After Itzali had handed the earthen vial back to Naoka, the three men inside the palanquin became silent. Without any further interruptions, they made their way through the gates of the Silver Palace and to the front of the impressive Moonlight Ziggurat. The pyramid made of giant stone blocks and with the artificial lake right at its base was monumental and ancient, comparable to the greatest buildings of the ancient Chutwa dynasties.
Once they had climbed up to the entrance, they proceeded to travel all the way down again, through damp halls and hallways ever deeper into the earth. All throughout Arguna, the air was polluted with the never-ending smoke plumes from the city's furnaces. Yet down here, the air was even worse than up above. Not only damp and cold, but also suffocatingly heavy. It was a horrible environment for any prospective patient.
All the way down the stairs, at the lowest point of the Ziggurat, they went through one final stone door and entered into a large, empty room. Apart from a stone table in the shape of a semi-circle with some chairs, only a handful of people were here: Half a dozen elite guards of the Silver Palace, as well as Caelestis, the man who had first invited them in Rumas.
“Doctor Itzali, thank you for coming,” he said as he moved towards them with a big smile on his face.
“No, this servant needs to thank ancestor for this opportunity to distinguish himself,” Itzali replied as such, even though up to this point, he still didn't know who he was supposed to heal. At the very least, the ancestor didn't torture him much longer and revealed the mystery patient.
“I understand that it must have been difficult for you to come here without even understanding who it was you would be curing. However, secrecy was of utmost necessity. But now we are safe inside the Ancestral Hall, so there is no more reason to fear. The man you will be treating soon is my father, the former emperor and current grand ancestor of Medala, Viribus Pluritac.”
For a second, Itzali felt overwhelmed. This was comparable to healing a Chutwa prime minister or even an emperor. If he succeeded, he would be buried in riches and honors. Yet if he failed, he would be accused of malicious intent and cast into the darkest dungeon, if he was lucky. Even so, this wasn't something that was completely unexpected. Rumors of the grand ancestor's physical condition had been going around the country for a while. Thus, he quickly regained his composure.
“This humble physician thanks ancestor for this great honor,” Itzali said and bowed.
“Please enter right away.” Caelestis motioned towards another stone door behind the large stone throne at the center of the semi-circular table. “The grand ancestor already awaits.”
“How is the grand ancestor's condition?” the doctor asked as he moved towards his patient's room through several more stone hallways. However, Caelestis showed a sour look in response.
“Is it an unknown illness?” Itzali guessed.
“That may be half right, and half wrong. There have been multiple diagnoses before, but all were different. Even more, father has been upset by the treatment methods of the previous doctors. Thus, he ordered that new physicians shall not be informed of their predecessor's work, to prevent clouded judgment. Inside here please.”
Fantastic, a lunatic who likes to kill doctors. Of course, this wasn't something Itzali could say out loud. Even so, nothing about today had boded well so far.
After a grim nod to accept his fate, Itzali stepped through the heavy stone door Caelestis had motioned towards, his disciple and the ancestor right behind him. The first thing he noticed was the smell, a mixture of sweat and herbal medicine. Atop a large, luxurious bed in a lifeless room and hidden beneath a mountain of blankets they expected to find Viribus Pluritac, Grand Ancestor of Medala. To the bed's side sat an old man whose robes classified him as a servant warrior of the imperial family. Apart from another table, a few chairs and a few braziers to provide light and heat, there was previous little in the room.
“Father, I have brought you the great doctor you asked for,” Caelestis said. In response, they were greeted by the emperor's rough, dry cough long before they experienced either his face or his words. From within the folds of the bed, an old man pushed himself up. His skin hung heavy with sweat and there were dark rings around his eyes. Though his complexion was poor, it hadn't taken the fire that was innate to his expression.
“About time you are good for something, boy!” the old man shouted, which caused a wheezing attack. The servant to the side tried to hand him some sort of soup, but the old man waved him away before he continued. “Now get out of here and let your great doctor work! And I warn you, boy: If this one is another failure, he will not be the only one to end up in the river this time!”
Although Caelesits looked angry for half a second, soon fear conquered his face.
“Of course, father,” he said, before he turned towards Itzali and bowed. “I leave Grand Ancestor Viribus in your capable hands, Master Itzali.”
Like a thief, the old man stole himself out of the room before Itzali could even react. With a dull face, he just stood there until the even older man in the bed spoke up again.
“What are you doing!? Are you as dull as those other quacks!? Come here and look after me!”
“Of course.” Once Itzali had gotten closer, he began his examination. As soon as he held his hand to the man's skin, he was shocked. He could feel the ancestor burning up. Even worse, from this close, he could already hear the man's lungs rattle under constant strain. All the while, the ill grand ancestor insisted on a conversation.
