It was early, before the scent of dawn dew had even faded.
After finishing his morning run in the garden, Oscar sat on a bench and opened the newspaper.
[Vins Declares Pandemic Over Two Days After Distributing Cadenna Influenza Treatment.]
[A Flare Heralding the White Tower's Revival? A Small Stone Cast into the Potion Market Creates Enormous Ripples.]
[Oscar Crucian Nominated for This Year's Peace Prize in Recognition of Developing Cadenna Influenza Treatment and Vaccine.]
[White Tower: 'It Was All Thanks to the Goddess Watching Over Us.' Archbishop Baldwin's Approval Surges Nationwide.]
The headlines of every newspaper were filled with stories about the White Tower.
It was only natural.
In every age, an underdog's success was ideal material for the news.
"Hey, Oscar!"
Then a voice that had become rather familiar rang in his ears.
Oscar glanced over and muttered.
"......How does that guy always know where to find me?"
At the edge of his vision, an excited Fran was running toward him while waving a stack of papers.
"This is huge! Word must've spread already, because vaccine preorders are pouring in!"
"Well, of course they are."
Oscar replied with an indifferent expression.
Cadenna influenza was officially a Hazard Grade B Disaster, after all.
"It's a disease you can catch anytime and anywhere. Unless you have a death wish, you should get vaccinated."
"See this list? The northern territories, the church, even the imperial family have all placed orders."
Fran ran the figures in his head and slapped his forehead!
"Hey, this is crazy. I did the math, and if we sell just the treatment and vaccines already on order, we'll easily make tens of millions of Bell."
"Tens of millions of Bell...... I suppose we've put out the immediate fire."
A faint smile appeared on Oscar's lips.
Until just a few days ago, there had seemed to be no hope for this damned tower. Only now could he finally breathe a little easier.
"But this craze will die down soon, won't it? Then the influenza won't spread again for another few decades."
Oscar looked surprised at Fran's concern.
"You're smarter than you look? So you know the current sales won't last?"
"Do you think I'm stupid? Who'll buy this vaccine once everyone has been inoculated? The vaccine and treatment were developed before this influenza could even spread properly, so aside from the northern region, there's no real need to buy it. In fact, the territories in other regions haven't even placed orders. They're just watching what happens."
As Fran said, the treatment and vaccine for Cadenna influenza were ultimately seasonal products.
Worse, they could only be sold once every few decades, so they could never become the tower's main source of income.
'That was also why the other towers never staked their lives on developing medicine for Cadenna influenza.'
Even success would not make the numbers work.
It could only be sold once every few decades, and even then, the White Tower had been the front-runner.
If the outbreak was suppressed early like this one, they could not earn all that much in the first place.
'Once we fill the orders currently placed, we won't receive any more.'
Even if more came, they would be limited to a few territories bordering the northern region.
Oscar was well aware of that and had naturally prepared a countermeasure.
"You don't need to worry about money. I've prepared another potion that will provide the tower with steady revenue."
"Another potion...... Don't tell me?"
Oscar smiled faintly as Fran's eyes widened.
"That's right. Starting this week, we'll manufacture and sell healing potions as well."
"Y-You......! So the Cadenna influenza medicines weren't the only formulas you restored!"
Thoroughly excited, he asked.
"It isn't the legendary Star's Tears, is it?"
"Of course not. It's too soon for that."
Oscar firmly drew the line.
The most famous of the White Tower's healing potions was undoubtedly 'Star's Tears'.
The potion was said to restore even someone on the brink of death to perfect health. Its effects were certain, but for the White Tower as it stood now, it was far more likely to become poison than medicine.
'First, we need the strength to protect such a thing even if we make it.'
Even with this treatment, there was no telling what might have happened if he had not used Archbishop Baldwin and the church as a shield.
"We'll sell low-grade and mid-grade potions."
In fact, low-grade and mid-grade potions accounted for a much larger share of the overall market.
They were products used widely by everyone from ordinary households to mercenaries, soldiers, and knights.
"Well, it's a shame I won't get to see Star's Tears, but it can't be helped. At least we won't need to worry about our income drying up."
Fran smacked his lips in disappointment and asked.
"Then we'll have to acquire new ingredients for making the potions, won't we?"
"Ah, right. Now that you mention it, there are some things I need you to get. First, we'll need Lantus leaf and Python stem......"
Oscar spent some time naming the herbs needed to make the healing potions.
Fran's expression darkened as he wrote them down.
"Urgh. Every one of these ingredients is hard to find."
"......What? What are you talking about?"
Oscar blinked.
"Every ingredient in our potions is a specialty of Sirin. How could they be hard to find?"
"Specialties of Sirin? What era are you talking about?"
Fran sighed deeply and continued.
"Sirin being called the continent's greatest herb-growing region is ancient history. It's completely ruined now."
What? The herb fields are ruined?
At that moment, Oscar recalled an article.
[Disaster Upon Disaster for the White Tower? Sirin Surrenders Its Reputation as the Continent's Greatest Herb-Growing Region.]
There had definitely been an article like that in the newspaper he had read before.
He had assumed it was baseless slander, but apparently it was not.
"No, why would perfectly good herb fields suddenly be ruined?"
"Hmm, who knows? Is there any particular reason to speak of? Our tower declined, the potion formulas were lost, and we no longer had the same buying power, so the herb fields naturally failed too. Isn't that all?"
"......That doesn't make sense."
Oscar shook his head hard.
Sirin herbs were famous for their exceptional potency.
In the past, people from all manner of factions had even taken numbered tickets and queued up to buy them.
'People used to joke that the White Tower might fail, but Sirin's herb fields never would. And every one of them failed just because we stopped buying from them?'
Impossible.
Oscar could be certain because he knew the towering reputation Sirin herbs had enjoyed twenty years ago.
