Chapter 370 - 362: The Plague Knocks at the Gate

Chapter 370: Chapter 362: The Plague Knocks at the Gate

The fervor from celebrating Velin’s promotion to Count had just subsided when the arrival of the aid delegation pushed the construction enthusiasm at Minas Tirith Port to a new peak.

Through the French windows of his study, Velin could see the busy figures on the construction site below, every face filled with hope.

He turned around. Ryo and Elvin were at his desk, having just spread out a blueprint that now covered its entire surface. The complex lines and Runes were dizzying to behold.

"My Lord, the core circuit of the Ethereum-enrichment Array must be etched with Mithril. My mentor emphasized that any substitute material would lead to an energy dissipation of at least twelve percent." Ryo pointed to the massive Ethereum Tower blueprint spread across the desk, his expression one of scholarly focus. He had completely shed his former greenness, his every gesture now exuding the confidence of a Caster.

Mage Elvin added from the side, "Yes, Lord Count. And based on experience from the Royal Capital, to stabilize the Runes in the foundation, it’s best to mix in powdered Star Iron. It can effectively resist earthquakes and land subsidence. Of course, these are optional components."

Velin’s finger traced slowly over the complex blueprint, his mind already calculating the material deficits and cash flow for the entire project.

This was a vast undertaking, but the returns were equally astounding. A true Ethereum Tower would be the absolute core of the territory’s technological and military strength. It wasn’t just a tower; it was a heart that would pump vitality into the domain. Once built, it could ceaselessly draw upon ethereum, converting it into a stable, usable power source for the workshops, even lighting every street of the main city.

Not to mention its terrifying military potential.

By pre-installing and adding different Magic modules, the tower would become a giant magical turret. Velin could almost picture it: with enemies at the city walls, a "Sunbeam" would lance out from the tower’s peak, instantly melting their siege weapons; or a colossal energy shield would erupt from the ground, enveloping the entire city. That was true deterrence.

A knock sounded at the study door. Tristan entered. He walked straight to the desk and placed a parchment scroll, sealed with wax, on top of the blueprints.

"An urgent dispatch from my father of the Lorenzo family." His words were brief. "From the Seven Ports Alliance. Sea Wind City."

Velin looked up, noticing an indescribable unease in Tristan’s usually steady composure.

He picked up the scroll and unfurled the letter within.

"A disease has broken out in Sea Wind City," Velin read aloud. "It begins with a cough, followed by coughing up blood. The clots are black. It’s highly contagious; those exposed quickly develop the same symptoms. The common folk of Sea Wind City are calling it... the ’Blood God’s Curse.’"

The atmosphere in the room instantly became deathly still.

Ryo and Elvin exchanged a glance, each seeing the horror reflected in the other’s eyes.

"Is the source reliable?" Velin asked.

"It was from my father’s man in Sea Wind City," Tristan answered. "He was preparing to leave by ship; this was the last messenger raven he could send. He said that the lord of Sea Wind City, Baron Fein, has suppressed the news."

"Suppressed the news?" Mage Elvin asked, perplexed. "At a time like this, shouldn’t he immediately call for aid from his neighbors and ask the Church’s Priests to come and perform a purification?"

"Because Baron Fein’s warehouses are still stocked with ten thousand barrels of apple cider destined for the heart of the Duchy," Tristan said with a bitter smile. "He wanted to sell off the shipment before the news spun out of control."

Tristan’s explanation sent a chill down Ryo’s spine. ’To risk the lives of an entire city for the sake of money.’

"Did he succeed?" Velin asked.

"Partially," Tristan’s reply was heavy. "He did get a few ships out of port before complete chaos erupted. But now, Sea Wind City is a ghost town. Baron Fein himself was found dead in his castle three days ago, having coughed up blood. Of his entire domain, not one in ten survived."

Velin could no longer remain seated. His gaze grew incredibly sharp. Without a shred of hesitation, he didn’t even stop to discuss the veracity of the intelligence with his subordinates.

When faced with a plague, any hesitation is fatal, even if the risk is only one in ten thousand.

"Tristan."

"Here."

"Activate the disaster protocol." Velin’s command cut through the quiet study, sharp and clear. "Highest response level."

Tristan’s body tensed. He nodded firmly. "Yes!"

Ryo and Elvin were completely stunned. They hadn’t even had time to process the meaning of the "Blood God’s Curse," and their lord was already issuing directives on par with a war mobilization.

"First, effective immediately, all ports in the White Tower Territory are closed. All incoming vessels must undergo mandatory quarantine and observation at designated offshore anchorages. I authorize coastal artillery to sink any vessel that attempts to force its way through."

"Second, establish quarantine stations at all land-based checkpoints. All individuals entering the territory, regardless of status, will be sent to temporary isolation camps for mandatory observation."

"Third, print a ’Plague Prevention Daily.’ One issue per day. Use the simplest pictures and words to explain the importance of washing hands, drinking boiled water, and avoiding gatherings. Distribute it for free to every town and village."

