Even a Quack Will Do (2)
Patrick’s first order of business was to process the herbs he had gathered. “Hup!”
“Why are you building another stove?”
“The one in the kitchen isn’t big enough to boil and steam everything at once.”
“What are you making right now?”
“Something to store away.”
“Then why boil and steam them?”
“Some herbs need to be boiled, steamed, or even roasted before they can be kept safely.”
“Ooh—”
“Teacher, you really are like a wizard!”
“Of course I am. Did you think I was fake?”
Watching Patrick sort the herbs with practiced hands, the children pitched in.
“Strip off all the withered leaves.”
“Okay!”
Patrick directed them while finely slicing peony roots. ‘There really aren’t many valuable ones here.’
Given that the forest had produced rare mushrooms and even a spirit, he had expected something more special, but nothing particularly remarkable turned up. To an untrained eye, most of it looked like ordinary weeds. Still, rarity did not equal weak effect.
‘The scent is quite strong.’
Even the peony roots were a good example. From what he remembered during his time at the magic tower, peony root scent had never been this intense. If the raw material already smelled this potent before processing, its effect would only grow stronger once dried.
“Is it because the air is so clean?”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind. Is the water boiling?”
“Yes, I think we can add them now.”
“Perfect.”
Sorting the herbs took nearly a week. The process dragged on far longer than expected, all because the children had spread the word.
— Teacher is going to sort and store the herbs.
— He said some will be used for experiments, but the rest are emergency medicines?
— He said we need to prepare them since our island has no healer.
Once the villagers heard, they began bringing every leaf, root, and fruit they thought might have medicinal value. In this era, even commoners knew a few herbs for emergencies—rubbing peppermint oil on the temples for headaches, drinking ginger juice for indigestion. Yet without proper training, treating real illnesses remained out of reach. When the village’s brightest mind, Patrick, started collecting and preparing herbs, everyone assumed he must know something. Soon, all sorts of plants were being left quietly in front of his hut.
“Work is piling up again. Why does it always have to be work? There are plenty of other blessings—money, parents, children…”
Grumbling under his breath, Patrick still carried the sacks inside. Most of what the villagers brought, however, did not appear in his medicine-making manual.
“I’ll just dry them first and look them up later.”
They would be less potent than properly processed herbs, but even apothecaries dried their stock before storing it. If he kept them in a well-ventilated shade and protected them from mold, they could still be useful someday.
“Are you in, Teacher?”
“Village Chief?”
It was early morning; the children had not arrived yet. The village chief stood at the door with his usual warm smile.
“Goodness, you’re busy even at this hour.”
“Things are finally getting organized. The sacks people bring are getting smaller, too.”
“I feel like I’ve only burdened you with extra work.”
Even as he spoke, he placed something on the table.
“It’s an old medical book I found once. I thought it would suit you better than me.”
The book the chief offered was indeed a medical text.
“How did you…?”
Patrick accepted it in surprise. The chief scratched the back of his head.
“As you know, I’m just the chief of a small island. I kept it in case someone fell ill suddenly, but no matter how much I read, I couldn’t make sense of it. Haha.”
“I see.”
Patrick flipped through a few pages and nodded in understanding.
“It’s mixed with ancient script. There’s some foreign language too—terms from the Eastern Continent and words used by wizards.”
“Exactly. That’s why I couldn’t understand a thing.”
Most medical books were like this. In fact, most books in this world were. Books that “anyone could easily read and understand” simply did not sell. Books here were a luxury, not meant for broad comprehension but to satisfy the owner’s desire to boast: “I can even read something this difficult.”
‘No wonder there are no bestsellers.’
Even among the literate, anything outside their own field was hard to grasp. With most commoners illiterate, bestsellers had no chance of appearing.
‘At least the high price makes sense. Tch.’
Whether he liked the situation or not, he would take what he could get.
“I’ll make good use of it. But are you sure it’s all right for me to accept this…?”
“It would only gather dust in my house. You’re better off keeping it.”
The chief rose with a gentle smile.
“Still, make sure you eat properly, Teacher.”
After the chief left, Patrick peeked into the sack he had brought and nearly cheered. Inside were a slab of bacon as thick as an adult’s forearm and a generous amount of white sugar.
***
“I shouldn’t have accepted that sack.”
