Crown Prince Sells Medicine
Chapter 102

“I have a sense of foreboding regarding this.”

“Demian, do you share the same sentiment?”

“Yes, Sir Gardin.”

“That intuition, it’s likely not a misinterpretation.”

“So what should we do at this point?”

“Is there a solution? We must persevere, one way or another. We willingly pledged allegiance to this lord.”

“……”

The group advanced slowly, the sound of footsteps echoing. At the back of the formation, Demian and Gardin sighed in unison.

Their attention was fixed on the carriage in the center of the procession, more precisely, on the Crown Prince inside the carriage.

“But why is the Crown Prince doing this?”

“I’m wondering the same thing. Honestly, I don’t understand.”

“You too, Sir Gardin?”

“Yes. Who would willingly understand? A royal volunteering to heal foreign wounded soldiers who have nothing to do with him.”

“Thanks to that, you and I are also involved and dragged all the way here.”

“……Sigh.”

“Whew.”

Their sighs deepened.

This is the anguish of employees groaning under the tyranny of a ruthless employer!

“Sigh. I had plans for next week.”

“Oh? Plans?”

“……”

“A date. Just a date.”

“You were seeing a woman?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then?”

“Just meeting.”

“……”

“Isn’t that how everyone does it? If it works out, you date. If you grow apart, you break up. I’ve always been like that. About… twenty times? Maybe more?”

“……”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No, just briefly getting angry, questioning if this is really a country.”

“……Hmm? Why?”

“Never mind. By the way, since you missed a date, you must have asked for extra pay, right?”

“Extra pay?”

“Yes.”

“What extra pay?”

Gardin tilted his head. Demian responded as if it should be obvious.

“Deployment allowance.”

“Deployment… allowance?”

“Yes. We’ve followed the Crown Prince this far, all the way to a foreign country, Anbouaz.”

“That’s, that’s true.”

“So, this is essentially a long-term deployment assignment. You should naturally get an allowance. Plus, this is a civil war zone, a country at war. You should definitely be guaranteed hazard pay for the work environment.”

“Uh, well…”

“Why?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Just what?”

“I didn’t know about that.”

“You didn’t negotiate for extra pay?”

“……Yeah.”

“Heh.”

“……”

“1 win, 1 loss.”

“……Damn.”

Gardin and Demian.

A bitter smile formed on both men’s faces. Truthfully speaking, neither of them was dissatisfied with having come all the way to Anbouaz. Rather, they both admired the Crown Prince.

‘He has the medical skills, and there are patients over there who need treatment. It’s only natural to rush over and help… It should be obvious, but nobody does it. Who would have thought that His Highness would actually do it…’

Gardin felt a swelling in his heart.

Suddenly, he recalled the time when he first studied medicine, a time when he was a bit more innocent and naive than he is now. A time when doing the right thing seemed only natural.

How does he appear now? He has changed. At some point, he ceased practicing medicine with the same pure-heartedness as the Crown Prince.

‘I still have a long way to go,’ he reflected.

Seeing the misunderstood image of the Crown Prince, he resolved to learn from his attitude and put in more effort.

On the other hand, Demian had a slightly different perspective.

‘A Crown Prince who rushes to treat wounded soldiers from other countries. Could such an extraordinary person truly exist in reality?’

But it appears that such a person does exist, the Crown Prince he serves, no less. He was genuinely impressed.

‘After all, it doesn’t concern me. I just need to make sure I get my salary.’

That was all that mattered to Demian.

Meanwhile, the group finally merged with the Kingdom of Anbouaz’s army. Things progressed swiftly from there. Raciel received support from Princess Adeline, whose endorsement and sponsorship allowed him to work undercover (?) as a medical officer in the Anbouaz army.

He was immediately assigned to a camp for wounded soldiers located in the rear.

“Thank you. Things went smoothly, thanks to you, Princess.”

“No, thank you.”

Palang!

Princess Adeline smiled as she shook a small bell.

“According to the recipe here, I can make Yinchenho Tang, right?”

“Yes. The herbs in Yinchenho Tang are quite simple, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. However—”

“Just make sure to take it every day, so it effectively prevents gallstones, right?”

“…Yes. You’re almost like a Oriental Medicine doctor now.”

“Well then, take care in the wounded soldiers’ camp.”

“It’s the rear, so there should be no problems.”

“Alright.”

With Adeline’s farewell, Demian, Gardin, and about a dozen knights given by the princess departed from the main base of the kingdom’s army.

The journey continued.

It wasn’t long before they reached the camp for wounded soldiers.

By his sense of distance, Raciel thought, “Hmm, from Yonsei University in Seoul to Ilsan?”

They arrived quickly, but the atmosphere in the camp was a bit odd.

“What’s with this shabby place?”

It was just a half-day away from the main base. Close by, yet the camp looked quite run-down.

Raciel glanced around the camp. The wooden fences surrounding it seemed quite flimsy. It looked like they couldn’t even keep out a petty thief.

That was just the beginning.

‘The tents are literally torn, showing hardly any sign of repair. If it rains, they’ll surely leak.’

Something was off.

Raciel’s expression darkened.

‘No way.’

