The Envoy of Abundance from Onphalus

The journey itself went more smoothly than Russell had anticipated.

However, the scenery along the way completely shattered any sense of ease he felt.

……

Chapter Six Re-fix

Amber Seed Medicine Scroll: Chapter Seven: Aidiria

The scene before us was far more than just a snow-covered wasteland and a few withered trees.

If that were all, it would be far from enough to shake Bertrand Russell, who lived for over two hundred years.

What truly shocked him were the shallow pits dug by hand in the snow.

Lying in the pit were peaceful corpses, as if they were merely sleeping. They had voluntarily chosen to be buried here.

For them, death was not the end, but the long-awaited destination.

These snow pits are still very new; the wind and snow have not completely erased the traces, sealing the dead in eternal pure white.

Russell glanced at them and, based on his two hundred years of experience, judged that many of the people in the pit did not suffer from terminal illnesses. Some ailments could even be cured by ordinary doctors.

But they clearly had no attachment to life, yet longed for death. The difficulty of practicing medicine here is unimaginable.

In the distance, more newly piled snow graves resembled pale scars on the earth. Russell's heart was as heavy as lead.

These people could have lived, but they chose to end it all. He desperately needed an answer to unravel the question that had plagued him for years.

Why are there always some patients who, despite being able to be cured, calmly refuse treatment, smiling and saying, "I've lived enough, no need to trouble the doctor"?

With this heavy heart, Russell arrived at the tightly closed gates of Aria.

The snow in front of the gate had been cleared away, and a few makeshift torches flickered in the cold wind, providing a faint light. There was no one in front of the city gate; not even a guard could be seen.

Perhaps a grand celebration is taking place in the city? Many city-states have the custom of keeping their gates closed during festivals.

Russell thought to himself that he had come at an inopportune time. But the snow outside the city was far less sheltering than inside. He raised his hand and gently knocked on the heavy city gate.

After a long wait, the door slowly opened a crack. A pale and tired face peeked out, belonging to a robust but listless guard.

He warily eyed the stranger outside the door, who was draped in a heavy fur cloak. Those pale blue eyes held a strange hope for life, even… a hint of pity? This was completely different from the deathly stillness and numbness that permeated the Aedrians.

“Stranger,” the guard’s voice was weak and heavy with weariness, “what brings you to Aedria? If it is not urgent, please return. A funeral is being held today, and we do not receive outsiders.”

“I am Russell,” the doctor outside the door said calmly, with his usual gentle smile. “I have come here for treatment. Please open the door.”

The guard seemed frozen in thought, remaining silent for a moment before suddenly gasping for breath: "Hiss... You? You are that... Doctor Amber?"

Russell nodded in confirmation. A faint sense of relief swept through him. Two hundred years had passed, and many had forgotten the name "Russell," remembering only the title "The Amber Physician."

"Please wait a moment!" The guard recognized him, his tone unusually excited, but still showing signs of exhaustion. "Open the door right away!"

He turned and called to his companion, and the heavy city gate, with the combined effort of the two, slowly opened with a screeching sound.

Russell stepped into this city-state, imprisoned by wind and snow. Like Ohma, it was built on a mountainside, which was not unusual in Onphalus.

But the scene before them was a far cry from that of Dawn City: dilapidated, shabby, and lifeless. The buildings were low and crowded, and the entire city-state probably had only two or three hundred thousand inhabitants.

Decay and ruin are everywhere, silently telling the story of the pain of life and the solace of death.

The Audreys firmly believe that suffering in life leads to happiness in death, so why cling to this earthly existence that cannot be taken with you?

Normally, such a passive city-state would have been swallowed up by neighboring states or had perished on its own. But the Aedrians regarded the battlefield as a shortcut to the River Styx, and as the highest honor.

This allowed this far northern snow country, with a population of less than 500,000, to be ranked among the six major city-states.

In Russell's view, their fighting spirit even surpassed that of the Suspended Man—one fought to enjoy conflict, the other to embrace death.

The streets were deserted and desolate, with only a few hunched and withered old men, wrapped in thin linen like martyrs, slowly and laboriously moving towards the city center.

The wind and frost have bent their backs, etched their faces, and worn away their last bit of spirit.

Russell glanced at them and knew immediately that they were already a dying candle in the wind, and even the most skilled doctors could not save them.

They were on their way to what the guards had described as a funeral—the most solemn ceremony in Aedria.

Only those with outstanding achievements or advanced age and virtue are qualified to safely enter the River Styx under the guidance of the Holy Maiden of War, thus escaping the suffering of the mortal world.

Bertrand Russell abhorred such “festivals.” He came to confront death, not to witness the sacrifice of life.

This was immense torment for the healer. He turned and chose to travel alone through the city-state.

Some of the faces that were once boys and girls have now turned into aged features. The moment they recognized Russell, a rare ripple appeared on their numb faces, and a vivid expression emerged.

