Prodigy of the Ages
Fatah led the co-emperor and the others into his private laboratory. Unlike the more spacious laboratories belonging to the other alchemists, Fatah's workspace was modestly confined.
Yet, within its space, it exhibited an exceptional level of organization. His bookshelves were meticulously arranged with books and scrolls.
The tables that held various apparatuses were as pristine as a polished gem, a testament to the young alchemist's penchant for cleanliness and hygiene.
The entire workspace sparkled with spotlessness.
And not only that, in the far corner of the room, a neatly folded wooden bed were laid bare.
It seems like this room were in fact a workplace, and also the young alchemist's bedroom, simultaneously.
It was a surprising sight considering the laboratory was concealed within a hidden dungeon.
Not a speck of dust could be found, and the pungent chemical odors that had initially stung their noses had vanished.
The transformation in the room's ambiance didn't go unnoticed by John and his companions, who couldn't help but appreciate the effort that had gone into maintaining this remarkable cleanliness.
In that moment, John's impression of the young alchemist improved ever so slightly. However, his judgment remained cautious.
The authenticity of Fatah's claims still needed confirmation.
While Fatah was brimming with excitement to showcase his discovery, his measured demeanor betrayed his own cautiousness.
On the other hand, Ibrahim and the other alchemists maintained their skepticism, despite not outwardly displaying it.
They found it challenging to accept such an incredible claim from a relatively inexperienced alchemist like Fatah. In their eyes, he might have been perceived as 'deluded,' even as he stood before them with unwavering conviction.
The fellow alchemists accompanying them also held to their derisive skepticism, ridiculing the young man for what they perceived as his 'delusion.'
John, on the other hand, remained silent.
His thoughts stayed on Anna who still lay unconscious from her physical and spiritual battle with the disease not too long ago.
She remained in a comatose state, with no certainty of when she might regain her consciousness.
Though he held no extravagant expectations for the young apprentice, he clung to the hope that a cure would be developed, regardless of the hands that crafted it.
"Welcome to my humble abode, Your Highness and distinguished gentlemen," Fatah greeted the entourage with grace.
While some among them were clearly impressed, a few couldn't help but snicker with annoyance, and others remained stoically expressionless.
Fatah, noticing the mixed reactions, cleared his throat in mild embarrassment.
"Could you please present your 'cure' now?" John inquired with an expectant expression, his arms neatly concealed beneath the cape he was wearing.
The young man nodded and said, "Of course, Your Highness."
With confidence, he guided the co-emperor to a solitary desk, set apart from the other tables.
On this desk, an array of clear vials filled with liquid were meticulously arranged on a tube rack, with an additional vial held in place by a burette stand.
He then motioned for the co-emperor to take a seat and wait for a moment while he gathered a stack of papers.
Afterward, he handed the documents to the co-emperor.
"These documents consist of the 'cure' itself and the accompanying reports detailing the process of its creation. The reports encompass the procedures, stages, pre-affliction improvements, and the conclusion.
"However..." Fatah emphasized,
"As I mentioned earlier, the only subject who has undergone the treatment is myself. Consequently, I lacked any other trustworthy results to validate the cure's effectiveness. That is..."
Upon hearing this, John turned to Ibrahim, instructing him to review and authenticate the report.
Simultaneously, he asked Ibrahim to provide a translation of its contents for the co-emperor's comprehension, as the document was entirely written in Arabic script.
Reluctantly, Ibrahim meticulously read the entire document, leaving no word unexamined, while John and the others present listened with rapt attention, their focus unwavering.
As the report details were read to its conclusion, apart from John, the others, notably the alchemists in the unassuming laboratory, found themselves in a state of complete confusion, bewilderment, and, in some cases, even anger.
"What kind of nonsense is this? Moldy bread? Are you trying to infect someone with diseases?" remarked one of the Greek alchemists.
His sentiments were quickly echoed by another.
"If moldy bread can cure the plague, then we should have eradicated it long ago, considering practically everyone has consumed it at some point."
A growing murmur of disbelief permeated the room.
However, Demetrius silenced the condescending alchemists with a commanding bellow, directing his deferential nod of acknowledgment towards John, who acknowledged the young commander's intervention with gratitude.
"Sir Fatah, what led you to believe that moldy bread held the key to combating the plague?"
All eyes converged on the young alchemist as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. However, he held his composure, steeling himself against the mounting pressure in the room.
"Because it sparked my curiosity,"
Fatah responded briefly.
