Chapter 5: The Princess’s Inn Reformation

Kenneth’s Herb was named after the entomologist Kenneth Blood. On top of his research on insects, he also studied plants. He discovered a rare herb growing inside a mine and included an entry of it in his insect journal. If it had been an unremarkable plant, his notes would have probably gone unnoticed. However, when the Ashen Nightmare first began its spread sixteen years ago, the pomelo fruit was the only effective treatment against it. People soon realized shipments of the fruit wouldn’t make it up north, and they had to turn to something else.

So what did they do? Did they rely on dried pomelo instead? Did they drag their infected bodies to the southern lands? Or did they wait, hoping Sauslind would extend the hand of salvation toward them? The answer was none of those, actually. Since they couldn’t get shipments of the pomelo fruit, they needed something that offered the same effects. Desperate, Ralshen’s people started searching, and that’s when they found it—Kenneth’s Herb.

Medical research proving its effectiveness only came out in the third year of the outbreak, just as the Ashen Nightmare was beginning to subside. Public discourse turned to lighter topics as people tried to distract themselves from the lingering shadows of the disease, and knowledge about Kenneth’s Herb and its benefits never took root. I only recalled its existence as we were making preparations at Earl Ralshen’s estate. The herb was rare and only grew naturally inside of mines, making it difficult to harvest. And because few people took note of its relevance, not many had stockpiled it.

Perhaps the people had grown too complacent these past sixteen years. But we could reflect and lament our shortcomings all we wanted later. For now, I educated everyone present on the effectiveness of Kenneth’s Herb and requested the cooperation of the child who claimed to have some with them.

Said child was from a healer family and had close ties with the innkeep. Apparently, thanks to fortuitous timing, they had just come into town to deliver some herbs. I bought up all the Kenneth’s Herb they had and asked them to boil it for me. Lord Alan was the one who paid in my stead. I hesitated over whether to demand the innkeep and the others present pitch in for their share, but since knowledge of the herb wasn’t widespread and we needed them all to drink it, I figured it best not to charge them. Once they realized its effectiveness, knowledge of it would spread naturally by word of mouth.

I do feel bad having Lord Alan fund everything, but I don’t even have a single dora to my name.

“I swear I will pay you back,” I said, hanging my head apologetically.

He cheerfully responded, “It’s a necessary expense, so I’ll be compensated for it. No worries!”

His reassurance brought great relief, but in the background Jean mumbled skeptically, “You’re writin’ off everything as a ‘necessary expense’...”

At any rate, I informed everyone that we would be taking the utmost precaution and using every preventative step we could. I had them wash every exposed part of their body, as well as their hands and faces. Gargling was also imperative. Moreover, I cautioned them against touching anything before they started their meals and instructed them to eat their bread first lest they risk infection by touching other things. The innkeep insisted that would be too difficult. Here in the north, it was customary for people to peel off chunks from a hard loaf of bread and dip it in their soup, meaning they would have their hands all over the table.

“In that case, please toast the bread.”

“Toast it?” He bunched up his forehead.

I carefully considered the differences between northern and southern cuisine as I explained. Basically, as long as they didn’t grab the bread with their bare hands, it was fine to eat. “It’s common in many regions to dip hard bread in one’s soup, however...”

In places densely populated by men doing hard labor, there was a preference for heartier, denser food. This naturally meant the cuisine veered more toward meat and hard breads. Which was why I suggested...

“Cut the bread up into bite-sized chunks and fry it up with oil and spices. In the Miseral Dukedom, they often boil it in with their soup. So how about toasting it with some oil and sprinkling it over the soup? Instead of just cutting it up and throwing it on there as is, putting in some extra effort to toast it will add to the flavor and texture. Plus, by heating it and having them eat it all with a spoon, you’ll lower the chances of transmission here as well.”

“Aha.” The man’s eyes gleamed with fascination.

“For any meat on the bone, wrap it in Makela’s Herb. We’re also using that plant in the steam baths to help fumigate the inn. According to the herbalism journal I read, it acts as a disinfectant. As long as people only eat it in small doses, it shouldn’t be harmful to the body. I would warn you against using it with cold food, however. It will lose its disinfectant properties and taste terribly bitter.”

His eyes widened a fraction as he nodded. “We have Makela’s Herb in stock.” He immediately set about instructing the cook so he could test my advice.

Although he was reluctant to let us fumigate the entire inn and fill the rooms with steam, the innkeeper begrudgingly compromised. He wouldn’t, however, agree to closing the inn or kitchen down for the day. A full twenty-four hours was preferable for disinfecting the area so that there was no chance of transmission, but since his livelihood depended on this inn, I could hardly argue the point. Especially since Sauslind couldn’t guarantee him compensation for whatever losses he incurred.

“Very well,” I acquiesced. “In that case...”

