HTLCCBFT Chapter 5

Has The Lord’s Career Chart Been Filled Today? – Chapter 5

Oliver remained unconscious until the next morning.

He was completely unaware, but Fosse, who had witnessed his young master collapse, was nearly frightened out of his wits.

The only two doctors in Laina City barely had time to grab their medical kits before being forcibly hauled onto horseback by the frantic knights. Jostled so violently that their stomachs churned, they were roughly brought before the lord’s bedside like criminals.

The patient was the new lord of Laina City?

Under the icy, watchful gaze of Fosse, the steward, they exchanged a nervous glance and timidly approached the patient.

But the moment their eyes fell upon the face of the person lying in bed, their earlier anxiety vanished, and they both gaped foolishly in unison.

—Good heavens, how could there be such a beautiful person in this world!

Unlike the gaunt, bedridden patients they were accustomed to seeing with severe illnesses, Duke Oliver, whom the old king had proudly called the “angel of the court,” lay unconscious yet radiant, like a strand of golden sunlight left upon the soft bedding—so dazzling that one couldn’t look away.

His skin was as fair and delicate as snow, devoid of the lifeless pallor common in the gravely ill, and instead glowed with the soft pink of a newly bloomed rose.

His nose was straight and elegant, his eyelashes long and the same pure gold as his hair. Soft, lustrous golden curls rested on his forehead, while the rest cascaded like a waterfall over the plain bedding, shimmering in the gentle sunlight.

Seeing them forget their fear entirely and stare with infatuated, awestruck eyes at His Highness, Fosse could no longer contain his anger.

His expression cold and stern, he rapped his knuckles sharply on the table, snapping them out of their trance. “Did you come here just to rudely stare at His Noble Highness?”

If it weren’t for that treacherous scoundrel Cameron, who had not only ruthlessly driven His Highness from the capital but also exiled his personal knights and capable servants, Fosse wouldn’t have been so short-handed as to tolerate these two useless country doctors.

Even with their backs turned to Fosse, the two could hear the heavy warning and anger in his voice.

They quickly came to their senses, stammered a few apologies, and finally began to examine the esteemed duke in earnest.

But the more they examined him, the more confused and uneasy they became.

If not for the fact that the duke’s eyelids hadn’t fluttered, his breathing had remained steady and calm all along, and there was no conceivable reason for him to feign illness… they might have suspected he was pretending.

Aside from the delicate frailty typical of nobility, the duke’s complexion appeared perfectly healthy by any measure.

Under normal circumstances, their diagnoses relied mainly on the patient’s astrological signs and the state of their urine—prescribing medicine for minor ailments and bloodletting for serious ones.

As for the so-called universal remedies, they knew full well these were tricks to deceive the ignorant masses, offering little more than psychological comfort without any real healing properties.

Not only were they unwilling to torment such an exquisitely beautiful noble, but under the stern and perceptive gaze of the steward, they dared not even produce their dubious, unidentifiable concoctions. Their only remaining treatment option was the hit-or-miss practice of bloodletting.

They tentatively suggested first observing Duke Oliver’s urine, only to be met with a cold glare from the stern and imposing butler, who warned, “If you value your lives, do not make such an impertinent request again.”

When they cautiously proposed bloodletting as an alternative, they were unsurprisingly met with the butler’s furious refusal once more.

What were they to do now?

With grim expressions, they sat stiffly by the bedside, utterly clueless about what to do next aside from praying.

Truth be told, they were more than willing to devote themselves to His Grace’s care… but given their limited abilities, making an accurate diagnosis or providing effective treatment was simply beyond them.

Fosse observed their helplessness with a stern expression and quickly concluded that they were “utterly useless.”

He had been terrified when His Grace collapsed unexpectedly before him.

But having weathered countless storms in his life, after bringing His Grace back to the castle, he could see that His Grace’s condition seemed stable—not like a sudden severe illness, but more like a deep slumber… This eased his worries somewhat.

Moreover, His Grace had personally mentioned undergoing a “divine trial,” so surely the gods would not allow any misfortune to befall him?

Fosse gave a slight nod to Knight Noel, who stood guard nearby. Understanding immediately, Noel expressionlessly escorted the two useless individuals out of the castle.

As the clock tower with its mechanical clock chimed the first bell heralding dawn, and the first rays of morning sunlight streamed through the window, the Angel Duke, who had fallen into an unbreakable slumber since noon the previous day, finally opened his eyes under the tense, unwavering watch of Fosse and two knights.

“Your Grace!”

No matter how composed he appeared on the surface, the ice in Fosse’s heart only melted the moment he witnessed His Grace awaken safely.

The forty-something butler couldn’t hold back the redness in his eyes as he knelt on one knee beside the bed. “Your Grace, you’ve finally awakened.”