A few days later, Patrick stared at the ceiling with hollow eyes, full of regret. Ever since the chief had delivered the book and the sack, visitors had been stopping by his house several times a day—all of them villagers.
— Excuse me, Teacher. My father’s cough has been terrible at night lately. I was wondering if you had any herbs that might help…
— Ah, just a moment. I have some dried ones… Here. Grind them finely and have him drink them twice a day. He should feel better within three days.
— Thank you so much!
Before long, the villagers began treating him as their resident healer. Of course, it was not free. Unlike Patrick, the kind-hearted villagers always left something in return—sometimes bread, sometimes fish, and when times were hard, they would at least pull weeds from his garden.
“Why not start charging?”
He shook his head almost immediately.
“No. If I take money and something goes wrong with the herbs I give them, what then? It’s better this way.”
He was only dispensing herbs based on a single book. The villagers did not expect miracles, but if side effects occurred, blame would fall squarely on him. Helping without payment at least kept him free of that responsibility.
“Look at that conscience.”
“I have one, you little rascal. That’s why I’m not charging.”
“Isn’t the reason a bit off? Normally you’d say something like, ‘My skills aren’t worth payment yet.’ Refusing because you don’t want the responsibility feels different.”
“That’s called the wisdom of life. What do you know?”
“I don’t particularly want to know that kind of thing.”
“Have you checked yet?”
Ben, who had wandered over, tried to pick a fight, but Patrick was not an easy target.
“Not yet…”
“Tsk tsk. You’re doing great. It’s been how long since you made the contract, and you still don’t know your spirit’s attribute?”
At Patrick’s retort, Ben drooped his head.
“It says it doesn’t know either.”
“That’s why I told you to try all sorts of things. Low-ranking spirits usually don’t know their own attributes. The spiritist has to figure it out by testing commands. Just like how I found your aptitude?”
Something about that last sentence felt off, but Ben only nodded.
“So today I’m going to play with some dirt.”
“Oh, good idea. See that spot next to the garden over there? Dig a hole.”
“A hole? What for?”
“It’ll be useful. About this deep.”
“Okay!”
Patrick pointed at his waist. Ben nodded and summoned his spirit before running off.
‘Distraction sent. Now then, time to tie the tomato stakes with branches… Argh, this cursed garden! Does the work ever end?’
Patrick’s garden was now lush with all kinds of crops. The leafy vegetables, including lettuce, seemed to regrow overnight no matter how much they picked. He had eaten so much that he was now feeding the excess to the chickens.
Cheep cheep—
“Still, seeing them makes me happy.”
It had not even been a month since he brought the chickens, yet he could already hear peeping. Just the other day, bright yellow chicks had hatched from the eggs the hen had been sitting on.
“Cute little things! Grow up fast. Grow up and become a goat!”
His fondness for the chicks had nothing to do with reverence for life. If enough of them gathered, buying a single goat might no longer be a dream. People needed hope.
“Excuse me, Teacher. Sorry to bother you while you’re busy!”
While Patrick was loitering around the garden to avoid work, an unfamiliar voice reached his ears.
“Who is it? Ah! Maksim. What brings you all the way out here?”
One of the few young men in the village around Patrick’s age. Unlike Patrick, however, Maksim had married at the beginning of the year and already had a wife—a winner in life.
“I was hoping to get some peony root. The chief said you might have some…”
“Ah, peony root? I have some nicely dried. Did you pull a muscle?”
“Oh, not for me—for Mary. She’s been unusually tired lately and says her digestion is off. Maybe because the weather’s getting hotter. She’s always been sensitive to heat.”
“You must be worried. Just a moment.”
Patrick went into the storage shed and returned with dried peony root and some sage leaves.
“Peony root and sage leaves. Brew them into tea and have her drink it.”
“Thank you, Teacher!”
Maksim beamed as he accepted the herbs. Even at a glance, they looked far better than the ones he and Mary usually dried themselves.
“I hope Mary gets better soon. She’s been so irritable and can’t sleep well lately. Maybe I should go to the mainland and buy her favorite meat. I’ll pick some up for you too while I’m there!”
“……Wait a second.”
“Yes?”
Patrick cut off Maksim’s cheerful rambling.
“Give that back.”
“What? If it’s about payment, I’ll definitely—”
Seeing Patrick reach for the herbs, Maksim panicked and hid them behind his back.
“Hand them over, quickly. Those are bad for pregnant women.”
“What?”