Again, I went over the precautions he should take since he refused to quarantine the place. We needed all of the patrons to enter the steam baths so they could sweat out the toxins and purify themselves. Those who ate downstairs needed to wash their hands and gargle beforehand. And, of course, they were to eat with utensils. If people were gathering in the main room, it needed to be moisturized and ventilated.

And finally...

“When people depart from the inn, please have them drink some boiled Kenneth’s Herb before you send them off.”

“You want me to have them drink it while they’re here and before they leave?” He quirked a brow at me, but I merely nodded my head.

It was important to take precautions against the disease here, but even more paramount was making sure no one carried it with them when they left, thereby infecting other areas. The main reason the Ashen Nightmare spread so rampantly in the Ralshen Region before was because, as some researchers suggested, they had a habit of being isolationists. Those in the north tended to be wary of outsiders. They relied more on their own local remedies instead of the ones sanctioned by the government, largely because of the distrust they held toward the royal family.

It was a reminder that the people were the ones who suffered for the mistakes of our past. That thought weighed on me as I made an earnest plea to the innkeeper, trying to do the best I could with the resources we had.

“I realize what I have asked doesn’t cover all the time, effort, or even the cost of staying here, but I respectfully ask for your cooperation. I hope even after we leave, you will continue to take these precautions and make them customary at your inn.”

All I could do was pray that the preventative measures we took would spread amongst the people to help prevent transmission.

He gave me the kind of weary, distressed look you would expect from a merchant who loathed cutting their profits.

Before he could protest or rebuff me, a light voice interrupted. “It’s worth a try, right?” It was Prince Irvin, who was helping out some of the other patrons by placing heating stones all over the inn. “A safe and credible reputation is worth its weight in gold, old man. It might put you in the red right now, but people will spread word that no one who comes here catches the disease. Soon enough you’ll be a top-class establishment. If that happens, we’ll have to go elsewhere, yeah?”

A group of robust men nearby chuckled and nodded. “You got that right.”

“Come on, innkeep, man up.”

As they egged him on, a quiet voice chimed in. “I don’t mind prioritizing your inn for shipments of Kenneth’s Herb.” Gene, as they had earlier introduced themselves, was handing out boiled medicine to the other patrons. Their added support was enough to make the innkeeper hang his head in defeat.

“Today feels like a huge turning point in my life. That must be what this is. It has to be. I’m sure of it. There’s no doubt...”

Apparently, such philosophical mumbling was his way of coping with his own resignation.

A cacophony of anguished voices echoed throughout the main hall. Although, I swear on the honor of my family as well as the owner’s that they weren’t crying because they were sick. The source of their distress was actually the Kenneth’s Herb that Gene boiled. People were drinking it and reacting to the pungent flavor.

“Tastes like I’m drinking dirt from the bowels of the underworld.”

“I think even the guardian to the underworld would tell you their dirt tastes better than this. Plainly speaking, it tastes like shit,” said Prince Irvin, not bothering to sugarcoat his disgust.

In contrast, his servant drank silently, but the expression on the man’s beautiful face spoke more than his mouth ever could.

Jean, meanwhile, was wrinkling his nose and grumbling profusely. “See, this is why you can’t trust someone who hates sweets. Gotta be honest, I think anyone who hates sugary stuff is an enemy of the people.”

It’s not that I hate sweet things. I simply prefer not to eat them.

“Bottoms up!” One of the miners threw their head back and gulped down the elixir. Almost immediately they whipped around toward the innkeeper and said, “Hey, old man! I need some booze to wash this crap down!” Other voices soon concurred, demanding the same. Perhaps part of their dissatisfaction was the heat and humidity in the room, created by the steam.

While the innkeeper personally scrambled to take and fulfill people’s orders, I thanked Gene for their assistance. I then acquired some other medicine from them and made my way to the room where the merchant couple were staying with their sickly child.

Mabel accompanied me and told the mother, “Their fever might worsen in the coming hours.” She then proceeded to offer additional advice, such as, “Make sure they get plenty of water. If their fever goes up, get them into a steam bath. But don’t make the room any hotter than necessary. A fever going up isn’t necessarily a bad thing.” And so on.

I handed the parents the medicine I’d brought with me, explaining its effects—that it would reduce the child’s fever and coughing—as well as what dosage to give them and when. By the time I finished and turned to slip out of the door, I found myself thinking how grateful I was that Mabel was here. But before I could make it far, a feeble voice stopped me.

“Thank you, Mister...” It was the child, calling out to me from their bed. The parents promptly echoed their own words of gratitude.

I shook my head. “Take care of yourselves.”

“If you need anything during the night—anything at all—you just let me know,” said Mabel as she followed me out of the room.

As we made our way toward the dining hall, I said, “Thank you again, Mabel. I’m so glad you’re with me.”