Before the room could erupt into another cacophony of disapproval, John raised his hand, effectively quelling the impending outburst from the alchemists.
"What specifically piqued your 'curiosity'?" John inquired, his piercing brown eyes fixed unwaveringly on the young man's face.
As if being pinned under the co-emperor's intense gaze, Fatah hesitated for a moment before a reassuring hand landed on his left shoulder. It was Ibrahim who offered his support.
"Go on, don't keep His Highness waiting."
Fatah took a deep breath, summoning his courage, and then continued to address John.
"Despite the countless deaths attributed to the plague, I couldn't ignore a lingering suspicion."
"As the historical records of the plague indicated, over centuries of outbreaks, there were details that remained somewhat unclear and inconclusive."
"And what would those be?" John inquired, his interest piqued.
"The slum dwellers," Fatah responded.
John raised an intrigued eyebrow, encouraging Fatah to continue.
"Yes, Your Highness. Scholars, historians, and physicians have engaged in ongoing debates regarding the mortality rate among those afflicted by the disease," Fatah began.
"For example, it was observed that the death toll among ordinary citizens exceeded that of those who lived in the slums," he continued.
"Please don't misunderstand me; slums were often considered the most contagious areas, and people generally avoided them. However, in certain cases, physicians made a remarkable discovery: some slum dwellers were miraculously cured of the disease," Fatah explained.
"When questioned about the reasons behind their recovery, these slum dwellers consistently mentioned one factor: 'bread from the shops and stalls,'" Fatah added.
"Of course, there were other details, but it was mostly attributed to the divine, or that it was so incredible it seemed nonsensical," he continued.
"What intrigued me the most was, in fact, the bread," Fatah said.
"How did the slum dwellers acquire food when they were unable to buy it? Were they stealing it, or was it discarded and beginning to mold, or was it already moldy?" Fatah pondered.
He then revealed, "When I mentioned contracting the disease in the slum near the port, my mentor's disapproval wasn't the only reason I went there that day."
John's eyes sparked brilliantly with interest. However, the other alchemists remained skeptical.
"Then what did you find?" John prompted.
"Contrary to what others believed, the slum dwellers consistently contracted diseases, especially the Black Plague. Though it hadn't spread to the citizens as of yet, or that it spread sporadically over time, the slums were plagued by it," Fatah stated.
Fatah's eyes held a melancholic reflection of what he had witnessed in the slums.
John fell into contemplation, acknowledging the enduring existence of slums in even the most prosperous cities throughout history.
Despite his unwavering dedication to enhancing the living conditions of the people, this issue appeared insurmountable.
Slums were an unfortunate byproduct of urban growth and affluence, afflicting not only his own city but countless others as well.
As cities expanded, some areas inevitably received insufficient attention from the authorities.
Maintaining systematic development became increasingly complex, resulting in disparities in sanitation and housing standards.
These neglected areas eventually transformed into slums, providing shelter for the underprivileged and marginalized, giving rise to unauthorized housing and the emergence of forbidden districts.
John had invested considerable effort in addressing this dilemma, yet he had also come to terms with the futility of such endeavors as the city continued its evolution.
Despite his sincere intentions, slums persisted as a stark reminder of the persistent societal inequalities and the complexities of urban growth.
It was a regrettable truth that, in the course of ambitious development, squalid conditions sometimes emerged.
John, however, had reconciled himself with this unfortunate reality long ago.
"Then... what made you so confident that 'moldy bread' held the solution?"
John continued to question the young alchemist, adopting the demeanor of an interviewer inquiring into the qualifications of a potential recruit.
Fatah's explanation followed, his words tinged with an air of uncertainty.
"Well... I encountered a group of children who had already fallen victim to the plague, their fate seemingly sealed. With nothing more than a piece of moldy bread in my possession—a far cry from any intended means for human experimentation—I had no choice but to offer them what I had. I lacked the resources to procure fresher provisions at that moment."
He hesitated and cleared his throat before continuing,
"I began visiting them regularly, and to my amazement, instead of succumbing to the disease, their condition improved, leaving me thoroughly perplexed. This prompted me to continue my observations on the children... by... providing them with more moldy bread..."
His voice grew more confident as he recounted the miraculous recovery,
"To the point of almost complete recovery, the children were fine... up to this moment, they remain miraculously cured."
His eyes lit up with sudden passion,
"At that moment, an epiphany struck me: moldy bread! I embarked on a series of experiments to understand that it was, in fact, the mold within the bread that caused the dramatic improvement."
