Rise of The Abandoned Husband

Colin's face contorted with rage as the guards closed in around him. "You don't understand what you're doing! My pill is the genuine article!"

I maintained my composure, watching him flail desperately against the inevitable. His outburst only confirmed what I already knew—he was a fraud through and through.

"Is that so?" I stepped closer, my voice low enough that only Colin and the nearest guards could hear. "Then explain why your so-called Concentric Pill contains traces of nightshade and purple lotus—ingredients that would cause severe internal bleeding if ingested by someone as weakened as Mr. Avery."

Colin's eyes widened. His mask of indignation slipped, revealing naked fear beneath.

"That's—that's not true," he stammered, but his voice lacked conviction.

I pressed harder. "You acquired your formula from Jeremy Thornton. But Jeremy was no master—he was experimenting with variations of ancient texts he barely understood."

Colin's face drained of color. The guards tightened their grip on his arms.

"You're just trying to discredit me," he hissed, but I could see the panic in his eyes.

"Am I?" I pulled a small vial from my robe—water with a drop of blue dye, nothing more. "This reagent reveals toxicity in medicinal compounds. Shall we test your creation?"

Colin lunged forward suddenly. "Don't touch my pill!"

The guards restrained him, but his reaction told everyone present everything they needed to know.

"Interesting response for someone confident in his work," I observed coolly.

Herman Avery, who had been silently observing from the side of the hall, stepped forward. His face was a storm of barely contained fury.

"You knew it might harm my father?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

Colin swallowed hard. "I never claimed—"

"You knew the formula was incomplete, didn't you?" I interrupted.

"I—" Colin stopped, realizing too late he'd fallen into my trap.

"How could you know it was incomplete unless you were aware it wasn't the genuine article to begin with?" I asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

That was the final straw. Herman Avery moved with startling speed for a man of his size, breaking past the guards to grab Colin by the throat.

"My father could have died!" he roared, lifting the alchemist nearly off his feet.

"Herman!" Edward Avery's voice cut through the chaos. "Control yourself!"

Herman didn't release his grip. "This snake tried to poison Father!"

Tilda placed a calming hand on her nephew's arm. "Release him. We'll handle this properly."

For a moment, I thought Herman might snap Colin's neck anyway. The room held its collective breath until, finally, Herman dropped the alchemist to the floor.

Colin gasped for air, crawling backward. In his haste, he knocked over the small table holding his prized pill. It fell to the marble floor with a soft ping, rolling a few feet before Herman deliberately crushed it under his boot.

The crunch was oddly satisfying.

"Get him out of here," Edward ordered his guards. "And inform the Alchemist Guild of his deception. His membership is to be revoked immediately."

As Colin was dragged away, still shouting threats and denials, Edward turned to me. His expression was a mixture of relief and lingering suspicion.

"Your timing is remarkable, Master Knight," he said. "Almost too convenient."

I bowed slightly. "Good fortune favors the prepared mind."

Edward studied me for a long moment before nodding. "Indeed it does. We have much to discuss, but first—your pill may be the only hope for my brother."

"It is," I confirmed. "Though I should warn you, the process won't be pleasant to witness."

"Nothing about this situation has been pleasant," Tilda remarked dryly. "Lead the way, Master Knight."

---

Hours later, I stood on a balcony overlooking the Avery estate's vast gardens. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawns, and a cool breeze carried the scent of jasmine.

"That was quite the performance," The Man with the Mustache said, appearing beside me with his usual disregard for personal space.

I didn't turn. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Immensely." He twirled his mustache. "Though I am curious—you didn't actually know Jeremy's formula was incomplete, did you?"

A smile tugged at my lips. "Complete speculation. But Colin's reaction confirmed everything."

The Man with the Mustache chuckled. "Clever. Very clever. And your pill?"

"The real thing." I gazed at the distant mountains. "It took most of my rare ingredients to craft it, but it was worth it."

"For access to the Power of Martial Saint?" he asked.

I nodded. "And to save an innocent man."

The Man with the Mustache gave me a skeptical look. "Since when do you care about random strangers?"

"Since I needed their family's resources," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I want people to suffer needlessly."

He studied me for a moment, then shrugged. "Fair enough. So what happens now?"

"Now we wait." I turned from the balcony. "Mr. Avery needs to take the pill and recover before negotiations can begin."

---

I stood at Mr. Avery's bedside, watching as Tilda carefully crushed my Nine-Ring Concentric Pill into a small cup of warm water. The mixture glowed faintly, casting ethereal patterns on the ceiling of the dimly lit room.

Edward, Herman, and several other family members gathered around, their faces tense with anticipation and fear. They'd waited so long for this moment that now it had arrived, they seemed almost afraid to hope.

"Will it hurt him?" Edward asked quietly.

"Yes," I answered honestly. "The pill will attack the poison directly. His body will fight to expel it. The process is violent but necessary."

Tilda's hands trembled slightly as she lifted her father's head. "Father, you must drink this. It will make you well again."

Mr. Avery, skeletal and jaundiced, opened his eyes a fraction. He couldn't speak—hadn't been able to for weeks, according to the family—but he managed a small nod.

Tilda placed the cup to his lips. With agonizing slowness, he drank the glowing liquid, drop by precious drop.

