Medicine | King Baldwin

6

Isabel wandered through the grand halls of the palace, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, lined with ornate tapestries and gilded portraits of bygone rulers. She had been told that the medical workplace was nestled within the middle of the palace, but the labyrinthine layout left her feeling disoriented.

As she turned another corner, the scent of medicinal herbs grew stronger, a reassuring sign that she was getting closer.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of searching, Isabel spotted a wooden door. A series of heavy knocks echoed through the door, followed by a brief pause before it creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room and the silhouette of an elderly man standing on the other side.

His countenance bore the weight of years, each line etched with the passage of time, telling tales of a life lived and experiences endured. Yet amidst the map of his weathered features, there lingered a subtle trace of annoyance, as though the intrusion upon his solitude was far from welcome.

"Who are you?" the elderly man grumbled, his irritation palpable as he scrutinized the figure before him with thinly veiled disdain. His impatience radiated from every pore, a testament to his intolerance for interruptions.

"I haven't got all day to entertain whimsical visitors. What business do you have here?" His words were sharp, laced with a biting edge that left little room for negotiation or pleasantries.

Isabel, taken aback by the man's abruptness, faltered for a moment, her surprise evident in the slight widening of her eyes and the subtle tremor in her voice. She hadn't expected such a hostile reception, and his gruff demeanor caught her off guard. Gathering her composure, she cleared her throat before responding.

"I am Isabel, sir. The king's new physician. I was told earlier to come here." she said, fidgeting with her fingers. "I'm sure my name has been mentioned to you." The man's eyes narrowed at Isabel's assertion, his skepticism morphing into outright distrust.

"Isabel or not, I don't recall inviting any court jester into my workplace." he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain. He made no move to step aside, blocking her path with an obstinate stance. "You can't just barge in here expecting special treatment. If you want to prove yourself, you'll have to earn it like everyone else." His words hung heavy in the air, a barrier between Isabel and whatever lay beyond the threshold.

Isabel's eyes widened, and before the surly man could slam the door shut, she halted it with her foot and forcefully pushed it open with her hand.

"I don't know what offense I've caused you, sir." Isabel began, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "But ever since I can remember, I've dedicated myself to the practice of medicine. I've undergone rigorous training and gained practical experience, all in pursuit of my passion and commitment to healing." With each word, she exuded a quiet confidence, her gaze meeting the man's with unwavering resolve.

"I didn't come here seeking special treatment or accolades. I am here solely for the sake of the king, driven by the urgency to find a solution to his ailment. Whether you approve of my presence or not, the reality remains unchanged: we must collaborate for the greater good." Drawing a deep breath, Isabel continued, her tone measured yet assertive.

The elderly man's furrowed his brows as he pondered for a moment as Isabel watched him in silence.

"Asif." he uttered his name. His tone, though calmer than before, retained a hint of skepticism, a testament to the lingering doubts that clouded his judgment. With a subtle nod, Asif stepped back from the threshold, a silent concession that spoke volumes. His movement was deliberate yet tinged with a reluctance to yield, a begrudging acknowledgment of Isabel's persistence.