The Doctor Who Saves Lives Well is the King.
The mages who had come with Mac Dollar from the Tower of Truth were all tower masters and their disciples who had visited my clinic at least once before. Though it hadn't been for long, each of them had received at least a week's basic training from me, so with just a single explanation, they quickly pocketed the medicine I'd handed them and headed off to their respective clinics.
"Don't forget! IV drips are for emergency patients only! Mild cases get the oral rehydration solution!"
They'd already left the lodging, so my shout at their backs probably didn't reach them, but I couldn't help calling out anyway out of sheer worry. I hurried back inside, sweeping the extra batches of oral rehydration solution into my subspace pouch.
"Keep making extras just like this, everyone! Walter, you're with me."
"Yes, Director!"
Walter and I headed straight for the barracks of the 32nd Imperial Knight Battalion, the unit in charge of overseeing the mages.
"Sir Felix! Sir Felix, are you here?!"
"Are you from the magic towers? What brings you to Sir Felix?"
Felix had told me to come find him at his battalion barracks if anything came up, but he wasn't there. All that was present was a single knight with a blank, dopey look on his face, like he'd gotten off on the wrong horse.
"I'm Miner from the Beauty Tower. You know there's an outbreak of vomiting and diarrhea hitting the 27th Imperial Knight Battalion, right? I have the formula to make the treatment."
"R-Really?"
Of course it's real, you idiot! It's even more infuriating that a guy in this time crunch is such a dimwit.
"We need to solve this as fast as possible before it spreads further. First things first—find out which barracks the 27th Battalion knights are getting treated in right now."
"Uh... w-well, hold on. I think we got the report somewhere..."
"You don't even have records on patient transfers?!"
"S-Sorry, sir. Sir Felix usually handles that..."
"Where's Sir Felix right now? Guess I'll go ask him myself."
"S-Sorry. He's at... uh, Wind Volume—no, Wind Tower? Ah, yes! The Wind Tower clinic—"
I bolted out before the dimwit knight could finish.
"Damn it, no time to waste!"
"Director, pardon the rudeness."
"Huh? Wha—?!"
Was my frantic voice that loud? Walter suddenly scooped me up like a sack of luggage, slung me over his shoulder, and took off running. The wind pressure stung my skin like a gale—it was that fast.
"Urp—bleeeech!"
"D-Director! Are you sick too?!"
"Huff... n-no. Just queasy..."
I puked my guts out, but thanks to Walter, we arrived at the Wind Tower clinic—home of the local quacks—in no time flat. I'd been swamped nonstop since arriving in this war zone, so this was my first time at another tower's clinic. The Wind Tower's was massive, probably because they had so many mages.
What the hell? Why's the bottom of that huge clinic tent flapping like crazy?
For some reason, the lower edge of the enormous clinic tent was billowing wildly.
"Let's head in, Walter."
"Yes, Director."
"Is... Sir Felix here...?"
Calling out Felix's name as we entered, the inside of the clinic lived up to its Wind Tower name—gusts of wind whipped through the air.
"Focus! Breathe deeper while feeling the wind! Breathe!"
"Sssip—haaa—sssip... urp—bleeech!"
Unlike my clinic, where Kellogg had helped lay new flooring, the Wind Tower clinic floor was untouched dirt.
The ground... it's turned into black sludge?
Vomit from patients was splattered everywhere on the Wind Tower clinic floor, left to fester. The polluted muck of puke, diarrhea, and dirt squelched underfoot.
But that wasn't the only shock.
...No, what the hell are those guys doing?
Not even the plague doctor cosplayers who showed up every outbreak—these were mages wearing masks that stuck out like beaks.
How the hell do they even treat patients wearing that crap? Makes zero sense.
"Director, shall I carry you?"
I froze at the bizarre sight of the Wind Tower quacks, and Walter must've thought I was hesitant to go in.
"No need. First, we find Felix... Ah! Felix!"
There in the center was Felix, shining in his armor amid the chaos. But the clinic roared like a factory with puking noises and constant wind magic, so he hadn't noticed me calling.
Stepping carefully over the unidentified primitive mud, I made my way toward him.
"Not just the Tower of Truth—other towers are getting treatment thanks to the Beauty Tower master! Even the Wind Tower master—"
"Hmph! How many times must I say it? We'll stick to our traditional methods! Disease from water? Ha! Preposterous nonsense I've never heard!"
As I got closer, the voice of the mage arguing with Felix grew clearer. Even with his face hidden by the mask, it was easy to tell it was Servius, the Wind Tower master. But his tone was far more agitated than his usual kindly demeanor.
