Altitude Sickness (3)
“Ugh……”
“Hoo……”
The temporary ward set up in the southern fortress already had over two hundred knights laid up with illness.
“Healers with free hands, over here!”
“Anyone got spare blankets?!”
The healers from Heike’s faction had been treating knights non-stop since arriving in Blücher County.
The expedition had been a long march—a full month on the road. But considering the famed endurance of the Imperial Knights, this level of fatigue shouldn’t have debilitated them so badly. Especially not Heike’s 1st Regiment, winners of the martial tournament. They were the empire’s finest.
That meant the county’s environment was just that different from the capital—hard to adapt to.
“Damn it, even I, the chief physician, have to run around like this? Short-staffed or not.”
Alverich grumbled to Heike when no one else was listening. The rule during field ops was to stick by one’s lord, but Heike had kept all faction healers, Alverich included, on duty round-the-clock to save even one more knight.
The knights had a few holy knights who could handle basic divine power—sort of like medics. But their healing was nothing compared to the Imperial Medical Office’s pros, so in a crisis like this, everyone had to pitch in.
“What kind of idiot lives in a place like this? If anything happens to Your Highness while I’m away, it’s all on me.”
Alverich groused as he cast a healing spell on a moaning knight. True to his role as chief physician, he swiftly restored the man’s frostbitten limbs. The problem was, frostbite could recur based on constitution. Same with altitude sickness. Knights full of vigor in the capital were getting drained by the environment, and healing spells couldn’t fix that root issue.
“It’s like pouring water into a bucket with a hole in the bottom.”
Alverich sighed in frustration—right as the door burst open.
“Alright, line up for those ready for treatment first!”
A healer strode in brimming with energy. Alverich gaped at the face.
“G-Gotberg!”
“That’s me. Missed me?”
“Who’d miss you? What scheme are you plotting, chasing us here?!”
Alverich reflexively sputtered, but Ras replied leisurely.
“No schemes—just here to treat.”
Moonlight Palace healers poured in behind Ras, arms full of medicines. He clapped twice to signal.
“Let’s start triage. Send critical cases my way.”
The healers scattered to patients. Alverich tsked and rushed to his next one, competitive as ever.
“Hey, you with me?”
I propped up a collapsed knight. He’d been half-conscious; now his eyes fluttered open as he shook his head.
“……Aren’t you the 3rd Princess’s personal physician? Did you heal me?”
“Yeah. Looking lively now—good. Get back in formation and loosen up. We march tomorrow.”
“Incredible. I could barely breathe, head all foggy…… Now I feel light as air. Thank you.”
The knight bowed and stood. I kept diagnosing 1st Regiment knights—diuretics for altitude sickness, ointments for frostbite.
“Tch, desperate to steal the credit. Shameless brat with no morals.”
Alverich muttered watching us. Time was short, so I ignored him and pressed on.
“You lot standing around like blind men? Get in there with healing spells!”
Alverich barked at his healers, spurring them into frenzy. Collaboration was needed here. I stood and signaled; my team blocked Alverich’s faction.
“Archbishop, a heads-up: Don’t use healing spells on knights with red handkerchiefs on their arms. We’ve treated them.”
“What? Withholding healing from frontline knights?!”
“Use blessings instead. They’re on diuretics for altitude sickness.”
“And?!”
Alverich fumed. No surprise—he wouldn’t get it like this. Time for a calm explanation.
“Simply put, altitude sickness comes from thin air at high altitude. Oxygen travels via blood to the body.”
“So?”
“Some have low oxygen delivery naturally. The altitude worsens it. We dilated blood vessels to boost oxygen flow.”
“Doesn’t make sense.”
Hugo chimed in beside me. “Think of a narrow river—dredging it to let water flow.”
“……Hmm.”
“Healing spells restore the body to its original state—shrinking those vessels, recurring the sickness.”
“So no healing spells?!”
Alverich stomped, pointing. “What if they’re wounded in battle?!”
“Then use them. Your faction can cover those.”
Alverich shook his head in disbelief. “Your medicines’ flaw on my team? Incompatible with healing—useless tech!”
“Most meds work fine, but this is special. It’s the only altitude fix anyway.”
“Pitiful. Risks weakening our forces—contradicts goddess’s teachings! I’ll report to Her Highness!”
“Do that. I’ve got knights left.”
Alverich stormed upstairs. Fanatic about spells—talking’s pointless. I treated the rest.
Soon, Heike descended with him. She stood before me.
“Your Highness.”
“I heard, Gotberg. True we can’t heal our knights?”
Heike crossed arms gravely, Alverich glued behind. Already tattled, huh.
I stood. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“Why?”
I repeated the diuretic explanation. Heike pondered.
“How many got it?”
“About eighty—the worst cases.”
“Five-tenths of the force…… Manageable.”
She nodded. “Put them rear-guard—no combat heals needed.”
“But, Your Highness!”
Alverich whined pitifully, but Heike snapped.
“Without Gotberg’s meds, they couldn’t fight at all. This is workable.”
“It burdens us healers extra. Incompatible with healing……”
“That’s what your fat salary’s for.”
Alverich shut up.
“Or do you have a better alternative, Alverich?”
“……Give me time.”
Heike stomped her iron boot. “Time? Civilians trapped with the count—food might be gone. Gotberg shaved days off deployment.”
Alverich went mute. I get it—Asella’s nagging leaves me nodding too.
“Rest if idle. Tomorrow’s long. Conserve strength.”
“……Understood.”
Alverich bowed. Heike left; he glared resentfully. I waved.
“Sweet dreams.”
Alverich flipped me off vigorously but smacked his lips, turning away wordless.
—Clang!Clang!
—Waaaaah!!
From the east: sword clashes, knights’ roars, barbarians’ howls. Echoing off mountains, the noise prickled my skin.
“Two hours since Her Highness Heike sortied.”
Walter, Moonlight Palace knight captain, reported to Asella. We held the pass from south to west fortress. Heike’s 1st Regiment assaulted east as planned.
Bait. Lure all scattered barbarians there. We infiltrate central via west, cut bridges, rescue civilians, then crush the trapped east.
“Scout report: 1st Princess force holding as planned, drawing enemies. Seven-tenths of county barbarians at east. Central static.”
“Just like the young master said.”
“Told you—simple brutes.”
Asella, in mage robes, ponytail whipping, gripped her staff.
“Central’s holdout: smart barbarian or civilians holding them.”
“Hard to lure more. Advance. Captain, order it.”
“All forces—forward!”
His bellow sent vanguard marching. Iron armor clanked over the wall-bridge linking fortresses. Asella and I trailed, checking formation.
Midway, enemies appeared.
—Grrr! Meat!
—Kekeke! Crush!
Remnants in west fortress charged, beast-skulls on heads, pelts draped raw. Hunched, drooling—more beast than man, weapons in hand.
“Outta the way. I’ll clear ’em.”
Asella’s eyes flashed; staff swung. Magic circle formed.
Then the system flickered.
No. 056: Villainess's Hatred 7% → 10%
That’s the ending where Asella kills me for no reason.
Small bump, but rising now? Means her combat aggression’s spiking.
I yanked her arm down instinctively.
“Your Highness, save mana.”
“Why interfere? Blizzard wipes them.”
She’d never cast at people before. Block it forever—might help.
“Save it for the bridge.”
“Knights alone? Look at the numbers—even thinned to east, it’s an army. Nasty weapons too.”
I shrugged. “We’ve got Tanya.”
She bolted front, unleashing sword aura.
—BOOM!!
Barbarians lunging at her swing exploded in halves.