HTLCCBFT Chapter 183

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 183

“You’ve found people that quickly?”

Oliver exclaimed in surprise.

His astonishment stemmed from the fact that alchemists—a profession with high hidden barriers, enormous financial demands, and currently sustained almost purely by personal passion—were viewed by most as both mysterious and rare.

They themselves were deeply aware of this fact yet disdained changing it, generally preferring to communicate only with peers—occasionally even coming to blows over disagreements.

When he had needed custom distillation equipment, he had searched for alchemists in Albury city.

Even with his promise of extremely high compensation, he had only found three—and that was only because they had become impoverished after the catastrophe and urgently needed the payment to sustain their livelihoods.

The assistance those three alchemists provided him was undoubtedly immense.

The advent of distillation tools brought about intoxicating distilled spirits. “Glory of the Cat God” swept through the entire kingdom with an irresistible, powerful momentum, and even nobles from neighboring countries couldn’t resist the charm of this sweet yet spicy strong liquor.

The largest order Albury city received came from the king of the neighboring country: he specially sent an envoy to Albury and generously paid ten thousand gold coins just to purchase large quantities of this foreign god’s glory.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Fosse replied calmly, “There are twelve people in total. Would you like to receive them now?”

“Of course.” Oliver agreed without hesitation, then added after a moment’s thought, “By the way, bring the surgeons, physicians, and apothecaries too.”

Unlike Laina’s predicament of searching the entire city only to find three so-called “doctors skilled in both internal and external medicine,” Gregor city’s population being many times that of Laina naturally meant the number of doctors multiplied accordingly.

Especially rare were those who had completed university medical degrees, passed relevant examinations after graduation, and possessed genuine certification as physicians—their numbers could be counted as rare treasures throughout the entire kingdom, totaling less than one hundred.

Yet Gregor city luxuriously possessed a full sixteen of these rare physicians—ten of whom operated their own clinics, with only six attracted by the high monthly salary of eight gold coins to come for the recruitment.

Among these medical practitioners existed a fierce hierarchy of contempt: fully qualified physicians undoubtedly stood at the very top, followed by ordinary physicians who hadn’t completed university education but could make certain diagnoses through “rich experience” and brief manuals; then came apothecaries who produced so-called “purification potions” along with various oral and topical medications; while the most common, occupying the lowest rung, were barbers who mainly made their living cutting hair and shaving beards, occasionally performing bloodletting, tooth extraction, bone-setting, and wound suturing—well, surgeons.

One could imagine how foul the mood became when this small group of top-qualified physicians entered the magnificent hall only to find those barbers they usually looked down upon had arrived before them.

God, how could that noble Highness invite these lowly barbers?

They pursed their lips tightly, frowning at the thought.

These individuals were utterly unworthy of sharing the same room with them, let alone being granted an audience with His Highness!

Yet this was Duke Oliver’s decision, and no matter how much discontent they harbored, they dared not show it openly.

Though unlike their peers who owned private clinics, they had long ago secured contracts with wealthy merchants or administrative officials in the city, providing exclusive services like house calls and regular check-ups.

Additionally, they were obliged to obey the lord’s summons unconditionally: any command from the castle required them to drop everything and rush there immediately, regardless of their current location or activities.

After all, unless the king himself appeared, the lord held absolute authority over this land—the ultimate symbol of power. In some cases, where a lord’s influence was deeply entrenched and their prestige unshakable, even the king could not undermine their rule.

Everyone waited with their own hidden thoughts.

They did not have to wait long. The new master of this castle, Duke Oliver—the youngest and only surviving brother of the current King Cameron—arrived with elegant poise and imposing presence, surrounded by attendants like stars encircling the moon.

Truly, he was a noble and dazzling prince, as flawless and radiant as his title suggested.

Even with thorough mental preparation, everyone was struck with awe upon witnessing his breathtaking beauty, momentarily falling into a daze.

Apart from Oliver himself, the one most accustomed to such reactions was his longest-serving butler, Fosse—though the deity didn’t count.

In His eyes, only Oliver existed; all others were no different from flowers and grass on the ground.

Fosse gave a light cough.

The people snapped out of their trance, kneeling in unison and greeting, “May the great deity bless you, esteemed Highness.” Your faithful servants are at your command.”

Oliver smiled and nodded. “Your presence brings me joy. Please, be seated now.”

Once permitted to sit, their gazes still wandered restlessly.

They yearned to fix their eyes on the radiant prince but dared not be so presumptuous.

Even though etiquette strictly required them to meet the prince’s eyes directly… faced with such a luminous and beautiful being, no one had the confidence to avoid being stunned and making a fool of themselves.

