The Head Nurse (2)
The Imperial Medical Office was a gathering place for the empire's finest healers: twenty-two chief physicians responsible for treating the imperial family and their roughly four hundred healer assistants. True to form for a great power like the Dengliud Empire, the skill level of its healers rivaled that of the Dharmic Kingdom, the birthplace of religion and healing arts.
The chief physicians' primary duty was tending to their lords, but they also healed high nobles when it aligned with those lords' interests. Lower healers affiliated with factions honed their skills through assistant work and treating ordinary imperial citizens. That was why the office sat along the wall where the imperial palace grounds met the capital's central square—offices inside the wall, an open area outside to receive patients.
It was a welfare policy of sorts, letting commoners bask in the emperor's grace to bolster loyalty. Of course, they still had to pay. As a result, the rank-and-file healers were ground down by excessive workloads.
Chloe, in her fifth year at the office, was one such healer getting worn to the bone every day.
"Healer, come on, do better. What’s taking so long? I'm a western noble, a baron!"
"Eep, j-just a moment...!"
Chloe hurriedly poured more divine power into the spell. Her ghostly long bangs, long enough to cover her face, did just that in the process. The patient receiving her healing grumbled.
He was a middle-aged man with a nasty disposition.
"Ugh, this is frustrating. I came to the Imperial Medical Office expecting something special, and it's nothing! Better to leave it to my personal physician!"
Naturally, anyone with a personal physician had no reason to come here. Rude nobles like this were usually barons who’d bought their titles. Upstarts who purchased status with money—and they tended to act rough around the edges.
Of course, there were plenty of other nasty patients too.
"Um, excuse me."
"What?"
Chloe timidly closed her holy book.
"The healing's done... but, um... there's this medicine from the palace lately...?"
The man's ears perked up.
"Medicine? I've heard rumors. Aspirin or something—supposed to be great for epidemics. Can't find any anywhere. You got some left?"
"Eek, no!"
"Then why stop a busy man?"
"Not aspirin, not that...!"
Chloe pulled a small cloth bundle from her bosom. Inside were a few round, pill-like rice cakes.
"What’s this?"
"Um, it prevents you from getting sick again after recovering... oh, but it might cause stomach upset...?"
The man sniffed one.
"Ugh, what the hell!"
He flung it away.
"It's rotten bread!"
Chloe scrambled to pick it up and thrust out a large book.
"Th-the culture didn't take right... but it works... it's even in ancient texts...?"
"What a lunatic."
The noble spat curses and stormed out of the office, fuming.
Chloe clutched her battered, unidentifiable old tome to her chest and pouted.
"Hey, Chloe. You doing weird experiments on patients again?"
A passing fellow healer scolded her. Chloe bowed her head deeply and shook it vigorously. Her curtain-like long hair flew wildly.
"I mean, come on, you know better. If you get caught using that 'folk remedy' crap, the bishop won't let it slide."
"Y-yes...!"
Chloe served under Bishop Alberich, chief physician to First Princess Heike. His faction held significant sway in the office, matching Heike's influence in the palace. A traditionalist from the Dharmic Kingdom's clergy, he always insisted on sticking strictly to the scriptures.
They said our flesh and blood were gifts from the goddess, so when injured, one must pray first to restore them. Ignoring faith for pain relief through unorthodox means only worsened the wounds.
But Chloe thought differently.
Folk remedies can heal too...
Prayer came first by convention, but folk remedies spread quietly among commoners without access to healers.
Though most are fakes...
Chloe scoured pre-Dharmic Kingdom grimoires for traces of real ones. The moldy rice cakes were her attempt to recreate something from them.
Aspirin is real.
It wasn't mere rumor that a tiny pill could improve epidemics. Knights from Moonlight Palace, dosed with aspirin and masked, had been seen hale and hearty at the tournament by countless witnesses.
I wonder what kind of person Master Gotberg is.
Even in the office, as a lowly healer, she couldn't even speak to the lofty chiefs. A glimpse from afar was all she got amid endless tasks and errands.
"N-next patient, please...!"
"Oh, healer!"
An elderly couple approached Chloe warmly.
"H-hello...!"
"Heh heh, we meet again. Thanks from last time—my wife's much better now. You're the best, healer!"
"I-it's just my job...!"
Chloe squirmed bashfully at the praise. Commoners needed months of advance reservations for the office. She was deeply grateful they'd waited so long for her.
