Chapter 249
Chapter 249
'Ah, right. Yes, I've heard of it. The plague that broke out in the western part of the Empire...'
There had been cases where burning corpses and taking certain measures led to the early suppression of the plague.
Clearly, such an incident had occurred in his past life.
'Damn it. If only I had paid closer attention back then, I might have remembered other methods.'
But it couldn't be helped.
The incident had happened in a region too far from where Logan had been active, and he had dismissed it as irrelevant to Grandia.
'At least remembering this much is fortunate.'
Thus, the path he could take was clear.
"That's a convincing argument. Very well. Burn all the corpses of those who died from the plague."
While cremation was one of the funeral customs across the continent, burial was the most common method in the kingdom unless there were special circumstances.
Since burning was one of the execution methods reserved for grave crimes, there was also a perception that it desecrated the dead.
"There might be some resistance."
"I'll bear that responsibility. It's to stop the plague."
"...Understood."
"And when burning the corpses, burn their personal belongings along with them. If you frame it as honoring the deceased rather than insulting them, the backlash will be less severe."
At this additional order, Gilbert's eyes widened twofold.
As the temporary meeting in the relief camp concluded and the relief team members returned to their posts, Gilbert cautiously approached Logan and asked in a hushed voice.
"Have you heard something similar before?"
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"Well, I was about to suggest burning the deceased's belongings as well, but you brought it up first."
"...Is that also because of those 'bacteria'?"
"Yes. Those bacteria are invisible to the human eye—"
"Ah, no need for explanations. Are you saying my orders will help suppress the plague?"
"Yes."
"Then that's enough. Ah, and... is there any other measure besides burning the corpses? If the priests reach their limits, casualties will inevitably follow."
"My apologies. We'll do our best to develop a cure as quickly as possible."
"Medicine. Medicine..."
Since the priests' healing was prohibitively expensive, commoners mostly relied on herbs and folk remedies. The group that compiled and studied these methods—those with actual efficacy—was known as the Healers' Guild.
Their name had only become familiar to the public less than a decade ago, and twenty years later, they would earn a degree of trust.
The people's desire not to rely solely on priests had bolstered their reputation.
But even now, many still dismissed them as quacks mimicking the priests.
'What if I support them from now on?'
The thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
He lacked the resources now, and the outcome was uncertain.
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Gilbert, interpreting his reaction in his own way, spoke with renewed determination.
"We will develop an effective cure. Please trust us."
"Ah, yes. Do your best. And if you need any support, don't hesitate to ask. I'll provide whatever you need."
"Ah... Th-thank you."
Though it was a perfunctory remark, Logan noticed Gilbert flinch slightly before bowing.
"...Is there something you need immediately? If so, speak up. I'm willing to do anything to suppress this plague early. If it helps, I'll reward you handsomely."
"...In that case, may I access the temple's records?"
"What?"
"I'd like to review the records on the Lestaboom plague from seventy years ago. Comparing the situation then with our guild's current data could significantly speed up the development of a cure."
Perhaps because Gilbert had witnessed his own interactions with the priests, his request was voiced with extreme caution.
After a brief, awkward silence, Logan spoke.
"...I'll discuss it with Bishop Ilia."
"Th-thank you!"
'This is happening right after the conflict with the priests.'
Even for someone as thick-skinned as Logan, this was slightly embarrassing. Nevertheless, he sought out the bishop again to make the request.
But.
"Records about the plague? Of course. They should be quite detailed."
Bishop Ilia's response was far more proactive than expected.
"...Thank you. Is there any other support you need?"
"I was planning to request additional aid from the temple anyway. Might as well ask for the records at the same time."
"Do you think they'll grant it? From the temple's perspective, they've already overinvested."
Investment.
At the distrust-laden word choice, Ilia smiled bitterly.
"But the situation is urgent. Squeezing every last resource from the temple to end the plague early is the best way to serve the people."
Impressed by this unexpectedly earnest bishop, Logan found himself wanting to trust him a little more.
'They won't send more aid, though.'
Naturally, Logan was pessimistic about that.
The backlash against the relief team's order to exhume and burn even already-buried plague victims was milder than expected.
The villagers were too exhausted to protest an order issued by both the priests and the king—a consequence of enduring successive disasters.
Moreover—
"...Does this mean the gods have abandoned him?"
"Absolutely not. He becomes a guardian spirit protecting his surviving family. This is to save all of you."
When the bishop—the most revered figure in the relief team—burned the corpse of a grieving widow's husband and embraced her, even the faintest resistance melted away.
"Someone so noble... embracing lowly folk like us..."
"...Let's all stay strong."
Half by will, half by circumstance, the other priests' fervent efforts to treat the sick further earned the villagers' trust.
Then came more good news.
"Larte's herbs are effective, Master Gilbert!"
"Thank goodness!"
