Crown Prince Sells Medicine

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Blood Clot.

A mass of blood that has coagulated within a blood vessel. To some degree, everyone has tiny blood clots in their bodies.

However, what happens if blood circulation decreases, or if blood clotting occurs excessively, or if the blood vessels are harmed, leading to the formation of too many blood clots?

This undoubtedly results in various issues. It obstructs the vessels and hinders the blood flow. If the affected area is the brain, the situation becomes grave – much like the emperor lying helpless before their eyes.

‘What is this?’

Raciel furrowed his brow intensely, focusing to the maximum extent, enough to make the back of his neck stiffen. This enabled him to closely examine the emperor’s brain and ultimately pinpoint the area where a stroke had occurred due to the blood clot.

‘Infarction in the territory of the anterior inferior cerebellar artery…’

Deep within the brain, in the cerebellum, he could observe that the middle cerebellar peduncle and lateral pons had suffered damage.

Where the flow of energy should have been vibrant, it was barely visible. This indicated damage to the cranial nerve.

‘If this occurs, there’s likely to be accompanying facial paralysis, loss of sensation in the trigeminal nerve, hearing impairment, ringing in the ears, and uncoordinated limb movements.’

Suddenly, he recalled what he had learned as an undergraduate student.

Some might assume that Oriental medical students only study acupuncture and pulse diagnosis, but it was different. They also needed to excel in various modern subjects including pathology, biomechanics, physiology, anatomy, histology, microbiology, immunology, medical diagnostics, cell biology, emergency medicine, diagnostic medical testing, neuropsychiatry, and more.

Thanks to this background, he was able to diagnose the emperor’s condition. The location of the stroke was critical, especially the fact that it had occurred in the cerebellum.

‘The size of the stroke is precarious. If it continues to grow, it could lead to swelling, putting pressure on the brain stem or blocking the ventricle, resulting in hydrocephalus. This might even lead to respiratory failure. However, that’s not the main issue.’

Raciel’s brow furrowed even deeper.

His gaze was fixed on the emperor’s cerebellum, on the anterior inferior cerebellar artery leading into it, and on the clot obstructing it. The shape of the blood clot was peculiar.

‘Why… can’t I see the Zahn lines in the clot?’

Zahn lines.

They were akin to the rings in a tree, indicating the age of a blood clot.

‘As a person lives, a blood clot forms gradually in the presence of blood flow. It’s not an instantaneous process. Hence, the Zahn lines. The formation of a blood clot follows layers, much like the rings in a tree. But why… is this blood clot devoid of Zahn lines?’

A blood clot lacking Zahn lines is typically seen in clots that form after death, in postmortem clots. Yet the emperor’s blood clot was like this, entirely smooth, without any Zahn lines. Logically and realistically, this was implausible.

‘What’s happening here?’

This was far from normal.

There was something amiss.

‘This isn’t a naturally occurring blood clot.’

Whether due to external force, drugs, or some other means, the blood clot obstructing the emperor’s brain vessels was not natural.

“…”

Who could it be?

For what purpose?

‘Could it be someone among those present?’

From the chamberlain to the commander of the close guard and the attending physician, those closest to the emperor were in motion. Was it possible that one of them had secretly caused harm to the emperor? Doubts began to emerge.

However, Raciel wasn’t merely fixating on suspicion. Right now, the priority was treatment. Suspicions could be addressed after the emperor’s life was safeguarded.

“May I examine the medication prescribed to His Majesty this morning more closely?”

He inquired of the attending physician. The physician responded confidently, “Of course, Your Highness. Here it is.”

The substance the attending physician had brought was…

“It’s a concoction derived from dried aronia leaves.”

“An herb that’s effective against paralysis?”

“Yes, Your Highness. It has a remarkable impact on alleviating spasms in the hands and feet, as well as numbness in the muscles. I’ve been using this mixture empirically for the past 12 years, treating various patients…”

“That’s enough. Thank you.”

“……Yes?”

“Unfortunately, this won’t suffice.”

Raciel interrupted him sharply.

It was preposterous. The emperor’s issue was not his muscles at this point. The brain tissue was deteriorating due to restricted blood flow, and the attending physician hadn’t identified this at all.

‘This won’t address the problem.’

Perhaps transferring the emperor to the Star Palace Clinic would be a better option. Intensive treatment there seemed more appropriate.

However, the bedroom door opened then. An elderly man in fresh white attire entered. The steward gazed at the old man with surprise.

“Ah, Archbishop, you’re here.”

……The Archbishop?

That elderly gentleman?

As Raciel observed, the Archbishop bowed to the Emperor and then turned in his direction.

“May the grace of God encompass all. Archbishop Bertonah Greets Crown Prince Raciel.”

“I am Crown Prince Raciel Adria Magentano. Are you here to provide treatment for His Majesty?”

The Archbishop nodded.

