Having shed some light on the disaster that befell the College of Alchemists that year, I think I can move on to another topic.
It was during this period of my life that I learned more about the repugnant race of ratmen or ratfolks than I would have wished or considered advisable. Even possession of such knowledge as I did would have been considered by the prosecutors of the Lothal Kingdom or the most fanatically devout Imperial Inquisitors sufficient cause for burning at the stake.
I have sometimes thought that if such people would show half the zeal in persecuting their true enemies as they do in persecuting innocent scholars, our world would be a happier and safer place, and possibly the Kingdom of Lothal would not have fallen. by its own decadence and internal corruption.
Of course, the true enemies of the proclaimed defenders of humanity are far more dangerous beings than these innocent scholars, and they have allies in much higher places. I'll let my readers draw their own conclusions from that.
Elysia, 'The Adventures of the Dark Hero', vol. II,
Printed in Riverheim, Kingdom of Arcadia.
♦ ♦ ♦
The man clutched at his throat, uttered a gurgling groan, and collapsed, foaming at the mouth and a foul green substance shooting out of his nostrils. Lying on his back in a pile of manure, he frantically pounded his fists on the muddy pavement, and then his strength seemed to leave him altogether. His limbs barely twitched in one last spasm of movement; he uttered a final long moan and went still.
The people surrounding him on the street looked at each other in fear; then they turned away from the body and ran as fast as they could. Beggars crawled away from their resting places, and a one-legged man bounded away so quickly he nearly lost his crutch. The peddlers abandoned their stalls, and the landladies went into their buildings and bolted the doors. The wealthy merchants urged the palanquin bearers to hurry up.
A few moments later, the street was completely deserted. Amidst the uproar of the receding crowd, only one word could be made out: plague!
Elysia looked down the suddenly empty street. It gave the impression that no one else was going to help that poor devil, so it seemed that her task would fall to her. She covered her mouth with her tattered cloak and knelt beside her body, on whose chest she placed a hand to feel for her heartbeat; But it was too late. That man could no longer receive help: he was dead.
Elysia had enough experience with death to know that.
"Elysia, move away. I'm scared."
The catgirl looked up at Elissa, who was standing close to her, her face pale and her eyes wide. The young woman ran a hand through her curly hair, then covered her mouth with it again.
"There is nothing to fear" Elysia replied. "This man is dead."
"It is what has ended his life that scares me. It gives the impression that he has died of a new plague."
Elysia rose to her feet as suspicious fear filled her mind. She for the first time considered the death she had just witnessed and the reason everyone else had fled.
The plague was a terrible thing; she could strike anywhere, kill anyone, rich and poor alike.
No one knew what caused it, though some said it was due to the dark influence of the Dark Lords; others claimed that it was a manifestation of the wrath of the gods against sinful humanity.
The only thing that was known for sure about the plague was that there was hardly anything you could do to save yourself once you caught it, apart from pray. This virulent disease baffled the best doctors and the most powerful magicians. Elysia quickly pushed away from her corpse and reached out to Elissa to reassure her, but she backed away as if she were the carrier of it and could infect her.
"I don't have the plague," Elysia said, hurt.
"You never know."
Elysia's eyes fell on the corpse, and she shuddered.
"Certainly today wasn't that poor soul's lucky day," Elissa commented.
"What do you mean?"
"Take a look at it. She wears a black rose on her blouse. I had just attended a funeral."
"Well, now she's going to attend her own," the catgirl commented quietly.
♦ ♦ ♦
"This is the fourth death from the plague I've heard of today," Heinz said when Elysia told him what had happened. "The boys in the tavern don't talk about anything else. They are placing bets on how many there will be when night falls."
In a way, Elysia was glad to hear that, because for the last few days the citizens hadn't talked about anything other than the burning of the College of Alchemists. Most claimed that it was sabotage perpetrated by secret agents of the Kaleth Empire. Elysia felt constant pangs of guilt because she constantly reminded her of her own participation in the events.
"What do you think?" Elysia asked as she looked around the tavern to see how many people were there. She was crammed to the best of her ability and the inevitable shoving was already beginning to cause friction. She was sure that tonight there would be trouble.
"I have bet money that there will be ten. Last year when the smallpox came, twenty people had died by this time. You never know though… it could get worse before it's over."
"What I was asking you was: what do you think has caused those deaths?" Elysia said, though she made a note in her mind to bet as well. "How do you think it spreads?"
"I am not an alchemist or a wizard, Elysia; I am a bartender. I think it's spread by witches. That's what my old wife used to say."
"Do you think I could have caught it from that poor man?"
It's possible, but I wouldn't worry. When the god of death writes your name in his black book, you can do nothing to save yourself; That's what I think. Anyway, there is one thing for sure."
"Which?"
"It's good for business. As soon as the plague comes, the people go to the taverns. They want to forget about the disease as soon as possible."
"Maybe they want to die drunk."
"There are worse ways to die, young Elysia."
"I think there are."
"Well, you'd better go over there and stop those gang members who are drawing knives at each other, or we'll soon have a demonstration of what we were talking about."
"I'll work it out."
Elysia left to hastily intervene in the dispute, and within seconds she had far more immediate dangers to worry about than a mere conversation about the plague.
♦ ♦ ♦
"So you're not worried about the plague?" Elysia asked as she ducked to avoid a punch from a drunken mercenary.
"I'm immune to that kind of thing." retorted Frey, the dark hero, grabbing the mercenary by the side of the head with one of his powerful hands, forcing him to look directly at him, then knocking him to the ground with a punch that sent blood flying from the man's nose to the ground. add a bright new hue to the floor. "A simple plague is not enough to kill me. Humans will probably drop like flies, but I'll be fine. Heroes don't usually catch diseases."
Elysia seized two of the mercenary's feisty comrades by the scruff of the neck and yanked them to their feet. Frey took one and she took the other, and they were flung out into the muddy streets through the swinging doors.
"The worst thing I've had in my entire life has been a bad hangover." Frey continued. "And don't come back!" she bellowed into the street.
Elysia turned to inspect the interior of the tavern. As Heinz had predicted, she was full. Nobles visiting the slums mingled with half the city's inveterate cutthroats and rakes. A large band of mercenaries fresh off a caravan route from the north were spending their money like there was no tomorrow.
Maybe they're right, Elysia thought. "Maybe there will be no tomorrow." Maybe all the street psychics were right. It was possible that the end of the world was coming. Of course, the world had already ended as far as this man who had died in the street was concerned.
In the far corner, she saw that Elissa was talking to a burly young man in the coarse smock and leggings of a peasant. The conversation became lively for a moment, and then Elissa turned to leave. As she did so, the boy reached out and caught her by the wrist.
Elysia started forward to intervene. Getting groped was one of the hazards of the trade for a tavern wench, but she didn't like that happening to Elissa. She turned and said something to the young man, and he opened her hand and immediately released it with a shocked expression on her face. Elissa left him there, his mouth hanging open and a pained look in her eyes.
The girl hurried past with her chin up and a tray laden with empty mugs. Elysia caught her arm, turned her around.
"I don't have the plague," she told him; but, despite everything, she got away from him.
Elysia heard that the word plague was in the conversations of all the tables. It was like there was nothing else to talk about in that damned city.
"I really don't," Elysia added quietly.
Turning, she saw the young man who had been talking to Elissa stare at her with an angry expression. Elysia was tempted to go over to talk to him, but before she could, the young peasant stood up and headed for the door with a gait that wasn't entirely steady.