A Hospital in Another World?-Chapter 880: Plague and Taxes, Let Them Be Unable to Fight!
The production of streptomycin by the Magic Council was progressing with great momentum and energy.
Accelerate bacterial growth! Accelerate bacterial growth! Gather all the natural priests in Nevis and work hard to cultivate the relevant bacteria!
Extract the bacterial solution! React! Purify! Transmutation mages, don’t idle, don’t daydream!
Even the factories increased their output. Those small boxes, small glass bottles, and syringe needles for injections could not possibly be produced without the factories' help, let alone depending solely on Garrett’s mage tower!
Of course, Garrett himself managed to sneak away, avoiding staying in the bacterial room talking to bacteria all day.
Whenever he was called upon, he would shamelessly claim he was a mage to dodge the duty...
Regardless, once the production machines started roaring, a large batch of medicines was dispatched to the front lines of Nederland.
In the military camp, the Duke of Nederland, various nobles, and soldiers tormented by typhoid fever, were moved to tears:
There is hope!
There is hope!
“The medicine has finally arrived! Quick, give Jimmy an injection!”
“And Tom! Tom can’t hold on any longer!”
“Don’t rush, don’t rush, there’s enough for everyone!” The mage delivering the medicine unloaded two large boxes and an iron chest reinforced with complex magic runes:
“This time we brought 2000 doses of the medicine… How many patients do you have here? 500? That’s enough, enough for four treatments! Quick, check the numbers with me; I still have to rush to the next camp!”
He opened the iron chest, and a cold mist rose, revealing 2000 crystal-clear small glass bottles. The crowd surged forward with a cheer, and the mage waved his hand forcefully:
“Step back! Step back! Let the recipients come forward! I still need to teach you how to use these!”
How to draw the injection liquid, how to mix the powder into an injection, how to select the injection site, how to administer the injection…
The delivery mage explained passionately, repeating it three times and even posted an instruction sheet before allowing the sharp young men to proceed. However, as he glanced over, he immediately erupted:
“You! Wash your hands! Who allowed you to touch the syringes without washing your hands?!”
Sigh, utterly exhausting.
Despite various operational issues, the arrival of the large batch of medicine was like a sweet rain nourishing the parched military camp.
Within a few days, the Duke of Nederland received frequent good news:
“Half of the patients in the wounded camp have reduced their fever!”
“Only about 20 are still feverish!”
“Count William’s soldiers have also mostly recovered!”
“Count Flanders asks if more medicine can be allocated for the soldiers' families—”
The Duke of Nederland let out a long sigh of relief. No wonder the council sent more medicine than needed for just treating the soldiers; they had already planned for today:
The plague affects everyone, regardless of gender, age, commoner or noble. If the warriors could barely hold on due to their strong physiques, the commoners would fall like harvested wheat.
Without divine spells, even the mages’ potions would become their last hope.
These medicines, the mixed potion liquid, the glass bottles, and syringes, all cost money to buy, and none of them were cheap.
However, compared to the value of a citizen or a skilled craftsman, they were much cheaper!
“I can allocate 500 doses. If Count Flanders needs more, he can pre-order.” The duke said in a deep voice:
“Cash payment, bartering goods, or signing a contract, any method is fine. Anyway, he’s done business with us more than once or twice…”
Having soldiers ensures strength to continue fighting; having citizens ensures a continuous source of soldiers and supplies, and hope for recovery after the war!
Buy, buy, buy, squeezing out the blood from the marrow, pinching the nose but buying. The poor rebels had limited medical resources:
A few dozen divine spellcasters, nurtured by the great nobles, or noble descendants sent to the church for training, had to stand by their families;
Those who broke away from the church and declared "my divine spell comes directly from God" had recently increased in number, but were still insufficient and mostly only willing to roam among the commoners;
The medical potions stored before the uprising, and the ones bought from the Kent Kingdom, were almost exhausted!
This meager medical power, usually barely enough to treat wounded soldiers, was utterly inadequate against a large-scale plague, a mere drop in the bucket!
“Thank goodness for the new medicine supported by the council, otherwise we wouldn’t survive… The enemy’s medical power is so much stronger than ours…”
On the other side, the kingdom’s army was also in dire straits. The commander of the kingdom’s army, Duke Flamenco, ran to the Inquisition camp once a day:
“Cardinal Gravira, Grand Inquisitor Gravira, please, send a few more bishops! Even some priests would do! My soldiers, those devout young men, they are dying!”