They eagerly called to him, rummaging through their homes for the little food they had left, or for the herbs they had collected over the years during the "Amber Month" in April, determined to give them to the kind doctor to repay his past life-saving kindness.

Russell also chatted for a while with a few old acquaintances who left a deep impression on him. In the cemetery-like silence of the city, a few brief laughs could be heard.

But behind that laughter, Russell felt an even deeper bitterness. Those young people who once harbored dreams, were full of vigor, and yearned to change their homeland, had now had their backs broken by the hardships of life.

They ultimately became the very thing they hated most in their youth. Perhaps in a few years, they too will become the protagonists of a funeral.

Aedria was small. Even with the delays caused by conversations with old friends, Russell quickly explored the snow-covered city-state.

As snowflakes fell, his thoughts drifted along with them. The medical kit at his waist swelled again, filled with herbs given to him by people.

As for the food, he declined it all. He knew all too well that in this snowy land, every bite of food carried the hope of survival. If he took it away, these people would probably immediately embark on their journey to their funerals.

The atmosphere in the city-state was oppressive and suffocating. When Ophia set foot here, did she also feel the same cold despair?

Bertrand Russell believed so. A century hadn't changed much. Each exhale of white breath felt like a confirmation that he was still breathing.

After much wandering, Russell arrived at the largest cemetery in Audrey—a sacred place where the living bid farewell to the dead.

The buildings here are solemn and dignified, with exquisite craftsmanship, forming a stark contrast with the simplicity of the outer city.

The iron railings on the fence are decorated with intricate and exquisite imagery of death, representing the pinnacle of death art.

Russell identified himself and explained his purpose to the guards. Unexpectedly, the guards did not stop him, but instead respectfully invited him inside.

In the eyes of the Audreys, Bertrand Russell, who lived for two hundred years yet remained youthful, was a fearless warrior who resisted the temptation of death.

They knew they could hardly withstand fifty years. This perseverance earned them their awe. Although Bertrand Russell always advised against succumbing to death, this did not prevent them from admiring this benevolent physician who had practiced medicine for two hundred years.

If anyone else were to enter the sacred cemetery, the guards would already be ready to fight. But Amber the Physician enjoys this privilege. Even more so—if any city-state dares to harm him, it could trigger a war that sweeps across Onphalus.

The prestige and favors he has accumulated over two centuries are immeasurable. If he so desires, he can hold a high position in any city-state.

Unfortunately, the power struggles were far less appealing to this benevolent doctor than saving lives.

Russell stepped into the cemetery. As far as the eye could see, the hillsides were filled with neatly arranged, polished tombstones, a stark contrast to the desolation of the city.

The ground was spotless, without a single snowflake, clearly indicating that someone had meticulously maintained it.

The entire cemetery was solemn and clean, except for the "tap-tap" sound of the bluestone slabs under Russell's feet, which was particularly clear in the deathly silence, as if beating the heart of the living.

Tens of thousands of tombstones stand silently, like a square formation of soldiers ready for battle. Beneath each cold stone lies a vibrant life.

As doctors, this situation is all the more somber: if they were alive, would they be able to realize their dreams? No one could answer that, not even Bertrand Russell himself.

He walked for a long time, and the scene before him was monotonous and repetitive: tombstones, tombstones, and more tombstones.

Occasionally, the graves are adorned with the pale flowers characteristic of Adriaticia, adding to the desolate atmosphere. In this almost frozen silence, a strange color appears ahead.

A woman wearing an exquisite light purple cloak knelt quietly in front of a tombstone.

She was dressed in a deep purple robe, her hands clasped together, her eyes lowered, silently reciting something as if she were conducting a private prayer.

……

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Amber Benevolence Medical Scroll: Chapter Eight - The Holy Maiden Overseeing the Battle

Russell's footsteps were exceptionally clear in the empty cemetery, the crisp sound of his footsteps echoing on the bluestone slabs. The girl couldn't possibly have missed such a sound.

She looked in the direction of the sound and saw a figure wrapped tightly in a thick leather cloak approaching her.

“Your Excellency…” The girl stopped praying and slowly rose to face Russell. “Please do not come any closer. This is not a warning, but my personal request.”

Although Russell didn't understand why, he still stopped as instructed. His pale blue eyes carefully examined the girl whose full appearance he hadn't been able to see earlier due to the angle.

He was very curious about the identity of the girl who was praying alone for the dead in this solemn cemetery.

His gaze swept over the object, and the answer almost immediately came to mind.

Beneath the purple cloak was a beautiful face, and a pair of signature elf ears added a touch of liveliness.

Her long violet hair, paired with the deep black headdress unique to Audrey, made her resemble a violet blooming tenaciously in this snow-covered country.

Her gown was magnificent and solemn, embroidered with flowers and butterflies common in Adriatic—clothing worn only by those of high status on important occasions.