In those clear, lake-like eyes, which reflected the azure sky, confusion was evident, along with the butler’s own figure.

Was that teary-eyed expression really coming from his usually stern and severe butler?

Oliver slowly sat up.

He felt no discomfort whatsoever; in fact, he was so full of energy that he felt he could take down a wild boar—but his memory was still stuck on the satisfaction of having just finished plowing the fields, leaving him momentarily unable to make sense of the scene before him.

When he recalled the reason for his collapse, his eyelid twitched involuntarily.

How utterly foolish.

—Why had he forgotten that his stamina bar was completely depleted?!

Since it was a forced rest triggered by total exhaustion, he had not only slept for over twelve hours but also frustratingly discovered that his stamina bar had only recovered halfway.

Setting aside his frustration, Oliver rubbed his temples and apologized, “I’m sorry for worrying you. With the gods’ protection, I am completely fine now.”

“I understand, Your Grace.”

Fosse had always trusted His Grace’s words implicitly, and this only confirmed his earlier suspicions.Suppressing his dissatisfaction with the irresponsible god, he quickly ordered the manservants to bring washing supplies and clean clothes, then instructed the cook to prepare food as soon as possible.

The cook, who had been cautioned by Fosse, finally refrained from adding excessive spices and avoided making the bean soup that had left Oliver traumatized. Instead, she prepared a simple meal of poached eggs and potato cakes.

Of course, what Oliver assumed were potato cakes couldn’t possibly have the crispy crust he remembered from his modern life. Still, their soft, powdery texture and slight sweetness confirmed they were made from potatoes.

The poached eggs, which were hard to mess up, didn’t disappoint this time either, giving his pitifully low energy bar a small but noticeable boost.

His earlier assumption had been correct: energy could indeed be restored by consuming food.

As for why the pea soup and smoked meat feast from the previous night hadn’t had the same effect, he could only blame the awful taste—so bad that his body didn’t even recognize it as “food.”

Speaking of potatoes…

Oliver’s expression suddenly shifted.

The next moment, he threw off the covers and rushed to the windowsill, with a startled Fosse following closely behind, to survey the results of yesterday’s labor.

Spurred by the lord’s personal involvement, even without the supervisor’s usual vigorous whipping, the typically apathetic slaves had worked with unprecedented diligence.

Though their skills couldn’t match the precision and perfection of Oliver using the iron hoe from his game system, by strictly following the standard field layout, they had managed to create neatly divided plots reminiscent of the orderly fields in Oliver’s memory.

Yet, as he gazed at this thriving scene, his sapphire-blue eyes grew vacant with dismay.

Oliver silently watched the slaves gradually heading to the fields after the morning bell, then despairingly glanced at the full stack of corn seeds still sitting unused in his game backpack.

He asked calmly, “Have all the plowed areas already been sown?”

Fosse replied respectfully, “Yes, Your Highness, everything has been carried out as you instructed.”

Just as he’d thought.

Realizing that his own foolishness had cost the corn seeds a precious day of growth, Oliver felt too resigned to be angry.

It’s fine, potatoes aren’t bad either.

Besides, with only one stack of corn seeds in his backpack, there was no way to plant all the fields anyway. Experience points didn’t come from tilling the land but from harvesting crops…

Oliver managed to console himself.

He really wanted to work the fields himself and finish plowing the remaining plots in one go.

But after yesterday’s scare, the old butler, who now shadowed his every move, probably wouldn’t easily agree to that.

He’d have to wait at least a few days.

Even from a distance, the sight of those lush green weeds stirred a powerful urge in him to swing a sickle and clear them all…

Feeling the old butler’s intensely concerned gaze fixed on him, Oliver reluctantly suppressed the impulse to charge forward and sweep through the fields.

Rubbing his temples, he compromised, “For the fields plowed today, have them only water the soil and hold off on sowing. I have other plans. Fosse, you and Johan will accompany me to the river for fishing later. “Fosse nodded. “I understand, Your Highness. Are there any other instructions?”

Oliver: “They are not to touch the stones in the fields either. I want to break them myself.”

Fosse: “…Yes, Your Highness.”

“Mm,” Oliver thought of the origin of those weeds that had stirred his intense desire to cut grass and said, “Before we depart, bring the person in charge of the seeds here. I have some questions for him.”

The author has something to say:

Though not strictly historical research, due to the incorporation of some medieval elements, I’m adding a disclaimer (to avoid accusations of fabrication):
“Your physician might not actually examine you, instead, diagnosing your ailment based on your urine and astrology.”
“Doctors dispensed medicine with a spoon, a scene comparable to modern life. But what was in the spoon? Almost certainly: nothing.”
From “The Time Traveler’s Guide to Medieval England” p13, by Ian Mortimer, Commercial Press