Arc I – Beautiful World
Chapter 7 – A New Wall
Day 5 Since the Summoning
Alan slowly turned to Kamelia, his eyes wide.
“Kamelia, what is going on?”
She turned to him.
“What happened?”
Alan blinked.
‘I understand her.
What the hell?
Why did that woman suddenly start speaking another language?
Is the magical gift of translation glitching?
Then why do I understand Kamelia?’
“Yas!
Ku rita yup?!” the woman by the barn repeated.
“Kamelia, what is she saying?” he whispered.
The countess raised an eyebrow.
“Are you deaf?
She asked what you said.”
Alan looked at the woman, then at Kamelia, then back at the woman.
‘I don’t understand anything.
Why do I understand Kamelia, but not her?’
The woman couldn’t take it and walked right up to the window.
“I am asking what you said?
You suddenly began speaking in some strange language.”
Alan froze.
‘Wait, wait, wait!
Now I understand her…
but if she didn’t understand me, and I didn’t understand her, and now we understand each other…
alright, Kamelia was standing right here, I understood her perfectly, but not the woman.
What if…’
“Could you please walk over to that fence?” he blurted out.
The woman frowned.
“What for?”
“Just walk over there.”
She stood there for a few more seconds, and then walked toward the fence Alan had pointed at, about thirty yards away.
“Vi?
Te shu lok?” she said.
Alan’s eyes widened.
‘That’s it!
Just as I suspected…
this translation magic actually has a range!’
He exhaled, looking at the woman.
‘Damn it, one revelation after another, my head is spinning!
Alright.
I’ll figure this out later.’
Alan waved his hand for the woman to come closer; she nodded and walked toward him.
“What is going on?
What does all this mean?”
Alan waved his hands dismissively.
“Doesn’t matter right now.
Go get the honey, and do you have a clean well somewhere?”
She nodded.
“Yes, over there.” She pointed to a well not far from the river.
Alan pressed his lips together.
“You don’t have another one?”
The woman blinked.
“Listen, what is your problem?
You are saying very strange things, and making me do strange things.
What is going on here?!”
Kamelia approached from behind.
“I am curious as well, to be honest,” she whispered in his ear.
Alan’s voice dropped to a whisper too.
“Later.
I’ll explain everything later!”
Kamelia simply nodded without saying anything.
The woman, meanwhile, went to the other well, muttering something incomprehensible under her breath.
“Why the honey anyway?” the countess asked.
Alan scratched the back of his head.
“Umm…
how to explain this simply…” he pointed at Shalassa.
“This girl is very lucky, she only has the initial stage of dysentery, so she can very well recover.
This sickness, it…
sucks the water out of the body, so she needs to drink a lot, and honey will help with that.
Besides that, she needs to be kept constantly clean, and ideally have her own separate dishes and toilet.”
Kamelia raised an eyebrow.
“What is a toilet?”
Alan sighed.
“A latrine.”
“Ahhh, well…
alright.
You absolutely must explain to me later what this is all about, because I understand almost nothing at all,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
By late afternoon, they had gone around to all the houses in the village.
With every house, Alan grew paler and paler, and just as the sun set, all the healthy villagers gathered in the square by Kamelia’s order.
Alan stood before them on the road, fidgeting with his hands behind his back.
‘Alright, now I need to explain to these peasants why they suddenly have to wash their hands and set aside separate dishes, and preferably do it so I don’t get lynched right here for witchcraft.
Though…
how could I get lynched for magic if it’s commonplace here?
Well…
they’re peasants, they’ll find a reason to lynch me.
STOP!’
He shook his head.
‘Thinking about the wrong thing.
They’re waiting for me to start explaining why I even gathered them here.’
He nudged Kamelia with his elbow, after which she stood up straighter.
“People, before you stands the summoned hero, who…
possesses the knowledge to combat…
the sickness.” Every word came out through gritted teeth.