For a moment, nothing happened. The room was silent save for the old man's labored breathing.

Then it began.

Mr. Avery's body went rigid. His back arched off the bed, tendons standing out like cords on his neck. A strangled gasp escaped his throat—the first sound he'd made in days.

"Father!" Herman moved forward, but I blocked his path.

"Don't interfere," I warned. "The pill must run its course."

The old man began to convulse. Sweat broke out across his forehead, running in rivulets down his hollow cheeks. His skin took on an unnatural glow as the pill's energy suffused his system.

Tilda gripped her brother's arm, her knuckles white. "Is this normal?"

"Yes," I assured her, though I kept my eyes fixed on Mr. Avery. The pill was working faster than I'd anticipated—a testament to the purity of my ingredients.

The convulsions increased in intensity. Mr. Avery's breath came in short, painful gasps. Then suddenly, he lurched forward, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

A torrent of black blood erupted from his lips, splattering across the pristine bedsheets. The family members recoiled in horror, but I stepped closer, examining the expelled toxin.

"The poison is being purged," I explained, watching as the black blood began to shift, taking on a more normal crimson hue. "This is good."

Mr. Avery collapsed back against the pillows, his chest heaving. For several tense minutes, he continued to expel smaller amounts of tainted blood, each less black than the last. Finally, he fell still.

"Is he—" Herman couldn't finish the question.

I checked the old man's pulse. "He's alive. The worst is over."

As if to confirm my words, Mr. Avery's eyes fluttered open. Not the cloudy, unfocused gaze of recent weeks, but clear, alert eyes that surveyed the room with growing comprehension.

"Edward?" His voice was weak but distinct. "Tilda?"

Tilda broke down in tears, clutching her father's hand. "We're here, Father. We're all here."

The old man's gaze found me, standing slightly apart from the family reunion. "Who is this young man?"

Edward placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "This is Master Liam Knight. He created the pill that saved you."

Mr. Avery studied me with shrewd eyes that belied his physical weakness. "I owe you my life, it seems."

I bowed respectfully. "I'm pleased the treatment was successful."

The old man attempted to sit up, but his strength failed him. "I feel as though I've been trampled by a herd of horses."

"Your body has fought a great battle," I explained. "You'll need rest to fully recover, but the poison has been neutralized."

Edward turned to me, his expression solemn. "Master Knight, we are eternally grateful. The Avery family owes you a debt we can never fully repay."

I knew this was my cue to discuss the Power of Martial Saint, but looking at the family gathered around the bed, I decided it could wait.

"You should have time with your father," I said, backing toward the door. "We can discuss other matters tomorrow."

Edward nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Of course. But please know that whatever you require, if it is within our power to provide, it shall be yours."

I bowed again and slipped out of the room, leaving the family to their joyful reunion.

---

Night had fallen by the time I returned to my quarters. The excitement of the day had left me drained but satisfied. My gambit had worked perfectly—Colin was disgraced, Mr. Avery was recovering, and soon I would have access to the ancient techniques I needed to save Isabelle.

I had just finished washing when a soft knock came at my door. Opening it, I found Tilda Avery standing in the hallway, her usual formal attire exchanged for a simpler robe. Despite the late hour, she looked composed and elegant.

"Lady Tilda," I greeted her, stepping back to allow her entry. "Is everything alright with your father?"

"He's resting comfortably," she replied, gliding into the room. "The physicians are amazed by his improvement."

I closed the door. "I'm glad to hear it."

Tilda turned to face me, her expression unreadable in the soft lamplight. "You've done the impossible today, Master Knight. Twice over."

"Creating the pill was challenging, but hardly impossible," I said modestly.

"I wasn't referring to just the pill." She moved closer. "You managed to expose Colin McDaniel without revealing your own secrets. That takes a special kind of cunning."

I tensed slightly. Had I misjudged her? "I'm not sure what you mean."

Tilda smiled, a sharp, knowing expression. "Come now. We both know you orchestrated that entire confrontation. Colin was always going to implicate himself—you merely provided the stage."

"An interesting theory," I replied carefully.

She laughed softly. "Not a theory, Master Knight. An observation. And not a criticism, I assure you." Her eyes met mine directly. "In fact, it's precisely that cunning that makes you perfect for what we need."

So this was it—the true negotiation was beginning. "And what exactly is that?"

Tilda moved to the window, gazing out at the moonlit gardens. "My father was poisoned for a reason, Master Knight. Someone wanted him silenced before he could pass on what he knows."

"The Power of Martial Saint," I said.

She turned sharply. "So you do know."

"I know the name," I admitted. "Little more."

Tilda studied me for a long moment. "It's not just a technique. It's a key—to something far greater than mere power."

My interest was genuinely piqued now. "A key to what?"

"That," she said, moving toward the door, "is what my father wishes to discuss with you personally. Tomorrow morning, once he's had time to regain his strength."

As she reached for the door handle, she paused. "One more thing, Master Knight."

"Yes?"

"Whatever price you had in mind for your assistance—double it." Her eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "What my father offers is worth far more than you can imagine."

With that cryptic statement, she departed, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a growing sense that I had stumbled onto something far larger than I'd anticipated.