The truth was more or less as they had guessed. The scars left on Dunling University's Medical School by the fire had not healed over the past few months. Instead, they showed signs of infection and suppuration, refusing to heal.
After escorting the visiting delegation to the banquet hall, Professor Samuel exchanged pleasantries with the professors and lecturers for a while, then used his busy schedule as an excuse to leave. Even Kraft, the key representative of the Surgical Society for the technical exchange, received little additional attention.
He offered a token compliment on the new academic society's fruitful achievements and its young, promising members. His wandering gaze from time to time made it clear that there were more worthwhile things to devote his time to than polite conversation.
"Given that you've only just arrived in Dunling and must be tired from your journey, we'll make sure to leave plenty of time for rest in the coming days," he explained.
[We didn't have time to arrange anything.]
"We welcome you to exchange ideas freely and discuss academic questions, especially in internal medicine, the properties of drugs, and pathological research. But please be sure to stay within the bounds of research methods that won't cause controversy."
[That doesn't include surgery, anyway.]
In short, they hadn't planned an itinerary, and with the Inquisition inspecting the place every other day, everyone had to keep a low profile. Anything in certain gray areas was off the table.
After hearing this, Professor Linden was the first to clear his throat and cut in, signaling that he wanted to speak. "I have a question, and it's rather important. Your answer may determine our society's plans for quite some time to come."
"Go ahead."
"It's been years since I last visited Dunling. Are the same few places