Chapter 3

Chapter 3. The Imperial Princess Fires Her Doctor (3)

***

The Academy was farther than expected.

The Imperial Princess Mint was fiddling with her hair. Overall, she gave off a doll-like impression. Porcelain-white skin and an expressionless face, likely due to years of illness.

“I still don’t get it. Why do you insist on going to the Academy? The real reason, not the nonsense you told me yesterday.”

What did I say yesterday?

“I believe this world’s medical knowledge is outdated. Even minimal effort from a few people could make significant improvements.”

“Is that your reason?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t exactly seem like the selfless type. Did something change?”

“Princess Mint, forgive me for saying this, but if it weren’t for me, you’d have passed away long ago.”

“So you mock the royal family as easily as breathing.”

“Is gloating about saving someone also mocking them?”

…

Princess Mint chuckled faintly.

“Speak quieter. The servants might hear.”

“My apologies.”

“There aren’t many courtiers who speak their mind so bluntly like you. If you were only after money or power, you wouldn’t have left the palace voluntarily.”

“That’s how I see it too.”

“Cheeky… You picked the wrong career. Your tongue is far more dangerous than medicine. You’d make a perfect court jester.”

“Should I learn an instrument before returning to the palace then? Any preferences?”

“Idiot.”

Mint seemed slightly in better spirits.

***

The carriage ride was longer than anticipated. It would take all day to reach the Academy. Outside the window stretched the scenery of the Imperial Capital.

“Princess, have you ever been outside the capital?”

“Asterix, when we arrive at the Academy, I’ll gift you a parrot from the south.”

“Why?”

“Because you seem fond of meaningless conversations. Talk your heart out to the parrot instead of bothering others around you.”

“Sure, whatever.”

She’ll just complain about being bored if I stay quiet. A greenhouse flower, even as a princess, especially due to her fragile health.

“Tell me an interesting story.”

“I only know about medicine.”

I looked out the carriage window.

“Seeing the city reminds me of what Firho once said: Medicine is politics.”

“Who’s Firho? Your senior?”

A student from Friedrich Wilhelm University, class of 1839. Different university, but a two-century senior.

“Let’s call him that. Anyway, Firho was sent to investigate an epidemic in some region and realized something.”

“What?”

“Firho stopped studying the epidemic itself and instead wrote a 300-page report detailing the inequality and poor conditions affecting the locals, submitting it to the government.”

Princess Mint tilted her head.

“What was in the report?”

“Revolutionary ideas back then. Introducing democracy in epidemic-hit areas, expanding roads, reducing taxes, establishing orphanages and shelters. Firho believed medicine could change society, and society could—”

“Firho, huh? Calling himself a healer yet ignoring actual healing. What a useless and presumptuous guy.”

Princess Mint waved dismissively.

Firho joined the anti-Prussian revolution eight days after submitting his report. Talking about this made me realize I chose the worst topic if I wanted small talk with the princess.

Sorry, Senior Firho.

“Yeah, guys like that are annoying.”

“…Boring story.”

“Anyway, most diseases stem from societal issues. Malnutrition, polluted environments, lack of clean water, excessive labor. These aren’t problems healers can solve alone.”

“Ambitious words from someone who played cards six hours a day until yesterday.”

I shut my mouth.

***

The carriage stopped a few minutes later.

“We’re near the Academy. Thanks for entertaining our esteemed guest with your dull chatter.”

“Not at all, Princess.”

“Escort.”

“Yes.”

It seems high-ranking nobles never walk alone in formal settings. They must always have attendants—maids, knights, or something similar.

Incidentally, this differs from common servants, who are mostly peasants. Maids and knights are considered lower-tier nobility.

Honestly, it’s pathetic. During my undergrad days, I ate alone all the time. Such weakness…

The royal family sent four carriages today.

One for luggage, one for guards, and one for the servants. Princess Mint stepped out of the carriage with my escort.

Spectators had already gathered.

“How far should I accompany you?”

“Hmm… Just enough.”

The stares were more intense than expected.

Even without hearing their thoughts, I can guess. Who does this kid think he is, escorting the princess into the Academy?

***

I dropped Mint off.

I headed to the assigned professor’s laboratory. There was a bookshelf, a desk, and some leftover equipment from the previous user.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen a lab.

Though old-fashioned, there were recognizable items. Beakers, flasks, scales, tweezers, table spoons, etc. It’s disappointing not to have a microscope or micropipette, but perhaps I could build a makeshift microscope using magnifying lenses.

There’s much to try.

If I had a microscope, I could attempt Gram staining. Identifying bacteria would greatly expand treatment options.

So, where should I start?

First, I need to gauge the students’ and academic community’s levels.

I have a lot to do.

Oh right. Before anything else, I need residents for hospital work and graduate students for research.

Where do graduate students come from?

The Healer Department at the Academy.

It’s said to be where the empire’s brightest minds gather. But overcoming era-specific limitations and collective ignorance is no easy task.

Lectures start in about a month. Despite their medieval-level knowledge (minus magic), I have mountains of things I want to teach them.

Of course, practical considerations exist. How much of modern science can I bring here? How far can I persuade the academic community?

If I’m teaching healers, what should I start with? I thought about it. For first-year med students starting clinical practice, the first thing they learn is…

Handwashing.

Teaching just handwashing might be boring, so maybe I could add making disinfectants or culturing media.

Plan One: Handwashing.

Soap shouldn’t be hard to find. Hospitals likely have running water. Teaching proper handwashing techniques isn’t difficult either.

Surgical handwashing involves soaking hands in disinfectant for several minutes, but let’s set that aside. This should be doable.

Plan Two: Culture Medium.

Making the nutrient part of the culture medium isn’t tough. Soy flour, sugar, milk, etc., should work. Would milk spoil due to lactic acid bacteria?

That needs consideration.

Agar is the issue. If you don’t know what agar is, think of something like jelly used in culturing.

Usually made from seaweed…

But I’ve never seen seaweed in this world. Not sure if similar substitutes exist. Haven’t eaten jelly either…

Could starch work?

Perhaps I can create a tofu-like culture medium using soy flour and potato starch. Petri dishes are available in this lab.

Plan Three: Disinfectants.

Alcohol-based disinfectants seem feasible. Distilling vodka or sorghum liquor into disinfectants might work, though cost-effectiveness is questionable.

Would distilling expensive liquor for daily use be practical? Vodka’s alcohol content seems sufficient, but I don’t know its price.

***

Istina, the Academy’s apprentice healer, sighed. This life is clearly ruined.

I should’ve kept quiet and endured the extra chores and bullying.

As a commoner, enduring would’ve allowed me to quietly finish grad school and apprenticeship.

What’s done is done. Apologizing won’t help, nor will it change anything.

Running away from the Academy is impossible. I still need my degree, and fleeing now would leave me nowhere to go.

There’s only one solution.

I heard a new professor is arriving. Perhaps joining under this new professor would work? Might reduce stress compared to the current environment. Maybe this new professor is different from the other boors.

Most importantly, any new professor would need graduate students. Somehow, this should allow me to complete my graduate studies.

Please let me graduate, Professor.

I need to act first.

Find the new professor’s lab faster than anyone else and become the first graduate student. That’s Istina’s plan.

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