your Highness."

Rafael gripped the armrest, his eyes widening. "It's that serious?"

Brandon looked at Rafael's youthful face and sighed. "Your relentless riding, neglect of your medicines, and prolonged sitting have caused a buildup of heat, affecting… that aspect of your health."

"Are you saying I'll be… unable to function as a man?" Rafael stared, stunned. The thought of Carissa's reaction chilled him.

"It's not that dire," Brandon reassured him. "With Mr. Dalton's treatment, you'll improve. But for a time, I'm afraid you'll have to live… like a priest." He chuckled. "Perhaps a bit of chastity wouldn't hurt. You're a soldier; you've endured injuries. This is an opportune time to rest and recover."

Rafael's discomfort quickly yielded to a stern expression. "Misdiagnosis. A complete misdiagnosis. No word of this to anyone, or you'll face military law."

The others covered their mouths, eyes filled with sympathy and pity. They understood.

The roasted lamb arrived, and they ate. Their recent struggles with appetite and sleep vanished in Rafael's steadying presence. They devoured the food eagerly. Over the meal, they reviewed the recent battle. Rafael insisted that as long as they hadn't been defeated, it wasn't a loss; they couldn't let the enemy undermine their confidence.

Alec, however, voiced his concern. "Your Highness, you snuck onto the battlefield. His Majesty might punish you."

Rafael, yet to receive Carissa's royal edict, dismissed the worry with a wave. "They'll question me after a victory. Until then, let them say what they will. The battle is paramount. Everything else waits."

Though they understood his reasoning, concern remained regarding his return to the capital.

Rafael scolded them. "You've all become indecisive, like Mr. Prince. There's a time for everything, but the immediate task holds precedence. What could be more important than winning this battle?"

They nodded, resuming their discussion of Oliver's actions in the Southern Frontier and Barrett's investigation into his corruption. They then turned to Celeste's adoptive father, confirmed as a branch of the Spencer family. While Celeste was in the Southern Frontier, they'd exchanged information, employing spies there.

"Did you find the spies?" Rafael asked.

"We did," Louis replied. "But when Mr. Prince fled, so did they. They may not have actually fled… With the rumors, they could have blended in."

"Find them and kill them!" Rafael's voice was icy.