The Chief Physician Exam (5)
By repeatedly using [Enhancement], I'd come to understand the skill's mechanics to some degree. Normally, enhancing a material with alchemy boosts one property by a single rank. Take iron, for example—it's tough. One enhancement makes it tougher, two make it extremely sturdy. But if the first enhancement takes an hour to cast, the second might take ten. Higher-level enhancements require vastly longer casting times.
One more thing—the material itself matters. The rose potion, which restores stamina, couldn't even undergo second-stage enhancement. Probably a limitation of the ingredient's properties. Willow bark seemed more promising as a medicinal herb, allowing second-stage enhancement, though it demanded an excruciatingly long casting time. This painkiller was the result of one such experiment, where I skimped on sleep to produce it.
Pain-relief drugs for patients range from mild analgesics to painkillers, anesthetics, and full anesthesia agents. This painkiller isn't quite anesthesia, but it delivers substantial relief. To make a true anesthetic, I'd need different ingredients or a higher alchemy skill rank. Among what I can produce now, this is top-tier.
I held the painkiller in my right hand and pried open Boris's mouth with my left.
"Boris, this is precious stuff—don't spill it. Swallow it down nice and easy."
"Urk, huff... Y-yes...!"
Boris's fractured leg looked hideous even at a glance, clearly agonizing. Gis's bungled healing spell had probably made it even worse.
I dumped the painkiller into Boris's mouth and washed it down with water. He barely managed to gulp it down.
"Hoo, hoo."
Boris finally steadied his breathing. By now, the other healers, knights, and even Father had gathered around us. Boris had the worst injury in this skirmish, so it made sense.
"Hah, haa... Uh, young master?"
"Yeah, Boris. You with us?"
"Yes... Feels kinda hazy, though."
"What about the leg? Still hurt bad?"
"Well... strangely, the pain's way down. No, more than that—other sensations are numb too..."
"Effect's solid, then. Hold still."
I lifted Boris's leg to check the break's angle. The healers murmured at my rough handling, but Boris didn't scream.
"Hah, what in the world?"
"What did the young master just feed that knight?"
The middle of Boris's calf bone was snapped, the lower part twisted backward.
"Hang tight a sec."
"Y-yeah..."
Boris responded dazedly. Turning my back to shield the wound from him, I wedged his thigh under my armpit for leverage.
If it stays misaligned too long, blood clots form. A knight whose muscles die out from this would be in real trouble. Better to reset it aggressively first.
I slammed down on the lower calf with all my strength.
—Crack!
Not a pleasant sound. But visually, it was back in place.
"Splints. You there—grab me two sticks."
"Me? Sticks for what?"
One healer tilted his head dumbly. Tch, no one useful here. I was really feeling the need for obedient nurses. Just then, Tanya fetched the goblin shaman's staff and a club.
"These work?"
"Perfect size."
No major external wounds visible, but just in case, I disinfected with red medicine.
Emergency Treatment
I placed the staff and club on either side of Boris's leg and wrapped them tightly with prepared linen bandages. My hands moved swiftly, guided by emergency treatment proficiency. As treatment finished, faint white particles emanated from the site—a sign that emergency treatment was boosting stamina recovery.
"That's my part done. Bone's reset, infection prevented. Other healers, finish with healing spells."
"Then I'll complete the healing."
Gis stepped up for his healing spell. Unlike before, Boris's leg recovered smoothly.
"Phew."
I finally straightened up and stood.
"The leg's back to normal in seconds... Normally, reconstruction takes an hour of casting. Incredible."
Senior healers examined Boris's leg with admiration. Boris, dazed to the point of drowsiness, blinked sleepily with half-open eyes.
"Thank you, young master."
"Thanks? Bring a gift next time."
"Haha, I've got some prime liquor stashed..."
"Not booze. Something tasty. A doc with shaky hands from alcoholism is done for."
No kidding. A trembling surgeon is the worst nightmare.
"With this, the goblin extermination and chief physician practical exam are complete."
Father declared solemnly. Knights and healers cheered and applauded.