“I vouch for him, and desire that you listen to what he has to say.”
Alan looked at the crowd.
‘Alright, good, my words are already preemptively legitimized.’
Quiet whispering broke out among the crowd of peasants.
“Combat the sickness?”
“We should be praying.”
“How can you fight a curse?”
“Even the healers did not help.”
Alan took a step forward.
“You all want to live, right?”
The crowd fell silent; they didn’t nod, but they fell silent.
“Then listen to my advice,” he continued.
“I know exactly how you can survive this sickness.
We can’t bring back the dead, of course, but we can save the living.”
The peasants just watched, blinking, faces stony.
A drop of sweat rolled down Alan’s forehead.
‘Yeah, I’m a crappy public speaker.
Wait…
these are peasants, they are deeply religious here.
What if I appeal to…
Svyatol…
NO!
If I lie and say something that couldn’t possibly exist, I won’t just get impaled on a stake, I’ll get a high-quality, professional prostate massage with it!
But I have no other choice!
…
maybe consult an expert?’
He discreetly turned to Kamelia.
“Listen, does Svyatolism have some sort of holy book?” he whispered.
Kamelia nodded.
“Of course.
Why?”
He cast a sidelong glance at the crowd, who would have been tapping their feet on the ground and glancing at their wristwatches, had they existed.
“Does it say anything about maintaining cleanliness or something like that?”
Kamelia froze.
“Y-yes…
of course there is something like that,” she said quickly.
“I believe…
well…
it has been a long time since I read the Holy Scripture, I do not remember exactly, but yes, it was in there.”
Alan closed his eyes.
‘Got it.
She hasn’t really read this Holy Scripture and is making things up on the fly so she doesn’t look ignorant.
Classic.
Even in my world, there were plenty of religious folks who had never even held a Bible or a Quran.
Wait though…
these are…
illiterate peasants, they can’t read, which means they’ve at most heard this Holy Scripture from priests reading it to them.
And more importantly…
they probably won’t want to seem ‘unenlightened’ either.
High risk, high reward!’
He sighed, opened his eyes, and turned to the crowd.
“You have heard what the Holy Scripture says about cleanliness, right?”
“No,” said one kid around fifteen, immediately receiving a slap upside the head from his father behind him.
“What were you listening to the priest with?” he hissed.
“O-of course.”
The peasants began to nod.
“Yes, the priest said something like that during sermons.”
“We’ve heard.”
“Heard it once.”
Alan smiled discreetly.
‘It worked.
Now choose your words carefully again, so as not to mention Svyatol and the Scripture directly.’
He cleared his throat.
“So, according to those writings, we can be saved from the sickness.”
Kamelia sharply turned to him.
“You haven’t even read it!” she hissed through her teeth.
Alan raised a hand.
“You can flog me or throw me back in the dungeon later, but right now don’t interfere,” he whispered, and turned back to the crowd.
Kamelia froze with her mouth open, her hand clenching into a fist and rising slightly, but she lowered it and watched with clenched teeth.
“Now I will tell you exactly what rules must be followed, according to what is written, naturally, so as not to let the sickness spread further.”
The peasants froze; some leaned forward slightly.
Alan raised a fist and stuck out his thumb.
“First, all the sick must lie separately, eat from separate plates, and go to separate latrines.” He stuck out his index finger.
“Second, before eating, you must wash your hands, preferably with ash.” Out came the middle finger.
“Third, you can no longer drink from this river.
Upstream, a…” He turned to Kamelia.
“What was that beast called?”
“Remember it yourself,” she said evenly.
Alan blinked.
‘Uh-oh…
looks like the price for saving the villages is our relationship…
fuck…
whatever, not the time.’
“A beast from the forest died,” he continued.
“Because of it, the river has become…
cursed, you cannot drink from it for the coming months, nor from the nearby wells.” He extended his ring finger.
“Fourth.
