The interior of the secure medical pavilion, erected hastily within the secured perimeter of the imperial encampment, was suffused with the sharp, astringent scent of medicinal herbs and burning incense. The thick, profound-silk walls of the tent glowed faintly with the golden light of internal warming arrays, casting long, dancing shadows across the polished wooden floorboards.
Alaric stood calmly beside a sturdy, low-set massage table, his hands thoroughly coated in a rich, amber-colored spirit oil. He wore his simple, unassuming gray scholar's robes, projecting the flawless aura of a dedicated, harmless physician.
Seated upon the edge of the table was Noble Consort Cui Yulan.
