Chapter 6

Morning came quickly and once again, he was meeting with the king and Oswin. Only this time, the venue was the king's chambers. 

Said man was dressed more casually than his earlier appearance, at least as casual a fine silk and gold can appear. 

With the king laid flat on the bed, Corvus observed him thoroughly before using his semblance to deepen his examination. Proddings at his joints, bones and muscles. 

After a few minutes of examination, he held a sigh. It was as he thought, the king wasn't sick, he was just very old. 

Turning to Oswin who lurked, Corvus spoke. "There's not a lot I can do. This isn't sickness, it's age."

"Do you finally see? There is nothing wrong with me!" The king said to Oswin from the bed. 

"Patience, father." The prince said before turning his gaze back to the healer. "Do whatever you can."

He'd already come to the conclusion that Oswin was Ozma. What he didn't know was what his angle was in this matter. The death of the king would arguably be in his best interest seeing as how he would be the king of Vale. 

While these thoughts roamed his mind, he called forth his semblance once more. Slightly rejuvenating the cells was laughably easy, he then carefully strengthened the heart. 

He spent the next few minutes taking care of the arthritis and weak bones that had degraded so much. He made sure to not do too much, having people figure out that he could basically rewind them to their youth wouldn't end well. 

It could possibly end with Corvus locked away and the king as ruler for the next hundred years or so. 

By the time he was done, there was barely any outward change other than the little return of color to his skin. Internally-

"This is unbelievable. I feel great!" The king murmured before exclaiming. Sitting upright, he moved his arms and legs to test his limbs, a smile coming to his face at their easier movement. "I can't believe it."

Oswin's chuckle brought attention back to him. "It is good to see you in such high spirits, father."

"I ought to be in high spirits. I haven't been able to move like this in years!" The king said, slowly coming down from his rush as the prince turned to Corvus. 

"Thank you for your service. Had I known my father would be in such a mood, I would have sent for you earlier." Oswin said in genuine gratitude. 

Or at least that's what it sounded like. Corvus couldn't understand him. He was a hard person to read, something he attributed to the man's immortality. 

"No need for thanks. I was simply doing my duty to the kingdom." He replied. 

Corvus abstained from informing them that with what he felt in the king's body, the man would have died a few months later at best. 

The man's organs and body were too weak to handle the stress that came with ruling a kingdom. With Corvus' 'healing', he would live for at least three more years if he paced himself. 

"The rumors do you no justice. I would like to extend to you an offer." Oswin spoke to him again, stroking his curiosity. "I offer you the position of Maester here in the palace. Your will li-"

"Apologies for my interruption Prince Oswin but I cannot accept." Corvus interjected a little too quickly. 

"Is that so?" The king said, joining the conversation, a frown on his face. "And why is that?"

"My place is with the people in my village. I cannot, in good conscience, abandon them there and start anew here." The healer answered. 

Half truths at best.

'I just don't want to be anywhere near Ozma. Anyone near him is in danger from Salem and that is what I wish to avoid.' Obviously he could say that. 

"Do you think your comfort ranks higher than your king's command?" The king said with a frown, his more able body now allowing proper animation of his emotions. 

"Your majesty, I-" 

"I am king and my word is law. Guards!" The man raised his voice, the doors barging open as men in armor strut in, weapons out. 

Oswin looked visibly uncomfortable but held his tongue while Corvus' expression was that of panic and fear. 

"You shall remain in the dungeons until I require your services again." The king ordered, nodding to the guards who grabbed Corvus by force. "Take him away."

"No no, please don't do this!" He pleaded but the cold look in the king's eyes never changed. "Please!"

Turning to Oswin, his hopes were shattered upon seeing the prince's face turned away with a frown.

'No! This can't be happening.'

-[Oswin]-

"Why?" He asked, staring daggers at his father after he had just ordered the incarceration of the boy who restored his vitality. 

"When you become king you will understand that difficult choices must be made. Your offer was a courtesy which he rejected. His abilities make him an asset to this kingdom." His father defended, not faltering. 

"Asset to this kingdom or an asset to you?"

"It is one and the same. I know my body more than anyone, what he did goes past healing. I feel renewed, it's almost a miracle." The man said. 

The frown on Oswin's face couldn't go any deeper. In his many years and lifetimes, the exploitation of those who simply seeked to help continued to be a problem. 

Bandits taking from the weak or the kingdom exploiting its citizens, both caused problems and stagnation. 

"So that's your ploy. Use him to extend your life on the throne? That is no better than slavery." Oswin shot back. 

"I'm doing what must be done for our people." The king said, turning to leave the room which worked to only anger him. 

Just before leaving, he turned to Oswin. "Do not attempt to release him. You are not allowed to make contact with him in any way. The consequences will be severe."

With that, he left, leaving the prince alone in his father's chambers, seething with rage. 

-[Corvus]-

Sitting on the floor in the cell, he wondered how it came to this. From being a respected healer in his village to being a prisoner in the royal palace. 

The cold of the floor offered him no comfort as he leaned on the wall, facing the bars with a scowl etched on his face. 

'Dead at nineteen, reborn then incarcerated at eighteen. Someone out there must be laughing at me right now.' He thought, letting out a humorless chuckle. 

He was the only prisoner, if he didn't count the skeleton on the other side of the cell. His first thirty minutes in the cell were spent avoiding it but he'd slowly grown numb to it. 

He'd probably be joining it soon. 

The opening of the cell door drew his attention. A knight walked in with a plate of mush in his hand, sliding it on the ground before leaving, locking the bars behind him. 

Staring at the bowl of trash that was supposed to serve as his food, his sadness quickly melted into anger. 

Seething, his body shook, a sneer on his face as he grabbed the plate, throwing it across the room and into the wall with all the strength he could muster. 

"Screw you!!!"