Chapter 17
Samuel… Finnigan steps into the small examination-area at the back of ‘his’ residence, and finds his eyes immediately drawn towards the plants rimming the top of the glass-topped room. Calendula, used for burns, dry-skin, rashes. Echinacea, ingested to boost the auto-immune system. Elecampane, used to treat colds and cough, sometimes to treat digestive issues. Skullcap, rather bitter, used for cramps, headaches, and insomnia. Valerian, another insomnia and pain-suppressant. ‘Toothache’ plant, actually used to help banish colds and… wait…
Knitting his brows together in confusion, he trails his gaze over the rest of the plants, then lets out a heavy sigh as he shuts the door behind him. He knew each of these medicinal plants and herbs by sight. And their uses. But he didn’t remember raising them. Nor had he seen this table… this stool… oh… what a beautiful alembic, calcinatory, and retort… ohhhh, a marble mortar and pestle. Goddess… you’d be able to make a great powder or paste with this. Holy shite! A-are… were there actually herbs and plant-stock in every one of those drawers?!
Gravitating over to the right-hand wall dominated by the hundreds of small compartments, the long-haired doctor tucks his bangs behind both ears as his eyes rapidly dart from one label to the next. Peppermint oil. Purple coneflower, whole, then powdered root of. Passion Flower, extract, powder, and resin. Sage, in… five different forms. Elderberry, dried, powdered, oiled…
“Damnit…” pulling himself away from his source of… insanity, he instead turns his attention to the desk, piled high with stacks of parchment. Taking the top-most handful from a particularly-large heap, he finds them to contain a wide variety of information. Strange diagnosis from far-away lands. A cost-analysis of imported herbs. Hand-bills from a dozen different apothecaries in foreign-named towns. A letter from a small child… rife with grammar and spelling mistakes, though conveying their heart-felt thanks at having their ‘kronkic paan’ eased. A missive from a Duke, of all things… telling ‘Finnigan O’Malley’ to report to his mansion and attend to his duties…
His duties? To a Duke? What in the Hell? Why would an all-too-rich aristocrat want to hire a back-woods herbalist? Was he that good, or was the Duke just that mad?
Dropping the pages back to the desk with a snort, he pans his gaze around the office, then heads over to the bookcase. Pulling his brows together as he reads the spines on a few of the thick volumes, his mind is instantly inundated with the knowledge held with each of the tomes. Advances in mapping the human circulatory-system, traditional uses of plants and herbs during the middle-ages, mental-illness treatments that had been absolutely and completely ridiculed out of existence, various techniques applied to crafting poultices and salves, methods used in extracting and refining numerous oils…
Allowing his head to dip down for a few moments, the wiry confidant slowly closes his eyes, and brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was probably no denying it now. This… was his home. Or, at least… maybe it was his office. He seemed to know exactly what all of these damned plants were, and how to effectively do everything from relieving the pain of burning haemorrhoids, to getting rid of mild skin-irritations, to helping deliver a bloody child!
Bringing up a glare to pan across the space, he then snorts out a breath of annoyance, and stalks out into the hall. Looking left past an open door and more hallway, then right and spying a dining-area, he clomps his way towards it, and soon shuffles to a stop as the narrow indoor-laneway opens into a spacious and cozy living-room.
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Aegis and Order: First Light
Fantasy"It’s shoulders were wide and powerful. At four metres in height, it was almost as large across as it was tall. The arms of the hulking beast hung nearly all the way to the ground, and were thick with rope-like muscles that bulged with even the sl...
