Isekai’d Shoggoth - Chapter 110. Last Things

I’m… tired. The whole “I forgot there is going to be a huge shebang I have to be present for” thing really put me off the game. At least, things are easier now. We are set to depart in the evening. The plans were amended a bit. For some reason, Cy is flatly against going to Evergreens. According to her, if she’s there now, there will be a me-flavored disaster. I’m guessing someone is foolhardy enough to try something with her and I overreact. So the plan is for Cy to stay with my parents and twins in Parsee, then proceed in carriages to our estate. Meanwhile, we visit Evergreens, stay there for however long it takes for me to square things out with my elven in-laws, and then we fly further north, to the estate. A couple days there, complete with visits to Grand Forge for everyone to take in the sights, and then we get Cy on board and proceed across the mountains to Kraut. We’re going to make a short stop-over in Berlinger, where I’m going to meet with Alphonse to express my displeasure with Klaus and his idiotic activities, then we go southeast, stopover at Nornburg, then proceed southeast, crossing over Confederacy until we are almost near the coast of Mittelzea, where Roxolane indicated her parents live.

Weirdly enough, I have nothing to do. Supplies for the airship are already well in place, everyone has everything they need and want, the king had received firearms and the first princess got her blunderbuss, so that’s covered, I left instructions for the dwarves to cast three cannons in addition to the bombards so that Buonaparte has some practical aids as well… Business part, hm… Shops are fine, Lily-Anne’s boutique is going to open in two days (I’m teleporting Lily-Anne to attend the opening, and immediately after we go back, she thinks the whole mysterious appearance and disappearance would be a good PR move.), Selene has produced four different matrices for phonograph record replication… That all handled… Oh, Faria sent a letter, the party of would-be bakers is bound to arrive soon, I left the instructions to fold them into the Sweet Dream workforce and train them up properly. Just in time, too, because Sadoux also sent a team of bakers to apprentice, so both branch shops are going to open pretty much in the same time. Neat balance, north and south. Financial reports… Oh, well now, that’s just ducky. De Braltar put in a big order through my trading house for piping and pumps. I guess he worked out what he needed with dwarves.

Now, one last thing I have to handle here. Today, in… half-hour, ostensibly… Lemand is giving a practical demonstration of consumption cure. Since Moon Unit was involved in this, and this is a momentous occasion, I brought all my girls along… except Cy, who was held back by mom with the rationale that a growing girl should not be near contagious diseases and that there will be a kids-only shebang later on that twins are attending and Cy should also attend. I want to object, to be honest, because I’m pretty sure Cy will introduce immense amounts of chaos into their proceedings, but since Cy herself wants to go, what can I do but smile and kiss her for good luck?

The hall that’s been graciously set apart by Abe on Pasteur’s request is… moderately populated. Not quite to the point of packed, but also considerably past sparse. The far end is segregated into four cubicles, each containing a test subject. Or subjects. That apothecary’s family is placed as a singular unit, so there are two people to treat, and another cubicle contains a pair of frazzled parents and three children. Who, it looks like, are the ones who have TB. The other two cubicles are populated by a single man each, and the difference between them is like night and day. One is older, fatter and much healthier looking, even though he hacks up a storm every now and then. Other, while younger, looks one foot in the grave. There is notable malnourishment in addition to TB, he will require some extra not to die in the process. Thankfully, I did cover that much with Lemand beforehand. Still… I tap the earpiece, disguised as a fancy earring. “Lemand, be advised. One of the patients is severely underfed, you will need a nourishment potion before you can do anything to him, or he will not survive the cure. Not sure why he is underfed, though. Might be too poor to afford enough food, but might also be some kind of weirder issue. Be sharp around this one.”

This is a little precaution. Lemand’s earpiece is disguised as a circlet that keeps his hair out of his eyes, men aren’t really known for wearing earrings much in Champagne. While I’m confident he can present the whole thing convincingly, I am not discounting the possibility of sabotage, and presenting a patient that is liable to die during treatment is a good way to discredit it. And I can think of many reasons why one would want to discredit it. For example, out of the notion that if Lemand were to fail, I would distance myself from him, leaving him open to be picked up and coerced into revealing the treatment. To be rolled out as their own achievement a little later or just kept secret and furnished to close allies while denying its existence to everyone else. Of course, this particular plan won’t work for obvious reasons, but thought inertia is apparently hard to overcome. Even in the face of me flouting convention day and night, people STILL expect me to react like a template ojou-sama. Annoying, that. At least, there were no considerable attempts to get physical with me, considering I made no secret of the fact I smack back harder. That one was awesome, though. Stupid bint did three complete revolutions before diving into shrubbery… Ah, sweet memories.

