As Iria cast a healing spell on the young lord, Heinrich stared at the iron sword in his hand.
'Strange. The young lord shouldn't have that much speed, let alone that much power.'
Even the other knights also seemed to be pondering over the bout that just took place, thinking the same thing as the vice commander.
'Did the young lord hide his progress all along?'
Heinrich ran his thumb over the blade, then dismissed that thought.
After all, there was a visible chip on the forte, the part supposed to be the strongest of the sword. And a wooden training sword shouldn't be able to dent iron, that much was common sense.
Besides…
'Nothing could explain how the color of the young lord's eye changed. Is that a special trait of their blood? No. That doesn't seem to be the case either.'
"Sir Heinrich."
Iria called out.
"What is it?"
"I have finished the spell, but the young lord's heart remains in turmoil, and my magic is failing to stabilize his pulse. His temperature is also rising beyond the safe threshold."
Step.
Heinrich stepped closer, and paused after that first step.
Even without touching the young lord, he could feel the heat radiating off his skin that felt more like a smoldering fire than a fever.
'An overload…?'
Then again, such a condition usually appeared only in those who had pushed the limits of their rings or stars. Once more, another mystery had surfaced around the young lord.
Iria stood.
"Sir Heinrich, if you would not mind, I think it would be best to take the lord to madam Cheng."
"...Cheng, huh. That shabby apothecary?"
"You are correct, sir Heinrich."
"Very well."
Heinrich gave a small nod.
Though he was often stationed at the front gate of the manor, he was not unfamiliar with the village. The thing is, there's only one apothecary known for such unconventional and unorthodox treatments, and for its cost.
A single bundle of herbs could equal the monthly pay of several knights, priced not that differently from a service of a paragon healer.
Still, it was the right choice, given the young lord's current condition.
Thus, Heinrich knelt and hoisted the young lord into his arms, then turned to one of the knights.
"Jansena."
"Sir!"
"Prepare two horses. We are leaving for the village."
"At once, vice commander!"
The bearded knight gave a quick salute before hurrying toward the manor, already moving to ready two among the three horses of the stable.
- – – 7 7 7 – – -
Neigh!
A trek that should have taken 30 minutes from the camp to the village ended in only fifteen, though it would have been ten if not for the slippery snow downhill.
Heinrich kept one arm around the young lord as the horse pushed through the village.
Iria rode the other horse, with Jansena holding the reins.
Clop-clop, clop-clop!
They reached the apothecary.
The house was small. It did not look like a place where one would pay a fortune for medicine.
Heinrich stepped down from the horse and lifted the young lord tighter in his arms; Iria knocked at the door, calling for the madam.
"Madam Cheng?"
"Who is making a racket outside my door this early?! If it is about those weeds again, turn around and shove them up your own asses!"
However, the voice from the other side of the door was anything but welcoming.
Iria cleared her throat, remaining composed.
"It is Iria. I apologize for disturbing you so early, madam."
Creak.
The door opened.
A bent old woman appeared in the doorway. Her face was still set in a scowl, though at least she had stopped shouting.
"Hmph. So it really is Iria. Did you not buy herbs not too long ago? I may be old, but my memory is not so feeble that you can take me for a fool."
"Ah. That is not the case, madam. I have come for an appointment."
"Appointment…?"
Madam's gaze shifted, landing at the strange man beside Iria who had a scabbard on his waist but no weapon, carrying an unconscious patient.
Madam then stepped aside, showcasing a warm room that is crowded with shelves of dried herbs, glass bottles, and bundles tied with a red string.
"Move. Put him on the table. But make sure to wipe your boots first before you stain my floor."
"Yes."
Heinrich carried the young lord inside after taking off his boots and laid him on the table.
Madam wasted no time and immediately pressed her index and middle fingers to the patient's wrist and frowned to the extent that her face seemed to fold in on itself.
Iria straightened.
"How is—?"
"Bad."
"Pardon?"
"His pulse is all over the place. And what in the hell did you feed this lad anyway? Two different bloods are fighting for dominance, dancing like a boiling pot about to scald the kitchen."
Heinrich's eyes narrowed.
"Can you treat—?"
"Don't make me shove dried cloves up your ass, strange man. If I could not treat him, I would have already told you to carry this lad to the graveyard."
"I… apologize."
Madam snorted and waved a hand impatiently.
"If you are only going to stand there like a post, male yourself useful. Bring me cold water, a clean cloth, and the blue medicine bag on the shelf."
Heinrich turned to get the said items.
"Not the brown one, you blind fool— the blue one."
After that, madam dipped the cloth, wrung it, and placed it firmly against the patient's forehead. Steam did not rise, but the heat beneath his skin made the fabric warm almost instantly.
Madam reached for a row of small glass cups arranged neatly on a wooden tray. Then, she grabbed a pair of metal tongs, a small strip of cloth, and dipped it into a jar then lit it over the brazier flame.
A flame flickered.
Without hesitation, Madam slipped the flame inside one of the glass cups and pressed it firmly against the young lord's upper back.
Thwap!
The glass sealed against the skin.
The flesh beneath it rose, pulled upward by the vacuum. She repeated the process, one cup after another, placing them along the patient's back and shoulders.
Madam set the last cup in place and pulled a bundle of dried herbs tied with string from a small cabinet, then tossed it to Iria.
"Crush that into fine powder. If I see pieces of leaves floating, I will make you drink it instead."
"Yes."
Iria caught it.
Madam poured water into a clay pot and set it over the brazier, then added a pinch of powdered root from a small vial.
Behind her, one of the glass cups twitched.
Heinrich looked closer and saw the skin beneath the glass had darkened slightly.
"Do not touch it."
Madam warned before she returned to the table, placed two fingers against the patient's neck and frowned. After that, she pressed her palm flat against his chest.
A faint tremor ran through his body.
"Get me the dried clove leaves inside that blue bag and put it in the pot."
Iria did as told.
Madam reached for a thin wooden stick, dipped it into the boiling mixture, then lifted a small drop and let it fall onto the patient's lips.
The patient's body jerked violently, again and again, his back arching, as one of the glass cups had come loose and clattered onto the table.
"Strange man, hold him down."
Heinrich pressed the patient's shoulders as another tremor ran through his body.
The remaining glass cups began to rattle faintly, as if something beneath the skin was trying to force them off all at once.
Madam grabbed a small needle from her kit and drove it into a point just below the collarbone.
"Huuuff!"
A loud breath escaped from the patient's throat as one of the remaining cups exploded free, skidding across the floor.
Madam leaned in closer, unfazed, and pressed two fingers against his wrist again, her eyes narrowing as she tracked the pulse.
"The mixture is ready, madam."
"Hmph. Good, I don't see any leaves floating. Bring it."
Madam took the bowl and pinched the young lord's jaw open.
"If he chokes, tilt his head. If he bites, that is your problem."
Madam poured a small amount of the mixture into the patient's mouth, and his throat swallowed, unconsciously.
The violent tremors smoothed into a quiescent stillness, as if the storm inside the patient's body had finally decided to sleep.
Madam exhaled through her nose.
"...There it is."
Madam removed the needle with a quick motion and wiped it clean, as if nothing unusual had happened.
Heinrich slowly released his hold.
"Is he stable, madam?"
Madam did not answer immediately. Instead, she reached up and pulled one of the patient's eyelids open.
"Well. At least, he is not dead."