Kays Translations

Chapter 4: Experience

　The medic was staring at the magic potion that had come back into his hands.

　Somehow, I was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

“Lord Julius, while we’re here, shall we open one up?”

“No, I don’t need that kind of service.”

“But they say that just experiencing the smell helps you steel yourself when the time comes to actually use one.”

“I’m never going to use one!”

　Time to have Lionel put in a word. That should bring this medic back to his senses. I’m counting on you, Lionel. Staaare.

　Lionel noticed my stare. He gave a single nod. As expected of the Knight Commander — he can read a room.

“Quite so. You’ve come all this way, and you’ve even taken an interest in magic potions. It will be a fine experience for you.”

“It will not! Stop him, Lionel!”

“Now, now, don’t be like that.”

　Lionel laughed. Ah, I see how it is. This is pure harassment. Having been given the go-ahead, the medic opened the lid of a basic recovery potion then and there. Making it a basic one may have been an act of mercy on the medic’s part.

　Suspicious smoke came leaking out from inside. It was the first time I’d ever seen such a sight.

　…It reeks! It smells worse than vomit! I’m starting to feel ill.

　Seeing the colour drain from my face, the medic shut the lid. Lionel and the medic both looked utterly unbothered.

　So this is everyday life for the knights… If knights hardened against that stench recoil from it that badly, just how much stench-power does a high-grade recovery potion pack?

“Lionel, answer me honestly. Is Grandmother bad at her craft as a magic pharmacist?”

“Absolutely not! She’s skilled enough to be counted among the top five on this continent.”

　THAT counts as top five?! And on this whole continent?! You’ve got to be joking.

　Seeing my astonishment, Lionel shut his eyes and went on, shaking his head.

“Recovery potions made by other magic pharmacists are far worse. As for high-grade recovery potions, after drinking one it’s doubtful whether even half survive. In that respect, a high-grade recovery potion made by Lady Margaret, the former margravine, will make you suffer enough to wish you were dead — but you won’t actually die.”

“That’s just poison, isn’t it?!”

“I hear orders come flooding in from other countries seeking the high-grade recovery potions made by the former margravine.”

“One wrong move and that turns into a diplomatic incident, doesn’t it? You’re shipping people poison!”

“I’m told there’s no end to those who gamble everything on taking a high-grade recovery potion even when they’ve no idea who made it. Just knowing the former margravine made it is a blessing in itself.”

“Hey, somebody put a stop to this!”

　I hadn’t imagined things were this bad. It would have been fine if there were some other means of curing people’s injuries and illnesses, but it seemed that thanks to magic potions developing in such a half-baked way, medicine itself had never developed much at all.

　And to make matters worse, offensive magic existed, yet recovery magic did not.

　This was the reality of this world. Worse than I’d expected. No wonder the goddess was so troubled.

　Confronted with that reality, I shut myself up in my room. What should I do? I had to free as many people as possible from these hellish torments, and quickly. But I was just a three-year-old. There was almost nothing I could do.

　Should I advise Grandmother? And would she even listen if I did? If I said “a goddess asked me to do this,” I might simply be treated as a strange child. And if I kept coming out with things like that, sooner or later I’d be packed off to the church.

　Somehow I had to get the way magic potions were made changed. But why on earth were no more decent methods of making them in circulation?

　Magic potions must have a fair amount of history behind them. So why were potions of such wretched quality circulating so brazenly?

　Time to play the innocent child and ask Grandmother.

“Grandmother, where did you learn to make magic potions?”

“Oh my, you really are curious about magic potions, aren’t you? I learned the basics at school, and after that from my master.”

“From your master? Were there others taught alongside you?”

“There weren’t. I was excellent, so he taught me as a special case.”

　She laughed her hohoho laugh. Apparently advanced magic potions were passed down to a single successor at a time. That was presumably how they kept their scarcity value high. And what circulated instead were half-baked imitations of them — things practically indistinguishable from poison.

“Don’t you ever make new magic potions?”

“Only high-ranking magic pharmacists are permitted to create new magic potions.”

“Then you can make new magic potions, Grandmother!”

“Well, that’s true… but I have no intention of making anything of the sort.”

“Why not?”

　I asked with a small tilt of my head. I knew perfectly well that nobody in the mansion could withstand that gesture.

　Grandmother’s face melted into a smile. She scooped me up and settled me on her lap.

“Because I don’t want to bring ruin on our house…”

　I felt like I had some grasp of the situation now.

　There had most likely been a time, long ago, when people competed to develop new magic potions. And at some point a catastrophe occurred that shook the whole country. Ever since then, only chosen individuals had been permitted to develop magic potions.

　That would explain why existing magic potions never got improved. Everyone was afraid, and nobody would lay a hand on them — even if the potion in question was feeble in effect and revoltingly foul to drink.

　Having grasped the situation, I arrived at the conclusion that steering Grandmother towards improving magic potions was going to be difficult. Would I have no choice but to sit and suck my thumb until I was grown? Then again, I’m three now, so I won’t literally be sucking my thumb.

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