Martin awoke and his consciousness returned to his body within the church of the small coastal town of Sler in the Sakton Empire. He had always been a promising individual, groomed by the church from a young age, and had awakened to his powers during a routine prayer at the age of sixteen. Unfortunately, according to Sakton customs, sixteen was already considered adulthood, and those who awakened as superhumans before adulthood were sent to the Imperial Theological Academy for special training.
But at the age of sixteen, Martin's test revealed pure golden power, marking him as a future regional bishop in training for Sler.
Martin wasn't sure if he should follow the detective's advice, but lacking a better plan, he decided to give it a try. Tomorrow was Monday, and it seemed like a good idea to do some good deeds in the town square. A seed of change had been planted in his heart.
Resolved to act, Martin, ever the impulsive one, set about his plan. At just over twenty years old, he was full of energy. As a future regional bishop, Martin was well-educated in religious doctrine and had learned various other subjects, including basic medical knowledge. He could prescribe remedies for everyday illnesses, and as a follower of the god of justice, about half of the awakened had healing or supportive superhuman abilities. Martin himself could actively heal necrotic tissue and dispel dark forces.
In the storeroom, Martin found a wooden board and a stick, and after a bit of hammering, he had fashioned a sign. "Free Clinic for the Poor," he wrote on a piece of white paper.
"Knock, knock, Martin, are you asleep?"
"No, come in if you need something."
The door opened, and a young man in a brown priest's robe entered. Martin recognized him as Jacob Simon, his assistant and an awakener at seventeen.
"Good evening, Mr. Martin. Here is my study report for the week," Jacob said, handing over a small notebook. While Martin reviewed it, Jacob noticed the sign he had written.
"Sir, are you planning to hold a free clinic? Perhaps the sign could use some revision?"
Martin was intrigued. "How so? What changes do you suggest?"
"Firstly, 'for the Poor' should be changed. Many people aren't born poor; some face sudden bankruptcy or a fall from grace and may need to maintain their dignity and not admit to being poor, yet they genuinely need help," Jacob made a valid point.
Martin crossed out "for the Poor" and asked, "Anything else?"
Jacob pointed to another part of the sign. "The word 'free' is also problematic. If the clinic is entirely free, everyone, sick or not, will come to check it out. It will reduce our efficiency and waste the time of those in line. Besides, your salary won't cover many such events. So, our clinic should charge a fee, let's say one copper penny. That way, it's affordable even for beggars, and we limit our treatment to everyday illnesses."
Martin took out a fresh piece of paper and wrote, "Clinic, one penny per patient." He then asked, "Anything else we should add, like emphasizing that this is my personal initiative?"
"Hmm?" Jacob seemed surprised. He had always known Martin to be a reserved man, a mid-tier superhuman at a young age, destined to be a regional bishop. Did he aspire to more than that? Of course, as Martin's assistant, Jacob hoped his mentor would rise higher, benefiting them both.
Jacob took the pen and added to the sign, "Sler Holy Church, interim bishop Martin Calvin, interim priest Jacob Simon."
Martin, taken aback, asked, "You're joining me at the clinic?"
Jacob laughed, "Mr. Martin, didn't I just refer to 'our' clinic? Ha! Although I'm just a low-tier superhuman and lack your active holy abilities, I can carry things for you, and I've also learned to set bones."
Martin, looking at his future assistant, couldn't bring himself to refuse the help. An extra pair of hands meant more people could be helped. Together, they discussed the common medications they would need to prepare.
August 11th was the day set for the clinic. Martin, carrying a medicine box and the sign, and Jacob, lugging a small table and two stools, headed to the town square.
Sler was a small town, and by morning, various vendors had set up in the square. Martin and Jacob arrived a bit late, and the prime spots were already taken. They set up under a banyan tree, erecting their sign.
Although many passersby noticed the two clergymen setting up shop, few dared to approach. Martin sat for over half an hour, wondering if his first free clinic would end in failure. Then, a timid voice reached him.
"Excuse me, sirs, is it true that any illness can be treated for just one copper penny?"
Finally, a visitor. Martin quickly replied, "Yes, if there's no effect, you can come back next Monday, and I'll refund your penny." Only then did he notice the first client was a little girl, about seven or eight years old, frail as if a gust of wind could blow her away. Her clothes were clean but washed white, and her trousers sported several patches.
"Really, sirs? Please don't leave; I'll be right back!"
She dashed off, leaving Martin stunned. Had his only patient for the morning just run away? Soon, the girl returned, dragging a slightly taller boy with her. The boy was coughing, his face pale.
"Sir, please look at my brother."
A cold? Martin's first thought was a diagnosis. Jacob hurriedly gave up his stool, and the boy weakly sat down, looking like he might collapse at any moment.
Martin took out a thermometer, a cylindrical glass device with a small bulb, filled with kerosene and alcohol mixed with a red dye. After wiping it with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab, he handed it to the boy.
"Clamp it under your armpit for three minutes. Don't drop it; it's not cheap." The boy nodded, clamping it with the last of his strength. Martin began rummaging through his medicine box for cough syrup and cold medicine, sure to be needed.
"Wow, Mr. Martin, his temperature is 39 degrees, nearly 3 degrees above normal," Jacob announced after checking the thermometer.
"How did it get so severe? Besides coughing and fever, do you have any other symptoms?" Martin asked.
"No, just a very dry mouth," the boy answered honestly.
"Go home and drink plenty of water, preferably boiled. How did it get this bad? How many days has it been?"
"Four days. I got caught in the rain while helping my father. It's gotten worse since then."
Martin was taken aback, not by the boy's work but by the fact that he had been sick for four days without seeing a doctor.
"Didn't your parents take you to a doctor?"
The boy gave a bitter smile. "No, they said it was just a minor illness and that it would go away in a couple of days."