Arc I – Beautiful World
Chapter 6 – Ku rita yup?
Day 5 Since the Summoning
By the time early evening approached, everyone had gathered again near that very village; the fog had scattered a little, letting through reddish rays of the sun.
Alan stood before Kamelia and the guards right outside the first house; on his face was an improvised medical mask made of a boiled blanket, and on his hands were leather gloves.
The countess and the guards stood in the same ‘gear,’ sniffling through their masks.
Alan folded his hands in front of him.
‘Perfect.
Part of the job is already done.
The corpse of that beast will be removed soon, and Kamelia has already given the order to isolate the villages…
it was difficult, but she ordered it.
Alright, and now…’
His hands began to tremble slightly.
‘I need to…
go into these houses and check on the people sick…
with dysentery…’
His heart began to pound faster.
‘Or maybe screw it?
My job is just to inform and tell them what to do and how, right?
I am not obligated to participate personally at all!’
He gritted his teeth.
‘How pathetic I am, anything to avoid answering for my own words.
Grow a pair and go into that house, Alan Gothwald.’
He took a deep breath.
“So, first…” his voice came out squeaky.
‘What a stud, a real man, not gonna lie.’
He coughed loudly.
“Ahem…
anyway.
We go into this first house, DO NOT touch ANYTHING with your hands, DO NOT touch ANYONE, and DO NOT go near the sick.
Is that clear to everyone?”
“Clear, commander,” one of the guards said.
Alan narrowed his eyes.
‘I can’t see what’s behind the mask, but I’m damn sure this prick is suppressing a grin over there.’
He waved his hand.
“Alright…
Kamelia, you and I will go first, there’s no need for a whole crowd in one house.”
She nodded silently and followed him.
Alan walked up to the house and slowly, with a trembling hand, opened the door.
The smell of shit and rot instantly hit his nose, even through the pathetic mask; his eyes immediately widened, and he jumped back from the porch like he’d been scalded, falling to his knees.
He reflexively tore off the mask, and his entire morning porridge ended up on the grass.
Standing near the doors, Kamelia immediately pinched her nose through her mask and swallowed what was rising in her own throat; then she turned and walked over to Alan, who was on his knees with his palms pressed against the ground, breathing rapidly without even blinking.
‘Fuck, fuck, FUCK!
If the smell is like that out here, I can’t even imagine what’s going on in there!
No!
I don’t want to go in there!
I DON’T WANT TO!’
His body was shaking when suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder; he slowly turned around.
Kamelia.
“Get up, Alan.
We have to go inside.”
Alan shook his head.
“I d-don’t want to…” he whispered, his eyes darting around.
‘I don’t want to.
I DON’T WANT TO!
Alright…
alright…
stop!
You didn’t even see what’s going on in there.
Right!
In the Middle Ages, people often lived together with animals in the same house!
There’s probably just…
a dead sheep or goat in there that they don’t have the strength to remove!’
He stood up with trembling hands, not even thinking that in the Middle Ages people only did that during winter.
Alan pulled his mask back on and swallowed.
“Let’s go…” he rasped.
Kamelia nodded.
The guards stood behind them, all watching without looking away; no one laughed, no one pointed fingers.
As soon as Alan approached the door, he immediately clamped his gloved fingers tightly over his nose, and he and Kamelia walked inside together.
The room was absolutely swarming with flies; dozens, if not hundreds of flies circled the bed.
Alan looked around frantically.
No animals.
His face turned as white as chalk.
He simply stood there, staring at the bed covered by a swarm of insects.
‘…’
Kamelia took a step into the room.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Moving her legs like a robot, she walked toward the bed.
“D-don’t…” Alan tried to squeeze something out, but the words wouldn’t leave his throat.
He took a few breaths of rotten air through his mouth through the mask.
“D-don’t t-touch it with your hands,” he whispered.
Kamelia gave a trembling nod, then picked up a wooden stick in the corner and approached the bed.
