Chapter 145: The Course of the Illness

The door closed behind him, sealing the heat and scent of spices inside. A golden oak leaf badge now rested on Kraft's chest, brought by Professor Fernand and personally pinned upon the recipient by Duke Westmin; judging by the weight that pulled at his collar, it was likely pure gold.

After leaving the room, Professor Fernand looked somewhat weary. He walked a short distance on his own, stopping before a sunlit window, and complained to Kraft, who accompanied him: "Professor Kraft, as you've seen, my lord often has his own views on matters, to the point of appearing confidently stubborn."

"Often?"

"Yes, in fact, it would not be wrong to say he has always been so. Since we met in our youth, he has hardly changed at all, which is also what I admire." He straightened his beard, adjusting it to the center, revealing a complex expression of nostalgia or emotion.

It sounded as though Duke Westmin and Fernand were of the same generation and actually on good personal terms.

This was not at all apparent. Even though the duke suffered from tuberculosis and an unknown disease, he showed little fatigue when awake; his beard, hair, and attire were neat, and he appeared at least fifteen years younger than the old professor, who resembled Gandalf.

"His character helped him greatly in his early years. As a commander, courage is undoubtedly a fine quality. But one must admit that everything has two sides; whether as a doctor or a friend, such an aggressive approach to treatment is worrying."

【To be honest, I've been using a source-switching app to read and follow updates lately. Switch sources, choose from multiple reading voices;. huanyuanapp works on both Android and iOS.】

The worry seemed to make Fernand look even older; it was unclear who would break down first.

"I do not intend to interfere with the surgical plan; having a new line of thought is already a pleasant surprise, but before that, I wish to hear your view in detail."

"Regrettably, I cannot even explain the phenomena observed." Kraft rubbed his chin, his mind still immersed in what he had seen earlier. That fluffy, ball-like filling was certainly not a tubercle.

According to the cockroach theory, when you see the first cockroach in a house, there is an eighty percent chance there is a swarm; the duke's situation is the same. Even within such a complex lung environment, one could find fine, thread-like structures that differed slightly from scar tissue strands.

Similar yet even more minute things, beyond the limit of resolution, were faintly visible inside the skull, nestled beneath the arachnoid membrane between the parietal and temporal lobes; had suspicion not arisen early based on symptoms, they would certainly have been overlooked.

Though bizarre beyond reason, these things gave him a sense of déjà vu. "But regardless of the explanation, performing an artificial pneumothorax in the presence of a pulmonary complication is unreasonable."

"The duke does not think so; changing his mind will require time and patience." Fernand supported his lower back with his hand, straightening his spine; his lumbar discs protested against his prolonged standing. "We may not have that time."

"Actually, we do have time. I will ask Mr. Wilbert to make requests to the craftsmen; while they are crafting the tools, the patient will still have ample opportunity to reweigh the pros and cons." If the duke were willing to reconsider, that would be fine, but for now, Kraft only wanted to see how the top craftsmen currently available would make the thoracentesis needle and the inflation device for him.

Compared to a syringe, the thoracentesis needle need not be made so fine, but it would certainly not be an easy engineering task. Then there were the flexible tubes connecting the air pump and the needle; the airtightness was not his headache, so he would simply specify it.

"Westmin Castle has the kingdom's finest craftsmen. I have seen them shrink a crossbow mechanism to fit under a garment hem while retaining the power to pierce leather armor. How long will your items take them?"

"Then I shall wait and see." So that was where Martin's small crossbow came from; Kraft felt slightly more confident about the finished product he would soon receive. "During this time, I will screen how the duke's complications arose."

"Why? Do you think this disease is external?" Fernand was somewhat puzzled by this root-seeking attitude, which emphasized a meticulous, even tedious, process of checking everything; he had never seen it in anyone other than Kraft.

"I do not know; right now I know nothing, but I do not believe in isolated cases. Could it be that among so many patients with consumption, only the duke has contracted symptoms never seen before? There must be a source; for instance, the duke's consumption might have been transmitted to him by his Lady."

"Food, environment, personnel—count them one by one; I trust Mr. Wilbert's position as steward will provide the information I need." It was a rare opportunity to encounter a special case alongside a complete set of records; one should not waste such a chance.

"What if none of them are?"

"Then all the better; it means the cause lies in conditions unique to the duke, narrowing the scope considerably." Kraft took the strap hanging around his neck and draped it over his arm; it had been making his neck itch. "That is the current plan. By the way, what is this thing?"

"A sash, worn on occasions where an academic degree or title is conferred, but you may simply put it away somewhere."

"Why?" Kraft was puzzled; it sounded quite important.

"There is nothing higher left to confer upon you. Welcome, Professor Kraft, to Rivers University in full." It was a very simple welcoming ceremony; the head of the college symbolically straightened his collar, signifying the completion of the conferral ceremony, which coincided with this meeting. It also fulfilled the requirement of being conferred "in the presence of industry peers" and "by a person of noble status."

Both had their minds elsewhere; seeing that Martin, who had appeared from somewhere, was already waiting at a proper ceremonial distance, they decided to part ways.

After walking a few steps, Kraft suddenly came to his senses. "Wait, Professor Fernand, why do I remember the invitation stating the conferral would take place at an academic gathering? That is to say, until the letter was written, the duke still felt his health was good?"

Fernand paused, taken aback. "Perhaps?"

Kraft thought, "This is trouble; another one who did not record the full course of the illness. It will be hard to imagine how to trace the onset time next." He could only seek corroboration from Martin, who was approaching. "Martin, when did you depart?"

"About three months ago? The wind from the Tem River mouth to Consolation Port was unfavorable, making our journey at least half a month slower than yours coming here."

"Then let us start from three months ago. Go ask Mr. Wilbert to recall what people or objects the duke came into contact with around that time that he had not encountered before."

Thus, Kraft spent the remaining half-day. He left the manufacturing work to the craftsmen, who were struggling with hollow steel needles, leather tubes, and air pumps, and consolidated the organizational work into a list of items to be handled by Steward Wilbert. The hands-off master then followed Martin to find his belated attendants, Kup and Yin Feng.

These two leisurely sampled every dish on the banquet table, did not join the commotion in the adjacent corridor, and drank berry beverages until late at night without waiting for Kraft to return and collect them. Only then were they led out of the hall by men arranged by Martin, departed at roughly the same time as Fernand, and arrived at Westmin Castle in a daze.

Since they arrived in the morning, they entered the inner castle directly through the main gate of the barbican, without circling the city walls, and still did not understand where they were.