Anyway, here we are… And the theoretical lecture on the principles of the method is over. Oh, and here goes Lemand with the practical part. He elects to deal with three children first. Pasteur is observing, and so is Iohann… Huh, when did he came in? Then again, prelate of the temple obviously has an interest in new healing methods, considering that healing is one of the primary income sources for the whole organization. Ooh, and here comes the retching… And the parents are having much worse reactions than kids. Kids are, apparently, fascinated by what they hocked up. Thankfully, the jars are quickly removed, after their contents are shown to react strongly to disease-detecting spell. It seems kids had been infected only recently, because a singular treatment with a wide-spectrum antibiotic is sufficient to bring their spell reaction down to “fading traces”. The fact they stop coughing also helps. The fact that they are actually hungry, weirdly enough, is taken as even more of a proof than lack of cough. And…. Lemand is left feeling way the fuck awkward when both mother and father drop on their knees and start with the “oh great lord, we are thankful for your benevolence, we are forever in your debt”.

“…Ehem. Please rise.” – he offers after a few minutes of looking around helplessly. I might have prompted him to act by whispering suggestions over the earpiece. “Please rise.” – he repeats, before leaning forward and grasping both of them by the forearms, forcing them up – “I have used your children to demonstrate the efficacy of consumption treatment, so my benevolence, as you put it, was not in any way selfless. Consider this a trade. You get health for your children, I get proof that treatment works. More on the topic, you are to come back in four days for a checkup. Consumption is an insidious illness and may linger in the body without showing itself, so we shall confirm the eradication before declaring this treatment complete. Now, I believe, your children need you more than I do, so I shall let you attend to them and move on to the next patient on my docket.”

Apothecary’s family goes over without a hitch, though both have much more extensive cases, and are slated for checkups and antibiotic administrations each day for the next week at least. The differences are being talked about, after being showcased and pointed out by Lemand. Pasteur has some questions, but Lemand fields all of them without any need in hinting from my side. Things get more interesting when we move on to the healthier guy. By my advice, Lemand left the other guy for the last, as the example of the worst case. But now the other guy is more interesting, because he does not show any TB infection at all! A brief argument erupts, with the man insisting that he is to be treated and Lemand explaining that there is nothing to treat. Meanwhile, I’m keeping an eye (and a load of detection spells) on the man, and when he starts hacking again, I notice something. The source of the problem is all around his throat, barely an inch past an esophagus. So I promptly tell Lemand about that. And now, we are treated to a slightly nauseating sight of sir Pasteur reaching down man’s throat with a pair of tongs… Aaaand he pulls back a moment later with a little branch of pine clenched in the tongs. Ridiculous. Guy’s coughing issues were due to the fact he had a part of a tree lodged in his throat, apparently. Some healing spells to deal with the scratches down there, and he’s fine as rain.

That leaves us with the last guy… Who is, apparently, not that keen on being healed? Damn, I knew something was wonky about it.

“…You can not help everyone, magus. Just let me go peacefully…” – ok, this is theater levels of pathos. The fuck is up with this dude?

“Lemand, something’s off. If this guy doesn’t think he can get better, why did he sign up for this?” – I whisper – “Chances are, someone paid his family off to go and die on your performance to sour the news. He is going to be difficult, I think. Don’t let him sabotage you. Make him drink a nutritional potion before you do anything, and make sure he did drink it. Use the blue one, we need the fastest action possible. I have a bad hunch about this.” Now that I think about this, it’s not out of the question that guy had deliberately avoided eating anything for the last week or so, specifically so that he’d die during treatment. He has a serious case of TB, well into blood-coughing, he expects to die any day now. I can easily see someone less than scrupulous striking a deal with him.

Lemand apparently is even less impressed than I am, because the next thing we see is the guy writhing helplessly as Lemand grabs him by the nose, squeezes and pours the bottle of Nutri-Blue (horrifying concoction chock-full of ATF, protein and soluble fats, do not drink unless you’re starving) into his gullet, using a surreptitious spell to make sure all of it goes down the right tube.

“Some people tend to give into despair.” – he lectures dispassionately, as he lets go of the guy after making sure all of the potion clears the esophagus – “This is understandable, but not helpful. You may notice that I started with the use of potion, which is something I haven’t done in earlier cases. This is a nutritional potion, essentially a liquid emulsion of fats designed to quickly bring people back from the brink of starvation. It tastes horrible and will make you grossly fat if you drink it without being starved thin. This particular version was further treated with light magic to improve its healing capabilities and ensure it goes where it is needed the most. Why nutrition is important? Because that’s what the body uses to become better. If I were to try and treat this man without giving him the potion first, he would have died.”

“…Gods damn it, let me die, you scoundrel!” – the man on the bed explodes suddenly – “…Haah, had I not suffered enough from the disease that you make me endure further indignities for everyone to gawk at?”

“Let you die?” – Lemand repeats after him – “How about no? You signed the contract to be treated, and that’s what I will do. Once you are hale and healthy to everyone’s satisfaction? Then we will consider the contract over and you may kill yourself at your leisure. But while you are under contract, forget about it.”

A murmur breaks out over this declaration. Some of the present are on the man’s side, and clamor that if he desires to die, than certainly that much is his right. The majority, however, seems to agree with Lemand that wanting to die is not a sufficient cause to wiggle out of contract, let alone a passable cause to make Lemand administer euthanasia. The patient in question, however, is clearly intending to push further.