She carefully lifted the blanket, and just as many flies flew out from under it.
Her face became just as white as Alan’s.
She dropped the stick and walked briskly toward the exit.
Alan remained rooted to the spot; the girl grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him outside with her, and Alan did not resist.
For a few minutes, the two just sat on the grass.
Alan stared into nowhere.
‘Fucked.
Fucked.
Fucked.
What…
what did she see in there?
If even she felt sick from that…
oh my god…
no…
I don’t even want to ask what was in there.
I don’t want to.
Don’t want to.
I want to go home.
Far away from this cursed place.
Let this just be a dream.
A bad dream.’
He pulled his knees to his chest and continued staring into the void.
‘Mein Gott.
Where did I end up.
Where.
Did.
I.
End up.
This isn’t my life.
Haha…
this isn’t me at all.
This can’t be happening to me.
This isn’t me.’
Alan jumped up from a sharp sting on his cheek and clutched the sore spot.
Kamelia stood over him with a raised hand, breathing slightly heavily.
“Alan!
I have called you five times already, what is the matter with you?!”
Alan looked at her with wide eyes, and then shook his head.
“N-nothing…”
‘Just stop it already!
Whining isn’t going to help here!
I need a goal, I need to do something!
…
If I don’t do a damn thing, Kamelia will definitely realize I’m just a useless loudmouth, and execute me!
I gave my word…
oh you moron, oh you idiot!
Who forced you to open your mouth?!
What was I thinking when I said those words?!
Moron, moron, MORON!’
He slowly stood up from the ground, deathly pale, his body trembling, his heart pounding like crazy.
Alan pulled the mask back over his face, took a deep breath, and nodded to one of the guards.
“Write down…
one…
dead.” His voice trembled.
The guard shook his head.
“I do not know how.”
Alan nodded.
‘Right, hardly anyone here is literate.
Time to use my head.
Come on.’
“Kamelia, is there a sheet of paper and a quill?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“No, but I can remember.”
Alan glanced back at that very house.
“That’s…
unreliable.
Tear some bark off an old tree, and make…
make tallies on it at least.
Kamelia, carve…
a cross on the door of this house.”
‘Look what it’s come to.
Counting dead people.’
Kamelia turned to the guards and nodded; one of them went off to a nearby grove, then the girl walked to that house, covering her nose, closed the door, drew her blade, and carved a crooked cross into the door, then looked at Alan.
“Next house?”
He nodded slowly, and they walked toward the house across the street; Kamelia opened the door first.
The usual stench wafted from inside, not the smell of rot.
Alan exhaled slowly and followed Kamelia inside.
Inside, a woman in her forties was sitting on the bed, just staring at the floor with her head propped on her hands.
She did not turn around at the sound of the doors opening.
“Are…
are you alright?” Alan asked.
The woman slowly turned to them; her face was pale, with deep bags under her eyes.
“Who are you?”
Kamelia took a step forward.
“Countess Armenas.”
The woman blinked.
“Ah…
greetings, Your Grace,” she said evenly, without even standing up or bowing.
Kamelia tilted her head to the side, but said nothing.
“Do you live here alone?”
The woman remained silent for a few seconds.
“Alone now.” She stared at the floor again.
“The sickness took my husband seven weeks ago, and my little son the day before yesterday…
no one left but me.” Her voice was absolutely even, without a shadow of emotion.
Standing behind Kamelia, Alan just looked at the woman.
‘…’
He swallowed.
“May…
may I check the state of your health?”
The woman didn’t even turn around.
“Are you a healer or something?”
Alan shook his head.
“I…
no, but…”
“Then how do you intend to check my health?
Only healers or priests do that.
And if the sickness took my son and husband, my turn will not pass me by, if it is the will of Svyatol.” She fell silent for a second.
“Perhaps it is because of what my father did once that we were cursed…” the woman muttered under her breath.
Alan took a step closer.
“No, I can cure you!