"But the other clinics are seeing results that way..."
"How do you know the immediate effects aren't like a candle flickering out right before death?! Who are you, some lowly knight, to question us?! We're the mages treating patients! Medical fundamentals clearly state these plagues spread via foul air and stench—"
"Ah, bullshit carried on the wind right to my ears!"
I bellowed with diaphragmatic force, and Servius's gaze snapped to me. His eyes inside the beak mask glared murderously.
"Gold Tower Master!"
"I came looking for Felix and stumbled on some fascinating talk."
"Baron Miner Gold! I've overlooked your barbaric foreign ways, thinking you hadn't learned manners, but I can't indulge you anymore."
Oh, you were indulging me cutely? That's why you sent the Black Moon Church, called in retired heroes, and schemed behind my back so adorably?
"No more chit-chat. The disease name and treatment are confirmed and shared with everyone. Even Felix here—who's not even medical staff—is telling you to use it. Why the stubborn bullshit?"
"Heh, stubborn? As I said, plagues spread through polluted air and stench, per medical fundamentals..."
The boomer drivel began. Treating my clinic's patients and distributing oral rehydration solution had already delayed things—the patients' conditions were worsening.
Time to cut the crap.
"Shut the hell up, you lunatics!"
I roared from my core, drawing every eye in the vast Wind Tower clinic.
"This disease is called cholera! Dehydration from diarrhea dries out the skin, leads to muscle spasms in severe cases, and can kill! But you can save them with clean water—or boiled water—plus the right amounts of salt and sugar, you quack bastards!"
"You insolent fool dare—!"
Shing—
"The Director speaks. Approach without permission, and die by my hand."
"Guh! A-Aura?!"
"I-Impossible! Not some mercenary scum—a sword master?!"
Speed was key here. Walter drew his sword in a flash, wrapping it in rippling blue aura. At that, the mages slyly tucked away their "medical" tools—more like murder weapons.
Good, that'll make 'em listen.
"Sorry for yelling. But this is wartime! Cholera's highly contagious—even you Wind Tower mages could be infected. So please! Cooperate—or at least don't interfere!"
I whipped around and shoved a handful of water bottles from my subspace pouch at Felix.
"Take these. Give to mild cases. One bottle per patient—no sharing."
"Th-that aura..."
"Felix! Not you too! Snap out of it!"
"Ah, s-sorry."
Handing off the oral solution, I moved straight to the critical patients.
Damn, even bad conditions have limits.
At least the Wind Tower had enough mages that every medical bed had at least one attendant. Though calling these guys medical staff was debatable.
"Can you cast cleansing magic?"
"Uh... well..."
"Yes or no?!"
"Y-Yes!"
The mage by the bed flinched as I barked while pulling out an IV from my pouch. Probably scared of Walter, not me—but who cares.
"Cleanse your hands first, then mine, then the patient's elbow crook."
"L-Like this?"
"What the hell are you doing?! This is my clinic now!"
Servius bellowed from behind, but I didn't spare him a glance, focusing on the IV insertion. Walter had my back.
"You hold this. Confirm it's all in, then cast healing magic on the patient. That's how they survive."
"..."
"Answer me!"
"...Y-Yes! Got it!"
Trusting Walter at my back, I darted through the Wind Tower clinic.
"Hey, you a mage or a barber? Proud you can't even cast cleansing? Go clean the floor from that end patient—sweep up the filth. This a clinic or a pigsty?"
"Hold the drip straight, idiot! Vertical—yeah, like that."
"You can't cleanse either? Go to the entrance, hand these water jugs to mild patients."
"Cleansed first? Good job."
It was like the rival hospital director barging in and taking over surgeries—but whatever. Save lives first.
"Enough! I won't tolerate this anymore!"
After frenziedly hooking up a row of patients, silent Servius finally exploded. A circular mandala-like pattern hovered in the air above him and his dozen gathered mages—like they were prepping an attack.
"Director, fall back. They're setting up an attack magic circle."
Needing every hand in this crisis, and they pull this non-cooperation? Rage boiled, making me want to tear my hair out—
"I've waited in case you tried something, but the patients show no improvement—"
"Th-the patient's recovering!"
"My patient stabilized after healing magic!"
"This knight's back to normal too!"
Perfect timing—the drips finished absorbing, and healing magic kicked in as knights checked themselves.
"No improvement my ass. Listen up, Servius—mages. If you're not doctors, stay out of the way. I'm busy."
"Grrgh...!"
See that, punk? The doctor who saves lives best is king, no matter where.