Cold Medicine (3)
“Trolling?”
Rauga tilted her head at the unfamiliar word.
“Yes. Simply put, it’s mutual destruction—a strategy that prevents the enemy from winning, even if your own side can’t claim victory, heightening the thrill of the tournament to the max.”
Rauga’s lips stretched into a long grin as she listened to my explanation.
“I knew it. You’re a nasty little thing under that innocent face, aren’t you?”
“No way. It’s all for the sake of an exciting tournament. A martial arts contest is great on its own, but doesn’t it get even better with a dash of seasoning?”
“Hehe, I love a spicy twist too. Have you read that novel? It’s the hot romance sweeping the capital lately—the plot’s insane.”
Rauga started tapping her fingertips on the desk, shifting seamlessly to chit-chat about something else entirely.
Having to listen to her endless babble was already giving me a headache. I need an aspirin myself.
“Hehe, this year’s flower-viewing party’s gonna be a blast!”
To the end, the princess was more excited about the flower viewing than the tournament itself.
And so, Rauga and I struck our deal.
Two days after I made masks for Rauga, strange conversations began popping up around the capital.
“Seriously, you can’t even go out without a mask these days.”
“Look how sharp my jawline is now. How did we not invent this sooner?”
“It blocks contagious diseases too—why wouldn’t you wear one? It’s way less suffocating than a corset anyway.”
“And it’s from the Imperial Medical Office’s chief physician. You can trust that.”
Centered around noble ladies and young misses in the capital, masks exploded as the latest fashion must-have.
The linen material wasn’t too stifling, and since women were already used to corsets, they could endure it for style’s sake.
Noble women coming and going from the Imperial Palace were all sporting modern-style masks. They’d apparently been snapping up copies from clothing merchants who’d seen mine, stacking them in their drawers.
“Isn’t this the protective gear you first designed, sir? Is it really okay for just anyone to make them?”
Tanya voiced her concern after watching the trend.
She had a point.
“Medicine should spread widely among the people.”
That was the core principle, after all.
“But in this world, compensation is essential too. We’ll collect royalties, right?”
I slipped on my doctor’s coat and stepped out of the office.
Asella’s head maid, Lucy, flawlessly handled her duties, and another day slipped by in a flash. She was always by her lady’s side, attending to her needs. Asella seemed a bit out of sorts today.
Lucy could guess the reason.
Ever since that clash, Empress Camilla had been keeping her distance from Asella. It was a cold war, plain and simple.
Still, Asella quietly stuck to her schedule, completing the education she had to endure.
It was training the empress had ordered, but Asella had her own fierce determination to become the next emperor.
Though that drive was probably instilled by the empress too.
That’s what the long-time maid thought.
Asella didn’t show it much, but whenever she nailed a higher-level spell, she couldn’t hide her joy. It was the thrill of reaching a new height.
All in the imperial family were like that. Maybe it was fate etched in their blood.
They climbed ever higher, grasping for more. Incarnations of greed backed by talent, you could say.
The current emperor had expanded the empire through countless wars in his youth, driven by that endless hunger.
But even if the princess masters high-hierarchy magic, she never gets praise.
It was blasphemous even to think it—enough to cost her head—but what could be done? The maid didn’t see Camilla as a good mother.
She was a genius witch who’d already entered the superhuman realm of the 5th Hierarchy, a height requiring both talent and effort.
Yet when Asella wielded 3rd Hierarchy magic at such a young age, Camilla showed no surprise—just demands for more, constant criticism.
To her, it must look like basic beginner spells.
Casting 3rd Hierarchy magic as a teen would earn her the title of once-in-a-generation genius at the Magic Tower.
Most mages, even if they adventured their whole lives, barely touched 3rd Hierarchy by old age.
And her mentor, Seymour—a historic grand mage, a sage, appearing once every two centuries—made the comparison even starker.
The princess doesn’t deserve such shabby treatment.
That was the maid’s quiet grievance.
To Camilla, Asella was just a tool for seizing power. She’d been born solely to get Camilla into the palace.
The maid constantly wondered if she even saw her as a real daughter.
The rest of the family either wanted her gone or used her—half-siblings scheming for their own gain. Asella had no allies in the imperial house.
Even her bid for the throne next…
Probably just to earn praise by fulfilling Camilla’s wishes, the maid speculated.
“Until next time, then.”
“Out.”
The private tutor—a skilled ex-hero academy professor—left the classroom. Asella kept up her manners, at least.
During the brief break, the maid served the red tea she’d prepared with care, hoping Asella could relax.
