The heavy doors of the meeting room creaked open as Ethan entered, his face a mask of concern. Roland and another man, Leto, were already seated at the long table, their expressions just what Ethan had expected them to be: grim.
Ethan had promoted Leto after his good work. Taking his place at the head of the table, Ethan drummed his fingers in an anxious rhythm on the polished wood. Taking a breath, he looked at them both.
"Report." He asked.
Leto cleared his throat. "My lord, I'm afraid the news is... troubling. We've confirmed a total of thirteen deaths so far."
Ethan's eyes widened in shock. "What?" he exclaimed, his fist slamming down on the table. "That's too quick!"
Why? What the fuck? What's going on? Ethan had been wondering, thinking, theorizing so as to what had happened, how this new disease had come, and who the fuck was responsible for it. The answer was kind of obvious: The Night Whispers. I'm going to kill these fuckers. They'd been the ones to let the Blight run amok in the towns, and now they were back with some other disease. Fucking bastards. Just what did they want exactly? Ethan had his suspicions. Regardless, thirteen deaths...
Ethan was furious.
"Yes, Lord Theodore," Roland interjected. "But there's a strange thing too."
Breathing, Ethan leaned forward, his gaze intense. "Explain."
Roland exchanged a glance with Leto before continuing. "The deaths are... erratic. The thirteen who died, they passed within the very first hour of realizing they were sick. Or so have their families told us. But here's the peculiar part—everyone who's survived past that initial hour is still alive."
Leto nodded, adding, "Their conditions vary greatly. Some are worse off, while others seem to be faring better. It's a mystery, truly."
Ethan's brow furrowed. "So, those who survive the first hour... they don't show signs of dying?"
"No, my lord," Leto confirmed. "But their conditions fluctuate unpredictably. It's unlike anything we've seen before. However, I'm afraid we're going to have our first death on the first-hour survivors' side soon, as well. Because, well, as I said, unfortunately, the patients' conditions vary greatly, and a few of them near death."
"We're doing our utmost best to make sure that they do not die." Roland leaned in, his voice lowered. "There's more, Lord Theodore. The symptoms... they're unsettling. The sufferers, they have this pale complexion, and there's this rapid... well, we're not sure what to call it."
"Speak plainly, Roland," Ethan urged.
Roland grimaced. "It's as if they're losing their... meat. Rotting isn't the right word. They are simply leaving behind a band of exposed white... well, it looks like skeleton. The meat disappears, as if eaten, and the bone becomes apparent."
Ethan recoiled slightly. "Meat? You mean... flesh?"
"Aye," Leto nodded. "I'm not a learned man, so I don't rightly know the proper terms. But it's a ghastly sight."
Ethan stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room as he processed the information. After a moment, he turned back to his seat, drumming his finger on the table.
"Right. Here's what we're going to do," he began, his voice firm, eyes boring into the two. "First priority is to contain the spread of this disease. Leto, I want you to oversee a quarantine of all affected households. Anyone who might have been in contact with the sick is to be isolated as well. No exceptions."
Leto nodded. "It will be done, my lord."
"Roland," Ethan continued, "we need to understand this disease better. How is it transmitted? What are the full range of symptoms? How long before someone shows signs of illness after being exposed?" Ethan leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Actually, we need more specifics."
Ethan closed his eyes and began to think. What information would one require? After thinking for a few minutes, he opened his eyes. "Roland, I want you to organize our information gathering. Here's what we need to know:"
He began ticking off points on his fingers. "First, we need detailed symptom progression. Document every change, no matter how small, from the moment of first onset. Pay special attention to the timing of this... flesh loss."
Roland nodded.
"Second," Ethan continued, "we need to track exposure patterns. Who did each patient have contact with before falling ill? Are there any common factors among the infected?"
"Third, environmental factors. Is there any correlation between where people live, work, or gather and the spread of the disease? Are certain areas of town more affected than others?
"Fourth, we need to examine the deceased. I know it's unpleasant, but we need to understand what's happening inside their bodies. Look for any unusual changes in organs, blood, or wherever really—get Miller and his physicians to work on this. Lastly, we need to test for contagion. Use animals if we must, but we need to know how this spreads. Is it through air, touch, food, water? And how long does it take for symptoms to appear after exposure?"
He looked at both men intently. "This is crucial, gentlemen. The more we understand, the better chance we have of stopping this."
Roland and Leto exchanged glances.
"One more thing," Ethan added. "I want samples. Of everything. Blood, urine, saliva, that... flesh you're talking about—if it's possible, otherwise, let it be, we'll check live patients. Jack will need these for his analysis."
The men nodded.
"Now," Ethan said, leaning back in his chair, "let's prepare for Jack's arrival. We have a lot of work ahead of us. After all, if anyone can make sense of this madness, it's Jack. I want both of you to prepare detailed reports for him. Every scrap of information, no matter how insignificant it might seem. Understood?"
Both men nodded their assent.
"My lord," Leto ventured, "what should we tell the people? They're frightened, and rumors are spreading faster than the disease itself."