"Fourth, mobilize the entire territorial guard and the reserve corps to maintain order in all quarantine zones. I authorize the on-the-spot suppression of any attempts to incite panic or storm the quarantine stations."

"Fifth, the Alchemy Workshop is to suspend all non-essential projects. Go into full production of soap, alcohol, and simple filter masks. Distribute them for free on a per-capita basis."

One order after another was rapidly issued. Scribes furiously took notes, while messengers holding freshly written edicts rushed out of the castle.

Only when the footsteps had faded into the distance did a horrified Mage Elvin finally stammer, "Lord Count... this... isn’t this an overreaction? The letter said... Baron Fein suppressed the news. Perhaps the situation isn’t so..."

Velin watched the Mage in silence, his gaze profound.

After a moment, he spoke slowly, "Elvin, I would rather that, in hindsight, this all proves to be an overreaction on my part—that I made a mountain out of a molehill."

He paused, his tone becoming unshakably firm. "But I cannot gamble the lives of thousands and thousands of people on a ’perhaps.’"

Elvin was struck by the Count’s resolve and could not utter another word of protest.

Over the next two days, the entire territory began to operate with unprecedented efficiency.

The forges of the Alchemy Workshop burned day and night, churning out large quantities of a potent, acrid-smelling disinfectant, which was then distributed to every street by constables and soldiers. A tense atmosphere hung in the air, but the orderly distribution and clear directives helped to quell the populace’s panic to some extent.

「On the morning of the third day.」

As Velin and Tristan were reviewing reports on supply distribution, a messenger hurried in. He stopped a good distance from the desk and presented a wooden box.

"My Lord," the messenger reported respectfully, "a letter from the Royal Capital. As you commanded, it has been treated with powerful Magic."

Velin waved his hand, signaling for the messenger to set down the box and withdraw. He pulled on a pair of leather gloves before taking out the letter inside.

This time, it was an official bulletin from the council of nobles.

"Hah. How brilliant," Velin said, looking at the bulletin before pushing it toward Tristan. "Baron Fein’s neighbor, Viscount Griffin, has dispatched his army to blockade all roads. Anyone who approaches, noble or commoner, is to be shot on sight."

"That’s a massacre!" Tristan couldn’t help but exclaim.

"And another one, Baron Saint Gino," Velin’s voice dripped with scorn, "has gathered all his people in the town square for a three-day prayer vigil, beseeching the gods to drive out the plague. Apparently, the Eternal Radiance Church is full of praise for his actions."

Tristan’s cheek twitched. "Organizing a mass gathering... when faced with the threat of an unknown plague?"

"Stupidity is contagious, and it spreads faster than any plague," Velin said coldly. In light of this new intelligence, his own decisive commands seemed all the more correct and far-sighted.

Below that was a new piece of intelligence.

"Lord Count, the Eternal Radiance Church has formally proposed to lead the epidemic-control efforts. The first contingent of their Purification Knight Order, three hundred strong, is already en route to the areas surrounding the plague zone."

"The Purification Knight Order?" Tristan’s brows knitted together. "A pack of zealots who only know how to scorch ’heretics’ with Holy Light. Are they going there to cure the sick, or to purge them?"

No one could answer that question.

Having confirmed the plague’s severity, Velin also passed on the preventative measures he was employing to all his allies.

While Velin was writing his letters, Tristan walked over to the large map of the Duchy on the wall. He picked up a red thumbtack and, according to the report, pressed it into the location marked "Sea Wind City."

Within half a month, the blood-red thumbtacks began to spread out from Sea Wind City in the southeastern corner, tracing paths along the coastline and inland trade routes.

They crossed mountains, forests, and rivers. The nearest red dot drew ever closer to the northeastern border of the White Tower Territory.

The plague was closing in.

But White Tower Territory had already raised its strongest shield.

Isolation Camp A-3, located in the open fields north of Minas Tirith Port.

A quarantine officer in a beaked mask sprinted toward the camp’s communication station.

At almost the exact same time, Velin was in his study, listening to Tristan’s daily briefing on the various quarantine stations.

"...to date, the situation in all isolation camps remains stable. No one has shown symptoms of coughing up blood."

Tristan had not yet finished speaking when the study door burst open. The Captain of the Guard rushed in, breathing raggedly.

"Lord Count! Isolation Camp A-3... there’s been an incident!"

Everyone in the study froze.

"A fur merchant who arrived twelve days ago just collapsed."

"He... he’s coughing. He’s coughing up... blood... with black clots."

The plague had, after all, knocked on the gates of White Tower Territory.

Elvin’s lips trembled, and Ryo’s face was ashen, drained of all color.

Only now did they truly understand just how vital their lord’s seemingly "overreactive" commands had been.

Velin slowly rose to his feet.

He walked over to the large map of the Duchy and pinched a blood-red thumbtack from a wooden box.

He raised his hand, aiming for the small square on the map that represented the outer perimeter of the White Tower Territory—Isolation Camp A-3.

Then, he pressed down. Hard.

THUNK.

The sharp point of the thumbtack sank deep into the map’s surface, staining the land that symbolized their home with a fatal, long-foreseen red dot.