Chapter 59 - Fifty-Nine ... A Costly Remedy

Chapter 59: Chapter Fifty-Nine ... A Costly Remedy

Chapter Fifty-Nine ... A Costly Remedy

"Pardon? We’ve always taken very good care of this well, my lord. It isn’t fouled."

"Hm..."

Jan fell silent for a moment and looked at the dwarf steward, who was sweating buckets.

He didn’t mean to pressure him.

He was only wondering how to explain this in a way that would clear up the misunderstanding and make him understand.

Of course, the dwarf steward didn’t seem to see it that way.

In the end, explaining it all in detail was too much trouble, so Jan came up with a rough excuse.

"This well has been cursed. Think about it. Everyone lives apart, yet the poor and the rich are suffering equally. What could it be but one thing? Everyone uses this well for their drinking water."

’I wonder if this will work.’

If the steward pushed back again, Jan meant to simply force it through on his authority.

If a noble, and a high noble of the Gold rank at that, told him to do it, he would hardly dare refuse.

But contrary to what Jan expected...

"Oh!"

The dwarf steward suddenly made the sign of the cross with a reverent look on his face.

"Of course! I believe you’re right, my lord. Ahhh!"

He said it with a look of deep emotion, his voice choking up. Absurd as it was, the dwarf steward had accepted Jan’s nonsense all too easily. That was how powerful the religious aura clinging to Jan had become.

Powerful enough that the steward would seal off the well, one of the village’s most important assets, without a second thought.

’Hmph...’

It was a rather awkward situation, but what could he do? This was simply how people here thought. Smacking his lips, Jan assigned soldiers to help the dwarf steward find a new source of water. He hoped that doing this much would ease whatever small grievances might build up.

"From now on, drink only boiled water. No, for the time being, use only boiled water for everything. And be sure to mix salt into it before using it."

"Oh! Salt, of course! To purify what’s unclean?"

"Er, hm. Yes. That’s right."

"Just as I’d expect of you, my lord. Salt, for purifying curses."

For some reason, his treatments and precautions kept taking on a superstitious flavor, but that was probably just his imagination, right?

"Don’t even think about reusing fouled cloth, especially cloth soiled with filth. Just burn it. And anyone who touches such things must wash their hands in lye water."

"Mm, mm."

As if every word Jan spoke were holy scripture, the dwarf steward nodded and wrote it all down on parchment.

It was a ridiculous sight, but Jan forced back a sigh and turned away once more.

Now that he had sealed off the fouled water that would spread the sickness in the first place, it was time to care for the sick.

"My lord? What will you do if the curse spreads to us?"

"..."

Jan stared at him.

Wasn’t he the one out front shouting about the worker of miracles and the lord blessed with holy grace? And now that Jan asked him to come along, he was trying to slip away? Not a chance. Jan was dragging him along to the very end.

Jan grabbed the wailing Bishop Graham and hauled him off to the isolation rooms set up in the monastery.

"Ohh, noble Gold-rank lord."

"Why have you come all the way here? A person of your standing, in so humble a place..."

"We fear the curse may spread to you."

The moment they arrived, the monastery’s priests came out and bowed their heads to Jan. Every one of them was full of worry and concern. At that, the bishop who had been wailing beside Jan sprang up as if nothing had happened and scolded them solemnly.

"Ah! Our lord doesn’t worry about such things. He is beloved of the faith, so no wicked curse would dare touch him! I, Bishop Graham, vouch for it!"

"Ohh, of course!"

"That does seem to be so."

"So give praise!"

This bishop... Look at how fast he’d switched sides.

What a dazzling tongue. Who knew how many believers and ordinary folk had been taken in by that bishop’s slick tongue...

Bishop Graham was a born opportunist. If he’d been born into a merchant city, he’d have made a fortune.

’Well, he does have his uses.’

In truth, there was no breed more stubborn than monks.

Just think about it. Men in the prime of their youth, living together in some remote place to try to understand the teachings of their faith.

The monastic life was something no one could choose without great conviction.

With that being the case, if some outside noble came in and started telling them what to do, who would listen? It was only because Bishop Graham was working his dazzling tongue like this that these stubborn monks were hanging on Jan’s every word.

"Have the sick been sorted properly?"

"Yes, my lord. Just as you said, we’ve separated the mild cases from the severe ones and isolated them."

"Good. For the mild cases, just keep giving them plenty of water to drink. As for the severe cases..."

The hallmark of a waterborne plague like the blue death was endless diarrhea and vomiting. Had it been the bloody flux, which came with a high fever, it would have needed remedies he didn’t have. Fortunately, this wasn’t that.

As long as their strength held out, most people could beat the sickness if they just kept taking in fluids.

’Hm... Still, the severe cases really need some kind of restoring draught...’

Jan called in his soldiers and had them build a large kiln near the monastery. Then he set water boiling there and began preparing for treatment in earnest.

They boiled water in large quantities and dissolved plenty of rock salt in it, and he hurriedly sent someone back to his lands to fetch the sugar that had been offered to the diocese.

Given how much was needed, the sugar they brought back fell a little short, but once they emptied out the honey the monastery had been keeping from its hives, they managed to make a restoring draught one way or another. Honey, sugar, and salt. It was a truly expensive remedy.

"Keep giving this water to the severe cases, watching how they’re doing. Don’t let them eat anything else at all. Any food they eat will only come right back out, and it’ll leave them worse off."

"Pardon? Just this, my lord?"

"Yes. If they just drink this, they’ll get back on their feet on their own. Why? Do you have some doubt, brother?"

"N-no, my lord. We’ll do it at once."

Don’t feed them, just give them that water? And an extravagantly expensive drink at that? It felt somewhat heretical, but the monks readily followed his orders for now.

And fortunately, just as Jan had expected, the plague quickly began to die down. The "curse" stopped spreading, and people who had been at death’s door got up and dusted themselves off one after another. It didn’t take long for the monks to be astonished.

"Behold! This is holy water made from the gifts offered to the diocese! Praise the worker of miracles!"

So the lord truly was the real thing!

Without meaning to, Jan had added yet another "miracle" to his name that day.

Damn it.