– "It seems the Hyacinth flower has taken the place of the old Wisteria tree. I am the Orchid, I suppose your master spoke of me." –
Hyacinth kept his composure, holding his breath involuntarily.
– "Yes, it's true. My master mentioned you along with an important task. So, in my master's name, I will take on the duty that was entrusted to her." –
His eyes were fixed on mine, judging my every word and reaction.
– "Seeing that you will now be the one handling my request, I suppose it must be true that the acclaimed Wisteria is no longer among us. I lament the loss." – He said, placing his right hand on his chest – "She was a great person." –
– "If it's not too much trouble, I would like to go pay my respects wherever she may be resting now, for I am grateful for her actions." – commented the hooded young man –
A knot formed in his throat upon hearing the mention of the visit. Sylvan nodded silently. Without a word, he made a slight gesture with his head, indicating the path that led into the dense trees.
The grey-eyed companion did not utter a word. He simply stood beside the Orchid, observing attentively and precisely everything happening around him, as if searching for hidden dangers in the surroundings.
– "This way" – he murmured, and began to walk. The two figures proceeded to follow him.
After a short walk, they reached the ancient Wisteria tree where his master's grave now lay.
– "So it's true… I didn't think she would end up like this. She was a great person who looked out for the well-being of those who suffered." – said Orchid with sorrow.
The blue-haired young man closed his eyes and clasped his hands, showing his respect in silence.
Orchid stopped in front of the grave and removed his hood. His serene expression cracked slightly as his fingers gently brushed the wisteria petals adorning the place.
– "She was the best healer I have ever known. None possess her wisdom nor her potential" – he commented, his voice now more vulnerable, laden with a pain that transcended formality –
Sylvan remained silent, observing how the man struggled to maintain his composure, noticing the almost imperceptible tremor in his hands.
– "I am Sariel Aurelius Von Dreymont" – he continued, straightening up with dignity –", Crown Prince of the Solarys Empire. And this is my knight, Aleus Steinberg." – He paused, fixing his golden eyes on Sylvan's – "The Common people are being ravaged by a terrible epidemic, thousands are falling ill, and people are afraid to go outside. This situation is already unsustainable for the Empire. I have exhausted all alternatives, consulted healers from every corner of the kingdom. You are... our last hope now that your mentor is gone." –
Sariel didn't think twice. With a movement that froze his bodyguard's blood, he knelt on the damp earth.
– "I beg you" – he said, his voice breaking – "And I ask you not as a prince, but as someone who can no longer simply stand by and do nothing while people suffer and meet their end from this terrible plague. We have no one else left, I beg for your help." –
Sylvan observed the prince kneeling before him. In his eyes, he no longer saw the arrogance of royalty, but the same desperation he had seen in so many villagers begging his master for help.
– "Please, rise." – said Sylvan, in a softer tone – "Wisteria never wanted anyone to kneel for help to those in need." –
He extended a hand to help the prince to his feet. Aleus, to the side, relaxed his rigid posture slightly.
Sylvan nodded gravely.
– Let's return to the cabin – he said, pointing down the path –. I need you to tell me everything about this disease." –
The three were now inside the cabin. The dim light of an oil lamp cast dancing shadows on their faces.
– "Your Highness, please tell me everything you know about this disease" – requested Sylvan, leaning on the work table, which was covered in herbs and parchments. His gaze fixed on him, no longer that of a young man, but of someone preparing to try and find a cure for this devastating epidemic.
Sariel nodded, taking a deep breath and leaning back in the chair. Aleus remained standing beside him, like a silent shadow always at his lord's side.
– "It is called The Raven's Rust" – began the young prince, his voice heavy with worry –. "We don't know what is causing it or how it spreads, only that once you contract it, death is certain." –
– "And how does it begin?" – asked Sylvan, quickly taking notes in a small journal.
– "It all starts at the fingertips. They turn black, as if turned to charcoal, and that blackness continues to spread, slowly but relentlessly. After that comes the cough. A dry cough that, soon after contracting it, makes you start coughing up blood." –
Sylvan frowned, concern visible in his green eyes. – "What comes next, Your Highness?" –
– "Then comes the fever, an extremely high one. The sick become delirious, starting to talk to ghosts and things that aren't there, followed by extreme pain in their joints that makes them writhe in suffering." – Sariel clenched his fists and frowned, visions he had experienced returning from oblivion to his memory – "Subsequently, comes loss of vision and loss of bodily control. They lose control over their body, thus also losing mobility, which leaves them bedridden, incapable of doing or seeing anything. Finally…"
– "Death…" – concluded Sylvan in a whisper, the worry evident on his face. Everyone fell silent for a few minutes, processing what had been said. – "What is the origin of this? Where does this epidemic come from, Your Highness?" –
Sariel shook his head, dejected.
– "No one knows its origin. It first appeared in the poorest neighborhoods of the empire. It continues to spread through the poor neighborhoods, killing anyone in its path. I fear that those with the fewest resources will disappear because of the plague and, if it is not stopped, more people will die." –
– "Is it at least known how it spreads?" – asked Sylvan, fixing his gaze on the prince –. "Through the air? By contact? By ingestion?" –
– "The court physicians have been investigating, but they cannot agree on a definitive answer" – Aleus finally spoke with a cold, calm voice, seeing the look of concern on his master's face –. "Some say it is contracted by touching the sick, and others say that a simple word is enough to become infected. Only one thing is clear: everyone who treats the sick ends up contracting it sooner or later. There is no clear pattern, and that is what is sowing panic." –
Sylvan looked at his notebook, searching for answers within it. Fierce symptoms, unknown origin, and its method of propagation was uncertain. It was much worse than Sylvan had hoped, a total nightmare for the young healer. Now he understood why his master had said the request had to be completed.
– "They know absolutely nothing" – he murmured to himself, then raised his eyes to Sariel. – "And yet, you came here seeking solutions." –
– "There are no more options and time is short. Who knows how long it will take to spread to the rest of the empire." – he confessed, setting aside his dignity and revealing the desperation of a prince who can do nothing for his kingdom –. "Now that Wisteria is gone, we have no choice but to turn to you, who were her apprentice." –
The young prince ran his hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.
– "My father and his advisors only have eyes for the Sacred Empire" – he commented, annoyance visible on his pale face –. "Whether it's meetings or strategic movements, the Sacred Empire is the only thing of importance right now.
Sylvan arched an eyebrow, with a mix of skepticism and curiosity in his gaze.
– "I see. So that's why you've come here." –
– "Indeed" – Sariel stated, without preamble –. "For now, it's not a concern for them. But let all those who move the markets start dying, the bankers they care so much about, the farmers, ranchers, and fishermen, those who provide supplies to this great empire. When they start to fall... Who will keep this empire standing?" – He gestured desperately, the urgency evident in his voice –. "While my father prepares for war against a distant enemy, he fails to see that the empire is dying from within." –
Sylvan observed the prince. Surprised to see for the first time a noble concerned about something other than his own income or himself.
– "I see. So you came here secretly from your father" – concluded Sylvan after hearing his explanation –
– "Someone had to do it, worry about this empire before it's too late" – replied Sariel, shrugging and letting out a sigh –. "And from what Wisteria said about you, you are an intelligent young man with a talent for your work, the only one who could find a cure before this gets out of hand." – The prince commented seriously. –
Sylvan looked towards his mentor's grave, the purple tree still visible from the window of the old hut. Now he understood better the true weight of that visit.