She cast her spell with utmost sincerity. Healing complete, smiles bloomed on their faces.
"Always so thankful. Won't see you for four months next time. If we're still kicking, heh heh! Any more of those folk remedies like last time?"
Chloe's eyes sparkled at the old man's question. She shoved her face forward, flipping open the grimoire.
"Y-yes! Here—for the epidemic going around, it says eat chicken soup. Oh, seen people wearing masks on the streets? Not just fashion. Master Physician Gotberg developed them; they lower infection risk."
Words poured out like a machine gun. Without pause, she bent to fetch the rice cake bundle.
"And this! The grimoire says it prevents other illnesses. I tried it—gave me a bit of tummy trouble, but...!"
She looked up beaming.
A pristine white holy robe blocked her view. Raising her eyes slowly, she met a stern gaze looking down.
"Did an Imperial Medical Office healer just utter the words 'folk remedy'?"
"Gasp."
Chloe sensed disaster and dropped the rice cake. Before her stood her faction's leader, Bishop Alberich.
He wrinkled his nose at the moldy stench.
"This is why I inspect periodically. It's a mess. You're fired. Clear out."
"Eeeek...! W-wait...!"
Unable to utter a word of defense, Chloe was dragged away by other healers.
"Waaah, huuuh."
Tears like chicken droppings streamed as she clutched her box of belongings and left the office.
"Lasted longer than expected. Weird she wasn't canned sooner."
"That's why she was entry-level for five years. Good riddance—spot opened in the bishop's faction. Think I'll apply."
The mocking voices of other healers didn't register. Chloe grieved that she'd never see her patients again.
Getting booted from the secure office marked her as bottom-tier trash. Desperate adventurers might take her—if that.
"What's wrong with folk remedies...?"
They were vital for those without healing access.
Chloe gazed at the grimoire in her box, borrowed from the palace library. It was full of odd books, and the lax librarians hadn't nagged about the overdue return.
Maybe the librarian got fired too.
Where to go now that she'd been expelled from the palace?
As Chloe pondered and walked—
Thud.
Another shadow fell over her. This time, a pure white coat. Mom always said to watch where I was going. Nearly bumped into him.
"Keep your head up. You'll get turtle neck."
The slightly flippant tone made Chloe glance up at the voice's owner.
"Gasp."
She involuntarily sucked in a breath.
It was one of the exalted figures she'd only seen striding the office with escorts from afar.
"G-Gotberg, Master...!"
"Who's that?"
First meeting, and she'd messed up. Bit her tongue in panic.
Ras Gotberg picked up the grimoire from her box.
"It was on the list, but I couldn't find it—wasted ages searching. What now?"
"E-eep, sorry."
Ras next examined her rice cakes.
"Penicillin, huh?"
"Gasp. Y-you know what it is?"
"Hm."
Suddenly, without warning, Ras leaned in close. Chloe froze, staring at his face. Her breath—and heart—stopped.
He made her an offer.
"You. Be my nurse."
"You. Be my nurse."
"Eeeep. Wh-whaaat."
At my proposal, Chloe's legs gave out, and she convulsed on the floor. I decided to wait until she normalized.
I'd spotted her name on the library log and tracked her down. With ten Chloes in the palace alone—no ID system, had to check rosters palace by palace. Painstaking.
The grimoire was one of the world's rare tomes on folk remedies. Common sense relied wholly on healing arts, but remedies did circulate. The issue: most were inaccurate, eroding trust in true medicine—like "prick your finger for indigestion."
Indigestion needs digestive aids. Without effective folk options fostering medical thinking, reliance on healing arts cycled endlessly. Reality.
"N-nuuurse...! B-but what's a nurse?"
"Simply put, my direct assistant."
"D-di-rect...!"
Chloe immediately kowtowed to me.
"R-rehire, reeehire! Y-you'll reemploy meee...!"
Sneeze mid-bow? Wrong pick, maybe.
She'd borrowed the folk remedy book and even cultured blue mold—penicillin's source. High marks there; worth training as nurse. But she was scatterbrained.
Though at her age, she might be my senior. Teach her right, she could be useful.
"Alright, Chloe. Time for training."
"Traaaining?"
"Yeah. I'll start with drawing Princess's blood when I'm not around."
Chloe's mouth gaped like a crucian carp.
"...Princess Asella?"
"Yep. Princess Asella."
"Draw... blood?"
"Gotta. Like spurt."
Aigoo, tears of joy? Makes me proud.