Final Selection (1)
The head maid, returning from the monster subjugation, could only leave after discussing the supervision of the chief physician exam with the senior healers. With Asella's collapse that morning still fresh in her mind, she quickened her pace.
"Her Highness has gone to the young master's quarters?"
Hearing the report from another maid, she resumed walking. It looked odd for a maid to wander around someone else's mansion without her lady, but she had no time to worry about appearances.
She joined Asella's escort knights, but all they could tell her was that Asella had entered Ras Gotberg's room and hadn't come out. An hour passed, then two, and as the sun set, anxiety gnawed at her over her lady's prolonged absence.
Ras Gotberg was the sort who attracted every bad rumor imaginable. He neglected his studies, drowned in drink, and constantly stirred up violent incidents—rumors so persistent that the Gotberg marquisate had him half-imprisoned there, and word even reached the capital.
As the only son of a marquis, he should have had endless marriage proposals since infancy, yet Asella being his first match was blatantly suspicious to anyone with eyes. No family head, no matter how politically motivated, would marry their daughter to a beast who might murder his wife in a single night.
In that light, Camilla, the Third Empress, must have been a woman of extraordinary ambition.
'If that wastrel harbors any malicious intent toward Her Highness and lays a hand on her...'
The head maid bit her lip without thinking. But what could a mere maid like her do? The escort knights and maids had all been ordered to stand by. A lady's command must be obeyed.
'Still, if there's hope...'
In today's practical exam, Ras Gotberg hadn't been the disaster she'd feared. On the contrary, he'd been exceptional. He'd earned the knights' trust and provoked envy from the other healers with his skill. There were no signs of cheating or favoritism—in fact, Marquis Gotberg himself and the senior healers from the training center had gone out of their way to ensure fairness, denying Ras any privileges.
'Were the rumors wrong?'
As the head maid grappled with confusion, Asella finally emerged from the annex.
"Your Highness."
The head maid bowed alongside the knights. Asella raised a hand, dismissing them.
"It's chilly at night."
The head maid offered Asella an outer garment, which she draped over her shoulders without a word and strode off with dignified poise.
"Where shall we escort you?"
"To dinner."
"Dinner... ma'am?"
It was the first time the head maid had seen Asella express a desire to eat first. With her abdominal pain striking unpredictably, Asella always lacked appetite, even before delicacies.
"Yes. The young master said I have to eat properly. For my health, apparently."
"What did you discuss with the young master?"
Asella shot her a sharp glare. The head maid realized she'd overstepped. Maids were to exist like shadows.
Normally, Asella would have snapped at such a blunder, but today her response was different. Retaining her sharpness, she let out a leisurely scoff before replying.
"Ras—smart guy or idiot? I have no idea how he keeps acting so far outside my expectations."
The head maid was puzzled. Somehow, Asella seemed unmistakably pleased.
'She clearly wants to appoint him as chief physician, so she's interested in him. She went out with him, rushed to meet him the moment he returned from that dangerous monster subjugation, spent hours in his room, and came back looking delighted.'
'...No, it couldn't be.'
Knowing Asella's temperament well, the head maid shook her head firmly. Maybe she just wanted to keep him like Max, whom she'd taken in because she liked him.
"Ah, take this and put it in the storage box."
With those words, Asella handed something to the head maid, who received it reverently and examined it.
'...A lollipop?'
It was even half-eaten.
A warp gate stood before the Gotberg mansion. It wasn't the sort just anyone could use. High teleport, the magic for transporting people, was a 6th Hierarchy spell to begin with. Warp gates served as checkpoints memorized by high-circle mages capable of casting high teleport. Actual travel was manually initiated by the mages. Thus, they were rarely used except for transporting key high officials.
"The gate is opening. Arrival imminent."
The precious warp gate activated, a blue portal blooming to life. Balduer Gotberg, head of the marquisate, waited before the granite foundation.
Escort knights emerged first from the portal, followed by an elderly man stepping out with refined grace under their protection. His white uniform bore the healer's insignia, with emblems on his chest and shoulders marking him as an imperial chief physician.
"Welcome to the Gotberg marquisate, Lord Palkenhain."
"Ah, Lord Gotberg. At last, I meet the master healer. My thanks for the welcome."
The two healers shook hands. The marquisate head and the imperial chief physician were social equals. Since they shared a profession, Balduer used formal speech toward the elder Palkenhain out of respect.