“You are from Chutwa, are you?” Viribus asked. Itzali couldn't see the old man's expression, since he was busy taking his pulse.
“Yes, Grand Ancestor.”
“No good enough to make a career in that place?”
Annoyed, he looked up to see the old man's narrowed eyes.
This old bastard cannot wait to kill me.
Faced with a hungry wolf's eyes, the doctor still had to answer calmly.
“That used to be true. But with new medical discoveries, this doctor's craft is not inferior to any man's.”
The old man snorted and coughed. An attempt at a laugh, no doubt.
“So you are the same kind of braggart as my useless son then.”
Again, the old man attacked Caelestis. However, this didn't endear him to Itzali. For him, the ancestor who had hired him was the only one in the capital who had treated him with any level of respect.
“Grand Ancestor, I am sure that your son only means well,” he tried to defend Caelestis.
“Nonsense. That useless dimwit has only ever thought with his balls. What good means can that mindless brat have?”
For the Chutwa, familial relations were just as important as they were for the Yaku. Thus, the grand ancestor's nasty comments gained him no favor with his physician. While the old man continued to complain about his unfilial family and useless doctors, Itzali gave non-committal answers and tried not to offend the old man, until he had established his temporary diagnosis.
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However, before he could speak out, his fake apprentice decided to butt in.
“Master, this illness looks quite severe. Do we need to use the miracle water to cure the grand ancestor?”
Miracle water was the name they had been using for the penicillin they carried. At first Itzali was confused. Why would this spy offer something so precious to his enemy? But then, he looked up and saw the malice within Naoka's eyes barely hidden anymore. At least he sat to the side, where the ancestor wouldn't see their faces.
Once the doctor thought back to the white powder the spy had tried to hand him before, he understood the full extent of the southern king's plan, and his mission. Whatever the substance inside was, Itzali was sure it would dissolve in the penicillin. This was why he was here, to poison the grand ancestor to death with his medicine. However, no matter how good the plans of the southern kingdom were, they had misjudged the doctor's character.
Next to him still sat an old man who was fighting for his life, against the endless enemy horde Itzali had sworn to defeat. Even if Viribus was a nasty person, the doctor would still save him. Whatever the southern king's plans were, they had nothing to do with him. While he wouldn't expose Naoka and thereby risk his own life, he wouldn't become an instrument of murder. And there was nothing his fake apprentice could do about it.
“No, I think that will not be necessary,” Itzali said before he turned to his patient. “Grand Ancestor suffers from a fever, and a swollen throat. It should be a persistent bacterial infection, possibly the flu. Normally, this would not be a big issue, even less so for a cultivator. But it still needs to be dealt with. All this time, master's physicians have handled this illness the wrong way. While the infection itself is not a problem, it has been dragged out for so long that it has significantly weakened Ancestor's strong body. At this point, there is even a suspicion of pneumonia, which can be life-threatening if not handled right away. For now, we need to adjust ancestor's diet. On top of that, this environment is poison for any ill. I suggest Grand Ancestor to move to a warmer, drier room with decent ventilation above ground.”
“Nonsense!” Viribus shouted with the fervor of a healthy man. “Do you call yourself a doctor!? Or are you simply another trickster!? How could this emperor leave here!? How could this emperor give them the chance they are waiting for!?”
“Give them a chance?” Confronted with a screaming ancestor, Itzali asked in confusion.
“They want to take it away, they all want to steal my immortality! That entire rotten brood of mine! Believe me, all of them are jealous of the hero emperor's power, of his place among the stars! Only the stone and earth of the Ziggurat can protect from assassinations! Only under the eye of the heavens will they not dare try anything!”
While the old man rambled and raved, Itzali somehow managed to make sense of the madness. The ancestor seemed to search for immortality, like so many old men before him. This wasn't a surprise to Itzali. After all, as a doctor, he had met more than one rich and powerful man who had asked him about the cure for mortality. As far as the doctor was concerned, no one could avoid death, at least not before they had gone through it at least once. The dead couldn't die again after all.
However, Itzali was sure that a reply like that would only get him killed. The pressure coming from the old, sick body was immense, and spoke volumes of the sort of monster this old warrior used to be once. Thus, he was sure he couldn't change his patient's location. And he was sure that too much influence on his diet would get him suspected of poisoning the grand ancestor as well. In the end, Itzali's only real choice was to play along and make the best of a bad situation.
“In that case, we will have to stay here,” he said, indulging the man's fears. “Even so, the servants should make sure to install more fires, and guarantee enough fresh air in the room.”
While the advice was conflicting and made no real sense, there was only so much he could do in a closed-off, underground room next to an artificial lake. Like this, at least some servants would be blamed if they failed to follow the miracle doctor's instructions. Even so, he still had a responsibility towards his patient. It was one he wouldn't take lightly, even if the southern king didn't like it. With the room in such a state, the best choice was to deal with the illness quickly and aggressively.
