After Edwin cleaned himself, he was given some salted pork, as well as some warm black bread. He ate everything with gusto and looked at the ruin of his robes.

These stains were not going to be washed away, ever. Well, hedge healers didn’t have any robes to themselves, wearing every day clothes. He supposed it was time he fit in.

The thick robe had spared his clothes from most of the damage, but there were red smudges on his pullover’s collar. His dark brown pullover collar. The bright smudges looked like blood, but he knew they were mucus and blood root juice.

He needed to write down his findings, least he forgot. He placed his robe in the trash can and pulled out his notebook from his bag. It was a fresh one, with only one thing written on the front cover.

Healing in equality.

Those three words were the reason he had bought the notebook. It was supposed to be his first research journal, after graduation. He had expected to fill it with new and exotic methods of treatment, both of known and unknown diseases. Of course, he had expected he would do so from the comfort of a lab and that patients will come to him, not he to them. But it would still serve its purpose. He began to write.

The sickness is similar to the stinging cough in that the patient coughs up blood, and that some treatments seem to have a good effect. The forced coughing technique, as well as mana vibration and warm liquids, seem to clean the lungs of mucus, for a time. The method being throwing up the mucus.

But that is where the similarity with the stinging cough ends and the similarity with the lupine cough begins. The mucus builds up anew, after a time. Blood root seems to elevate the symptoms for a time, but, despite what was said about its continuous ingestion, it has to be ingested as a tea, despite being thicker than tea, for a time, until it disintegrates in the water.

A pill can be made from the blood root residue, in theory. But this healer had no access to lab equipment and other herbs and minerals with which to make the pill. Perhaps if a pill is made the violent throwing up of blood root tea, mucus, and blood can be avoided.

The patient suffers from low blood pressure because of the blood root, but three hours after the treatment he seems to be back to his robust self. It is this healer’s humble opinion that this sickness, which is spread from an underground river, originates from a rainforest.

Code of sickness spreading chance: Orange.

With that done, Edwin jotted down the blood root to water ratio for the tea and turned to look at Bern.

“How do you feel, sir?” Asked Edwin. Bern, now clean and pacing like a caged animal, looked at his wife with accusation in his eyes.

“She won’t let me get fresh air. The sick need fresh air, right, charlatan?” Asked Bern. Edwin sighed.

“I really wish you would stop calling me that, sir. I did my best, and now you are cured.”

“And you even stuck your neck on the line. Not many healers do that. They use prisoners to do their testing on, bah!” Said Bern, waving his hand at Edwin.

“You listen to me, charlatan, and listen to me well. A good healer is prim and proper. You can’t pay? Well, then, they will tell you politely to go die. Your sickness can cause a war? Well, then, go and die! You will have a hard life in front of you,” Bern went to Edwin and placed a hand on Edwin’s shoulder.

“You will be chased out of the cities. You will be called a quack, a charlatan, a thief! But hold your head high. Keep helping wretches like me. Your soul will go to a better place than where the four eyes that came by here will go to.”

“Sir, who did come over here? Perhaps I know them?” Edwin wanted to know so that he could avoid stepping on the healer’s toes. An angry healer could do quite a lot of damage to a hedge healer’s reputation.

“Donovan and Andrews,” said Bern. Edwin nodded. They were high-ranking healers in the academy. His anatomy and ear nose and throat professors, respectively.

“Thank you for telling me, Bern. Well, if you two don’t need anything else, Hadrian and I will be leaving,” Said Edwin. It was dark out, and there was no telling if they would be able to find a cave or a shelter before sunrise if they didn’t hurry.

“Charlatan, if it turns out to be a curse, don’t use a mirror curse. The poor folk of whatever country this comes from don’t deserve it. You promise me, now,” said Bern sternly.

“I would stop calling myself a healer if I ever use a mirror curse. Goodbye, Bern,” said Edwin, and then he looked towards Hadrian, who was longing on a chair.

“Hadrian, come on. We have to find a cave before sunrise,” said Edwin. Bern grabbed his hand and slipped something in it.

“Family heirloom. Will bring you luck and fortune. It is the least I can give you, charlatan. Take pity on my pride and accept it,” said Bern, and he stepped back.

Edwin looked at his hand and found a bound booklet. He looked at the cover. One hundred and one fungi that grow in the grasslands. Edwin had never heard of this book. He opened it. It was handwritten. He looked at Bern for further clarifications.

“My great-grandfather was a shepherd. As the sheep grazed, he explored the surrounding land. I don’t know if all the names are correct, but the pictures are. So are the locations where you can find them. Take care, charlatan.”

With a grateful bow by Edwin, he and Hadrian were off, the booklet safely tucked away in Edwin’s bag. Who knew, maybe he could find something rare in here. But first, he needed to find a cave.