Chapter 2: A Mysterious Illness
The Rising Cure
The sun had long since departed when Andrei finally doused the forge fires for the night. Wiping sweat from his brow, he gathered his tools and retreated to the dim shelter of his workshop to clean and polish each item for the next day's work. Yet his mind remained distant, replaying the strange encounter with the curious cloaked woman that had so abruptly ended with her urgent departure mere hours past.
There had been something hauntingly familiar in her voice, in the way her soul seemed to shine through even the shadow of her hood. But such notions were folly - what business could a noblewoman, for she must be of high birth to conceal her features so, have in his lowly smithy? And yet...
Andrei was drawn from his wandering thoughts by a sudden commotion in the village square. Grabbing his quarterstaff, he hastened out into the gathering dusk to find people rushing about in panic, supporting shivering forms between them. A grizzled elder stopped Andrei, gasping "The sweating sickness...it's upon us. Three already lost their lives - we must help the stricken!"
Andrei nodded grimly, dread and determination settling like a leaden weight in his gut. This mysterious malady had long plagued communities across the kingdom, spreading swift as wildfire through close quarters before disappearing just as suddenly, leaving death in its wake. If it took hold here, with winter fast approaching, the cost could be catastrophic.
"Bring them to the longhouse - I'll gather what herbs and potions may aid. Send word to the healer woman, if she still lives, and pray she reaches us in time." As villagers scrabbled to obey, Andrei turned to the elder. "Bar the entrance once all are within. No one enters or exits without my say."
Within the longhouse, a scene of chaos and terror unfolded. Men, women and children lay writhing as if possessed, skin burning to the touch yet racked with chills. Those still standing did their best to make the afflicted comfortable despite the cramped, fetid conditions. Andrei moved amongst them, assessing symptoms, mixing potions to ease pain and bring fever down. But nothing seemed to slow the sickness' relentless advance.
He was throwing open shutters for air when a familiar voice sounded behind him. "Andrei - what devilry is this? The village speaks of nothing else." Spinning, he found the cloaked woman gazing upon the suffering with unveiled anguish. Her hood had fallen back to reveal strands of gold hanging limp in the sweat beading her fair brow.
"Your Highness," Andrei gasped, instinctively bowing despite the impropriety of her presence here. "This is no place for -"
"I can help," she stated firmly, meeting his gaze. "My energies would be better spent aiding my people than fretting uselessly within stone walls. Now tell me - what is required?"
Andrei paused, seeing the steely resolve in her eyes, but time was fleeting. "Water, cloths - whatever may relieve symptoms as the healers race to our side." With a curt nod, Amelia set to work alongside him through the long fearful night, and the first fragile threads of understanding began to weave between them.
As dawn's light filtered through the shutters, those who had survived the night still clung to life, though flames yet licked at their limbs. Andrei collapsed against a wall, spent yet knowing rest must wait. His mind churned through herb lore and old physicians' tomes, desperate for insight as Amelia tended the fevered brow of a sleeping babe. It was then a memory sparked - of a wandering scholar lecturing in the castle town square moons past on strange eastern plagues and newly discovered cures.
Rising unsteadily, Andrei grasped Amelia's shoulder. "I must away into the forest - there is a rare herb, saijin, utilized by those peoples. It may yet turn the tide if I hasten now." Her eyes widened in fear but she nodded, knowing all lives depended on this desperate gamble. With a final pleading glance at the suffering forms around them, Andrei fled into the misty dawn, praying it was not already too late.