"Everyone, well done. Stay alert until we're back—no more injuries."
With the exam over, Father reverted to his gentle demeanor, encouraging the group. The unit began its slow march back. Tanya fell in beside me.
"Young master, you did well."
"Nah, you had the real work, Captain."
"Healing Boris was..."
"Not healing—treatment. Complicated to explain, but they're different."
"Right. Understood."
Tanya nodded.
"Treating Boris was impressive. Healers are essential for us knights in battle, but they often amplify the pain too."
"Healing hurts depending on the injury."
For instance, suppose a demon spears your gut with an ice lance, punching a hole and shredding organs. A powerful healing spell on that? It ejects the damaged organs and regenerates new ones on the spot. Divine power creating body parts is miraculous, but the process ignores pain entirely. In that case, the patient might go into shock from agony during the spell. Even sustained healing offers no guarantee of sequential recovery—you could regenerate organs only for blood loss from sudden limb healing to kill you.
"A standard healing spell would've left Boris's leg wrecked, needing months of retraining. Your treatment's clearly different."
"Sharp eye, Captain Tanya?"
"Of course. I'm not here on mediocre skill."
Tanya's pride in her abilities was unshakable. Emerging from the cave, we breathed fresh air. Knights doused their heads from canteens.
"Collapse the goblin den. Senior healers, report your scores."
Father wrapped up and gathered opinions. After checking scores, he addressed the healers.
"Results are in. Announcing the final candidates for imperial chief physician."
Healers tensed again. Few had focused on performance amid combat.
"Three finalists. Tomorrow, a second-rank chief physician from the Imperial Medical Office will select one. Candidates chosen by excluding highest and lowest scores from me and five senior academy healers."
Father named them.
"Finalists: Seymour, Gis, Ras."
Sighs rippled through the healers. Most were eliminated—expected.
Father turned to Gis. "Gis, you were paired with Ras. Any complaints?"
Gis flinched, glancing at me, then replied slowly. "...None."
As if there could be. He'd witnessed a paradigm-shifting treatment mechanism firsthand.
"Everyone, good work. Rest up back home."
And so the practical exam ended without incident.
"...Nngh."
Asella, who'd tossed and turned from abdominal pain the night before, woke late. With her head maid away supervising the chief physician practical, no one roused her.
What a disgrace. Not even in the imperial palace, but a marquis's home. No—even there, unacceptable.
Asella summoned maids to compose herself. It took over an hour. Exiting her bedroom, she gathered guards in the marquisate garden.
"Where to, Princess?"
"Annex."
"As you command."
Asella had her knights fully under her thumb. They pledged loyalty to her, not the Empress. Even the Empress's guards and maids sensed the shifting tides of the Third Empress faction.
Asella's innate aura and immense mana. Anyone who'd witnessed her high-hierarchy magic once was captivated. All servants knew real power was transferring.
One anxiety: her youth. Otherwise, unshakeable faith among her knights. My liege will grow into greatness.
But what that girl truly thought? No one knew.
"I'll go up alone."
At the annex, Asella sought Ras's room. Curious about the exam results, she wanted it straight from him. Midway up the stairs, she spotted a maid carrying luggage.
The maid recognized her, froze, and bowed deeply. Asella eyed the large item.
"What's that?"
"P-pardon? Oh, this... um..."
The maid stammered, unprepared for the princess's address.
"Young master's bedcover. For laundering..."
Snap! Asella snatched and unfurled it. Pristine white cotton bore faint dark red stains. Blood.
"These marks?"
"I-I'm not sure... His linens always come out like this lately..."
"Always? Since when?"
"Not forever... Maybe the last week?"
Asella eyed the cover suspiciously, then spun toward Ras's room. Her footsteps thudded gracelessly.
"Young master."
She knocked roughly. Exam should've ended; he'd be back.
...No answer.
"Ras?"
Asella instinctively turned the handle. Click. The door swung open.
Her curious golden eyes peered inside.
And there, on the floor.
"......!"
Ras lay collapsed, vomiting blood.