'No matter how I think about it, this is strange. Something......'
Something smelled rotten.
Oscar's eyes had just narrowed.
"Little Oscar, there you are."
Walter, dressed in worn work clothes, approached the two of them.
"It's been a while, Fran."
"It has. Aren't you looking much better than the last time I saw you?"
"Heh......"
Walter scratched the back of his head awkwardly at Fran's words, then looked at Oscar.
"I heard the news. You achieved something tremendous, Little Oscar. My sincere congratulations."
"I've just made a little money."
Walter smiled faintly at that modest reply and spoke.
"The Vice Tower Master summoned me a short while ago, and I've just come from seeing him."
"Ah, could it be?"
"Haha, yes. My letter of resignation was rejected. He asked me to continue working for the tower."
"That's wonderful."
The moment Oscar smiled brightly, Walter suddenly took his hand.
"......Thank you. Thank you, truly. If not for you, Little Oscar, I......"
"No, you don't have to......"
Oscar trailed off before he could finish saying so.
The two hands holding his were trembling.
"......"
Oscar silently studied Walter's hands. Even out of politeness, he couldn't have called them beautiful.
They bore small scars here and there, as well as countless wrinkles carved by long years.
They were ugly hands. Undeniably ugly hands...... Yet as Oscar looked at them, his heart unexpectedly ached.
'With these wrinkled hands.'
Walter must have tended every corner of the tower, even the places no one else cared about.
The potion production room, abandoned for so long, had not held so much as a speck of dust. That alone made it clear.
'From his youth, when these hands didn't have a single wrinkle, all the way to now.'
Knowing the extent of that devotion, Oscar was genuinely relieved.
Relieved that Walter would not have to flee his second home.
Oscar firmly clasped his hands in return.
"I'm the one who should thank you. You've worked hard all these years, and I hope I can continue to rely on you."
"......"
At that heartfelt gratitude, Walter lowered his head deeply.
Though it was not yet time to water the garden, unexpected droplets pattered onto its soil.
A short while later, Walter lifted his head with a deeply relieved expression and spoke.
"If it isn't too much to ask, Little Oscar, would you continue to keep this old man company?"
"I'm the one who should be asking you."
After their warm exchange, Walter asked.
"But the two of you looked troubled earlier. Is there perhaps anything this old man can do to help?"
"Ah, well......"
Oscar told him about the conversation he had shared with Fran.
"But I simply can't understand how Sirin's herb fields could have failed."
"Hmm. In that case, why not pay them a visit yourselves?"
"A visit......"
Sometimes the simplest approach is the best.
Oscar accepted Walter's advice and nodded.
"That sounds good."
***
Rattle, rattle.
After carrying the two of them for half a day, the carriage gradually slowed.
Oscar had personally wanted to ride in one of those automobiles, but they were more expensive than expected, so he decided to wait for another opportunity.
"We've arrived!"
"Yaaawn!"
At the coachman's shout, Fran stepped down from the carriage, stretched his whole body, and yawned.
"Ugh, I thought I'd die of boredom."
"You fell fast asleep the moment you climbed aboard. Don't talk to me about boredom."
When Oscar rebuked him in disbelief, Fran changed the subject with uncanny speed.
"By the way, sir, couldn't you drop us off a little farther inside?"
"This is as far as the carriage can go. You'll have to walk from here."
"Walk......?"
When they turned their heads, they saw fields planted with herbs stretching all the way to the horizon.
There was no sign at all of where the landowner's house might be.
Instinctively realizing how far they would have to walk, Fran spoke.
"Oscar. Don't you think one of us should guard the entrance?"
"Do as you please. Either way, I'll record everything that happened exactly as it happened in the field report."
"Damn it...... Fine, I'm coming!"
After walking for about three hours, they finally saw a cabin in the distance at the foot of a huge mountain.
Oscar gauged the distance they had traveled and muttered.
"Is it about ten miles from the entrance to the cabin?"
"......Miles?"
Though exhausted, Fran still gave him a strange look.
"You casually use a unit that disappeared eighteen years ago."
"What?"
The mile system is gone?
Oscar's eyes widened at this new information.
"What do you mean? The mile system disappeared?"
"After the war, the great administrative reform standardized everything on the metric system. Pounds were replaced with grams at the same time."
"Good heavens. Even the pound system was abolished......?"
Oscar looked incredulous.
In truth, the matter had been the subject of heated debate for decades.
He had heard rumors that they would adopt a single system after the war......
'But to think the mile and pound systems had actually been consigned to history.'
Of course, it was true that those units were extremely ambiguous, difficult to measure, and irritating.
But there was a certain pleasure and lingering satisfaction in painstakingly calculating them by hand.
Oscar mourned the death of units that had been like old friends, if only briefly.
The two soon arrived before a rather luxurious cabin.
"Is anyone inside?!"
At Fran's booming shout, creeeeak.
The cabin's tightly closed door opened, and an old man with gray hair appeared.
He had a sturdy build that would make anyone believe he had been a soldier in his youth. After glancing over the road the two had traveled, he asked.
"Did you walk all the way here?"
"Yes. We were told the carriage could only reach the entrance and that we'd have to walk from there."
"......Then at least you aren't with those bastards."
The old man muttered softly and was about to add something.
VROOOOM!
The loud roar of an engine came from behind them and drew steadily closer.
"Who are they?"
Three vehicles raced across the herbs, crushing them beneath their wheels, then stopped before the group.
Someone stepped out of a white vehicle escorted by black ones at the front and rear.
Clunk!
"Wow, I feel this every time I come here, but the air really is fantastic. Everything else is garbage, though."
A man in a white suit adjusted his sunglasses and grinned.
"Well? Still not interested in selling your land?"