This was how the ratfolks were driven from the city, albeit at a terrible price in lives and property damage.
I had thought to rest and catch my breath after the strenuous activity, but I couldn't do it.
The hand of fate reached out to my companion, and thus began a journey that would end in the most remote confines of the world, left by the hand of the gods...
Elysia, 'The Adventures of the Dark Hero', vol. II
Printed in Riverheim, Kingdom of Arcadia.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia was sitting in her favorite chair at The Stinky Pig, and she had just written her journal notes. She would leave that notebook to Dr. Niccolev, so that she would keep it until the day she came back to look for it. If she ever managed to write the tale of the dark hero's heroic fate, it could prove invaluable.
From outside came the sound of hammers. The builders had been working for weeks with the intention of restoring the battle-torn city to its former glory. Elysia knew that it would be many years before Bergheim made a full recovery, if she ever did. However, she was not terribly upset, as things had ended well, more or less.
Emilia had been grateful, she gave many phrases of gratitude and sweet smiles. But the most important thing was her help with the adventurers guild and the detail of her suspension.
Not only had the suspension been revoked, but her group, Ragnarök, had also been promoted in rank. Now both Elysia and Frey were Mithril rank adventurers, the second highest rank.
Elysia didn't mind the rank increase. She was glad that she had survived the night of fighting that followed the storming of the palace.
She still shuddered at the thought of the savage battles men and ratfolk had fought in the streets. It had taken all night and most of the next day to clear out all the enemies in the city, and even after that had been done most people had stayed awake through the next night, unable to finish to believe that they were safe.
It had taken many days of hunting to pluck the ratfolk from all hiding places, and Elysia still wasn't sure the sewers were completely clean of them.
On the other hand, the plague had subsided. Perhaps the great fire had cleaned out the city, or perhaps the disease had simply already taken all the lives she was capable of taking; but the truth was that she had already finished. She hadn't reported any other deaths, and no one else had gotten sick.
And, miraculously, the great plague of rats had also come to an end. For days they had been appearing more and more, but each time they seemed weaker, as if something had gone wrong in them even before their birth. Even many of the last generations had been stillborn. It was as if the ratfolks had created them with some deliberate task. Perhaps they were meant to ravage the city, then go extinct, leaving the ratfolks free to claim it all. It was a thought so fiendishly cunning that it made Elysia tremble.
Were ratmen really capable of things like that? Or had it been due to a mere accident?
Somewhere far away, the bells of a temple rang.
Of course, the priests were claiming that their respective gods had intervened to save Bergheim. It was typical of them. Elysia had seen very little evidence that the immortals had acted to preserve the city, but who was she to say anything?
Maybe they had been there, protecting people with invisible shields. Certainly, the catgirl thought that she and Frey had been lucky, and perhaps that was the favor of the gods. Although she wasn't so sure, perhaps the immortal being that the priests claimed had saved the city was not so far from her; perhaps said immortal being was behind an unnaturally powerful black armor.
Niccolev had almost fully recovered from the magical battle with the Black Magician. Elysia had been to see her several times since that terrible night, and the woman looked as cheerful and serene as ever. On one occasion, she had even met Osval Yeronymus at the doctor's residence, and the spymaster had treated Elysia with such kindness, which the young catgirl found uncomfortable. Osval himself referred to Frey as a mythical figure out of the most heroic tales.
Heinz and most of the mercenaries were fine. The old innkeeper had taken a nasty blow to the head, and he was carrying her so wrapped in bandages that she looked like a mummy, but she was still behind the bar, serving mugs of ale.
Elysia had no idea where Elissa was. She hadn't seen her or Hans since the day before the battle, and no one she knew had any news of her whereabouts. She sincerely hoped that she was okay and had managed to escape and return to her town. She still missed her.
They didn't find the Black Magician even though they searched the entire city from top to bottom. All the magicians who had been hired found strange magical resonances in the toilet and assumed that Dhalthar had used magic to escape.
In general, the citizens were happy. They had survived and were rebuilding the city. In any case, life went on as usual, and Elysia was looking forward to a long, pleasant period of rest.
