(Meanwhile, within Stoneville Town, inside the Imperial Anatomist’s laboratory.)
Forty days had passed since Riven was first delivered into the Imperial Anatomist’s care, and it appeared as though the first phase of his reconstruction was finally complete.
"Yes... yes. This is exactly what I have been waiting for," the Imperial Anatomist muttered as he slowly ran his fingers across Riven’s reconstructed shoulder and upper arm.
The boy remained unconscious upon the operating table, although his body looked vastly different from the broken and underdeveloped frame that had first entered the laboratory.
His shoulders had widened, his spine rested in perfect alignment, while the proportions between his chest, waist, arms, and legs had been carefully corrected according to the Anatomist’s ideal measurements.
Even the muscles beneath his skin felt different, as the fibers had grown denser and more balanced without becoming unnaturally swollen or damaging the mobility of his joints.
"Come here, Karen. Feel this," the Imperial Anatomist said as he motioned toward Riven’s arm without taking his eyes away from the boy.
Karen cautiously approached the operating table before pressing two fingers against the exposed muscle, although she remained uncertain about what exactly the old man expected her to notice.
"Do you feel that?" the Imperial Anatomist asked as he guided her hand toward the tendon connecting Riven’s upper arm to his shoulder.
"Feel how tightly the muscle connects to the joint, while still retaining enough flexibility to move without tearing beneath sudden pressure," he continued as pride gradually entered his voice.
Karen applied slightly greater pressure before nodding slowly, as even she could feel how firm the reconstructed tissue had become beneath her fingertips.
"His tendons feel like stretched leather," Karen muttered as she glanced toward the old man. "They were nowhere near this strong when he first arrived."
"Precisely!" the Imperial Anatomist replied as his tired face immediately brightened. "That is the magic of my craft, Karen. That is what controlled suffering can achieve."
He moved toward Riven’s legs next, inspecting the healed fractures before running both hands along the lengthened bones and the muscles that had been reshaped around them.
"Microneedling is wasted by ordinary physicians who use it to treat minor aches, headaches, and damaged skin," the Imperial Anatomist muttered as he shook his head in disappointment.
"They pierce the flesh without understanding the true purpose of injury, because they only seek recovery, while I use those wounds to force the body toward improvement."
He gently pressed against Riven’s thigh, feeling the layered muscle fibers that had been repeatedly damaged, healed, stretched, and rebuilt throughout the previous forty days.
"I nearly doubled the size of several important muscle groups without ruining their balance, while the weaker supporting muscles were strengthened enough to prevent future injuries," he explained.
The old man then stepped toward the side of the table before studying the alignment of Riven’s shoulders, hips, knees, and ankles from several different angles.
"Look at his posture, Karen. Look at how naturally the spine supports the weight of the chest, while both shoulders now rest at precisely the same height."
He moved closer toward Riven’s ribcage, placing one hand upon either side before feeling the slow expansion and contraction created by each unconscious breath.
"The ribcage has also healed in its improved position, which means his lungs will have considerably more room to expand once he begins training properly."
For several long moments, the Imperial Anatomist simply stood there and admired the unconscious child before him, unable to hide the satisfaction spreading across his wrinkled face.
"This body is no longer something nature created carelessly," he muttered as he slowly shook his head. "It has become a work of art."
Before Karen could respond, footsteps approached from outside the room, followed by the sound of someone passing a sealed envelope through the laboratory’s guarded entrance.
Karen excused herself briefly before returning with a thick letter held carefully between both hands, its dark blue wax carrying an emblem the old man recognized immediately.
"A response to the letter you sent has arrived, Doctor," Karen said as she approached him. "It bears the personal seal of the Patriarch of House Dawnriver."
The Imperial Anatomist finally pulled his attention away from Riven’s body, although the pleased expression upon his face faded slightly as his eyes settled upon the letter.
"The Patriarch himself?" he muttered as he accepted it from Karen. "I expected one of his ministers to answer on his behalf."