Just let me examine you!”
The woman did not reply.
She simply continued to stare at the floor.
Alan opened his mouth to say something, but Kamelia put a hand on his shoulder.
“Let us go.
We have no time,” she whispered.
Alan clenched his fists, sharply turned around, and walked toward the exit.
‘What a stupid fanatic!
She could survive!
But she doesn’t want to!
Fucking will of Svyatol!
These idiots have an excuse for everything!
Fine then, just die!’
He walked to the next house with clenched fists, his eyes beginning to shine slightly.
Alan opened the door first; everything inside was quiet.
A woman in her thirties was bustling about by the hearth, and a girl of about ten was lying on the bed.
The woman turned around sharply, clutching a wooden spoon to her chest.
“Who…
who are you?”
Kamelia walked in behind Alan.
“I am Countess Armenas, and this is my man.”
The woman opened her eyes wide, then looked at Kamelia’s attire, and immediately ran up in a very deep bow.
“Greetings, Your Grace!
Forgive the mess, I did not expect that…”
“There is no need,” Kamelia interrupted her.
“We are here on business.
Are there any sick in your house?”
The woman got to her feet.
“Uh..
yes..
yes!
My daughter, Shalassa, she recently fell ill!
We have already prayed, we gave her tree bark, but she is only getting worse.”
Alan froze.
‘You…
well, of course.
Fucking of course.
Just keep quiet.’
“Mom, who is there?” a thin voice called out from the bed.
He took a step toward the bed.
“May I take a look?”
The woman opened her mouth to say something.
“He knows how to heal, I vouch for him,” Kamelia interrupted.
The woman closed her mouth and simply nodded.
Alan threw a quick glance at the countess.
‘Thanks.’
He approached the bed with the girl.
She was slightly pale, with sleepy eyes and messy brown hair.
“Is your name Shalassa?”
The girl nodded.
“Yes…
and what is yours?”
Alan paused for a second at such a question.
“Me?
I’m Alan.”
Shalassa blinked.
“A strange name.
And your clothes are strange too.
Why do you need that black collar?” she asked, pointing a finger at his tie.
Alan opened his mouth, blinked a few times.
‘Alright.
Let’s skip over that part…
fucking collar…’
He coughed into the mask.
“Doesn’t matter.
Just tell me, how are you feeling?”
The girl reached her finger toward her lips, but Alan reflexively grabbed her wrist.
The woman darted forward but stopped, her gaze torn between the countess and her daughter.
Shalassa flinched.
“What..
what are you doing?”
Alan let go of her hand.
“Just don’t touch your face with your hands.
Trust me.”
The girl nodded.
“Alright…”
“Now tell me how you’re feeling.”
Shalassa propped herself up and sat against the wall.
“Well…
my head hurts…
I feel hot sometimes…
and I don’t want to eat.
Not at all.”
Alan slowly nodded.
‘There are the symptoms…
I’m no doctor, of course, but it’s obvious that this is only the initial stage.
And that means…
she can still be saved!
Come on, remember, what are the basic remedies for fighting dysentery?
Hygiene is number one, that’s obvious.
Secondly…
I think water with salt?
But I highly doubt they have salt here, it’s literal white gold.
Maybe…
that’s it!
Honey with water!’
He turned to the lady of the house.
“Do you have any honey somewhere?”
She tore her gaze away from her daughter and looked at Alan.
“Honey?
Yes…
we do!
It was just in the barn!” She ran outside.
She walked up to the barn and started rummaging around in there; Alan looked out the window.
“And get some water from the well, if you have one!”
The woman froze, and then slowly turned around.
“Ku rita yup?”
Alan froze.
‘What..
the fuck?’
He shook his head.
“I said bring water from the well!”
The woman blinked.
Blinked again.
“Re hu gosha yup!” she said, spreading her hands.
Kamelia was speaking calmly with the girl off to the side, paying no attention to them.
Alan took a step back.
‘What is going on?’