Aspirin: The Youth Edition

"Oh, my precious darling!" After Queen Mary accepted Joseph's salute, she pulled him tightly into her arms. "I thought of you day and night."

"Were you hurt?"

"Look how thin you've become!"

"From now on, you must take a chef whenever you go out..."

Louis XVI also moved closer, but looking at the dense black mass of people around them, he could not force out a single word. He merely gave his son an encouraging look.

"Come inside quickly. It's cold out here." The Queen dragged Joseph into Versailles Palace. Glancing back at the dazzling array of young beauties behind them, she turned and whispered into her son's ear, "Joseph, you're old enough to be engaged now. Which country's princess do you like? The Spanish Princess? Or Savoy..."

Joseph immediately found himself caught between laughter and tears. An engagement? His scrawny body had only just entered puberty. Please, don't put him through this.

He hurriedly turned to Louis XVI and changed the subject. "Father, your Salamander Fountain..."

Louis XVI swept his gaze over the people around them and answered a different question. "Joseph, choose a girl you like. Even if she isn't a princess, I'll support you!"

Queen Mary cast him a helpless glance, then took her son's arm. "Darling, I've even prepared a grand ball for you..."

She suddenly froze. "Why is your hand so hot?" She reached for his forehead. "God, you have a fever!"

She turned and called to the maid, De Berninac. "Quickly! Go fetch Dr. Lamark!"

"Your Majesty, Dr. Lamark went to Paris this morning."

"Then get Dr. Lasenne, quickly!" Queen Mary kissed her son's burning forehead, so anxious that tears fell from her eyes. "From now on, you must take a doctor whenever you go out."

Warmth welled up in Joseph's heart. He hurriedly comforted her. "It's only a slight fever. I'm fine..." Yet as he spoke, a fit of coughing seized him.

"And you still say you're fine? You're seriously ill! Go rest at once and let the doctor examine you properly."

When the girls around them heard that the Crown Prince was ill, they immediately crowded around him in alarm, practically carrying him to his bedchamber alongside the Queen.

Once Joseph lay down on the velvet-covered bed, the Queen looked resentfully at Louis XVI again. Her gaze seemed to say: Look at you. If you had even half the ability of the Sun King, your son would not have had to run himself ragged for the country like this.

Before long, a short, middle-aged doctor rushed into the room, panting. Urged on by the Queen, he took Joseph's temperature and examined him, then bowed to Louis XVI and the Queen. "Your Majesties, the Crown Prince's pneumonia has worsened. He has a fever—37.9 degrees. I believe bloodletting must be performed immediately."

"Very well. Please be quick."

Joseph's face nearly turned black at those words. Bloodletting? With his little body, was the doctor trying to make him arrive at death's door even faster?

Of course, he did not blame the doctor. Medicine in this era was practically barbers playing at Alchemy, and bloodletting was a common treatment. A few years later, Washington, the leader of the United States, would be bled to death.

He immediately pretended to be uncomfortable and in need of quiet, sending away the visiting nobles along with the King and Queen.

As soon as the bedchamber door closed, he rolled out of bed and said to Dr. Lasenne, "No bloodletting! No matter how ill I am in the future, never, ever let me be bled."

"Your Highness, that won't do!"

Joseph tried to persuade him again and again. Seeing that the doctor refused to yield, he helplessly drew the Persian Scimitar Mono had given him from the table and said in a low voice, "I don't want to repeat myself. No bloodletting. Understand?"

Cold light gleamed from the blade. Lasenne's pupils contracted as he instantly recalled the Crown Prince's fearsome reputation—chasing someone across more than half of Paris and personally capturing the Police Commissioner. Leading ninety guards in a bloody battle against several hundred gang members, then wiping out every last villain!

Yes, after the tale had passed through countless hands, it had become exactly that.

Lasenne swallowed and nodded frantically. "I shall obey your orders."

Then he cautiously added, "But... you still have a fever..."

Joseph also felt a wave of dizziness and exhaustion. If only I had Penicillin. It's a weapon against pneumonia, but it isn't something that can be made so easily.

What fever-reducing medicine could be made in a short time?

He suddenly remembered a documentary he had once watched about Aspirin. It had described a method for extracting Salicin—a substance that was practically Aspirin's youth edition.

Fortunately, his memory was good, and he still remembered the main process. Although Salicin had only a small anti-inflammatory effect, it was excellent at reducing fever. More importantly, it was simple to produce and could be made within half a day.

He immediately looked at Lasenne. "May I ask, are you familiar with extracting medicines?"

The latter immediately showed a confident expression. "Yes, Your Highness. I even taught it at university."

"Excellent." Joseph immediately took out pen and paper and wrote down the process for preparing Salicin, then explained in detail. "Crush and dry willow bark, add a small amount of quicklime, then soak it in Alcohol for an hour and a half in an alkaline environment. Boil it, filter it, evaporate and concentrate it... Adjust the extract to alkaline conditions, soak it again, repeat... until crystals precipitate."

"That is roughly it. How long do you think it will take?"

Lasenne's eyes widened enormously. The professional knowledge displayed in the Crown Prince's words was absolutely no less than his own! The Child of Divine Grace truly lived up to his name!

He discussed the preparation process with Joseph in detail, making sure nothing had been missed, before pondering aloud, "The Royal Alchemy Laboratory has everything required. If all goes smoothly, it can be finished before four this afternoon."

"Your Highness, forgive my boldness, but I've never heard of this medicine. Are you certain there won't be a problem...?"

"I'm certain!" Joseph nodded. "Just go make it. Also, do not tell my parents that I was not bled."

"This... very well, Your Highness."

After all that exertion, combined with his fever, Joseph soon fell into a deep sleep.

He did not know how long had passed when, in his haze, he felt a soft, silky hand touching his forehead. He struggled to open his eyes and saw pale green eyes, clear as lake water, and an elegant nose.

Joseph shifted backward, finally seeing clearly that she was a girl of seventeen or eighteen. Her lips were painted with a yellowish-brown substance, she wore a heavy white wig, a dark green men's hunting outfit, and black trousers, like a mischievous little girl who had secretly put on her father's clothes.

"Your Highness, I'm sorry for waking you." The girl bowed, then turned and said, "Dr. Lamark, His Highness's fever is severe."

A middle-aged man with upturned hair, a plain light-gray long coat, a gaunt face, a prominent nose bridge, and pale green eyes approached. He gestured and said, "Perna, please help His Highness take his temperature."

"Yes, Doctor."

Dr. Lamark saluted Joseph, then pulled up the sleeves on both of his arms one after another to inspect them. Frowning, he said, "Your Highness, Lasenne told me that you had already been bled, but clearly, he did not tell the truth."

Joseph sat up, feeling terribly dizzy. Perna supported him with one hand and said softly, "Your Highness, please open your mouth. Whatever you do, don't bite down."

In his daze, Joseph opened his mouth, and a thick Glass Thermometer was shoved into it.

More than ten minutes later, Perna removed the Thermometer and looked worriedly at Dr. Lamark. "Doctor, 38.6 degrees."