“…As, hah, hah…. As gods are my witness, ahh.. I demand a judgment!” – he coughs out – “T’is not right to deny a man his death!”

I quirk my eye at Lily-Anne. Technically speaking, as a member of the royal family, she has the authority to administer the judgment that the man is asking for. Otherwise, someone else would have to be sourced out of the royal family. I imagine the guy is banking on none of the royals being available at a moment’s notice, thus giving him time to expire while the official judgment is being requested and administered. Not to mention the shadow it would throw over Lemand, if his demonstration is postponed because someone demanded judgment. She winces, but nods at me, and stands up.

“You have been heard and answered, my good man.” – she says out loud – “I am princess Lily-Anne, and I will administer the judgment here and now.”

Ooh, that’s a nice startlement. Dude, really shouldn’t have tried to fuck with my protege. Really really shouldn’t have.

“Your excellency!?” – he yelps, trying to tumble out of gurney. He is held back by Pasteur, who tuts at him – “Lie down, you hothead. You’re far too sick to stand, royalty or not.”

“Sir Lemarchand, what is this contract you spoke of?” – Lily-Anne demands in the meanwhile.

Lemand bows and offers her a scroll – “If it pleases your excellency, for this demonstration, I have had drafted contracts for all participants. Here is the contract for this specific patient, should you wish to peruse it, along with his signature for verification.”

Lily-Anne skims through the contract (she already knows what it says, we brainstormed the text together after all) and then addresses the patient.

“Your name is Jacques Dermode, correct?” – she asks.

“…yesh, your ehhelenshy..” – the man wheezes out, still trying to catch his breath from his silly attempt to stand.

“You have signed this contract, correct?”

“…yeh…”

“You have read this contract, correct?”

“…ah, well, haah… nah, your esselensy!… Ahh have not!” – he suddenly perks up – “Ah can’th read!”

“Why did you lie right now?”

“… your ehellency?”

“I am reasonably apt with light magic to know when someone lies, Jacques Dermode. You just lied twice to me. Once about not having read the contract, and once about not knowing how to read. Give me a third lie, and I will rule in favor of sir Lemarchand without even considering your further arguments.” – she replies, her voice taking a hard edge as she does – “I do not appreciate people taking me for a dunce, Jacques Dermode.”

“…yes, your excellency… I lied. I read the contract… kough, cough, haaah… But I do not agree with it!”

“Immaterial. You can not sign the contract if you do not agree with it, the very signature confirms you have taken on an obligation to follow the requirements of the contract to the letter. In this particular case, your obligations are twofold. One, you are obligated to receive the treatment and cooperate with sir Lemarchand while you are receiving it to the best of your abilities. While you are under this obligation, you may not, in fact, refuse the treatment or undertake any steps that would render it impotent. Two, you are also obligated not to disclose the details of this treatment to anyone without sir Lemarchand’s permission. Failure on either part of the contract from your side will make you liable for hundred golds fee, transferable to your family if you are dead.” – Lily-Anne continues mercilessly – “So if you were promised money for your family if you sabotage this demonstration, be assured that it will not, in fact, remain in possession of your family for long.”

“…gods why….” – he rasps in return, a little bit too distraught to offer anything more coherent.

“I rule in favor of sir Lemarchand. As the contract is valid and had been signed in sound mind and clear understanding, you are obligated to cooperate to the best of your ability with sir Lemarchand to receive the treatment properly and become healthy.” – Lily-Anne announces – “Furthermore, as a penance for your haphazard lie attempt, Jacques Dermode, you are hereby ordered to submit to questioning by our inquisition and honestly proffer everything about the circumstances in which you signed this contract with an intention of subverting it. Your further punishment will be decided once we know all pertinent details.”

I take note of the name. Gotta look into it. The guy was too distraught over being overruled, it’s not out of question he is being coerced to do this somehow. Family debts? Hostage? Gotta find out. For starters, what my trading house knows about this?

___

As it turns out, my trading house knows lots about this. Jacques Dermode, a former employee, took out debts once he contracted consumption. The goal was to get his oldest son into Merchant Guild, which he achieved, but they are still indebted. To me, essentially. Which is very weird, because I had explicitly ordered to compile the list of people who… Ooh. Wait. He took the loan directly from Konistan and didn’t come forward when I announced the amnesties. Gods damn it. He probably was already sick by then and didn’t hear about me taking over from Konistan entirely. Well… Fuck. And of course, the loan had draconian terms… Which he wouldn’t meet in the next year. FUUUCK.

Fine than. What was the… aha, he has a house over at the suburb. Perfect. I write out debt lien for Dermode’s house, then immediately log it in as fulfilled and dutifully transfer the whole twenty three golds that the debt was about from my pocket money to my account in my trading company. Next, I write out the letter to Malachi explaining the circumstances and including a signed copy of the extinguished lien as proof that Dermode debt is considered null and void, with a request for him to find out who the hell promised Dermode anything to sabotage Lemand’s presentation.

With that final annoyance handled, I leave the study and stride towards the airship. Road trip awaits.