“Your Grace, we have done our best.” Grand Inquisitor Gravira, with a face that naturally exuded authority, made a prayer gesture:
“The number of bishops who can completely cure the plague is limited, and half of the priests and deacons are bedridden. — Or would you provide some materials for a large-scale prayer?”
What a joke! The Inquisition's medical power was barely enough to maintain the Black Knights and the upper echelons of the kingdom’s army. Covering the lower-ranking soldiers?
When did divine spell healing ever cover the lower-ranking soldiers!
“Well…” Duke Flamenco hesitated. Providing materials for a large-scale prayer didn’t mean bread, milk, coffee, or sugar cubes, but sacred materials—
Holy artifacts, holy relics. At the very least, large chunks of purified silver, not just silver coins. They would be burned like charcoal in large-scale divine spells…
Want to provide less?
Sure!
In that case, it would burn human vitality and spirit, even the souls of devout believers—
So why are large-scale divine spells particularly effective on the battlefield, with lower consumption than usual? One reason is the unprecedented spiritual cohesion during war, and another is the abundant souls of devout believers to burn… 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖
“I, I’ll push the rear to provide materials as soon as possible…”
He retreated in dismay. Writing letters to the king, writing letters to the nobles at the rear. Lowering his dignity, crying and pleading, threatening and enticing. By any means, get those materials delivered!
The young soldiers are dying, and if this continues, the war can’t be fought!
Horses galloped, delivering the duke’s letters to the king, to the rear, to the major nobles in the central part of the Brolin Kingdom.
The closest major noble to the front lines, Duke Arden, received the letters, and without even reading them, angrily threw them aside:
“Asking for money again! Asking for supplies again! Asking for people again! Tell him, no! My castle is already full of sick people!”
Theoretically, the king should bear the burden of deploying troops to Nederland, sparing the local nobles. However, in practice, they had to help with transporting grain, right?
Help procure supplies, right?
The church mobilizing healers within their system could pull people from their territory without much say. Don’t want your territory’s bishops and archbishops all taken away?
Pay up.
Moreover, a large portion of the military funds the king paid also came from the taxes collected from these nobles…
“No money! Last year’s vineyard was a total loss, not a single bottle of wine was produced! Even if produced, there’s no place to sell, and even if sold, no money would be received!”
Duke Arden paced in his office, his beard bristling like an angry lion. His territory’s main industry was high-quality wine—
Elegant, delicate, with rich bubbles. To sell this wine better, the duke even applied for a royal decree to name it after his territory:
Other regions' wines could only be called sparkling wine, not the same name as their territory’s product!
Last year’s disaster severely affected the grape yield; even if they barely produced, the quality was insufficient for wine-making. And even if made, who would buy?
The king? The king never paid;
Radiant Holy City? Not only did the Holy City not pay, but also demanded a tribute fee to allow you to offer it to the Radiant Lord;
The wealthy merchants of Nederland? Those rich people were at war, almost broke;
The Kent Kingdom? What a joke, with the war spreading, the sea routes were increasingly strict, and goods couldn’t be transported!
The more Duke Arden thought, the angrier he became. He paced around the office several times and finally ordered:
“Strict inspection! Strict inspection! Inspect all personnel and goods! With the plague spreading, we must prevent the plague from reaching the front lines. Anyone sick, any infected goods, are not allowed through!”
At the same time, Grand Duchess Alva was also raging in her castle. Compared to the financially strained Duke Arden, Grand Duchess Alva’s fury was even more intense:
“Where is Anna? Where is Lesa? Where is Julie? In such a big castle, we can’t even find little Henry’s nurse? What about the maids? Are they all dead? No one to wash the sheets and diapers?!”
“Honorable mistress…” The head maid replied tremblingly:
“Since the plague started spreading nearby, you ordered that any servant whose family had headaches, fever, chills, vomiting, or diarrhea, must not approach or touch little Henry’s items! Recently, recently…”
“So their families are sick?” The grand duchess
laughed in anger:
“So where are the priests? Where are the bishops? Quickly summon them! Do I have to nurse little Henry and wash his diapers myself?!”
The head maid retreated fearfully, not daring to make a sound. The butler, resigned, reported:
“Half of the nearby healers have been drawn away… The remaining half, as you know, are very busy due to the plague… Treating nobles is fine, but treating servants…”
“This cursed war will never end!” Grand Duchess Alva grew even more furious. She turned to the north, towards the direction of the stalemate between the kingdom’s army and the Nederland forces, her eyes blazing:
“Order! To prevent the plague from spreading and infecting my little Henry, strictly inspect the entire territory! All incoming people, except knights and clergy, must be quarantined for seven days and confirmed free of illness before being allowed entry!”
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