Her feet suddenly stopped. “No,” she mumbled quietly, clutching a hand over her chest, face drawn with torment. “I...wasn’t able to do anything. When people started panicking that it might be the Ashen Nightmare, I just froze with fear.” She clenched her fist as though gripping her own regrets tight in her hand.

She continued, “The medical knowledge I have about children and their illnesses is something I learned while I was helping my mother and grandmother. I’ve never had to deal with an emergency situation like this. I was so confident that I could do the job even if disaster struck. Yet when it actually happened, I was powerless.”

She was lamenting that she had all of this medical knowledge—which was the whole reason she had accompanied me—and yet when the time came for her to actually use it, she was too paralyzed to act. I could tell how much she was blaming herself by the way she chewed on her lip.

“Mabel...” I reached toward her, placing my hand over her tight fist. Her shoulders jumped in surprise, obstinate eyes peering up at me. In a quiet exhale, I confessed the truth. “I was scared, too.”

My hand had been trembling the entire time. Whatever decision I made could have a permanent impact on people’s lives. If I made a single misstep, it might mean someone’s death.

“That’s why,” I said, “although I don’t know exactly how you’re feeling, it did give me a greater appreciation for how difficult a doctor’s work is. I couldn’t have done all of this by myself, Mabel. It’s because you were with me that I got through it. Thank you.”

Her brows pinched. After a moment, she squeezed my hand and drew it up, pressing it against her forehead. She remained like that for a while.

No matter how brave a front Mabel tried to put on, it was only natural for her to be as scared as any of the rest of us. I reached over with my free hand and stroked the top of her head, her hair silky smooth against my fingertips.

Some men suddenly came down a nearby corridor and started whistling at us. “Oh? Is the servant boy comforting his master? What pure love. I’m jealous. Let me get in on some of that action.”

“If you get in on it, it’ll end up—”

Mabel clapped her hands over my ears, so I wasn’t able to hear whatever words came after that.

I feel like someone did this same thing to me once before...

I had no idea what words they traded, but the ferocious glare Mabel shot in their direction was enough to send the men scrambling. By the time she dropped her hands away, her expression was grave and her eyes housed a terrifying glint.

“Once we’re finished looking after that child, we need to leave this inn behind. Fumigating it will only do so much. You could put a kettle under this place and heat it past boiling, but it still wouldn’t cleanse the crude lot that has taken up residence here. Honestly, this is why men are so...”

It feels like I’m seeing a whole new side of her right now.

We entered the dining hall to find Lord Alan gaily singing away. He was recounting the story of the Hero King, as well as other fictitious tales popular with the common folk. They appreciated Lord Alan’s accounts far more than the nobles back home, cheering and laughing loudly. The intense enthusiasm in the room was enough to make it suffocatingly stuffy. Patrons were downing bottle after bottle of alcohol, too.

Lord Alan certainly does have a knack for blending in with the crowd, I thought to myself as I made my way to the table where Prince Irvin and Jean were sitting. Along the way, I received a number of comments.

“Pretty clever for being such a tiny guy.”

“You might be skin and bones now, but eat some proper grub, train up, and you’ll be big and strong like me some day.”

“Get ya some meat! Meat, I say!”

They were all very kind to me. Although, a number of them did try making passes at Mabel, perhaps because it was rare to see an unmarried woman traveling around this area. She silenced them all with a glacial glare, not unlike Lord Alexei.

It was a bittersweet experience for me. There I was, a young woman who had only barely reached adulthood and had a marriage ceremony looming only months away, and yet no one even blinked an eye at my disguise or doubted it. Perhaps there really was a problem with me. Silently, I swore to myself to recite the methods Duchess Rosalia taught me for enticing the prince every night before I went to bed.

When we settled down at the table, Jean was already digging into his meal, though he had tears in his eyes as he did so. “It’s so freakin’ hot. First I gotta drink that nasty medicine crap and now I gotta eat this spicy food? What’s with this? Are we at some kinda trainin’ camp? They never fed me slop like this at the earl’s estate.”

That was probably because Earl Ralshen had his chefs adjust the food to something that would suit our palates. Apparently that led Jean to falsely believe that the cuisine here primarily relied on dairy, but actually it was customary to use numerous spices to heat up the body here. According to the local history, the people traditionally chased down spices with strong alcohol in order to prevent colds.

After I explained as much to Jean, he screwed up his face. “If I’d known this from the beginnin’, I’d never have agreed to come.”

This was the same man who, upon seeing me disguised as a boy, remarked, “Suits you perfectly, miss. By the looks of you, no one would ever dream you’re actually a girl.” He also gave me a thumbs up as a sign of his approval.

At the time, I secretly debated asking my father to reduce his pay as punishment when we got back to the capital, but he was already getting his just deserts thanks to the cuisine here.

Prince Irvin chuckled quietly, nursing a cup of liquor as he said, “I never get tired of listening to the two of you.”

And then finally, he explained why he was here.