After a hasty dinner, Lyle put on his academy robe, which served as the medical academy's uniform. Though just a tightly woven linen garment, it was Lyle's best clothing, reserved only for major academy ceremonies, so of course, he wore it to make a good first impression on his first day at work.
He extinguished the candle on the table, locked the door, and stepped out into the night alone.
The security office was located on the border of Cassandra's central district, five streets away from Lyle's home. The oil in the street lamps must have been replenished recently; their dim yellow light sustained the night sky so that even without a coal oil lamp, one could see the path ahead.
A handheld oil lamp was practically standard issue for a security officer; they often had to patrol every dark corner of the city, relatively chaotic areas, and crime hotspots. Lyle did entertain the thought of using public resources for private use. After all, life was not easy these days, and one must save where possible.
Around ten o'clock at night, the residents of Cassandra would already be deep in slumber, with lights inside the houses extinguished and only a few specks of light scattered throughout the town.
The security office's light was one of the few that always remained on.
The oak doors set in the squared stone walls were wide open, and as Lyle approached, he could faintly hear voices coming from inside the office.
His fingers knocked against the door, the crisp sound piercingly clear in the desolate night.
"Excuse me, is Mr. Wilt present?"
Two men in uniforms like Ralph's were in the foyer, though they were significantly better-looking than Ralph.
"I am Wilt, Gilbert Wilt," the speaking man was probably over twenty-five, with regular features, brown curly short hair, and narrow eyes that sized up Lyle with some scrutiny. "And you are?"
"I'm the newcomer recommended by Uncle Ralph, and this is the letter he wrote, which he said I should give to you."
Wilt took the letter, quickly scanned it, and after understanding the situation, spoke with a hint of mockery, "Another Mr. Butler?"
Lyle should have expected this. He had no intention of hiding the fact that his relationship with Ralph could be viewed with skepticism, so he made it clear right from the start to avoid future backtalk.
Clearly, Lyle overestimated Ralph's sociability; Wilt's eyes narrowed, reminiscent of a fox ready to hunt, with malice in his teasing tone as evident as the flies on rotting flesh.
"Sheriff Ralph mentioned that there's a body tonight that might require my expertise."
"Of course, Mr. Lyle Butler, your timing is impeccable."
Wilt greeted the others and pulled a set of keys from behind the counter, heading straight for a door that led further inside.
"Stick with me, young Mr. Butler."
They crossed the office space, where a dozen desks and chairs were now unoccupied, likely because the staff was out on patrol.
Wilt pulled aside a tarpaulin, revealing a small iron door set into a wall, which was usually unseen. The rust on the lock indicated it was seldom used.
As the key turned with a grating noise, the iron door swung open to reveal a stone staircase leading underground.
"A basement, used for storing miscellaneous items; this exit isn't frequently used. There's another exit that leads directly outside, where we brought the body from. This place was apparently a lab before, cold and dry, quite suitable."
"Your job is to investigate the cause of death down there, handle the process however you wish. I just hope that when you come out, there will be a report on my desk. As for the experimental equipment you might need, sorry, our budget from above is also tight, so you'll have to make do with the discarded items you find there."
"Oh, and one more thing I should clarify in advance. Mr. Butler, our esteemed Chief generously assented to Ralph's suggestion, and as his friend and colleague, I naturally hope everything goes smoothly. So please, Mr. Butler, do your best."
"I will do my utmost."
"Mmm," Wilt yawned, "if you discover anything, please inform me at any time. You may begin your work now." With that, Wilt walked back toward his original position.
"Please wait a moment, Mr. Wilt," Lyle said.
"Tsk, what else is there?"
"I remember, Ralph mentioned that Mr. Wilt would follow up and record the inspection process to ensure the work went smoothly..."
"I know, that was Ralph making a mountain out of a molehill. I fully trust you, Mr. Butler, to excellently complete the task on your own. After all, as a top student from the medical school, an outsider like me would only get in the way. It's best if you handle it yourself," he finished, and without giving Lyle a chance to retort, he strode away.
"..." In the dead of night, dissecting a body alone in a dimly lit basement, Lyle shivered, but there was no other choice; one had to carry on with life, no matter how bad it got.
Having lit the torches on the stone wall, Lyle could finally take a good look around his work environment for the next while. A long table stretched across the center, upon which lay the unfortunate subject. To the left were several bookshelves, now repurposed as cabinets, with some iron instruments on top, broken leather, rusty tools, and other strange objects. The red stains there always provoked unpleasant associations for Lyle—could these be torture devices? This place was far from being a simple basement; either that fool Wilt was unaware of the situation, or he did it on purpose.
To the right, it was much messier—damaged uniforms, cracked saddles, mostly leather goods. Fortunately, Lyle spotted some medical knives, so new it made one wonder if they had been prepared in advance.
That wasn't enough, though. Lyle also needed work clothes, hoping to find a suitable replacement.
Directly opposite the long table was a door, possibly that so-called 'other exit,' locked with iron chains. Perhaps due to the layout, several French windows had been installed on the other side, allowing the dark blue starlight to stream in.
Among the clutter, something gleamed—that was reflective light. There was glass here, a luxury in those times, like the stained-glass windows of a church.
Lyle was somewhat intrigued and walked towards it.
It was a strangely shaped beaked mask.
The plague doctor's mask.
The elongated mask was stitched from leather, reflecting light off its small glass lenses.
Not far from there, Lyle also found a black coat and leather gloves.
The standard attire of a plague doctor.
The plague doctor was renowned for several reasons.
The bizarre beak.
At this time, it was considered somewhat scientific gear. Herbs with a fragrant smell were stuffed into the beak, just like a gas mask, to filter the air breathed in, blocking the rotting stench of corpses. Medieval doctors believed that "corpse gas" was a contagion source of the Black Death.
The Black Death.
Or, rather, the bubonic plague. A virulent pandemic spread by rats, with victims often exhibiting a ghastly pale complexion and bleeding from all orifices.
To halt the spread of the disease, plague doctors came into demand.
However, due to the plague doctors' eerie attire and the Black Death's high mortality rate, the ignorant masses saw them as harbingers of death, bringing demise wherever they went.
There's also a theory that the Black Death was one of the driving forces behind historical evolution.
The fearsome plague killed everyone, making people realize that whether a noble king, devoted priest, elegant noble, humble commoner, or even a lowly slave, there was no difference in the face of death.
They realized that God did not save them. The shaken faith in God led to the establishment of humanist thought, marking one of the turning points from superstition towards science.
Although he had found the attire of a plague doctor, Lyle had never heard of the Black Death. Could it be that he was in the wrong timeline?
Theocracy was rampant, with others being suppressed. Coupled with the holy light he had witnessed before, it was difficult to say how long the era of the gods would last.
For now, the immediate concern was to fill his stomach.