Chapter 115 Needle Marks
“A number of the creatures appeared in swarms, a far cry from their known behavior.”
Jonathan listened to the report from the south.
“However, the Knights of Drea, led by the Lord High Chancellor, have succeeded in dispatching them all without incident, though they have yet to achieve their goal of capturing any of them alive.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I knew he would be able to handle it. I’m sure the capture will be successful soon.”
After sending the knight back with his report, Jonathan remained alone in his office. He wasn’t usually a drinker, but today he was craving a drink, so he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the cupboard.
Tsk-tsk.
As he lifted the whiskey-filled glass to his mouth, Jonathan smiled bitterly and muttered to himself.
“Here’s to Killion Drea, an all-powerful man indispensable to the Asnerdom Empire!”
Downing the whisky in one gulp, Jonathan slammed the glass down on the table with a clatter. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, wetting his oesophagus. Instead of making him feel better, it only made him feel more bitter.
“Killion, Killion, Killion!”
Jonathan knew well that while all the glory of this vast and wealthy Empire belonged to him, the Emperor, it was Killion who kept it running smoothly.
Anything he touched, he succeeded unconditionally, with remarkable results. But what he didn’t touch, he left untouched.
It was only for a moment that he was happy to be Emperor and have Killion under his feet. He was constantly barking orders at Killion, and Killion dutifully carried them out.
But the realisation that his own abilities were so far inferior to Killion’s still bothered Jonathan. It was unbearable.
“Great Killion! Great Killion! Hero of the Empire, Killion! Damn it!”
Envy of Killion’s ability to do everything drove him crazy. He had always been like that, even as a child.
Killion’s brains and physical prowess, and even more so his personality, were enough to make his imperial royalty feel small. He hated his own mediocre abilities, born to be royal, but not quite up to par. He hated it.
So when he met Lars Kohen, and heard of his grand ambitions, he considered it the best opportunity the gods had ever given him.
‘I believed it! Damn…!’
Nothing was going his way. Picking up the whisky bottle, Jonathan quickly filled the empty glass and shoved it back into his mouth. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the tantrum that was bubbling in his hot belly.
This was Lars Kohen, this was him. This was because of him, the man who talked so fast.
‘It would be a waste of humanity to use this great holy water only for curative purposes. Should we not use this precious gift from the gods properly? No. It would be disrespectful to the gods who look after mankind.’
Ten years ago, Lars spoke passionately. To young Jonathan’s ears, Lars’s rant sounded very plausible.
And what a man Lars was. Unlike himself, who was ordinary in every way, Lars was one of the most gifted of men, recognized for his divine powers, many times that of other priests.
As such, he was chosen as an imperial courtier, and is one of the longest-serving priests in the palace.
‘We must develop the holy water so that it can be used for many purposes. There must be a way to strengthen the human mind and body with this great gift from the gods. I will find it, I will do it!’
A m confidence radiated from Lars, blinding him.
Jonathan trusted Lars so much that he believed his research into the holy water would yield revolutionary results that would change the course of human history.
If it worked, Jonathan thought, he would kill two birds with one stone.
He believed he could use the holy water to strengthen his mind and body. He believed that his trust in Lars and his support of the research would bring him world-wide acclaim.
So Jonathan offered Lars a position as director of a nursery in the south.
This was so that he could focus on his research away from the limelight. The orphanage was maximized to accommodate the large donations. The preparations were complete, with nothing left to chance.
“And then… I gave everything…!”
Jonathan gritted his teeth and spoke in a low growl. Ten years of waiting, throwing money at it every year. Sadly, Lars’s research into the holy water had produced no results.
If only it had been fruitless. Perhaps his research was the cause of an epidemic of unknown origin.
‘A ticking time bomb.’
It was dangerous to find out that the research he had invested so much time in was the cause of an epidemic. It could be enough to spark a rebellion, and perhaps even endanger not only his position as Emperor, but his life.
“Ugh…, damn it!”
A harsh groan of annoyance escaped me. This time, he downed the entire bottle, half of it disappearing into his mouth, the other half dripping out of his mouth and soaking his clothes.
After downing the last drop, Jonathan nervously threw the empty bottle on the floor. It shattered with a harsh popping sound, sending shards of glass flying in all directions.
As if breaking the bottle wasn’t enough, Jonathan leapt to his feet and swept everything on his desk to the floor at once.
Vases and lanterns shattered, documents fluttered to and fro. Ink and pens were scattered, and jugs and cups were smashed beyond recognition.
“These… useless things, useless things!”
Jonathan shouted through ragged breaths. A harsh, animal-like howl shook the room, accompanied by harsh profanity.
The sentries and servants who stood guard at the door shuddered at the commotion that echoed over the walls.
“There he goes again.”
“I’m afraid so. I thought he’d been better of late.”
As if the Emperor’s outbursts were a familiar occurrence, they soon returned to their work with nonchalant faces.
***
The infirmary was crowded with patients again today. Meanwhile, more children came from the Mickelson nursery. There were fewer than yesterday, but Veronia still had to treat the nursery children all day.
“It’s all over. My little Thomas is tolerating well. Are there any more aches or pains?”
“No. It doesn’t hurt at all now.”
He looked at his clean hands and feet and said cheerfully.
Veronia smiled to herself at how well behaved the child was for only five years old. The child’s appearance reminded her of Jediel, whom she had left behind in the capital.
“Thomas, would you like to stay and eat cookies until Ted is finished with his treatment?”
“Yes. Healer.”
Thomas grinned, holding a basket full of butter cookies. Veronia began treating Ted next to him.
“Huh?”
But something was wrong. Ted’s hands and feet were clean, no matter how she looked at them.
“What’s wrong with our Ted?”
“… Here.”
At Veronia’s question, Ted pulled up his shirt and showed her his stomach. The skin all over his round belly was he and open, with pus forming in spots.
“My goodness… that must have hurt a lot, but you’ve held it together. You’re a good boy, my Ted.”
Veronia stroked the child’s head gently. It broke her heart to think of the pain the child must have endured alone.
“But why is it different for this child,” she asked, ‘because the symptoms usually come from the ends of the body, from the hands and feet, but this child’s symptoms come from the centre of the body. Why?’
Veronia’s eyes widened as she examined every inch of the child’s body, not wanting to miss anything. But apart from his stomach, he showed no signs of the plague.
‘Hold still… what are these? They look like needle marks…?’
Up close, she was sure. The child’s arms and sides were covered with multiple needle marks. Veronia couldn’t help but ask.
“Ted, have you had any injections recently, because you have these marks on your arm and side?”
“…I don’t know.”
At Veronia’s question, the child looked momentarily frightened. Tears threatened to form in the corners of her eyes.
‘If I ask any more questions here, he’s going to cry.’
She didn’t want to torment the sick child with questions she couldn’t answer. Veronia smiled and spoke in a soft voice.
“I see. If you think of anything later, or want to say something, will you tell me, Ted?”
“… Yes”
The child gave a small nod. Just then, Thomas, who had been glancing anxiously in Ted’s direction, made eye contact with Veronia. Embarrassed, Thomas hunched his shoulders and looked away.
‘I think he knows something, but he doesn’t want to talk about it.’
Aside from being grateful for the healing, it would be difficult to tell a complete story to a complete stranger today. Hmph, letting out a shallow sigh, Veronia looked at Ted again and spoke in a cheerful voice.
“Now, I will begin your treatment. I want you to lie down comfortably and close your eyes. Slowly count to 100 in your mind, and the treatment will be over soon.”
“Okay.”
The child closed his eyes immediately. Veronia placed her hand on the boy’s distended stomach and concentrated.
