Chapter 137
Chapter 137
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 137
Chapter Title: A Desperate Plea
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[Chapter 136 - Savior]
From time immemorial, they said life and death were decided by the heavens.
Not long after taking the medicine, a mild fever and cough began.
Gisharan prepared a few remedies to help suppress them, and sure enough, infused with magical power as they were, the symptoms subsided quickly.
Then, an hour later, headaches started; two hours after that, nausea kicked in.
Each time, appropriate medicines were administered, but some symptoms had no ready solution and had to be endured with the body's own resilience.
Fortunately, none of the symptoms were severe. They were the sort one might brush off as a light illness under normal circumstances.
Just to be safe, he ordered the camp set up early to allow for maximum rest.
In the dark night, Arsen spotted Eloise sitting in front of the patient's tent. Drowsy, she was yawning wide enough to split her mouth.
Arsen approached quietly on purpose and asked from her side.
"Not sleepy?"
Startled, Eloise hurriedly covered her mouth.
Tears had already welled up from the yawn, but she feigned nonchalance in her reply.
"Ah, still okay. What about you, Sen? Not sleeping?"
She tried to play it cool, but her reddened ears were adorably telling. It reminded him of her childhood for a moment, and Arsen chuckled softly.
Catching the meaning of his smile, she turned her head away slightly.
"Not sleepy at all. How's the condition?"
"......Seems better. Sleeping now."
As the finest healing mage and the one who could use observation spells to check inside the body, no one was more suited to be the attending physician than Eloise.
That's why, even while everyone else except the night watch slept, she stood guard in front of the tent, prepared for any emergency.
"Hope he gets better."
"Yeah, really."
After that exchange, the two sat in silence before the tent, gazing at the campfire.
The quiet night was filled only with the crackle of sparks.
"You think the library really has the answer?"
"Hm?"
"Dad, I mean. Even the ancient didn't know."
When Arsen had revealed the existence of Bakran Kedou, that was the first thing Eloise asked.
Whether ancient magical engineering could save someone whose brain was damaged from poison and left bedridden.
Bakran's answer had been disappointing.
'I wouldn't know. I'm not a medical expert...... Even a specialist couldn't answer that without knowing the poison or the extent of the damage.'
Disappointing, but logically sound when you thought about it.
The silver lining was that in Bakran's era, techniques already existed for operating on parts of the brain.
What Arsen truly wondered was whether that library floating above really contained the most advanced technology of its time.
He'd told Bakran about the library, but even he had no knowledge of such a thing.
They'd launched plenty of artificial satellites, but a library preserving all knowledge? Never heard of it.
Probably kept secret from civilians due to the potential for misuse. That's what he had to assume.
He shook his head to dispel the ominous thoughts when he felt something lightly rest on the arm of his armor.
Looking down, he saw Eloise had leaned her head on his shoulder and dozed off.
He could hear her soft snoring.
'Tired, huh...... Well, yeah.'
She'd taken a minor ear injury during the day, light as it was, and combat in general wore on the nerves.
Taking another's life at the risk of your own was never supposed to be easy for any human.
On top of that, she'd witnessed gruesome scenes in the fortress recently, and was handling everything from minor weapon repairs to playing doctor—three bodies wouldn't have been enough.
Arsen carefully gathered Eloise's hair that had spilled onto the ground from leaning on him and tidied it.
Then, he closed his eyes, staying put so she could sleep leaning against him.
Until the sun rose the next day.
* * *
Purple light flowed from the tip of Eloise's staff, seeping into Miro's body.
After casting modified observation spells repeatedly for a thorough check, she finally slammed the staff's butt into the ground and declared.
"Perfectly recovered!"
"You're sure?"
"Yeah. Everything inside is dead, and no organ damage like that knight from before."
Everyone cheered, welcoming their comrade's recovery.
Miro the soldier responded in kind, thrusting both arms up high to confirm he was fine.
While clapping along in shared joy from the side, Arsen was inwardly formulating a plan.
'Not intentional, but...... human trials are done. All that's left is putting it to real use.'
Arsen looked north.
Toward their goal, the Baltres territory.
* * *
After days of riding along the riverbank, the floating island of Baltres welcomed them back.
The massive island hovering over the river looked as if it would float there yesterday, today, and tomorrow alike. It probably would, in fact.
Whether the people living inside lived or died.
As he stared blankly at it for a moment, Eloise whispered through the earring.
[Think people inside are still alive?]
[Probably. Takes quite a while to reach the brink of death. We went fast and got back even faster. Even in the worst case, the knights should still be kicking.]
The trip to find the remedy had taken nearly a week, but after making the deworming agent, they'd raced back with almost no stops.
Just two days to return.
The terrain along the riverbank helped, with few detours or obstacles thanks to the geography.
Unlike last time, no flying knight greeted them from the sky. An ill omen.
Black smoke rose from spots above the territory, and even from this distance, the faint smell of burning lingered.
It wasn't hard to imagine what they were burning.
"......Ugh."
Maroon let out a small groan. Probably recalling the scenes from the fortress last time.