“You may sit as well.”

While they were still slightly distracted, a dozen or so more people entered from outside.

Their attire was peculiar, and their faces unfamiliar—clearly not from the medical profession.

“Your Highness.”

Finally, someone recognized a face or two among them and nearly stood up impulsively.

Restraining the urge to rise disrespectfully, he still exclaimed excitedly, “These people are frauds—I can’t believe they dare deceive you! They are not doctors but a bunch of notorious scoundrels. I swear, especially Sargen[mfn]撒金恩(Sā jīn ēn) – I think it’s meant to sound like ‘surgeon'[/mfn]—I once saw him casually cutting a deceased person’s skin with a small knife!”

“Please calm down.” The one who was identified on the spot, Sargen, remained both composed and indifferent. A trace of careless leisure colored his voice as he said, “if you still possess even the slightest bit of reason, you should understand that without permission, you ought not to speak presumptuously in the presence of His Highness.”

Fosse’s icy voice followed: “Correct. Mind your manners, doctor.”

He pressed his lips together in humiliation, bowing his head to the duke. “My deepest apologies, please forgive my disrespect, Your Gracious Highness.”

Oliver glanced somewhat helplessly at Fosse and smiled. “There’s no need to be nervous. I specifically invited you to the castle because I hoped you would speak freely.”

“Then, with your permission, Your Highness, allow me to defend myself.”

After receiving consent, Sargen turned to the man glaring at him and said unhurriedly: “I admit to the old incident this gentleman accuses me of, and I’ve long paid the price for that rash behavior – three days in prison and a 10-gold coin penance fee. If you’re still concerned, you may check with the clerk in charge of relevant documents to find the answer in old records. If you’d rather not bother, then until you obtain new evidence and bring new charges against me, I suggest you choose your words carefully.”

“Ha! Stop joking!” the other retorted angrily. “Don’t think I don’t know about the dirty, despicable tricks you’re playing in that gloomy cellar of yours – you’ve even had butchers come to your home! You never gave up! And now you’re trying to deceive your way into the castle with a forged physician’s identity, attempting to mislead His Noble Highness—”

“You’ve made another mistake, sir.”

Sargen said lazily: “As fellow servants of His Highness, I was recruited as an alchemist, not as a physician. You probably missed one of the notices?”

This verbal exchange quickly ended with the initiator being neatly defeated.

Considering his defeat resulted from insufficient information, leading to self-inflicted humiliation… Not only did he blush with shame and anger, but other physicians who had been watching from the sidelines also showed dissatisfaction.

Oliver, however, felt somewhat intrigued.

Not by Sargen’s confident attitude, but by what their conversation revealed about what Sargen had been doing all these years.

“Sargen.” Oliver smiled slightly, looking at him calmly. “Why did you cut open the skin of the deceased?”

“Your Highness,” Sargen answered without hesitation, “that’s because I wanted to understand the layout of those ‘pipes’ inside the human body.”

It was just that according to divine temple and legal regulations, any damage to corpses was a serious crime… He could only purchase some livestock from butchers, have them dissected before him, and make comparisons.

After getting the expected answer, Oliver nodded gently. “Before that, did you obtain consent from the deceased’s family?”

Though Sargen didn’t understand why this duke, beautiful as a glowing angel, wanted to know so many details that others would consider bloody, cruel, and disgusting, he was quite willing to answer: “Yes. It was a sewer worker who didn’t survive bloodletting therapy. After I paid a gold coin as condolence money, his wife agreed to let me take her husband’s body. And in my original plan, after completing the research I needed to conduct, I would have properly buried him in a common cemetery.”

“As for why that gentleman was so enraged, and why he knew these details so clearly, caring far beyond his usual concern for other patients…”

Sargen raised an eyebrow, looking mockingly at the evasive man: ‘I suppose it’s probably because he was the doctor who performed the bloodletting therapy on that poor man.’

No sooner had these words fallen than everyone turned their gaze toward the man, finding their answer in his suddenly grim expression.

Oliver paid no attention to the livid-faced man and continued asking: ‘Then have you considered why he died from the bloodletting therapy?’

Sargen hesitated.

He spoke cautiously: ‘Before answering, I must say that if you would generously permit me to continue such research, I could provide you with a more complete answer in the near future.’

The man who had been perfectly composed moments ago now appeared excessively humble, even careful.

“Presently, I regret that I only possess extremely limited understanding… If my research on pigs hasn’t been mistaken, he might have cut into that deeper, finer vessel where the blood flows much more rapidly, which led to the unstoppable bleeding.”

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