In the kingdom of Valoria, nestled between the towering peaks of the Iserian Mountains, there was a small village called Rethora. Known for its serene landscape and peaceful lifestyle, the village remained untouched by the outside world for centuries. Its people lived simple, honest lives, working the land, tending to their herds, and basking in the natural beauty surrounding them.
But all of that changed the day a doctor named Thaddeus arrived.
The Fall from Grace
Thaddeus had once been a well-respected physician in his homeland, the mighty Kingdom of Elanthar. Renowned for his knowledge of medicine and surgical skills, he had saved countless lives. However, a single, catastrophic mistake turned him from a hero into a villain.
It began with a fever. A deadly fever that swept through the streets of Elanthar's capital, claiming dozens of lives each day. The royal court, in desperation, called upon Thaddeus to find a cure. But he was overconfident. The fever was unlike any disease he had encountered before, yet he pressed on with his usual methods. Despite his best efforts, the disease spread, claiming the lives of the royal family, noblemen, and their families.
In the end, the fever killed over a hundred people, including the king and queen. But that wasn't the worst of it. The disease had mutated, becoming an even deadlier strain. Thaddeus, too late, realized that his treatments had hastened the mutation, creating an even more vicious plague that spread beyond the city and into the surrounding countryside.
The people, devastated by the loss of their beloved rulers and friends, called for justice. Thaddeus, though he had acted out of genuine concern, was blamed for the deaths. The court turned on him, and he was publicly condemned. To save face, the kingdom's authorities decided to exile him to a distant land, far from the kingdom and its people.
With nothing left to his name but the guilt that gnawed at his soul, Thaddeus was cast out of Elanthar. His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled with the weight of his past mistake. For years, he wandered across kingdoms, avoiding contact with people, ashamed of the lives he had lost. His name became a whisper on the lips of those who still remembered the plague that had ravaged Elanthar.
A New Beginning
After years of exile, Thaddeus found himself at the gates of Rethora, a humble village that seemed to be untouched by the horrors of the outside world. The villagers, simple folk with a deep connection to the earth, welcomed him with kindness, offering him food and shelter. But Thaddeus knew he could never truly escape his past. His heart, burdened with the weight of his mistakes, longed for solace—a chance at redemption.
He had no intention of practicing medicine again, but when the village healer fell ill, the villagers begged him to help. Thaddeus hesitated but ultimately agreed. He applied the knowledge he had learned over the years, treating the sick and tending to the wounded. His skills, though rusted by years of disuse, still proved invaluable. He saved lives and gradually began to rebuild his confidence.
The villagers, seeing his success, hailed him as a healer, and the news of his skills spread throughout the surrounding lands. But just as Thaddeus had begun to feel the faintest stirrings of peace, disaster struck.
The Plague of Rethora
One fateful evening, a traveler arrived in Rethora, carrying with him a sickness unlike anything the villagers had seen. At first, it seemed like a mild fever—nothing to be concerned about. But within days, it grew worse. People began to cough blood, their skin turning pale and clammy, their bodies racked with pain. Thaddeus worked tirelessly, trying every remedy and potion he knew, but nothing worked. The plague spread faster than he could treat it, claiming more and more victims each day.
Desperation took hold of the village as the body count rose. Thaddeus, trapped by his own guilt and driven by his desire to redeem himself, worked around the clock, trying to find a cure, trying to save just one more life. But the plague was relentless, and the village was rapidly being consumed by death.
In the nearby capital city of Iseran, the kingdom's king, King Roderic, heard of the plague ravaging the remote village. Fearing that it might spread, he sent a royal emissary to Rethora, bringing with them medicines and additional physicians. The emissary, upon hearing of Thaddeus's work, insisted that he travel to the capital to treat the sick. At first, Thaddeus refused, knowing that his presence might do more harm than good. But the king's command was unyielding, and Thaddeus had little choice but to comply.
Thaddeus arrived in Iseran with the hopes of ending the plague once and for all. But the disease had already begun to spread within the city's walls. As the king's personal physician, Thaddeus was tasked with leading the charge against the plague. He worked tirelessly, using every piece of knowledge he had, hoping to bring an end to the suffering.
King Roderic, seeing the doctor's dedication and skill, began to hold him in high esteem. In a grand ceremony, Thaddeus was recognized as the kingdom's chief healer, given a position of great honor. The people, too, began to view him as a savior. The kingdom, once on the brink of despair, began to see hope again. The plague's death toll slowed, and, eventually, the disease was driven back. Thaddeus's reputation soared to new heights. He was revered as a hero, a man who had saved the kingdom.
The Truth Revealed
But as time passed, Thaddeus's conscience continued to weigh on him. He had seen the signs—the way the disease had first emerged in Rethora, its rapid spread, the way it clung to the people like a shadow. One quiet evening, as he sat alone in his chambers, the truth hit him like a thunderclap.
He had brought the plague to the kingdom.
The disease that had ravaged Elanthar had never truly left him. He had carried it within him—unwittingly, unknowingly—and had passed it on to the people of Rethora. From there, it had followed him to Iseran. The plague was no accident. It had been his doing.
Thaddeus's hands trembled as the realization settled in. The lives lost in Rethora, the countless people who had perished in the kingdom—he was responsible for it all. His treatment of the plague had not eradicated it; it had spread it further, infecting an entire kingdom.
In the quiet of his chambers, Thaddeus faced his truth. He was no savior. He was a bringer of death.
The King's Judgment
Thaddeus knew he could not live with this guilt. He could not continue to hide behind the façade of a hero. He made his way to the royal court, where King Roderic sat in the throne room, surrounded by his nobles. The king greeted Thaddeus with the same warmth and respect that he had shown him in the past, but Thaddeus could no longer wear the mask.
"Your Majesty," he began, his voice heavy with shame. "I must confess something of grave importance. The plague... the disease that has ravaged this kingdom... I am the one who brought it here."
The room fell silent. King Roderic's face grew pale, and the nobles exchanged uneasy glances. Thaddeus continued, his words tumbling out in a rush.
"I treated it in Rethora, and I thought I had cured it. But in truth, I carried the disease with me from Elanthar. I did not know, but now I understand. I have caused the deaths of so many innocent people, including those in your kingdom."
King Roderic, who had once revered Thaddeus as a hero, now looked upon him with horror and betrayal. He stood from his throne, his voice cold.
"You claim responsibility for the deaths of my people? You come to me now, in the wake of this disaster, to confess? How do you expect me to respond, Thaddeus?"
Thaddeus fell to his knees, his head bowed in shame. "I do not seek your forgiveness, Your Majesty. I know I have brought ruin upon your kingdom, and I will accept whatever punishment you deem fit."
The king's gaze softened, but only for a moment. "You are a healer, Thaddeus. And you have saved many. But there is no redemption for what you have done. I banish you from this land. Leave now, and never return."
Thaddeus, broken and defeated, did not protest. He stood, bowed one final time to the king, and turned to leave the throne room.
As he walked out into the streets, the sound of the people cheering for him, once so sweet, now seemed like a cruel reminder of his guilt. He had saved them only to condemn them. The plague, the death, it was all his doing.
And so, Thaddeus disappeared into the wilderness once more, a man burdened by the weight of his past, forever haunted by the lives he had taken. His name, once whispered in reverence, would now be forgotten, lost to the winds of time.
But as he wandered, alone and broken, one thing remained certain: Thaddeus would never escape the plague of his own conscience.