“Yes, Your Highness. Upon receiving the early morning summons, I set forth, anticipating that someone would require my prayers. I did not anticipate it would be His Majesty.”

The Archbishop approached the emperor’s bedside. He adjusted his priestly attire and closed his eyes. Was he praying? Or attempting a sacred blessing, as mentioned a few times in the ?

It certainly seemed that way.

‘Perhaps there’s a chance.’

Raciel stepped back, observing the Archbishop’s prayers and the blessing process. Inwardly, he held onto hope.

‘Please. Whether it’s divine intervention or some other force, any assistance will suffice.’

It would be a welcome outcome if it worked. A positive change in the emperor’s condition would be a marvelous development. Raciel clenched his fist, filled with hope and aspirations. Meanwhile, he maintained the meridian scanning function, monitoring the potential healing effects of a blessing from a high-ranking clergyman.

Screeee-!

An sensation of eye strain.

The Archbishop’s blessing persisted.

“……”

The Archbishop continued his murmured words. Eyes closed, one hand resting on the emperor’s head. No grand gestures; just beads of sweat forming. Gradually, changes commenced within the emperor’s body.

Zzzzz……

The emperor’s cerebellum, ravaged by stroke. Brain cells fading as blood flow diminished. Those intricate and complex tissues…

‘Are they rejuvenating?’

Raciel’s eyes widened. Initially, he questioned if he was seeing things incorrectly, if he was mistaken. Yet, that wasn’t the case.

‘The cells are regenerating.’

The emperor’s brain cells, once dying and disconnected from vital energy, were coming back to life. A faint aura of energy was taking hold!

“……”

Unconsciously Raciel swallowed the dry saliva.

Could this be a plausible occurrence? It seemed unreal.

‘Normally, damaged brain cells are nearly impossible to regenerate…’

Yet this seemingly impossible event was unfolding before his eyes. Witnessing it, hope surged suddenly.

‘Maybe there’s a chance to save him.’

Was this the divine influence of the Archbishop? While he had read about it a few times in the , witnessing it firsthand was a different matter. He even felt his own knowledge of traditional medicine waver.

‘As long as the Emperor survives, that’s all that matters!’

Raciel cheered on the Archbishop with tremendous enthusiasm, as if waving a cheer stick, praying for the holy blessing to work at its utmost potential—200%. His hope was for the Emperor’s complete healing.

Wishing earnestly.

Desiring and praying.

Finally, the holy blessing concluded.

“…Whew! Hoo!”

The Archbishop took labored breaths, his hand withdrawing from the Emperor, his face pale and worn-out. He collapsed, drenched in sweat, as if he had expended an immense amount of energy to cast the holy blessing.

‘And the Emperor?’

Raciel turned his gaze back to the Emperor with an anxious heart, scanning the area affected by the stroke in the brain.

Tszzz… zzst… zst…

The cells that had regenerated successfully due to the Archbishop’s holy blessing were visible. They exuded a sense of bright hope, displaying vigorous movement for a brief moment. Yet, it was only a fleeting instance.

Zzst… zs…

The cells that appeared to spring back to life swiftly lost their vitality. The radiant aura of energy vanished. Raciel discerned the cause at a glance.

‘The clot hasn’t been removed. It’s still obstructing the blood vessel. That’s why the revived cells are dying once more.’

Raciel clicked his tongue in frustration.

The Archbishop’s holy blessing had undoubtedly taken effect. It had done more than just that—it had performed a miracle by resuscitating deceased brain cells. However, it hadn’t eliminated the root cause of the stroke.

‘I need to eliminate that clot blocking the blood vessel. That’s the top priority. How can I do that now?’

Raciel mentally reviewed his knowledge, recollecting the principles of pathology and various medical information he had painstakingly learned and memorized for scholarships during his oriental medicine studies.

He pondered how to apply this knowledge in this context, how to adapt without modern medications, and how to prevent reperfusion injury during the process.

He contemplated it repeatedly.

He strained his intellect.

He searched for a solution.

Finally, he arrived at a plan.

“…I hope you’ll heed my instructions from this point onward.”

He addressed the Archbishop and the Steward.

He spoke to the Guard Captain and the personal physician.

He spoke to them all.

“Summon the court magician Zanetis.”

“…Pardon me? You mean Sir Zanetis?”

“Yes.”

Raciel firmly nodded in response to the Steward’s inquiry and spoke with determination.

“His ability is absolutely essential if we wish to treat His Majesty without any adverse consequences.”

“His ability… what are you referring to?”

“Magic.”

“But, Your Highness, the magic used by Sir Zanetis hardly pertains to healing people.”

“I’m aware. However, that’s precisely why his magic is necessary.”

“What… magic are you talking about?”

“Ice magic.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m considering freezing His Majesty completely for the time being.”

“…Pardon me?”

Astonished gazes from everyone met Raciel’s composed answer, and he offered a faint smile.

(To be Continued)

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