Chapter 379 - 370: The Extinguishing of Morning Sun

Chapter 379: Chapter 370: The Extinguishing of Morning Sun

Two cutters slipped silently out of Minas Tirith Port. One sailed south, the other east, each heading toward an allied territory shrouded in the shadow of the plague.

A seagull took flight from the top of a mast, soaring into the distance.

Below, the once-dense lights of the fishing villages dotting the coastline had dwindled to just a few scattered specks.

It swept over one town after another.

Some had already fallen to the plague, where only the wind now stirred the dust. Others were still clinging to life, but piles of bodies already lined the pale white quarantine lines. A few seemed to have pulled through; small bands of survivors had heaped the dead into small mountains, lighting massive bonfires that blazed into the sky, becoming beacons in the dark night.

Finally, it landed atop the bell tower of a city.

Inside the city walls, the Noble District’s streets were still relatively clean. Patrols could be seen from time to time. The air was thick with suppression, but order was maintained. The seagull preened its feathers, resting for a moment.

Its gaze passed over that invisible boundary, toward the wider districts.

That was the true hell. Vast swaths of the city were deathly silent, as if covered by a giant gray shroud, devoid of all life.

The seagull seemed to sense a certain unease. It took flight again, heading due north.

「Dawn Territory, the Count’s Castle.」

A chill seeped from the stone walls of the conference hall, a cold that not even the dancing flames in the fireplace could dispel. Outside, a cold rain tapped against the glass with a monotonous patter, as if counting down the final moments of the territory’s fate.

On either side of the long table, the vassals of the Dawn Territory wore varied expressions, but the fear in their eyes was identical.

At the head of the table, Diana sat with her blonde hair pinned up, a few strands falling loose against her cheek. Her brow was furrowed with exhaustion.

"...The Moon Territory is finished."

The speaker was Baron Kroo, the man who had carved out a Knight’s Manor for his youngest son in the Newly Cultivated Land.

"Three days ago, the Baron of Moon fled with his family and his last twenty guards! He ran to Silver Radiance City! His territory is now nothing but a giant plague pot, filled with the old and weak waiting to die and serfs who’ve gone mad!"

He gasped for breath, his gaze turning to Diana in a near-plea.

"My Lady, my fief borders the Moon Territory! Those desperate refugees are already starting to smash my checkpoints! They’re a walking plague!"

"It’s not just the refugees." At the other end of the table, Sir Finley, a man with a scar on his face, spoke in a low voice. He was methodically polishing his sword with a piece of deerskin. "We lost contact with Black Water Town yesterday. I sent out two scouts. Neither returned."

One piece of bad news after another fell upon them, like the cold rain beating against the windowpanes.

As the plague spread throughout the Duchy, the Dawn Territory—a sanctuary bought with an early, strict lockdown—was finally pushed to the brink. Cases began appearing in the outer villages one after another, and Diana could only order them to be sealed off. But it was like trying to stop a flood with sandbags.

"The real problem is that band of armed refugees from the west!" a young noble slammed his hand on the table, making the goblets buzz. "There are over a hundred of them! Armed! They must have escaped from a plague zone, and now they’re rushing toward our heartland! My Lady, we must dispatch the troops! Annihilate them all before they bring the plague here!"

"Annihilate?" Baron Kroo snorted, his fleshy cheeks trembling. "Easy for you to say! You might be clever, but the soldiers aren’t stupid! Go ask Sir Finley if his men are willing to cut down madmen coughing up black blood. I’ll tell you what, my men have already started deserting! They’d rather be hanged than bring the plague home to their families!"

The young noble retorted indignantly, "So, what are you suggesting, Baron Kroo? We just open the gates and wait for them to rush in and infect us all?"

"I didn’t say that!" Kroo’s face flushed red. "But we can’t just throw our soldiers’ lives into this bottomless pit!"

"Enough."

Diana quelled the escalating argument.

She looked at Sir Finley, speaking each word with deliberation.

"Finley, the sword of the Dawn Territory must protect its people. Even if its point is aimed at a crowd of commoners. If your men are unwilling to go... I will lead them myself."

Sir Finley opened his mouth, but ultimately lowered his head and answered in a muffled voice, "Yes, My Lady."

Diana had steadied the military’s morale, but her own heart sank to the depths.

"Perhaps... we could ask the Church for help?" someone suggested in a low voice from a corner.

"The Church?" A well-informed baron immediately retorted. "Forget it. My uncle is a friar at the church in Sunfire City. His letter made it perfectly clear: the Four-Ring Divine Skill [Lesser Restoration] can indeed cure the plague, but it requires material components for a priest to cast. You want to treat people on a mass scale? That would require a ritual Divine Art, and the materials needed would pile up into a mountain!" 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ

A suffocating silence fell over the room.

The baron hadn’t finished, but everyone knew what he left unsaid: even if they had some materials, they would prioritize them for their own families and Personal Guards. Although curing the populace would stop the plague’s spread, with insufficient resources, everyone could only be selfish and try to survive one day at a time.

Baron Kroo’s eyes darted about. He suddenly spoke again, his tone becoming somewhat peculiar. "I’ve heard... that the situation with the Sun Clan isn’t so severe."

His words immediately drew agreement from the other nobles.

As if grasping at a final straw, the nobles all chimed in, saying they had heard similar rumors. A flood of words urging and begging Diana to "call for reinforcements" from the Sun Clan erupted, pushing her into the eye of the storm.

All eyes converged on Diana.

Diana smiled bitterly. ’How completely hopeless,’ she thought, an endless bitterness welling up in her heart.

’Nonsense.’

’The Sun Clan did indeed send me a letter, but they only offered to shelter me in Sunfire City. As for reinforcements?’

’In the face of an apocalyptic disaster like this, who would risk themselves to save others?’

At this thought, the image of a certain man flashed through her mind, but she quickly forced it away.

’It’s hard enough just to survive. Who has the luxury of caring whether others live or die?’

Diana’s gaze fell on the map of the Dawn Territory hanging on the wall. The villages and towns that had once been her pride now looked like festering pustules, ready to burst at any moment, reeking of decay.

A sense of powerlessness seized her heart.

She even began to consider a terrible question: if she had to sacrifice a part of her territory, which part should it be? The farms to the west, or the mines to the south? Behind every name on that map were thousands of living souls.

The mere thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Just as a dead silence filled the hall, a messenger rushed in. He fell to his knees, gasping for air, his chest heaving violently.

"Insolence!" Sir Finley instinctively rose to his feet to rebuke him. "Who gave you the nerve—"

"Speak."

Diana raised her hand, stopping Finley.

She saw a light in the messenger’s eyes, something entirely different from despair.

The messenger swallowed hard, raised his head, and reported in a panic.

"The port... a ship has arrived at the port!"

Everyone was stunned.

A ship? At a time like this, why would any ship come to a forsaken place like the Dawn Territory?

The messenger paused for a moment, as if to confirm that he hadn’t misread the sigil fluttering in the wind and rain, then continued.

"The ship... it’s flying the flag of the White Tower!"