“Since we cannot cure the illness through a change in location, we will have to go with the miracle water after all.”
He pulled out the remaining vials of penicillin and prepared for an injection. As he did, Naoka also put the vial with white powder next to them, before he gave the doctor another dirty look. Itzali only scoffed and continued his work. However, his patient seemed more than just a little bit impressed by their actions.
“So this is the miracle water, is it?” he said and swallowed hard.
“Yes, indeed. A cure to fix all ailments.” Although he understood that the old man's fixation on eternal life was acting up again, Itzali could only stick to his previous story.
“My useless son tells that master discovered this miracle water during his travels, in a spring deep within lonely mountains. Is that correct?”
Of course that story wasn't true. The 'miracle water' was produced in a laboratory in Saniya. However, that wasn't something he could admit. Thus, they had come up with this cover story to explain his miraculous abilities. Surrounded by enemies and confronted with a powerful and suspicious man, he had to stick with his story and fill in the blanks.
“Yes indeed, Grand Ancestor. Though this doctor has added some additional medicinal herbs to the tincture.”
This was a part of the story they had added to show that he was a true doctor, not just a quack who got lucky. However, now that he looked at the earthen vial next to the penicillin, he realized that it was also a cover story for this very moment.
“The legendary fountain of youth,” Viribus whispered, more to himself than to others. As soon as Itzali confirmed his story, the ancestor's eyes burned on his body like fire. The old man's intensity forced another fit of dry coughs, but he only got more excited.
“This elixir... you will give it to me. This is it! You can do it, you can make me immortal!”
“This doctor does not have such ability.”
With a scrunched up face, Itzali tried to explain, but Viribus wouldn't hear a word of it. As if he had already tasted the waters of eternal youth, his voice returned to life and boomed throughout the room.
“Do not veil the truth! This ancestor knows, he knows all! Whatever doctor desires, whatever doctor needs, he may have it, if only he fulfills this old man's single request. Doctor, do you wish for this country? This ancestor can hand it to you, all you need to give is immortality!”
Confused, Itzali looked into the madman's grimace. How could the ancestor simply give up his entire country like this? However, no one else in the room showed any reaction. Neither Naoka, nor the warrior servant to the side. Maybe this had happened before. However, Itzali wouldn't make promises he couldn't keep, even less if they could cost him his head. Thus, he tried again to explain the limits of his abilities.
“No, that is not-”
“You are not interested in ruling a country? I understand. All the ants have annoyed me half to death in my time here.” The old man licked his dry lips. “Maybe you want slaves? I can give you a thousand beautiful virgins, as many as you need. All your desires, I can fulfill them! The people of this land will form carpets just to be stepped on by you! Drink their blood, eat their flesh! They will come to be butchered, without question! True power, true might! Is that not what every man should want?”
Maybe it was because Itzali had been infected by Corco's teachings, but the old man's ramblings made his face scrunch up.
“Grand Ancestor, is that not a bit presumptuous?” he asked. “To leave the fate of the people in the hands of some unknown doctor?”
“Fate of the people!? What is that!? The people are mine, and so is their fate! They will do what I want, or feel the righteous wrath of their master! I am the Grand Ancestor! I am lord! I am god! In Arcavia they already worship me! Whatever I want they better fulfill, or I will run their streets red with blood! Now don't be shy any longer! Just tell me what you desire, and hand me your great elixir!”
Tension rose within the room. The old man stared at Itzali with mad, burning eyes. Naoka stared at him with a stern, silent warning, though throughout the old man's speech, a smile had been added to the spy's expression. Meanwhile, Itzali only stared down onto the vials he had prepared. What was he doing here? Was every patient truly worth saving?
He had been in King Corco's classes many times over the past years. Did the people really have no value beyond serving their lord? If so, what would be the point in saving them from illness? Even more, if he didn't fulfill his orders here, could he still get his laboratory, or his research facility in Saniya? How would he fulfill his goals them? Countless thoughts fought countless battles within his mind, before he finally understood that illness was not humanity's only enemy.
This madman before him was just like an illness himself. Without a care for the well-being of the people, he swept through their ranks and took whatever he needed to grow. Much unlike the King of the South, not once had this old man considered his people anything more than tools to be used and discarded, of that he was sure. Maybe there was another enemy to fight. With a hoarse voice, he ceded to the ancestor's demands.
“Of course, Grand Ancestor. This humble servant will comply.”
At the same time, his trembling hands opened the earthen jar, to once again reveal the white powder inside.
May the heavens forgive me, he thought as he poured the mixture into the penicillin, where it soon disappeared like an assassin in the night.