Having once again eluded the encounter with his heroic end, Frey had paced like a bear with a headache for days after the battle, before consoling himself with three full days of drunkenness and fights. He then he was sitting in a corner of The Stinky Pig, enduring the hangover and bellowing for beer.
The swinging doors of the tavern opened and a short, stout figure with a beard entered, it was a dwarf. He was shorter than Elysia and slight of build for a dwarf. He had a circle of red cloth tied around his head and had a short beard. The robe he wore was divided into squares of hideously bright red and yellow colors.
The newcomer's eyes swept the room, widening at the sight of Frey. He then advanced on the dark hero with a determined expression, and Elysia closed her journal, put down her quill, and watched with interest. Maybe she could watch Frey's matchup against a dwarf, it would be a nice addition to her novel.
"Are you Frey, iron hand, the dark hero?" asked the newcomer that he spoke in common as the dwarves used to do when there were humans listening to them; Elysia had heard that they didn't like anyone hearing her secret language. The dwarf's voice was strong, it seemed as if every word was drawn from the back of his throat.
"And if I am, what?" Frey replied in his most brutal and surly style. "Do you want to do something with it?" Frey asked the dwarf directly in his own language.
Although Elysia knew that Frey was capable of reading dwarven runes, she never expected him to be able to speak such fluent Dwarven; and it seemed that the recently arrived dwarf was also surprised, since he took a while to respond.
"I am Nor Norrison, sworn messenger of the lords of the mountains. I have a message of great importance for you. I have traveled a thousand miles to deliver it to you."
"Well, go ahead then! I don't have all day," Frey grumbled, still speaking Dwarven, impatiently.
"This is not a verbal message, but written in runes. You know how to read Dwarven, right?"
"About as well as I can punch the teeth out of a cheeky messenger."
The messenger took out a parchment envelope at the same time making a big flourish, and Frey grabbed it and tore it open. He started to read. Suddenly, Frey's body tensed and he brought a crimson flash from his eyes as he laughed maniacally.
"What's going on?" Elysia asked. Frey's eyes gave him a bad feeling, his sixth sense told him that bad things would happen, and when the fur on his tail stood up, he knew that dangerous things were coming.
"A worthy mission for a hero of my caliber, catgirl; and possibly a truly magnificent end for a true warrior." He rose from his chair and reached out a hand for the greatsword Lævateinn. "Go get your things. We are leaving."
"Where?"
"To the end of the world, most likely." Frey replied, and he couldn't persuade him to explain anything else.
♦ ♦ ♦
It was time to leave the city, she had already fulfilled her mission in that place. Perhaps if she stayed longer she could help the city with her sanitation problem, but her help would simply be a drop in the bucket.
The health and hygiene of the city was a social and cultural problem, a simple person is incapable of changing the system. To achieve this requires something bigger and stronger; something not only with political and social power, but with real power, a power so great that it is capable of changing the rules of the world to her will.
Stowing her most important medical supplies in her briefcase, Dr. Niccolev di L'Orme approached the nearest window. Before her was the view of the city of Bergheim; supposedly the city was among the most prosperous in the Kingdom of Lothal, everything in reality was a lie, the city was a place full of decadence disguised as prosperity.
The difference between nobles and commoners was extremely marked.
While some could change the laws at will, others had to live an existence in misery.
Getting out of poverty in the Kingdom of Lothal was practically impossible; the system was made to make the poor poorer and the rich richer.
If it were up to Niccolev, she would have let the disease that plagued the city spread throughout the human nations, ravaging them and leaving only the rotting remains of once mighty nations.
But Niccolev couldn't do that, she was a doctor. She had sworn to use her knowledge and skills to help, not destroy.
As Niccolev meditated on the decadent situation in which the Kingdom of Lothal found itself, she heard the sound of her door being knocked. Who entered was Diana, the only servant who was in the house.
Although in reality, Diana was not only a servant, she was one of the four Royal Maids which at this moment had the function of guarding and protecting Niccolev.
The four Royal Maids, and the four Butler knights, were led by the head steward of the castle. The main steward has the function of managing and directing the castle's domestic staff.
Upon entering, Diana, the servant, curtsied before speaking. "Lady Niccolev, the preparations are ready."
Looking at the maid directly, Niccolev nodded. "Request a portal at dusk, it's time to return to the castle."