Water must always be boiled before drinking, to kill the curse, naturally.” Alan finally extended his fifth finger.
‘And now it’s time for that idea.’
“I will teach you how to make contraptions that make the water even cleaner.”
An incomprehensible whisper rose among the peasants again, but no one dared to ask unnecessary questions.
Kamelia cast a sidelong glance at Alan.
“What contraptions?
What nonsense are you spouting now?” she asked in a whisper.
“Just watch.” He turned to the crowd.
“I need some things for this.
Three straight sticks, a piece of clean…
well, at least somewhat clean cloth, a clean bucket, and a bucket of water from that well over there.” He pointed at a well that stood far from the river by a small hill.
“Also sand, coal from the ovens, and grass.
Bring all these things, and I’ll show you how to purify the water and make it safe.”
The peasants stood silently for a few seconds, then began giving orders to the teenagers and children.
Alan crossed his arms over his chest.
‘Good, not only have I not been lynched, but they’re doing what I tell them.
Now I need to figure out how to explain what a fucking filter is to them…
yeah.’
Kamelia grabbed his wrist and dragged him behind a fence.
Alan flinched.
“Hey, what are you…”
He felt pain and found it hard to breathe; the countess’s fist was planted right in his solar plexus.
Alan opened his mouth to say something, but only a hollow wheeze came out, and his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.
His legs buckled, but Kamelia caught him by the shoulders.
“That is enough.
I am tired of you avoiding questions,” she whispered.
“You will explain everything to me here and now.
I will not allow another village to die out because of your methods, which you do not even bother to explain.”
Alan opened his mouth to say something, but only dry wheezes came out.
Kamelia lowered him onto the grass near the fence.
“Breathe, Alan, breathe, and prepare to convincingly explain to me what this devilry you are offering my subjects is.”
Alan tried to inhale, looking at Kamelia with wide eyes.
‘IS SHE COMPLETELY FUCKING INSANE?!
I’m out here saving a village, and she beats the shit out of me!
What a bitch!’
Air slowly began to enter his lungs, just a little bit, but Alan couldn’t speak yet.
‘This is fucked up!
Alright…
alright…’
He looked up at Kamelia, who was looking at him with an unreadable face, her arms crossed over her chest; the sun behind her turned her silhouette into a black shadow.
“Your Grace!
We have brought what the hero asked for!” a male voice shouted from the square.
The countess turned her head slightly.
“Just a moment!
The hero and I are having an important discussion!” She looked at Alan again.
“Time is ticking.
Speak, or we wrap this up right here and you go to the scaffold.”
Alan tried to breathe for a few more seconds.
“It’s…
called a filter!” he barely managed to squeeze out.
“It’s needed…
to…
purify…
the water!” He began to breathe even heavier, clutching his chest.
“The grass stops l-large debris!
The s-sand…
cleans out smaller debris like silt or r-rust…
And the coal absorbs h-harmful chemicals for d-drinking!” he finished, barely breathing, his wide eyes staring straight at Kamelia.
The countess leaned in closer.
“I did not understand half of that, but you spoke confidently.
I would ask you to explain it more simply, but we have little time, the peasants are waiting.” She held out her hand to him.
“Get up.”
Alan looked at the hand, and stood up, leaning against the fence, then slowly walked toward the square.
Kamelia’s hand hung in the air.
She closed her eyes and pulled her hand back, then followed after Alan.
He walked over to the materials the peasants had laid out on the ground, and squatted in front of them.
He took the three sticks and began forming them into a pyramid.
‘What a stupid bitch.
Beats the shit out of me, and then offers a hand.
Sorry, but I’m not an all-forgiving god.’
Alan took some rope and began wrapping it around the top, securing the pyramid.
‘I won’t last long here.
This place is insane.
I can’t take it anymore.
I need to get out of here.’
He tore the cloth into three pieces and began making layers with them inside the three-stick pyramid.