The healers, who had been tirelessly examining patients and gathering herbs day and night, had finally achieved modest success.
"A fever reducer?"
"Yes. It only alleviates the symptoms slightly for now, but it's definitely effective."
"Good. Keep up the good work."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Burning the plague victims' corpses and belongings suppressed the spread of the 'bacteria' as described by the Healers' Guild, and the newly discovered fever reducer helped stabilize even the more severe cases.
The relief team's efforts were beginning to show clear results.
As the death toll decreased and recoveries gradually increased, Logan finally allowed himself a small sigh of relief.
Then Bishop Ilia delivered a grim report.
"This plague is far more virulent than expected."
"What do you mean?"
"Holy Power-based healing is slower against it than any plague recorded in the temple's history. Worse, a patient I'd declared fully cured yesterday has relapsed."
At Ilia's darkened expression, Logan's face grew equally somber.
"I'll press the temple for more support. We can't continue like this."
Though Ilia bit his lip and made the promise, as Logan had predicted, three days later, the temple sent only historical records on the Lestaboom plague.
"We're too busy with relief efforts in other regions to spare any resources."
The priest delivering the records offered this excuse, but not even the other priests believed it.
"Ah! How can they prioritize other regions when ours is the worst affected?!"
Fabian, his face gaunt from exhaustion, screamed.
A week of continuous healing, fasting, and prayer had transformed the once-portly priest into a man of average build—but his mind seemed equally diminished.
"Send reinforcements now!"
Seizing the unfortunate messenger priest, he raged like a true priest devoted to his flock.
Of course, his outburst yielded no results.
"They claim that since no new deaths are occurring, the plague is under control..."
"That's nonsense! At this rate, I'll be the one dying, not the patients! Demand more support immediately!"
While the hapless junior priest endured Fabian's tirade, Gilbert swiftly gathered the temple's records and returned to his colleagues.
Bishop Ilia, his face pale, bit his lip and turned away from the priests' disgraceful display.
With no new deaths, the priests' exhaustion grew daily.
That precarious balance shattered ten days after the relief team's arrival—in a wholly unexpected way.
"Y-Your Majesty! Plague cases have appeared in other villages in Raphtan! Six villages near the quarantined one!"
"What?! Was the quarantine not enforced properly?!"
"W-well... It seems some villagers had visited the infected area before our arrival. And most hid their symptoms instead of reporting them..."
"Damn it all!"
Ten days after the relief team's arrival, plague deaths resumed, and the number of patients began multiplying exponentially.
The sole silver lining was that Logan's earlier threats to neighboring nobles had borne fruit.
Creak.
Clatter.
Dozens of carts laden with grain, accompanied by scores of knights and hundreds of soldiers—all under an unfamiliar floral banner.
As bewildered onlookers stared, a middle-aged knight stepped forward and knelt respectfully.
"We've come from the Barony of Kelloman, Your Majesty. As commanded, we bring food and soldiers for support."
"...Welcome."
The first to arrive was the Barony of Kelloman—the very territory Logan had clashed with earlier—delivering staggering aid.
"The Barony of Genthys also..."
"The Barony of Perona's supplies will arrive soon!"
Two other territories soon followed with smaller but still substantial contributions.
The combined support from these three houses alone could feed eighteen villages and the relief team for three months without worry.
'They had this much to spare, yet they were ready to massacre their own people?'
Logan's distrust of the nobility deepened, but he refrained from showing it.
With the outbreak spreading from twelve to eighteen villages, the relief team and Raphtan's resources alone could barely maintain the quarantine. The three nobles' aid was a lifeline in this drought.
But.
Three days after this brief resurgence of hope, an event plunged everyone into despair.
"H-healers in the relief team are starting to show plague symptoms!"
Those fighting the plague were now falling victim to it.
"Several soldiers guarding the quarantine perimeter have collapsed. Their symptoms match the patients'."
Even the soldiers enforcing the village lockdowns began falling ill.
"We're finished."
"How could this happen...?"
"What in the world is the temple doing?"
As even the temple knights and priests began lamenting, Logan received reports with a stony expression.
"Recoveries?"
"Excluding relapses, about 120 so far."
"New cases?"
"...From the initial 321 reported, the number has grown to over 600."
At this bleak report, Logan sighed and clutched his head.
'There's no choice.'
He'd have to squeeze more resources from his already strained treasury and demand reinforcements from the temple—at least double the current numbers.
'...Can we hold out?'
The royal finances, the military—
A heavy sigh escaped him, but it couldn't be helped. Leaving the plague unchecked risked irreparable damage before the Empire's war even began.
How had things spiraled so badly?
Logan sighed again and moved toward the communication array.
But then—
"Y-Your Majesty! We've found groundbreaking data!"
Gilbert came sprinting toward him, shouting as if his life depended on it.