He broke the wax seal carefully before unfolding the letter, while Karen stepped back and waited for him to finish reading its contents.
At first, the old man’s expression remained calm, although his brows gradually drew closer together as he continued reading further down the page.
By the time he reached the final paragraph, the pride he had displayed moments earlier had disappeared completely, replaced by uncertainty and growing disbelief.
"This..." the Imperial Anatomist muttered as he lowered the letter slightly. "I do not even know whether something like this is possible."
Karen watched him carefully, although she knew better than to ask what the Patriarch had requested before the old man chose to explain it himself.
"If this goes wrong, it could ruin everything I have accomplished over the past forty days," he continued as his gaze returned toward Riven’s unconscious body.
"The body can be broken, rebuilt, and reshaped according to a physician’s will, because flesh follows rules that can be observed and eventually understood."
He paused briefly before looking down at the letter again, as though rereading the Patriarch’s request might somehow make it sound more reasonable.
"The mind, however, is entirely different. One cannot simply place the identity of another man inside a child’s head and expect him to accept it."
The Imperial Anatomist began stroking his chin as he paced away from the operating table, his thoughts racing through decades of forbidden medical theories and questionable experiments.
"There are madmen researching deep hypnosis, false memories, and methods of suppressing one identity so another may be built over it," he muttered.
"However, none of those methods are stable, and even their greatest successes often collapse once the subject encounters something that contradicts the memories planted inside them."
He turned abruptly before staring toward Riven once again, while the implications of the Patriarch’s request continued troubling him more with each passing moment.
"Just what is Drew Dawnriver thinking?" the Imperial Anatomist muttered as he tightened his grip upon the letter. "He wants me to transform this boy into an heir of House Dawnriver?"
Unable to decide whether the request represented madness or opportunity, the old man placed the letter upon a nearby table before hurriedly pacing across the laboratory.
Karen remained silent until his back was turned, after which her eyes slowly shifted toward the unfolded letter resting only a few steps away.
Realizing that the Imperial Anatomist was too distracted to notice her, she cautiously moved closer and began reading the Patriarch’s request for herself.
[ To the Imperial Anatomist,
House Dawnriver acknowledges receipt of your recent correspondence and congratulates you upon securing another subject possessing a divine bloodline, as well as your confidence that this shall become the successful culmination of your life’s work.
For over three decades, House Dawnriver has continued to finance your research without interruption, despite repeated failures and little evidence of meaningful progress. We now trust that the confidence conveyed within your latest report is justified.
Since you have declared Subject Eighteen to be the final individual upon whom you shall perform Section Carving, House Dawnriver now calls upon you to repay the faith and resources invested into your work throughout all these years.
Within the coming days, a Master Hypnotist acting under my direct authority shall arrive at your laboratory.
You are to grant him unrestricted access to Subject Eighteen whenever requested, while fully cooperating with every stage of his treatment.
His purpose shall be to erase the child’s former identity and replace it with a new one.
Upon the completion of your reconstruction, the subject shall not awaken believing himself to be the descendant of the Storm God Surthur.
He shall awaken believing himself to be a son of House Dawnriver.
Every memory necessary to support that identity shall be implanted accordingly.
Every memory capable of exposing the truth shall be removed.
Upon leaving your laboratory, the child shall be presented to the world not as your eighteenth experimental subject, but as a long-hidden scion of House Dawnriver who has spent many years receiving secret treatment for a rare constitutional illness.
His existence, his history, his upbringing, and his identity shall henceforth belong to House Dawnriver alone.
The existence of this arrangement, together with the subject’s true origin, is to remain known only to yourself, your assistants directly participating in this project, the appointed Master Hypnotist, and myself.
Any disclosure beyond those individuals shall be considered an act of treason against House Dawnriver.
Continue your work.
Ensure the boy survives.
Leave the rest to us.
Drew Dawnriver
Patriarch of House Dawnriver
Guardian of the Eastern Province of the Valdrak Empire.]