‘Get out.
Easier said than done.
And where to?
I already realized in the dungeon that there’s no point.
I’m dependent on this bitch.’
Alan started placing grass on the top layer.
‘Though…
no.
I’m not going to make excuses for her again.
She resorted to direct violence without a valid reason.
I don’t give a damn if she just didn’t understand or was worried.
That’s no reason to punch me.’
He started placing sand in the middle layer on the cloth.
‘Alright…
I gave my word that I would help with the epidemic, and I can’t take it back, otherwise she’ll have full moral and every other right to chop my head off.
I have to help either way.’
Alan finished laying down the final layer of charcoal.
‘I don’t know what to do after the epidemic.
We’ll see when we get there.’
Alan finished laying down the coal and stood up.
“This thing is called a ‘filter’, and it is used for primary water purification,” he said in a monotone voice, and then took a bucket of water from the well, which was slightly cloudy and had some sort of film on it.
The peasants surrounded him, watching closely.
Alan placed an empty bucket under the layers and began pouring the water from the well.
The water flowed through the grass, sand, and coal, and slowly dripped into the clean bucket.
After a few minutes, he had filtered half a bucket and pulled it out from under the filter.
The water was crystal clear.
“Wow…” an old man muttered.
“It really does work!” a woman chimed in.
A boy around fourteen approached the bucket.
“Can we drink it now?”
Alan shook his head.
“I wouldn’t advise it, it could still contain…
poison and all sorts of things.
To make it completely clean, you still need to boil it.” He got to his feet.
“You can purify water not just from the well this way, but from the river too.
But definitely not from this one.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to where the river was.
“It’s poisoned for the coming months.”
The peasants began to whisper quietly, discussing his words and what they had seen.
Kamelia simply looked at the filter without taking her eyes off it; she remained silent, her face expressing nothing.
Alan shoved his hands in his pockets.
‘Perfect.
A visual ‘miracle’ will make it easier for them to accept my previous instructions.
Time for the next village.’
Ten minutes later, Alan, Kamelia, and five guards were riding to another village.
As usual, Alan held onto Kamelia’s waist.
They rode in silence.
No one uttered a word.
An hour later, they arrived at the next village; the sun had almost set, covering the village in darkness.
“Halt!” Kamelia shouted.
“This is the last village for today!
We will continue with the rest in the morning!”
The guards stopped and began dismounting their horses.
Alan climbed down carefully, still wincing from pain.
He walked to the first house automatically.
‘Let’s just get this over with.
I’m so tired.
Only…
it’s really quiet here.’
He pulled up his mask and opened the door; the already familiar smell of rot hit him, after which Alan quickly shut the door.
‘Damn…
again…
how much more of this?’
Kamelia opened the door of the neighboring house.
“No one is here!”
One of the guards opened the door of a third house.
“Dead in here!”
A second guard opened another house further down.
“Hoktu jirs!”
Alan blinked.
‘What…
ah, right, he’s too far away.’
He turned to the guard next to him.
“What did he say?
I didn’t hear.”
“There are dead in there.”
Alan froze.
‘What is going on…’
He walked to an unchecked house and threw the door open.
No one.
Alan stood in the doorway.
‘Where is everyone?
What’s going on?’
Alan walked past the empty and absolutely silent houses along the dry dirt road.
The sun had almost completely set, barely illuminating the area, when suddenly the smell of rot hit Alan’s nose, even stronger than any of the previous ones.
He bent over the ground.
“Blegh…” just a reflex.
He had nothing left to throw up.
He pinched his nose so hard it almost hurt, and looked at an inconspicuous house.
‘I think…
the smell is coming from there.’
Alan slowly walked toward the house and began to slowly open the door.
The smell penetrated even through the fingers pinching his nose.
Alan looked inside through the doorway, and as if he had frozen to the ground.
Then his vision slowly began to blur, and he crashed onto his back on the porch.