Such elaborate attire, especially in this cemetery, is almost exclusively reserved for one type of person: the officiant at a funeral. This is reminiscent of the ancient customs of Aedria, where each funeral is jointly presided over by the overseer saint and elders…

Russell understood. He had seen those elders; in the grand events between the city-states, they were only slightly more upright than the other elderly Aedes, their faces equally etched with the marks of time and age.

As for the common people of Aria, most of them only sought to cover their bodies and keep warm, wrapping themselves in tattered linen.

The entire city was permeated with an atmosphere of near-despair and despair; people's eyes were vacant, as if their lives had long been frozen by the cold.

However, the girl before him was different. Deep in her eyes shone a light that Russell had not seen in Aria for so long—a light called hope.

On this desolate frozen land, this light appears so precious and dazzling.

"Your Excellency, have we... met somewhere before?" Facing Russell's gaze, Xia Die took three steps back without making a sound and asked softly.

She looked at the mysterious person in front of her, whose face was half covered by a hood, and was equally curious.

“No,” Russell withdrew his scrutinizing gaze and shook his head, “I just saw something in you that is rarely seen in the Audreys, so I took the liberty of coming over to say hello.”

"Your Excellency, may I ask... what are you referring to?" Xia Die always maintained a polite smile, a smile that seemed to carry a hint of warmth, capable of slightly dispelling the surrounding chill.

“A light called hope.” Russell exhaled a puff of white breath and smiled. “Perhaps you can bring this light to others.”

The air fell silent instantly, and even the snowflakes whipped up by the wind seemed to freeze at that moment.

“Thank you for your praise, Your Excellency.” A hint of joy flashed in Xia Die’s eyes, and the tips of her elf ears twitched almost imperceptibly.

But soon, a heavy emotion overwhelmed this joy, and she sighed softly, "But... can someone like me really have hope, or even bring hope to others?"

"Of course. Nothing is impossible in this world." Russell nodded affirmatively.

"Thank you, sir. Oh, right!" Xia Die suddenly remembered something, and a hint of apology appeared on her face. "I'm so sorry, I neglected my manners and haven't asked your name yet."

Russell raised his hand and gently lifted his hood, revealing silver hair and his signature light blue eyes.

He smiled and said, “Russell. It’s a pleasure to meet you. If you’re not familiar with this name, you must have heard of the name ‘Amber Doctor,’ right? That’s me.”

"Ah! It's Senior Physician Amber!" Xia Die's voice was filled with shock, and her eyes were almost overflowing with joy. "I was so rude just now."

Anyone who hears the name of this living history walking on the continent of Onpharos is bound to be shocked.

Russell was already used to this kind of reaction. Since a hundred years ago, he has no longer been just an individual named Russell, but has become a walking historical symbol.

The annals of each city-state record Amber Physician: silver hair, pale blue eyes, he looks like a young man, but is over two hundred years old.

His eyes were indescribable, a mixture of a healer's compassion and a gentle acceptance of all things. All accounts describe him as kind and gentle, always able to relieve the suffering of his patients.

“It’s alright. I’m just a doctor traveling on this continent.” Russell rubbed his hands, which were red from the cold, and breathed on them to warm them. “However, I haven’t asked your name yet, Miss Overseer Saintess.”

"S-Senior, my name is Xia Die..." She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. She had never met this legendary doctor in all these centuries, and yet he had directly identified her? "May I ask how you..."

“That’s not hard to guess.” Russell’s eyes held a hint of reminiscence. “I’ve met quite a few people from Aria. They say their war goddess always wears a magnificent violet dress.” He sighed softly.

Just then, fine snowflakes began to fall, fluttering down and adding a tranquil backdrop to the solemn cemetery and the two people's conversation.

"So that's how it is, senior." Xia Die smiled happily. The Amber Benevolent Doctor was a legend she had heard since she was a child.

From Stikosia to Aria, the songs of bards and composers always included verses about this benevolent healer. She held him in deep adoration.

Because, in stark contrast to her own ability to bring death, this doctor has helped countless people refuse death and be reborn over the course of more than two hundred years.

How she longed to have that power—to give life, not to take it away.

"I've heard that the Holy Maiden of Aidiria has the power to bring death. Is that true?" Russell's voice was filled with pure curiosity.

Whether through hearsay or descriptions in Ophina's letters, this saint with peculiar abilities was mentioned. This power to directly inflict death sparked his intense interest in exploring its principles.

This yearning for the unknown is probably a "scholar's disease" he contracted twenty-five years ago when he traveled to Onphalus with Ceres. I wonder if that acerbic teacher has been pieced together and restored by Meneta...

Xia Die's earlobes drooped slightly, and her mood suddenly became heavy. "Senior, it's true... but taking a life was not my intention..." She fell silent and did not continue.

After a while, she seemed to remember something, and her soft voice broke the silence: "Senior, I... have another question I'd like to ask you."