Ethan considered for a moment. "Tell them... tell them that we're doing everything in our power to understand and combat this illness. I've already relayed a speech, it should spread along the rumors. Emphasize the importance of the quarantine. And... make it clear that I'm personally overseeing our efforts. The people need to know their lord hasn't abandoned them."
"Very well," Roland said, rising from his seat. "Is there anything else?"
Ethan shook his head. "That's all for now. Keep me informed of any developments, no matter how small. We're walking in the dark here, gentlemen. Every bit of light helps."
As Roland and Leto filed out of the room, Ethan sank back into his chair, exhaling a long breath. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his eyes glazed.
Jack would be arriving soon. Ethan allowed himself some hope.
Regardless, there was work to be done, and lives hanging in the balance.
***
Given some alone time, Ethan decided to meditate. Ethan settled into a cross-legged position right there inside the meeting room, his back straight against the cool stone wall. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breath as he activated his [Meditation] skill.
The familiar warmth of mana coursed through his body, and he felt his mind begin to clear.
He needed some kind of magical enlightenment—a breakthrough that would elevate his abilities. But even as the thought formed, a memory from his past life on Earth flickered through his mind—teachings of Buddhist philosophy he'd once studied.
He almost chuckled at the irony. Wasn't the very desire for enlightenment the obstacle in his path? There was a teaching that attachment, even to positive outcomes, was a source of suffering and a barrier to true enlightenment.
Actually, jokes aside, is my eagerness to level up [Meditation] skill, in fact, hindering my progress? Hmm—
A knock fell on the door, bringing him out of his thoughts. Cancelling his [Meditation] skill, Ethan stood up and sat in his chair.
"Come in," he said, and leaned back in his chair; his eyes fixed on the door as it swung open. Jack walked in, his usual appearance marred by dark circles under his eyes and a slight stoop to his shoulders. Ethan winced at the sight, realizing immediately what the issue at hand was.
"My apologies," Ethan said, his voice tinged with genuine regret. He actually felt bad. He'd promised him the mana crystal yet hadn't delivered yet. "I will get you the mana crystal as soon as possible, man. It's just—"
Jack held up a hand, cutting him off. "It's understandable, my lord. Things have been hectic lately."
Ethan nodded, relief washing over him. "I'm glad you understand my predicament. Anyways, Jack, I have a new job for you. Double the pay as before, and the mana crystal will be there with you. I promise. I'm waiting for Baron Montague to arrive."
As the words left his mouth, something clicked in Ethan's mind. A connection formed. Oh... so this is why Jack informed me that the Baron of Argent, Montague, is arriving... Jack had wanted Ethan to get a mana crystal from the Baron of Argent.
Ethan looked at Jack, his gaze suddenly intense.
Noticing the change, Jack frowned.
"What?" he asked, clearly unaware of Ethan's internal revelation.
Ethan sighed, deciding to put that piece of information aside for now.
"Never mind that. I need you to figure out this new disease."
Jack pondered for a moment, his tired eyes narrowing in thought.
"Yes, sure, my lord. I'd be delighted to. However, I need you to do something for me."
Ethan frowned, a sense of unease creeping into his stomach.
"What is it?"
"I recently located a runaway [Necromancer]," Jack said, his voice low and serious.
"And?" Ethan prompted, sensing there was more to this request.
Jack's expression darkened.
"Well, essentially, we have a rule, my lord. You join us [Necromancers], you go by our rules. That man didn't. He's been on the escape. And I've just spotted him recently. Given that I would've been the one to go had it not been for this urgent disease matter at hand, could I trust you with killing him?"
Ethan leaned back, taken aback by the request. He pondered for a moment, weighing his options. "What's his level? You should be aware I'm a fairly new [Mage]."
"Yes, I'm aware," Jack nodded. "That [Necromancer] isn't high-level. You should be able to handle him."
Ethan hummed, considering for a few seconds. "Okay, sure. But, couldn't Sir Thomas or anyone else you know do this too? What about Roland? Should I send him?"
Jack's body suddenly tensed, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"No, my lord. This mustn't reach Sir Thomas's ears. Nor Sir Roland's."
Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "You know Roland's my guard? What makes you think he would let me go unattended?"
Jack shrugged, his face a mask of forced nonchalance. "Say it's a [Quest] you must do yourself."
Ethan stared at him, suspicion growing. "Why do you want me to go? Why do you want to hide this?" What's going on? He added silently in his mind.
Jack sighed, his shoulders sagging. "That... um. I swore an [Oath]." He paused, then added, "However, once you're back, you will meet the requirements. I will be able to tell you then."
Ethan squinted. Well, isn't that a "I signed an NDA" moment. After a long moment, he nodded slowly. "Okay, I agree."
A few levels wouldn't hurt, and Ethan could use some actual battle experience as well as solo strategies.
Relief flooded Jack's face. "Great. I will give you information later and tell you when and where you should go."
"Sounds good to me," Ethan said, still not entirely comfortable with the arrangement.
Jack shifted in his seat, his expression changing once again. "I have one more thing."
"Okay, what is it? Out with it." Ethan felt his patience wearing thin.
Jack took a deep breath, his eyes meeting Ethan's.
"Well..."