Ah, What Should I Do?! (6)

Dragon, the medicines I had made from them, their effects, and their preparation processes—repeating explanations so that Princess Riana could take careful notes.

Starting with invigorators, I moved on to wound-healing salves, stamina restoratives, fatigue relievers, and more. After several hours, even the princess looked tired as she asked:

“How do you know all of this, Viscount?”

“I wouldn’t be a pharmacist otherwise.”

I puffed myself up a little. She chuckled—perhaps it didn’t suit me.

“In truth, you can probably guess. Call it the help of a ‘talent.’”

“I envy that. To have a gift that helps people…”

“I’ve heard that you also have considerable magical skill, Your Highness.”

That was what her maids had once told me: she was a great magician. But the princess answered with a pained expression.

“Great magical skill or not, one venomous spider made me helpless…”

“It’s nothing to dwell on. Honestly, most who are bitten by such a spider die in agony. You were fortunate. I heard that even a Hero once perished to one.”

“…Is that true?”

“Vincent told me. It was more than three hundred years ago. That Hero suffered the same fate as you.”

That was during the war when the Demon God’s forces and the Hero’s party fought desperately over the Ingrad region.

The humans won, but it was a Pyrrhic victory. Even now, save for beastkin, no human could easily live in this barren land.

For me, my maids, and Vincent to survive here unscathed was, perhaps, sheer luck.

‘I’ll need countermeasures…’
If even I or the maids might one day be bitten by such a spider, we needed stockpiles of antidote throughout the manor.

“Even Heroes are just people, aren’t they…”

“Of course. They eat and drink like anyone else…”

I omitted “and relieve themselves,” but the princess blushed regardless.

“How do beastkin deal with venomous spiders?”

I was about to say “I don’t know,” when a voice came from the workshop entrance.

“If it’s the Ingrad Giant Venomous Spider, beastkin have natural resistance. Its venom doesn’t harm us.”

It was Hare. The beastkin girl’s sudden appearance startled me. The princess knew Hare lived in the manor, but their paths had never crossed—until today.

Since the princess had come to my workshop, Hare must have overheard and reacted.

Guards stood at the door, but they hadn’t stopped her—or perhaps couldn’t. I noticed one trembling.

“Hare, if you’ve used magic on the guards, please release them. It could lead to danger.”

“They wouldn’t let me in, so I paralyzed them. If they promise not to block me, I’ll release them…”

Her words trailed off, but her gaze wasn’t on me—it was fixed on the princess. And the princess, her collar shifting, seemed ready to summon her mana.

Both were magicians; both bristled with magical tension. But this was my workshop, filled with herbs.

“If neither of you stop, I’ll throw you both out.”

Finally, they turned toward me, their eyes burning. Hare’s look said, “How could you?” while the princess’s said, “Who is this girl?”

Women were difficult creatures indeed. But when firmness was required, firmness was needed.

“Look all you like, but I won’t change my mind. Surely you don’t intend to trouble me by quarreling here?”

At that, Hare yielded first. She stepped back, snapped her fingers, and the paralyzed guards collapsed to the floor, panting.

“I’ll return to the village for now. When that sly fox of a woman leaves, I’ll come back.”

And she vanished down the corridor, leaving barbed words behind. How vexing.

But the problem remained.

The princess stared at me, demanding an explanation. I steadied my breath, meeting her eyes. Sometimes, looking someone straight in the eye and speaking firmly won trust more than truth alone.

“I am innocent.”

She blinked, incredulous.

“I know you are. But I need an explanation.”

“If you want proof, I’ll give it. I brought her into the manor for some experiments.”

“What kind of experiments?”

“Developing medicine to help endure the Demon God’s Season.”

“…Truly?”

Her expression showed disbelief. After all, the Demon God’s Season was the very reason Ingrad had to be surrounded by walls.

“To study how the season affects beastkin, I needed the cooperation of a unique case: a two-tailed fox beastkin.”

The princess said nothing, silently pressing me to continue.

“First I tested how sensitive she was to mana. Then I experimented with binding her mana, and finally with blocking external mana from invading her body.”

“You’ve been here only weeks, and already managed that…?”

She looked at me as though I were some strange creature. I nodded and pressed on.

“In the end, it worked. All that remains is to test the medicine during the Demon God’s Season itself.”

“You said… it succeeded?”

“Yes. I suppressed her mana for three days. Her inner mana was immobilized, and external mana couldn’t invade.”

I had experienced it myself. Strictly speaking, Hare hadn’t been necessary—but saying I tested it on the most sensitive case, the two-tailed fox beastkin, gave the result more weight.

“Even knowing the recipe, others couldn’t reproduce it, could they?”

“Likely not. For now, I’m needed. But eventually I hope to make a medicine usable without me.”

“I hope so. The reason beastkin can’t live close to humans is because of the Demon God’s Month—the curse of January. When they absorb too much mana, they lose control and regress to near-animal states. Every year, the empire and its neighbors must mobilize armies because of beastkin rampages.”

So it was that serious.

‘Well… enough to build fortress walls, obviously…’

“If your experiment succeeded, I hope the medicine proves effective.”

“I hope so too. Which is why I have a request—may I?”

“Anything.”

I hadn’t planned to speak of it yet, but the moment felt right.

“On the first of January, all beastkin will take the medicine. I plan to remain here to observe whether it works. But in case of danger, I ask permission to use Teleport for evacuation—and permission to allow for rampaging beastkin to be teleported as well.”

“I see… yes, that could happen. I agree. But must you personally stay? A knight could watch.”

She had a point. But I didn’t want my motives exposed.

So I bluffed.

“I am lord. It’s my duty to see my people through to the end.”

“…How admirable. A true model of noblesse oblige.”

Her eyes lit with new admiration as she declared:

“Your request will be granted. I’ll personally support you.”

It was flattering—and heavy.

After that, we continued our amicable discussion of medicines, and closed the day with mutual satisfaction.

Time flew, and at last the day came for the princess to prepare her return to the capital.

“Ahh, finally…”

Stretching and yawning, I must have looked overly relieved, because Seria asked:

“Are you that glad?”

“Of course! Aren’t you? Our work multiplied, our mouths multiplied.”

“I didn’t dislike it. Ingrad has always had too few people.”

I supposed that was true. Honestly, twenty maids for one lord felt excessive. But then a thought occurred, and I asked:

“What do the maids usually do?”

“Mostly cleaning.”

“Cleaning… well, the manor is large.”

“Yes. The state hired us to maintain it, so we have no choice but to work hard. At least unlike other domains, ours has no fine art or sculptures—so we don’t risk breaking anything.”

“Break them, and it’s costly, isn’t it.”

“Sometimes they’re sold into slavery.”

“…Truly?”

To think one mistake could reduce someone to slavery—it was absurd. But not unique to the empire.

Maids and attendants earned well in noble houses, but in exchange, when liable for damages, they had to pay with their bodies.

I thought to myself:

‘I should have all the art and statues removed. Replace them with stockpiles of medicine. A much better idea!’

I couldn’t help feeling smug at such an un-noble thought.