Chapter 145: Disease Progression

The door closed behind him, sealing the warm, spiced air inside. A golden oak leaf badge now rested on Kraft's chest, brought by Professor Feiernan and personally fastened by Duke Westmin—its weight pulling down one side of his collar suggested it was pure gold.

After leaving the room, Professor Feiernan looked weary. He walked a short distance alone before stopping before a sunlit window, complaining to Kraft beside him: "Professor Kraft, you saw it yourself—Duke Westmin often holds his own opinions, making him appear confident to the point of stubbornness."

"Often?"

"Yes, in truth, it's always been this way. Since we met in our youth, he's never changed—and that's precisely what I envy." He smoothed his beard, centering it, a complex mix of nostalgia and melancholy crossing his face.

It sounded as if Duke Westmin and Professor Feiernan were peers, and even close friends.

But it was hard to tell. Even with tuberculosis and an unknown illness, the Duke rarely showed fatigue when awake—his hair, beard, and attire always neat, giving him the appearance of at least fifteen years younger than the archetypal old professor.

"His personality helped him greatly in his early years. As a commander, courage is undoubtedly a virtue. But one must admit every quality has two sides—whether as a physician or a friend, such an aggressive approach to treatment is deeply concerning."

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Concern seemed to age Feiernan further; it was hard to say who would give out first.

"I have no intention of interfering with the surgeons' plan. Having even one new idea is a pleasant surprise, but before that, I'd like to hear your full assessment."

"Regrettably, I can't even explain the phenomena I observed." Kraft rubbed his chin, still immersed in what he'd just seen. That fluffy, ball-like filler was certainly not a tubercle.

According to the cockroach theory, if you see one cockroach in your house, there are likely many more. The Duke's case was similar. Even within such a complex lung environment, faint filaments could be found, subtly different from scar tissue strands.

Similar, even more minute structures—beyond the limit of resolution—were faintly visible in the skull, clinging to the subarachnoid space between the parietal and temporal lobes. Had it not been for the symptoms prompting suspicion, they would have been entirely missed.

Though bizarre beyond reason, these things carried a sense of déjà vu: "But regardless of interpretation, if any pulmonary complication exists, performing artificial pneumothorax is unreasonable."

"The Duke doesn't see it that way. Changing his mind requires time and patience." Feiernan braced his lower back with his hand, straightening his spine—his intervertebral discs protesting his prolonged stillness. "We may not have that time."

"Actually, we have plenty of time. I'll ask Mr. Weilian to instruct the craftsmen—they'll need time to forge the tools, and during that period, the patient still has ample opportunity to reconsider the risks." If the Duke were willing to reconsider, that would be ideal; right now, Kraft only wanted to see how the top craftsmen would make him the thoracic needle and inflation device.

Compared to a syringe, the thoracic needle didn't need to be so fine, but it would still be a difficult engineering challenge. And the flexible tube connecting the air cylinder to the needle—its airtightness wasn't his problem; he'd just mention it.

"Westmin Castle has the kingdom's finest craftsmen. I've seen them shrink crossbow mechanisms to fit beneath a cloak while preserving the power to pierce leather armor. How long will your device consume their time?"

"Then I'll wait and see." So that's how Martin's miniature crossbow came about—Kraft felt more confident about the upcoming product. "During this time, I'll investigate how the Duke's complications arose."

"Why? Do you think this disease is external?" Feiernan found this obsessive, detail-driven approach puzzling—he'd never seen it in anyone except Kraft.

"I don't know. Right now, I know nothing. But I don't believe in isolated cases. Could it really be that only the Duke among all those with consumption developed symptoms never seen before? There must be a source—perhaps the Duke's consumption was transmitted to him by his wife."

"Food, environment, people—every single one. I trust Mr. Weilian's role as interior minister will provide me with the information I need." Rarely did a unique case coincide with the chance to complete detailed records—why not record it?

"What if none of those are the cause?"

"Then even better—it means it's caused by the Duke's unique conditions, narrowing the scope considerably." Kraft removed the ribbon from around his neck and draped it over his arm—it had been itching his neck. "That's the current plan. By the way, what is this thing?"

"A livery ribbon, worn during degree-conferring ceremonies. But you can just put it anywhere."

"Why?" Kraft was confused—it sounded important.

"There's nothing higher to confer upon you now. Welcome to Rivers University, Professor Kraft." A simple welcome ceremony—the head of the college symbolically adjusted his collar, marking the completion of the conferral, synchronized with this meeting. It fulfilled the conditions: "witnessed by peers" and "bestowed by a noble figure."

Neither man cared much for the ceremony. Seeing Martin, who had appeared from somewhere and waited at a respectful distance, they decided to part ways.

Kraft took a few steps, then suddenly paused. "Wait, Professor Feiernan—why do I recall the invitation stated the badge would be awarded at an academic gathering? That means, when the letter was written, the Duke still believed himself well."

Feiernan froze. "Probably?"

Kraft's heart sank—another case with incomplete medical history. It was hard to imagine how he'd trace the onset. He turned to Martin, who was approaching. "Martin, when did you depart?"

"About three months ago? The wind from Tem River Mouth to Comfort Harbor was unfavorable—we took at least half a month longer to arrive."

"Then start from three months ago. Ask Mr. Weilian to recall who or what new person or object appeared around the Duke around that time."

Thus, Kraft spent the remainder of the afternoon. He left the manufacturing work to the craftsmen struggling with hollow steel needles, leather tubing, and air cylinders, and delegated the documentation to Mr. Weilian as a list of items. As a hands-off manager, he followed Martin to find his delayed attendants—Kup and Yin Feng.

The two had leisurely sampled every dish on the banquet table, avoided the commotion in the adjacent corridor, and sipped berry drinks until late into the night, waiting for Kraft to return and collect them. Only when Martin's men came to escort them out of the hall did they depart—nearly simultaneous with Feiernan's departure—and arrived at Westmin Castle in a daze.

Since they arrived in the morning, they entered the inner castle directly through the outer gate, bypassing the walls entirely—and still had no idea where they were.