Under the Oak Tree



Chapter 54: Chapter 54

Maxi turned to see Ruth standing behind her. She was surprised to see that he looked noticeably paler, perhaps from the strain of trying to heal so many people. With a tired sigh, Ruth crouched down next to the sentry and gingerly raised the man’s broken arm.

“My lady, would you be so kind as to hold down his shoulder?”

Maxi glanced at the unconscious man’s face before pressing her hands down on his shoulder. With Maxi restraining the man, Ruth swiftly pulled on the bent arm to realign the broken bones. As he did so, the sentry’s eyes flew open. His body began to thrash with such force that he almost knocked Maxi over.

“My lady! You must hold him down!”

After struggling to regain her balance, Maxi pushed down on the man’s shoulder once again. When he was finished resetting the bones, Ruth placed his hand over the bleeding wound and shrouded it in white light.

Maxi looked on with a vacant expression. In her memory, healing magic was cold and bitter. Each time a cleric had come to treat her after a lashing from her father, their magic had felt like ice burning her skin.

But the light enveloping the sentry looked like spring sunlight, gentle and warm. Maxi stretched her hand out. Just like the time she had touched the oak tree by the pavilion, she felt a burning sensation at the tip of her hand. The warmth seeping into her hand was intoxicating.

Meanwhile, Ruth examined the sentry’s healed arm before lowering it back to the floor.

“Werewolf claws and teeth contain venom, so please give him the detoxicant once he’s awake. It’s best if you boil the herbs and have him drink the concoction.”

Maxi stood up, shaking off the strange sensation.

“I-I’ll ask the s-servants to boil some i-immediately.”

“Thank you.”

Ruth sat on a straw bed to catch his breath. He looked exhausted. Healing magic, it seemed, consumed a great deal of energy. Leaving him to rest, Maxi left to tell the servants to boil the herbs in a cauldron full of water. She was about to return to the tent with firewood for the brazier when she noticed a group of sentries and knights burning werewolf carcasses in a vacant lot.

Maxi froze at the horrific sight. As the smell of burning flesh reached her nose, the nausea she had been suppressing rose in her throat.

She dropped the firewood on the ground and ran into the woods. Her stomach twisting painfully, she crouched in front of a tree and heaved. Watery bile splattered on the roots, and tears trickled down her cheeks.

She was trying to catch her breath when she heard a low voice address her from behind.

“You there, are you all right?”

Maxi turned her head, startled, and saw a young sandy-haired knight standing a few steps away. His eyes widened when he saw her face.

“What are you doing here, my lady?”

Embarrassed, Maxi quickly wiped her mouth on her sleeves.

“I-I was g-gathering firewood…”

She trailed off. She was unwilling to admit that she had been sick.

“This is no place for you to be, my lady. You should return to the castle. I shall have someone escort you.”

Without waiting for a response, the knight spun around and went to call for a sentry. Flustered, Maxi quickly went after him.

“Th-That won’t be n-necessary. You n-need not mind-”

“How can we not worry when you’re wandering about these dark woods alone? You aren’t needed, so please go back.” The young knight turned toward the sentries standing nearby. “You there! Prepare the carriage. Lady Calypse is returning to the castle!”

Incensed, Maxi strode ahead of him and blocked his path. Startled, the knight paused in his tracks. Though her legs shook with terror, Maxi steadied her nerves and glared at him.

“As the L-Lady of Anatol, it is my d-duty t-to offer my assistance! I-It is not your p-place to t-tell me I am n-not needed here.”

She had wanted to sound dignified, but her voice faltered, and she was stumbling over her words more than usual. Her ears became flushed with unbearable embarrassment. She bit her lips, flickering her eyes nervously before lowering them to look at the ground.

“Y-You need not m-mind me. G-Go back t-to what y-you were doing.”

Before the knight could say anything, Maxi picked up the firewood and hurried back to the tent. Heart racing, she tossed some of the wood into the dying fire and nervously eyed the entrance.

After a moment of worrying that the knight thought her an arrogant, stuttering fool, she decided it did not matter. The knights already despised her; it would make little difference if their dislike deepened a little. With slumped shoulders, she placed the remaining firewood next to the brazier before approaching Ruth.

