Sylvester followed the shouting man to the monastery not far behind Archbishop Nelson. There they soon realised what had transpired. The people inside the monastery had died from heart attacks or some other sudden mental trauma. Their bodies were already frail, and their minds had already given up.
"They fought for long, but they are not us. With no way out of their misery, there can be no positivity." Archbishop Nelson muttered.
Besides him, Sylvester agreed with him. "Your Grace, is there really no way to do anything about this plague."
Sylvester, of course, knew a lot, many things about how to solve the plague, but he had to ensure that his cover was not blown. After all, a mere priest could not know all that Sylvester wished to reveal.
As for the sudden deaths of all the patients, it was unfortunate but not surprising. Sylvester already saw all of them as dead people since there was no cure for Smallpox at the time. Even if he tried to create the cure, it'd take a lot of time.
"We do not know its name yet, so to dream about a cure is wishful thinking. Unless the Holy Land takes it seriously and tries to find a cure, there is nothing we can do other than protect these poor people," Archbishop replied.
Sylvester sighed and decided to leave the village as soon as possible. "If we want the Holy Land to respond well to this, we must give them what they want."
"What do they want?"
"Influence!" Sylvester blurted. "This was one of the reasons why I was punished. Because I suggested the idea of using misery to spread the faith. There are countless people around the Sol who are suffering through various ailments or misfortune. I suggested using the Church's funds to help these people and, in return, gain their eternal worship."
"We have no funds to help these refugees, Priest," Archbishop replied. "There is nothing we can do to elevate these lands. Once the plague spreads, the world shall suffer and face the fate of death."
"What do you need? I shall use my gold." Count Bradley chimed in. "I have no use for it, for I father no children nor any lovers."
'Wait, Bradley the Brute is supposed to be the bad guy, then why does he seem so charity-loving now?' Sylvester wondered in silence as he was yet to find out about the true intentions of the Count. Why would a man supposedly infamous for abusing people suddenly become charitable? It made no sense.
"Count Bradley, I appreciate the offer, but I'm sure if you use your county's money to save some poor people, your people will revolt against you," Sylvester advised him.
But Count Bradley sneered. "What else can they do? They still love a head over their shoulders, don't they?"
'So he has only changed his purpose but not the ways. He still is a brute.' Sylvester added a few more details to the mental file he made on the Count.
"In that case, Count Bradley, we should get some grains and start a free food kitchen. Nothing luxurious, just a simple porridge in the name of the Lord." Sylvester suggested, but quickly passed the torch to the Archbishop. "If his Grace agrees, we can do this right away."
"What good will that bring us? Once we stop giving them food, they will again starve. There has to be a permanent solution to the mess we are in, young priest."
'I smell despair. How long has he been doing this public service?' Sylvester wondered and explained everything.
"Your Grace, isn't one of the most essential pillars of a good society lawfulness? How can there be lawfulness without fear? The people need to fear the wrath of the Lord, for there is no forgiveness for those who sin knowingly. The Widowmakers shall go to hell. There is no doubt about it. But we can't have even the commoners take the path of violence.
"With food, we will not just be feeding them, but removing a thing they must worry about daily. Removing hunger would allow them to work harder and find more work. Feeding them will keep reminding them that when there was nothing, nobody to help them, there was the Faith of Solis."
Sylvester had read nearly every scripture about religious studies in the Holy Land. So, of course, he knew how to efficiently use the same scriptures to convince other clergymen to do something. He did precisely that.
Archbishop Nelson smiled and agreed with Sylvester. "It seems the future of the faith is in the right hands. You clearly know the ins and outs of the faith, young priest. Indeed, one must fear god to not sin. One must believe in god to first fear him. But first, we make pyres for these poor souls. Only the Lord knows how many more of these will need to be made before this plague shall end."
Sadly, the Archbishop didn't know how right his words would become soon. In the coming days, no new raids appeared, but eventually, the entire village fell victim to the plague, and all started to fall sick.
There was nothing they could do but watch them die slowly. The entire village, one person at a time, became desolate and lost all its previous charm. The fields around the village started drying up due to no manpower available. In no time, the Last Hay Village had its last hay.
The entire grounds around the village were full of dead bodies, not buried, but they had some residue left from the burning of the pyres. The animals had already died long ago from the owners' inability to take care of them.
There was nothing alive in the entire village other than the four clergymen and one noble in the village monastery. They all sat with sunken hearts and tired bodies as the day marked the last day of burning the pyres, as the last man had finally passed away.
