Wanda stood before the operating table, straightening her clothes. She wore a very typical Victorian Era female worker's outfit: a black long-sleeved shirt with coarse cloth sleeve ties, a thick Scottish plaid pinafore dress, a white apron over it, and a hairband wrapped in a dark green plaid kerchief on her head.
Out of the corner of his eye, Schiller noticed stains on her sleeves that looked like some kind of dark liquid. So he asked, "What job did you have in Westchester?"
"I inherited a Potion Shop from my mother." Wanda pulled her hands behind her back and tightened her belt as she spoke. "I have a small two-story house on Ribeth Street. The second floor is my bedroom and compounding room, while the first floor is the potion shop."
"Every morning, I picked or bought herbal ingredients, brewed them into all sorts of potions, and sold them in the shop. Sometimes, I also sold leftover ingredients I couldn't use up."
"Jarvis was an apprentice at the blacksmith's shop on that street. Later, he got into some mechanical academy and became an engineer after graduating. I learned from the neighbors that we'd been married for two years, but hadn't had children yet."
Schiller and Strange asked for another three patients. Just as he had expected, their illnesses all involved extensive procedures and were especially troublesome to deal with. Wood was obviously making things difficult for them on purpose.
But that was exactly what Schiller and Strange wanted. The two professional doctors feared nothing more than endless practical exercises. Strange's movements were entirely muscle memory. While treating the patients' wounds, they could still chat and ponder the game's setting.
"So you know how to make potions?"
"Yes, I'm quite good at making potions. My shop sells very well, and sometimes