“A-Are you f-feeling better, Ruth?”

Ruth looked up from treating a lumberjack’s broken ankle and sighed. He looked markedly tired.

“I’ve almost exhausted my magic. I won’t be able to use it for at least half a day. I’ve tended to those in critical condition, but the rest will have to be treated without magic for now.”

“Sh-Should we call f-for a healer f-from the village?”

“There is only one healer in Anatol who is capable of helping us, but it wouldn’t be right to ask him to leave his patients behind. We can send our injured to him instead.”

Ruth stood up and stroked his chin, trying to determine who among the wounded should be sent away.

“The healer can’t take all of these men. We’ll send those who were poisoned by werewolf venom and treat the rest ourselves.”

Maxi swallowed hard. “W-What must I d-do?”

“Nothing too difficult. Compress swollen wounds with warm cloths, splinter broken bones, and stitch up open wounds.”

“S-Stitch…?”

Maxi looked as if she might faint. Ruth sighed.

“I will do the sewing. Your ladyship can assist.”

“A-All right.”

“But first, we must send those with high fevers to the healer.”

Ruth strode out of the tent. After taking a moment to settle her nerves, Maxi followed.

***

Following Ruth’s instructions, the servants heaved fifteen fever-stricken men onto the wagons and sent them to the village healer. Those who had been treated by Ruth were given porridge and detoxicants prepared by the maidservants. When they recovered their strength, they set about repairing the cottages.

There were eight cottages in total, all of which housed lumberjacks, and four of them had damaged walls. With a cold snap expected that night, the men would not be able to survive if repairs were not made immediately. Maxi tried to listen to Ruth’s instructions amid the thunderous noise of the men sawing timber and hammering at the walls.

“Soak a clean cloth in strong liquor and use it to dab the wounds. This reduces the chances of the wound festering, though we do not know why.”

“I-Is it b-because of something in the l-liquor?”

“It’s possible. Liquor never goes bad.” Ruth pulled the thread through a tiny sliver of a needle. “It is a method used by the healers in the south. According to them, a wound must be kept clean, bleeding should be avoided at all costs, and patients’ bodies should never be allowed to become too cold or too hot. I thought it was gibberish at first, but their methods proved more effective than using dog urine and leeches or cauterizing the wound with iron. Though inferior to magic, their methods do come in useful in these situations.”

Ruth began to stitch the open wound closed. Maxi flinched as if the needle were pricking her own back.

“Making a knot after each stitch makes it easier to remove the thread once the wound has healed. Would you like to give it a try?”

Maxi shook her head vigorously. She did not want to be seen as a coward, but she couldn’t muster the nerve to pierce someone’s skin with a needle.

“It’s no different from sewing leather shoes.”

A whimper escaped the sentry, who lay face down on a bed of straw. Paying him no heed, Ruth continued stitching the wound. Maxi used a liquor-soaked cloth to wipe the blood oozing from the gash, then used heated scissors to snip the thread after each knot that Ruth made.

“The final step is to apply a salve and dress the wound to help it heal faster.”

Ruth finished the last suture, cut off the thread, and applied a generous drop of sticky salve over the wound. The sentry, who had remained quiet until then, let out a cry of pain.

“M-Mage Ruth, can’t you just heal it with magic? My back is on fire!”

“I’ve exhausted my magic, I’m afraid.”

“Heavens…”

“Bear it just a little longer. I’m almost done.”

Ruth began to wrap a long piece of cloth tightly around the wound.

“Apply the salve and dress the wound every two days. It should be healed in ten days’ time.”

Ruth poured some of the salve into a small vial and gave it to the sentry, who mumbled his thanks.

Maxi picked up the tools and moved to the next patient with Ruth. While he stitched the men’s wounds closed, Maxi helped them take sips of detoxicant, cut up strips of cloth, and soaked the needle and thread in strong liquor for Ruth.

Though it was her first time performing such tasks, she remained collected under Ruth’s calm direction. When he realigned broken bones, she tied a splint to the area with a piece of cloth; when she saw an ankle that had swelled like a pig’s bladder, she compressed it with a cloth soaked with hot water.

By the time the last of the patients had been treated, it was dark outside. Bone-tired, Maxi sank to her knees and warmed her shivering body by the brazier.