"Alright, you all rest easy."
After comforting the patients, Lance led the two to a separate tent nearby. Differential treatnt, after all, always existed. Most patients had to crowd together under collective care, but Boudica enjoyed a private space and priority attention.
Unfortunately, this did little to alleviate her condition. She was stronger than those ordinary soldiers, but the illness tornted her beyond recognition.
"Boss..."
Seemingly hearing so noise, Boudica’s hands flailed about, trying to find what kept her going.
"I’m here," Lance quickly stepped forward to grab her hands and then eagerly explained the situation with a tone of joy. "Don’t worry, the Witch who was spreading the plague has been killed by us, and I’ve found a way to treat you. You will recover soon."
Lance’s reassurance greatly soothed Boudica’s panicked state. The pain from the illness, combined with her blindness, had taken a severe toll on her body, but what was even more terrifying was the relentless pressure that erged from the endless darkness. More than the tornt of the illness, she feared dying in bed from disease, with humiliation as her final companion.
Grendel also noted Boudica’s identity. She could never have imagined she was a Barbarian warrior. Why would such a warrior be loyal to an Empire Lord? And it seems their relationship is no ordinary one...
Under Lance’s cue, Grendel examined Boudica. She essentially confird Boudica had the sa type of Withering Disease. Due to her better constitution, her condition seed slightly better than that of the ordinary patients. As for her blindness, the cause remained uncertain until further treatnt could determine the specifics.
"Begin the treatnt."
Once the inspection of the dical camp was complete, Lance imdiately began arranging for personnel to provide Grendel with the necessary supplies. Truth be told, aside from grain, Hamlet’s main products were various herbs. This was thanks to the old ancestor who had studied Herbology, Pharmacology, and Alchemy—all rather esoteric subjects—and had consistently purchased herbs at high prices in the town year-round. When there was no shortage of food, the town maintained a number of herb fields, especially near the farms. After all, one couldn’t seriously believe the farm owner kept over a hundred people employed with nothing for them to do.
"I need to use that large cauldron and a ladle to prepare the Potion."
"That’s fine." Lance knew the item was Extraordinary Equipnt, and very likely part of a set. Unfortunately, since it wasn’t a [Tribute], he didn’t know its specific functions. However, based on her request, he could roughly guess it was useful for concocting Potions.
To be honest, Grendel was also a bit surprised—whatever she asked for, they provided, without even inquiring what it was for. This gesture undeniably showed her the utmost trust.
"Lastly, I need a quiet place that will not be disturbed."
"The sanatorium," Lance responded without any hesitation.
The sanatorium was where the old ancestor used to conduct research. It had many vacant rooms, so finding a suitable place for Grendel to prepare her Potions wouldn’t be difficult.
But concocting Potions was not a simple matter. The previous situation was different; they had rely been poisoned, and it hadn’t yet developed into a full-blown disease. More importantly, that dark green Potion was a powerful Antidote capable of neutralizing most poisons. But the cost of such potent efficacy was hundreds of Gold Coins per bottle. Although she hadn’t explicitly described its concoction thod, one could guess it required rare materials and a complex production process, making it clearly unsuitable for an infection of this scale. Moreover, the difference between disease and poison was quite significant. The previous Potion likely wouldn’t be very effective, so she needed to formulate a specific antidote targeting this Withering Disease.
Lance had not expected that she had casually produced Potions worth two to three hundred Gold Coins before. It turned out she was quite wealthy; no wonder she hadn’t cared about the thirty-Gold-Coin deposit.
However, once her arrangents were made, Lance found himself troubled by another matter.
Looking at Paracelsus before him, her mask barely concealing her strong resentnt, Lance also felt a headache coming on. He had, indeed, handled this matter rather poorly. Paracelsus had been trying her utmost to care for the patients and find a treatnt, but now Lance had directly handed everything over to soone else, his attitude clearly favoring the newcor. It was as if she had been responsible for a project, had built half the frawork, only for it to be entirely transferred to soone else by the higher-ups. It felt sowhat like having the fruits of her labor snatched away. Moreover, it was to soone she greatly disliked—a charlatan, in her eyes. How could he make her accept this?
"Ahem... I know you have many questions. I haven’t been bewitched. This matter goes back to..."
Lance briefly described the battle, how they killed the Witch with Grendel’s help, and how Grendel had prepared a Potion on the spot to treat Balistan.
"Science isn’t a religion; it can allow for different approaches. Herbology and Mysticism have coexisted with us for millennia. Aren’t the Potions you’re preparing also made from various herbal ingredients? What we need to do is use scientific thods to verify their authenticity and explore their underlying principles, rather than blindly resisting them."
Paracelsus was clearly impatient with the lecture. If she were truly such an obedient person, she wouldn’t have run off to steal corpses for research. On the contrary, her rebellious and defiant streak was very strong.
Lance rely explained the situation, but he knew how to truly appease her.
"You’re a researcher. Let her handle caring for the sick. That way, you’ll have more ti to observe and record her treatnt thods. This is the real way to expose her, not just through words and suspicion."
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