It had to be said that Victor, as the town mayor, still carried some authority. He quickly made the arrangements.
Before long, a clean door panel was carried in. Dole nodded and directed the men to lift York onto it, then place it on the table in the middle of the room so he could operate more easily. He opened his small case and took out scalpels, an alcohol lamp, and other items.
He had prepared these things in haste before coming here. He had even forged the scalpels himself, and their quality was beyond question.
The wound had festered. What he needed to do now was cut away the rotten flesh, clean the wound, disinfect it, and then prepare medicinal potions to treat it. Without potions, that leg definitely could not be saved.
Fortunately, while the village lacked everything else, it did not lack herbs. That gave him enough room to show his skills.
He sterilized the blade over the alcohol lamp, then used the sharp knife to cut away the dead skin layer by layer and clean the wound before disinfecting it with alcohol. By then, all the herbs had been brought over.
Dole had them carry the patient to where he was staying. Naturally, he could not let anyone watch him brew potions.
Though no one understood why, this was the only way to save York. With a sweep of Victor's hand, everyone sprang into action, and before long they arrived at a two-story bamboo house.
The moment Dole saw the bamboo house, one word came to mind: cold.
The place was indeed remote, and it was not far from the Domon River. Places near water were naturally colder than elsewhere.
But he could not afford to fuss over such things right now.
He had them tidy