Soon after, they reached the bridge leading into the heart of Baltres territory.
The massive bridge, nearly fifty meters wide and hundreds long, was paved with precisely fitted stones.
Once well-maintained, it now showed neglect: weeds between stones, cracks, crumbling sections.
As they crossed into the interior, a few soldiers showing clear signs of illness stood armed, waiting for them.
A knight stood before them.
"You're...... the ones from last time. What brings you here?"
The voice sounded familiar. Second Knight Beedon, was it? The young knight was guarding the gate again.
Arsen quickly considered two hypotheses in his mind. Coincidentally running into the same knight twice on duty, or so few healthy knights remained that it was inevitable.
The second seemed far more plausible.
"Does the plague mean you barely have knights left for guard duty?"
At the question, Beedon's eyes widened briefly. Unguarded by a visor, his emotions were clear: indignation, wariness.
Toward him, Arsen tossed a simple bombshell.
"We've brought the remedy. Inform the lord."
* * *
In the days they'd been gone making the deworming agent, the situation had worsened gravely, and Arsen's group was allowed inside immediately.
Arsen could read the intent behind it to some degree.
Letting them in meant: If you claim to have a plague cure, you shouldn't mind catching it yourselves—a test of sorts.
Heading toward the lord's castle, they witnessed Baltres' grim reality in stark detail.
People with sallow faces coughing endlessly, clutching bellies in agony; corpses shrouded in cloth being carted away; parents wailing for lost children, children sobbing for dead parents; desperate shouts and screams trying to save dying kin......
If the previous fortress had been hell's ashes, this was hell unfolding in real time.
It was miserable enough to humble Arsen's group, who had entered full of savior's swagger.
"......As you've seen, this place is hell now."
Beedon murmured in a hoarse, low voice.
His tone was odd: half expectation, half despair. Perhaps kin among the dead. Or everyone but him.
"If the remedy truly works, you'll be this territory's saviors forever. But if not......"
His mutter that they wouldn't leave alive was downright eerie.
Arsen neither rebuked the rudeness nor sneered, simply nodding politely. Desperate people couldn't afford consideration for others.
A crowd packed the lord's manor grounds.
For a plague, they should have been isolated, but they clustered densely as if fearing some other illness might arise. As if such concepts existed for this era's folk.
Suddenly, an old Earth tale came to mind.
In medieval Europe, people gathered in churches to overcome the Black Death, spreading it faster. Infection wasn't common knowledge then.
Even the Kratta fortress of Arsen's childhood had rampant deaths from poor hygiene and bizarre superstitions.
They hoped the lord would work some miracle through the manor to save them.
But Arsen knew better. The manor's "miracle" wasn't for that.
It was merely an ancient defense mages had set against invaders—capable of attack and defense, but not shielding folk from disease.
It existed solely for battle.
Finally entering the manor, they met the person in charge in the front yard.
The middle-aged knight, somewhat pot-bellied from age, seemed less afflicted than others, though infected.
"I'm Deputy Lord Dalpion. You're the ones with the remedy."
"Yes. Arsen of Belluan. And the lord?"
"Elsewhere."
"Does the deputy lord hold the same authority as the lord?"
Arsen observed him subtly, gauging the words' meaning.
Soon, he realized the man was doing the same.
Once foes recognized each other, the deputy spoke first, baring his hand.
"Let's be frank. What's your game?"
"You don't trust us?"
"Can't afford to. Our best physicians gave up, and now outsiders claim a cure? Only a fool would buy it! The lord prepares the miracle safely elsewhere. If you're scheming, surrender now. Whatever your plan, it'll turn to ash in an instant."
Arsen knew it wasn't bluster. He knew the lord's miracle required preparation but could annihilate dozens of knights once ready.
Thus, he dropped the probing and met the man's eyes squarely.
"No schemes. We have a real remedy. Give us one small price, and it's yours."
"The price?"
"One flying Jin. That suffices."
The deputy's face hardened instantly.
No need to say he couldn't—that came right away.
"Impossible."
"Why?"
He shook his head.
"Our four wingless birds are all out. Fetching renowned physicians from neighboring territories."
That explained why Beedon had stood guard on foot, not on a flying Jin.
"Then you can't pay."
"True. But give the antidote first, and if real, we'll yield one wingless bird later."
"Hard to accept a one-sided deal relying on goodwill, unseen even by the lord's face."
The negative reply darkened the deputy's face menacingly. Meeting it calmly, Arsen said flatly.
"Threats via miracle won't work."
"What......"
"If the lord were truly preparing one in hiding, you wouldn't have warned us. Too ill to use it, dead without succession? Or too young perhaps."
"......You know well the lord's house customs."
"Happened that way. Plus, only three or four knights left active. All sick too."
The deputy's glare could kill, but Arsen held steady without flinching.
For a full minute.
The staring contest ended, and the deputy finally bowed his head, then knelt fully, forehead to ground.
The most humiliating plea from a knight and deputy lord.
"......I admit it. We can't pay, nor threaten you. We beg mercy only. You've seen the suffering on the way here. If you can save them, name anything—we'll grant it. I swear on god and lord."