A piece of historical knowledge suddenly came to mind, quickening his pace.

“Is there no medic here?”

Flap!

He approached a nearby tent and lifted its flap, asking towards the inside. Right after that, he had to gasp. The reality inside was beyond imagination.

“…”

No one inside responded. It was natural. Dead people can’t answer. Therefore, everyone inside the tent was dead.

‘What is this?’

Flies in disarray, swarming in the darkness. Underneath them lay eight corpses.

They weren’t neatly laid out, but rather tossed around haphazardly. How long had they been abandoned like this? Two days? Three days? Four days? It certainly seemed longer. Some of the corpses were already decomposing.

Then it happened.

“Who’s there?”

A voice questioned from behind.

He turned around.

A seemingly healthy soldier appeared, wearing the uniform of the Kingdom of Anbouaz. Oddly enough, his uniform was not at all tattered, and his expression was calm.

Inside the tent lay eight neglected, rotting corpses. Outside the tent stood a seemingly healthy Kingdom soldier. Between them, separated by a tattered piece of tent, was a scene of jarring contrast.

It was strange.

Very strange.

Raciel stared intently at the soldier.

“Before asking who I am, who are you?”

“Ah, are you an officer from the headquarters?”

“I asked who you are.”

“I am the managing soldier of this medical camp. Are you an officer from the headquarters?”

“I am a military officer.”

“A military… officer, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm, I haven’t heard anything about someone like you coming.”

The soldier shrugged.

His calm demeanor was far too bizarre. Raciel could no longer hold back and asked.

“What are you doing here? Are you aware of the situation inside this tent?”

Eight people had lost their lives, and their bodies had been left unattended for days. It was astonishing, especially within the confines of a medical camp.

The soldier’s response was even more bewildering.

“You’re talking about inside the tent, right? I’m aware. They’re all deceased, aren’t they?”

“…What?”

“Ah, is there anyone still alive? That could be problematic. We need space for the next injured soldiers.”

“What are you saying?”

“Ah, perhaps as a military officer, you’re not familiar with how medical camps operate. The individuals inside the tent should all be deceased. This way, we can make room and accommodate the next injured soldiers.”

“…What?”

“So, I came here to inspect the condition of the tent. If everyone inside is deceased, then we can remove the bodies for incineration. By the way, have a lot of flies gathered inside?”

“Why?”

“They’re a nuisance when we’re clearing the bodies.”

“… “

Raciel fell silent.

A fragment of historical knowledge briefly flashed through his mind. Something he had read in a book about the history of the Middle Ages.

‘Medieval Europe. The wars and the treatment of wounded soldiers back then…’

Wounded soldiers were not treated well at all. Conscripted soldiers, brought to the battlefield, were considered expendable, with no proper care or rehabilitation for the wounded.

‘Got a minor injury on the battlefield? Nobody cared. What if you were seriously injured? To the point of immobility? Again, nobody cared.’

They were simply moved to the rear. Not for recovery or treatment but rather to keep them out of sight, a burden to the rest of the troops, dragging down morale.

‘If we keep the severely injured with the troops… moving together becomes cumbersome and the morale of the rest of the soldiers drops. That’s why they sent the wounded to the rear. They were thrown away in an out-of-sight location and left unattended.’

So what became of the wounded who were sent to the rear? It was pitiful. They were mostly left unattended, left to die, even if they received the bare minimum of treatment.

Among them, soldiers who miraculously recovered?

That was their fate.

The blessing of God.

Receiving tremendous luck.

They were simply sent back to the battlefield!

‘Exactly. Either die on your own or, if you’re lucky, survive and get sent back to war.’

At the time, he was shocked when he read this in a book. It was unimaginable that such a place could exist. And yet, this wounded soldier camp seemed just like that.

Looking at the indifferent soldier before him, or the dead inside the tent, he couldn’t deny it.

‘Ah, life, seriously.’

A deep sigh naturally escaped him.

Out of compassion for the miserably dead wounded? Because of an unexpected culture shock? Of course, that was obvious. On the other hand, there was another reason.

‘I’ve come this far, and if the camp is like this, how do I get a bonus lifespan?’

This is going nowhere.

Something has to be done.

The atmosphere in the camp needs to change. Attitudes and treatment toward wounded soldiers must be improved. Only then will the wounded survive. Only then will he achieve his purpose for coming here, a win-win for everyone.

So what should be done?

Shock therapy is needed.

Determined, Raciel spoke.

“You said you are in charge of managing the camp, right?”

“Yes? Yes!”

“Full name and affiliation?”

He asked for their full name and position. Sensing the unusual atmosphere, the soldier hastily answered.

“I am Corporal Rueno, part of the 21st Support Battalion.”

“Alright, Corporal Rueno. Who is responsible for this camp?”

“It’s… the battalion commander, sir.”

“Who is the battalion commander?”

“Lord Provence, sir.”

“Is he? Is Lord Provence in this camp now?”

“Yes, he is.”

“Good. Tell him to come here.”

“…Excuse me?”

The corporal hesitated for a moment.

But Raciel didn’t care. With a chilling voice filled with confidence, he said,

“Go and tell him. I’ll give this battalion commander one minute to come here.”

(To be Continued)

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