“Your Highness, refreshments.”
“Pour.”
The maid felt a little relieved seeing Asella sip from the cup like a diligent little squirrel.
The chief physician had said plenty of warm fluids were best during flu season.
At least the princess listens to him.
Thanks to the recent chief physician, her worries had eased a bit. Since he arrived, Asella looked noticeably more at peace these past weeks.
Even if those nighttime fits returned, he’d handle it somehow.
“Asella, are you there?”
A voice shattered the respite like a hammer on glass. An abrupt visit.
Empress Camilla had arrived at Asella’s classroom with her escort knights.
The maid immediately bowed low.
Camilla stood before Asella’s desk.
“Mother.”
Camilla skimmed the book Asella had been studying, then lowered her eyes.
“Still pretending to study, I see. As if you’d work hard without my oversight. You can’t even focus otherwise.”
Asella silently endured the barrage of venom.
“Do you think you can inherit the throne without me? I wondered when you’d come crawling back, but you won’t even show your face. That wastrel’s turned you pitch-black.”
Asella’s brow twitched at the mention of Ras.
“You have no idea how crucial the martial tournament is. His Majesty might not last another few years, for all we know. We need to snatch the successor spot before that fool of a first prince gets confirmed!”
The maid had a truckload of retorts for the empress but swallowed them all.
She knew best how diligently Asella prepared for the tournament, watching from the sidelines.
Even with her schedule packed with lessons, she managed the knight order and kept up magic practice to showcase her prowess.
“If you insist on acting on your own, I’ll cut off support. Georg the Second Prince wants my mages to perform in his faction.”
“You’re lending your students to another faction?”
Camilla smirked triumphantly at Asella’s reaction. The leisure of the one in control.
“Georg’s always been friendly with us. No reason to shun him as ‘another faction.’”
“You know full well why Georg supported us. He’s not an ally. He sees me as a successor candidate.”
Asella shot back in anger.
The maid could guess the reason too.
Among those gunning hard for the throne were Second Prince Georg and First Princess Heike. Whoever controlled Asella—the imperial family’s mighty magic weapon—would hold a strong edge later.
Georg’s backing wasn’t brotherly love or goodwill. It was a political ploy, viewing Asella as a tool without succession rights.
“Asella, what have I always told you?”
“To become the next emperor.”
“Wrong.”
Camilla glared coldly at Asella.
“I told you I need an emperor. If you’re not on my side, I don’t need you.”
The maid found it cruel. Come back to me, or I’ll side with the second prince’s faction. It was blackmail, plain and simple.
Asella was always cold in demeanor, but the maid believed she had strong attachment to what she saw as her possessions.
Proof: she never mistreated her maids or knights. Duties were heavy, but commands stayed reasonable.
That’s why Moonlight Palace staff were loyal to Asella.
Camilla saw her the same way—as her property.
But the maid had never seen Camilla show Asella affection. She only dangled it like bait, as now.
“Can you win the tournament without me and impress His Majesty? With that childish training!”
“That’s…”
Asella bit her lip.
No matter how hard she tried, the odds were brutally stacked against her.
The knight order was too small, for starters. Training might indeed be child’s play, as Camilla said.
Second Prince and First Princess would surely bring far more refined strategies.
“Seeing reality now? Asella, without me, you’re just a clueless child. Kneel and beg even now. If you accept special training, I’ll forgive today’s—”
—Knock knock.
The door burst open with a firm knock right then.
“Your Highness, Chief Physician Gotberg reporting.”
Camilla whipped her head around, glaring at the physician in irritation. Her face twisted into a scowl.
“You…! Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something important with Asella? Who do you think you are, barging in!”
“Why is an outsider here?”
“What did you say?!”
Ras ignored the grinding empress and handed Asella the report.
“I’ve temporarily reorganized our Moonlight Palace knight order for the martial tournament. If you approve, we’ll proceed.”
Asella flipped through it.
“One hundred forty?”
“Yes.”
Camilla’s eyes bulged at the ominous number.
“One hundred forty? What nonsense is this? Physician!”
“Tsk, trying to peek at confidential documents the princess is reviewing? Even as empress, mind your boundaries.”
Ras blocked Camilla’s view with his back.
Asella unconsciously lifted the corner of her mouth and turned the page.
“What’s this?”
“Mask patent application. With your authority, Your Highness, you can fast-track it, right?”
Ras nodded lightly.
“Patent revenue goes to Moonlight Palace budget. And a little to my pocket.”