In noble society, titles and terms mattered. Here, as fellow healers, Balduer's formality didn't imply subordination.
Balduer then escorted Palkenhain into the mansion grounds.
"The air here is so fresh. The capital's skies are perpetually murky with magic byproducts and machinery exhaust floating about."
"I recommend taking a leisurely horseback tour when you have time."
"Haha, no such leisure for an imperial chief physician. So, Gotberg is finally producing a chief physician. We have many alumni from your training center in the Imperial Medical Office."
"Indeed."
"Selecting from the newcomers—was that the Empress's will?"
"Yes."
"Wise choice. A chief physician should ideally be around the same age as their patient."
"You're the chief physician for the Second Prince, aren't you, Lord Palkenhain?"
"I am. He's so vigorous, it's a constant worry. Starting to think about succession soon."
He said that, but Palkenhain had no intention of stepping down anytime soon. Beyond the difficulty of resigning voluntarily, the sweet taste of power was hard to relinquish.
Leaning in, Palkenhain whispered to Balduer.
"You've got ears in the palace now too—be cautious. Two princes, three princesses, and a senile, ailing emperor. The imperial family is a powder keg. Back the wrong successor, and you could lose your head swatting flies."
"Ears in the palace?"
Seeing Balduer's confusion, Palkenhain smirked inwardly. This guy's the Third Empress's pawn. He'd heard the man had skill, but without political savvy, he wasn't reliable.
Patting Balduer's shoulder, Palkenhain said, "Come, let's greet the new young physician candidate. Proceed with the selection as pre-arranged."
"Evaluating based on the healing spell cast on the emerald dragon hatchling, correct?"
"Yes. Emerald dragons devour healing spells—that's their trait. We'll do a blind test for fairness."
That was the public rationale. But Palkenhain had another goal.
'The Imperial Medical Office currently has 21 chief physicians, matching the imperial family's numbers. The strongest power lies with the emperor's and heir apparent's physicians.'
Four heirs' physicians, including himself; one for the emperor. The office split into factions mirroring the court's divisions.
'Adding one makes six. If I recruit him as a subordinate, my faction claims two out of six. Can't ignore that.'
Palkenhain aimed to expand his influence by handpicking this young physician.
'Young bookworms are easiest to use. Pick the one with the highest faith. Conveniently, I have eyes that see faith.'
The stigmata etched in his left eye—his gift for gauging faith.
'Balduer Gotberg has impressive faith too. A monstrous aura. Seems apolitical, but a true healer.'
Rubbing his left eye with the back of his hand, Palkenhain entered the exam hall.
Pop. The lights flickered on. Silhouettes of three healers loomed behind a translucent tent.
'Let's see which has the highest faith...'
Scanning them one by one, Palkenhain suddenly thudded backward, toppling his chair and landing hard on his rear.
"Lord Palkenhain? Are you all right?"
"N-no... I'm fine."
Wiping cold sweat, he blinked repeatedly.
...No matter how he looked, one candidate's aura overwhelmed his left eye with blinding light whenever he focused, obscuring everything.
'What is this faith? Has a saint descended?!'
Gulping, Palkenhain asked Balduer, "A-any women among the candidates?"
"All men."
'Not a saintess—a saint! My god.'
The moment he'd glimpsed that aura, politics fled Palkenhain's mind. Reverence alone remained, washing away worldly concerns.
'Can't let the office miss someone like this. Even if not my ally, he must be selected.'
With such faith, the hatchling healing task would be trivial.
The exam proceeded. Finally, that candidate's turn.
'What healing spell will he unleash?!'
The figure scratched his head and sighed.
—Kieeeek! Keeeeeek!!
The hatchling's screams echoed. The candidate was prying open its jaws, force-feeding something.
"Wh-what's happening...!"
Senior proctors rushed in to intervene. Silhouettes flailed wildly, like a pantomime.
After the scuffle, an enraged bellow erupted from behind the tent.
"Enough with healing spells—switch to another task! I came to heal people, not babysit lizards?!"
Palkenhain gaped, frozen. He turned slowly to Balduer, who was pinching his temple, clearly unprepared for this.
"That candidate seems out. We were told beforehand he'd use a non-healing method, but with an emerald dragon as the subject..."
"A non-healing method?!"
What the hell? I need to pass him!
Palkenhain dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.