Chapter 87. The Clinic. Yeah, That Was a Real Fuck-Up on Your Part, Asshole.
“I never expected to see you the moment we arrived.”
“It's been a full month since that Sky Tower missive—the first time we've laid eyes on each other.”
Felix, the imperial knight, pulled his right arm across his left chest in salute to Servius, the Wind Tower's magic tower master, who had popped out of nowhere beside us.
“It's an honor to meet the great Wind Tower Master. Unlike other regions, the Frederik Dungeon Zone has two magic towers, so we've arranged your lodgings right nearby.”
I'd figured that with the mobilization order out, mages from across the empire would converge here—meaning I'd probably run into those damn Wind Tower bastards eventually.
But not right at the start. Tch.
“Hohoho, splendid. I never dreamed I'd see so many familiar faces like this. They said you were with the Black Moon Church, but here you are at the Beauty Tower. Seems the Beauty Tower Master has a knack for drawing people in.”
I wasn't the only one thrown off by Servius's sudden appearance. The magic tower and the Black Moon Church were inextricably linked—you couldn't pry them apart if you tried. The Jo family folks he'd run into looked flustered, their faces full of unease. Coming to the Beauty Tower was basically picking a fight with the Wind Tower.
Servius seemed pleased by their downcast expressions, flashing a sly grin as he scanned them before turning back to me.
“As you know, this is the rear lines—no real danger here. But if anyone gets hurt, come to our lodgings or clinic. If you're Beauty Tower mages, I'll gladly chop you up in a flash.”
“No need for that. I could do a chop myself if I wanted. If you get an infection, Tower Master, just give us a call. We'll slice it off so clean it'll be like it was never there.”
“Hohoho, I'll gratefully accept the sentiment.”
“Take care. We're busy, so we'll be off.”
We left behind Servius's ever-folksy, nauseating laugh and headed into our lodgings.
Better than I expected. Thought it'd be some barracks.
War had broken out just over two weeks ago, they said. Yet our assigned quarters looked like a tidy little inn—decent craftsmanship. Made me think there were some skilled blacksmiths around here.
Or maybe it just proves how dangerous this war really is.
As we unpacked in our rooms, Felix, our guide, sidled up to me.
“Sorry, Baron Gold.”
“No, this is plenty for wartime. Individual rooms and bathrooms—what more could we want?”
“Not that... I had no idea you and Tower Master Servius were on bad terms. I heard tower masters and mages usually get along great and exchange a lot... Feels like I screwed up.”
Oh, that? Yeah, that was a total fuck-up on your part, asshole.
Our lodgings weren't far from the quack squad's massive setup, which grated on me. But they weren't right next door, so if we steered clear of the Wind Tower mages, it shouldn't be a big issue.
“Can't be helped. Lodgings are set by headcount—no changing now, right?”
“...Yes, sorry.”
“You didn't know. Just be more careful next time. We've unpacked, so can you show us to the clinic now?”
“Ah, yes! Right away. Seeing the clinic first is priority.”
“Everyone out! Heading to the clinic!”
““Yes!””
We followed Felix deeper in.
“The imperial letter just said subhuman alliance invasion—what's the story?”
As we passed other towers' lodgings en route to the clinic, Felix frowned at my question.
“You've heard of the black-magic beasts in the North Continent, right?”
“Yeah, heard the Northern Duke's hair turned black from magic corruption.”
“Is that true? First I've heard of it.”
“Probably. Is this war tied to the North?”
No need to spill what I'd heard straight from Tolstoy Lancaster to some knight.
“That's the guess. Orcs and ogres are both super aggressive. They rarely cooperate with other races—internal squabbles are common even among their own. But a few months back, monsters started pouring out of the Dark Gorge en masse.”
“Dark Gorge—the northern canyon where black-magic monsters emerge?”
Felix nodded.
“Right. We're guessing the Snoa Mountains subhumans took advantage of the chaos to breach the West Continent border. East Continent's too busy with the five great families' power struggles for reinforcements, and North Continent's tied up fighting monsters under the Northern Duke.”
“So they invaded the West Continent through the gap? But what's in it for the subhumans?”
“That's the puzzling part. Snoa Mountains is so vast it's practically its own continent, bordering both East and West.”
I was hoping for clues on the battles, but Felix's explanation only raised more questions.
“You won't need to see the front lines yourself, Baron, but it's a barren wasteland—flat, but worthless compared to Snoa Mountains.”
“I see... Casualties?”
“Not good. Empire has 320,000 to their estimated 170,000—huge numerical edge.”
Felix sighed wearily.
“But they hit us unprepared, so our side's taken way more losses.”
“Main causes of death?”
“Orc and ogre strength dwarfs normal knights. Even a glancing axe hit snaps arms or folds legs backward. Lots of fractures and contusions. Limited mages per unit means untreated infections kill plenty. That's why His Majesty's order summoned mages for aggressive amputations to cut deaths.”
“...”
Aggressive amputations. I got it—this era's norms—but it still left a bitter taste. Pray after chopping—that's standard.
“His Majesty agonized over the mobilization. Clinic's placed close to lodgings for that reason. Ah, there it is.”
Felix pointed to rows of tent-like booths, like a festival setup.
“They look identical, but each has the tower name marked. Lightning Tower, Flame Tower... Ah! Beauty Tower's right here.”
Felix grinned as he led us, but I couldn't smile. Lightning, Flame, Rock Towers—and brazen ones like Screaming Tower, Severance Tower.
Insane... This world's fucking nuts.
The insane tent names I'd glimpsed spun my head. Hard to imagine what went down at other dungeon zones' towers.
But those thoughts evaporated the moment we stepped inside.
“This is... the clinic?”
“Yes. Medical tools and beds for mages' use. Standard gear—if anything's inconvenient, just say. Blacksmiths specializing in medical tools are here by imperial order.”
...Weapon depot?
Felix beamed proudly; my face twisted. Dozens of cots on dirt floor. But the so-called tools—pure killing machines—were the real eyesore.
“Beauty Tower brought our own gear, so can you clear those out?”
“The tools?”
“Yeah, start with those. And the setup's rougher than expected—we want to clean up the tent. Okay?”
No matter how bad wartime conditions, treating on dusty dirt helps no one.
“Fine, but full treatment starts tomorrow, so any construction must wrap today.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Yes, Baron. I'll have knights remove the existing tools now. Need more help? Ask any knight—they'll relay to me.”
“Will do.”
Guides like him usually low-rank, but Felix seemed higher-up than expected. Knights cleared the razor-sharp weapons on his order.
“Alright, let's get to it. Patient areas must be clean, no matter the situation.”
“Miner... We can only lay wood flooring today—is that okay?”
Even Kellogg couldn't build a proper clinic in a day. Regrettable, but we'd compromise.
“Do that first. Secure the tent canvas tight to the wood—no gaps. And drainage too?”
“No problem.”
A day-and-a-half flight left us beat, but wartime—patients streaming to nearby clinics meant we had to finish fast and start treating.
“George, can't you move faster? My grandma's quicker!”
“That dwarf's been nagging! You're an orphan, ain't ya?!”
Under Kellogg's lead, everyone pulled together. Work started morning, done by lunch.
“Whew... Back to lodgings for lunch and rest. Good work, all.”
“You too, Director!”
“Good work.”
“Kellogg worked hardest—”
“Gaaahhh!”
As we wiped sweat outside the spotless tent, a bloodcurdling scream erupted from a clinic 50 paces away.