"Where do we go now? The village is dead. The plague is spreading. The heathens still roam the lands — Let me bring my armies. I will handle them." Count Bradley roared from his seat, his face reddened in rage and his eyes as enraged as always. The veins on his bald forehead popped over, and he didn't shy away from showing anger.
Archbishop shook his head. "It's useless, my son. I appreciate your willingness to protect people through violence, and I'm not against violence. But what I need right now is peace in the lands because if the plague truly spreads around, it will ruin the entire Sol, not just the Sorrow Kingdom. Let us try and meet with the Grand Wizard from the Patch in charge of this region."
Thud!
Count Bradley stood up. "Don't act so weak now, Archbishop. Do you have any idea how easily I used to trample over peasants and slaves? They are nothing. They lack the spines to do anything against their overlords."
The Archbishop glared at the Count and reminded him of the oath. "Is that it? You couldn't keep your bloodthirst in check for more than a year. How do you expect to achieve eternal peace? Calm down, son. There is nothing good about war. Only misery for both sides comes from it."
"Then what do we do? I followed you because I wanted to help those I oppressed. But right in front of our eyes, the Patch is growing stronger. At the same time, this plague that came out of nowhere and—"
Sylvester stood up. "Did you say it came out of nowhere?"
"Priest, do not meddle in the matters of older men. Sit on the side and le—"
Before Count Bradley could say another word, Sir Dolorem appeared behind Bradley and put a dagger on the throat, even creating a thin cut. "Say anything more to demean the clergymen, and you shan't get the chance to clear your name."
Count Bradley gulped as he felt genuinely threatened by Sir Dolorem. However, he could not even react, and the one-eyed eyepatched priest had easily appeared behind him.
Sylvester continued. "Your Grace, I had some questions about the plague, if you don't mind me asking. This curiosity won't be quenched unless someone as wise as you can help me."
The Archbishop looked at Sylvester strangely, as always. Of course, it was hard to imagine that a priest knew as much as Sylvester did. Sylvester knew that the Archbishop was suspicious, but he also knew that there was the benefit of young age on his side.
"Go ahead, Priest."
Sylvester put a theory ahead. "Your grace, when did the plague appear?
"It appeared two months ago, before the fall of the royal house of the Sorrow Kingdom. Why do you ask that, young priest?"
Sylvester rubbed his chin and thought about something that was equally ingenious and terrifying to him. It was something that could destroy the world, but if used correctly, it could win a war without raising a sword.
"Your grace, as we know, we found there to be remains of Solarium in the samples we collected. I have never seen such a plague contain magic like it was unnatural."
'Go on, take the lead, old man.'
Sylvester nudged on even more. "If I was someone trying to take over a kingdom, I'd first defeat the people instead of the armies. Because the people are the backbone of the kingdom."
Archbishop's eyes widened, and brows flared up. "Are you suggesting this plague is not natural?"
Sylvester shrugged. "I'm just a priest, your grace. I'm merely connecting the dots. Won't causing this be better than anything else? No armies, no money wasted, just one infected human and the entire Kingdom can be destroyed. Isn't this — Biological Warfare?"
"Biological Warfare? That's quite a terrifying idea, young priest."
'That is why it terrifies me too, Archbishop. If this virus is made by the Patch, then there is no way they didn't have contingency plans. They probably have much worse viruses. The Grand Duchy of Patch needs to be destroyed soon.'
"How can such a thing be done? How can you create a plague? You can't even see it." Count Bradley exclaimed.
Sylvester coughed. "Didn't you read the book called Devil's Manifesto? It spoke about there being infinite invisible particles around us. They are so small that eyes can't see them. Imagine if you could learn to use these particles to your own advantage. The possibilities are endless."
"But, what do they have to gain from this? The plague will kill their people too." Count asked.
To that, Archbishop had an even worse premonition. "Not unless they have the cure ready for it. To come to think of it, the war had nearly ended since the royal family died and the Pope personally asked the Grand Duke to calm down. However, I know the Grand Duke, and his greed goes deeper than the deepest of depths of the ocean."
'And it may just be my chance to attain the Sainthood.'
Sylvester, as always, despite all the misery around him and the scheming going on, didn't forget to chime in with his own plots and plans. The difference was, he knew about the others, while he remained anonymous.
"If they can make the cure, then we can do it too." Sylvester blurted, raising the brows of even Sir Dolorem and Bishop Lazark.
"We don't know who concocted it, so how are you so sure?" Archbishop asked.
Sylvester maintained the act of nativity going on. "I just like reading books."
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[A/N: Sorry for the mistakes if there are some. Got jet lag. Will re-edit in the morning.]
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