Fatah then connected his findings to the co-emperor's theory on the plague's origins and properties.
"Drawing from the theory provided to senior alchemists, which included 'Yersinia pestis'—the rat fleas as the plague's origin, if I recall correctly—I began studying the information found in the book given to my master which I 'accidentally' read."
His tone took on a more serious note,
"Using samples that I 'acquired' from my fellow senior alchemists, I meticulously studied and experimented with the cure I developed... It's worth noting that my own recovery was not the result of the cure, but rather the experimental treatment of the fleas themselves."
With Fatah's revelation about 'borrowing' samples from his senior colleagues, the room erupted into a storm of outrage and anger.
Accusations of thievery and deception were flung at him, and even Ibrahim, who stood in stunned silence, bore the brunt of their fury at the revelation of his apprentice's actions.
"Thief! No wonder why some of my samples went missing! It was you, thieving brat!"
"Then everything was a scam then! Moldy bread? Why don't I stuffed it into your mouth instead! Huh! And see if you are 'cured' then!"
"Ibrahim! Is that how you educate your apprentice? By thieving and lying? Your highness! Allow me to kill this bastard myself!"
John sighed, marveling at the audacity and intelligence of the young alchemist, Fatah. Not only had Fatah deceived his master and senior colleagues, but he had also managed to mislead John himself.
"Silence!" John's voice rang out angrily, silencing the complaining alchemists, who visibly recoiled.
"Sir Fatah, what makes you believe that I can trust you or this 'cure' of yours? You've admitted you haven't tested its effectiveness. How can you be certain that the contents of that vial can cure the plague? Explain in detail, or should I consider punishment for deceit?"
John's tone was cold and unforgiving, and it sent shivers down everyone's spines. His companions, too, remained as silent as ever.
Fatah, however, bore the full brunt of John's icy demeanor. Despite the intimidating atmosphere, he summoned his conviction and confidence.
"I would stake my life on it," he replied boldly.
What remained hidden from everyone was that John's heart danced with secret delight.
Not only had the young alchemist demonstrated a profound grasp of the necessary properties to combat the plague, but he also possessed unwavering confidence in his discovery.
Within this olive-skinned alchemist, John discerned the rare qualities of determination, willpower, and unshakable honesty.
And so, in a twist of fate, the first iteration of antibiotic was brought into existence, a groundbreaking discovery occurring four centuries ahead of its anticipated time, all thanks to an unexpected chemist, Fatah al-Aamin ibn Abu Dawud.
John was the sole individual who truly comprehended the hidden intricacies of this momentous medical breakthrough.
He was equipped with the knowledge and resources to realize this potential, yet his expertise was insufficient to bring the medicine to life.
As a result, John found himself unable to provide relief to those suffering from the plague, especially Anna, the love he had recently discovered.
Instead, he resorted to documenting his theoretical hypotheses regarding the origins of the plague based on the knowledge he had accumulated from his past life.
Regrettably, he was unable to offer the precise formula for the cure due to the pseudoscientific nature of alchemy of the time, which forced him to treat it as a theoretical concept instead.
Through this experience, John came to realize the extent of his newfound limitations, which became evident as he continued his second life.
He understood that applying his knowledge practically required both talent and effort, rather than one or the other.
Additionally, he had uncovered his vulnerability, as he had not yet discovered that the key to the cure lay in common mold found on bread, a substance far more accessible than other alternatives.
In this revelation, John acknowledged that there was still much more about himself to uncover.
With a smile, a stark contrast to the icy demeanor he had displayed earlier, although it was fleeting, John made a surprising declaration that left everyone in the room shocked and bewildered.
"Sir Fatah al-Aamin ibn Abu Dawd, I hereby appoint you as my personal alchemist."
The appointment left the alchemists and John's companions, including Pavlos, Nikos, Demetrius, and the ever-curious Ivar, puzzled and seeking an explanation.
"Why?" questioned one of the alchemists, baffled by the co-emperor's decision.
"For discovering the cure, and for the remarkable achievements of this young man," John responded plainly, without delving into further details, as he knew they wouldn't comprehend even if he tried to explain.
Turning his attention to the still-stunned young alchemist, he urged, "What are you waiting for, Sir Fatah?"
Fatah, his eyes wide and mouth agape, stood in a state of bewilderment, lost for words in the wake of this unexpected turn of events.