Chương 178: Chapter 38: People Deserve It

The days continued to pass, relentless as the flow of metallic dust in the Atrium's hourglass. Selena arrived one day at Anselmo's office carrying a thick sheaf of papers under her arm, the pages filled with neat, cramped handwriting reflecting hours of thought and nights of research. She took a deep breath before crossing the threshold, like someone preparing to throw a stone into a still pond without knowing what ripples it might create. —Professor —she said, with the tiredness of carrying it all.

Placing the stack on the edge of Anselmo's cluttered desk, she added— I have brought a research document. She sighed. She had spent weeks agonizing over whether it was right to present it under her name alone, over the weight of a title that already drew far too much attention. —It is regarding new health standards. Washing hands with soap and water before operating and then putting on cloth gloves previously stored in an inert, clean space. Also, dividing specialties into separate wings.

—Her voice gained fluidity, enthusiasm briefly drowning out her doubt— For example, "pediatrics" is a name I liked for the children's wing.

"Geriatrics" for the elderly.

"Maternity" for pregnant women. I included many examples, but also divisions by patient affliction: one wing solely for stomach and intestinal issues, another for those suffering from the heart... you will see. It is incredible. I have more ideas, Professor, but they are not included in this document. She paused, searching for the right words for her most delicate request. —You know I present this to you because I want your approval.

My title as Protector of the Realm's Health would allow me to issue a direct order, but... I always prefer to have the blessing of the person with the most experience. There is no better filter than the eyes of one who has seen people heal and die over the course of decades. Anselmo looked up at her from his chair, his old eyes, surrounded by a network of fine wrinkles as old parchment, studying her not with surprise, but with a deep, understanding sadness.

He took the manuscript, not to flip through it immediately, but to hold it, as if it weighed far more than paper and ink. —Sometimes I think you might be a medical genius, little one —the old man said, his voice a rough murmur— I am not a noble. I studied here thanks to the royal scholarship system back when I was just a peasant boy with hands full of dirt and curiosity. He sighed, a long sound that seemed to unearth the dust of ancient memories.

—My medical experience, after so many decades of mastery, is listened to here within these walls today. Yet I lack the prestige, the weight, that any noble with half my knowledge would have possessed. Even though I am head of the path today... the Court, with a single whisper, remains stronger than I am. Even if I am right, even if I have the evidence of my eyes and hands, a royal decree or the whim of a duke can bury it all.

He made a vague gesture of bitter daydreaming and fell silent for a moment, looking out the window at the gray winter sky. Then he looked back at her, and something different shone in his eyes: not resignation, but an old, patient determination. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

—I thank Aelthra —he whispered, not as a pious prayer, but as an acknowledgment of fate's irony— that my prayers, after so long, were finally heard in the most unexpected form: a noble willing to support, with her title and her will, everything I have observed empirically with my own eyes. His gaze swept over Selena. He set the manuscript on the desk and rested his hands upon it. Taking a long sip from his glass of water, he almost seemed to savor what he was about to say next.

—I am not going to approve of your work, Countess Isabella. Selena felt a slight pang of disappointment, but before it could fully take root, Anselmo continued: —I want to be a co-author. I want to add things I have learned purely through experience, through observing thousands of cases. That a cleaner space not only prevents illness but also lifts people's spirits and accelerates healing. That not every spreading disease requires brutal quarantine; some merely require intelligent isolation and fresh air.

I want to create a complete, solid, unassailable medical treatise. —He leaned forward; his eyes locked onto hers— And I want you to help me with your title, with your standing at Court, to present it directly to His Majesty. I know you will agree not for my sake, but because in the depths of your healer's heart, you already know this is the right thing to do. Selena thought about everything. The conflict, the chain of the crown, the golden cage that each new title placed upon her shoulders.

But then, a strange feeling welled up in her chest, both warm and heavy. It was the image of Rolus, then of Samira breathing without wheezing, of Fjora applying ointment to her chest wound every morning, of Anselmo's hands old and stained saving lives in the shadows while nobles argued over protocol. She let out a sigh so loud and deep that Anselmo frowned with genuine concern. Then, Selena spoke, her words simple and clean, like a final diagnosis: —I will do it. People deserve it.

When winter gradually came to an end and the snow began to melt into shimmering puddles beneath an ashen sun, Selena set in motion the journey that had been brewing for months. After giving proper advance notice to her instructors, a concise note for Valerian, a respectful greeting for Isolde, and a practical farewell for Remo, she devoted herself to final preparations. Reviewing the detailed map with Samira, a slow smile curved her lips.

The ruins of Ashkharum were not located on an anonymous plain, but nestled within the Rualfis Mountains, that rugged, misty range serving as the natural border with Khelganor. There, on one of the lower slopes, written in tiny yet clear calligraphy, were the words:"Village of Murks." Her heart skipped a beat. Murks. The place where Corren, so long ago that it felt like another lifetime, had told her the Path of the Inner Voice lay hidden.

Bound to that memory like a warm shadow was the certainty that there, amidst the snow and silence of the mountains, Kaela would be waiting. After two days of meticulous preparation, she had accumulated sacks filled with dried food, parchment rolls, tools, blankets, and a medical kit that would have brought tears of emotion to Anselmo's eyes. She had requested a sturdy wagon pulled by a pair of fast, agile draft titanopods, costing her ten silver crowns for the entire trip.

When the transport arrived before her room in the Forest Cloister, they loaded their belongings under the curious gazes of a few lingering students. Then, Selena, Fjora, and Samira boarded the wooden platform. The driver, a taciturn man with a face weathered by hundreds of journeys, cracked the reins. It would be a long journey. A trek of at least three and a half months along roads awakening with the spring. They would reach the mountains near the threshold of summer.

A journey filled with the tenderness of spring blossoms awaited them, and this time, Selena was carrying allergy medicine for Samira.