13: 13.
Mad Blue Disease 13: 13.
Mad Blue Disease “Mad Blue Disease?”
Mr.
Fisher chewed over the term, which sounded extrely awkward in Nali Language, and spoke up with so confusion.
“Yes,” Keken first bit into a steak, then rapidly swallowed it before continuing, “Have you ever seen soone go mad, becoming like a simple beast?”
“You an, like so kind of ntal illness?”
Keken, however, shook his head, as if a terrifying image had co to mind, causing him palpable distress,
“What if the person’s eyes, nostrils, and ears all oozed blue liquid?
While in a frenzy, trying to bite into your flesh with a mouth full of blue liquid…
as if we taste delicious…”
Countless diseases recorded in dical texts flashed through Fisher’s mind, yet none matched.
During his extensive education, such a condition had never appeared in the Western Continent.
It didn’t sound like a purely psychological disorder.
How should one explain the blue liquid?
Was it poisoning, or an infection by sothing else?
His curiosity quickly peaked, and after wiping his mouth, he addressed Keken,
“Interesting…
tell more about it, how many samples, and what is their current condition?”
“Hmm, let think…”
Had Keken known they were to discuss serious matters, he certainly wouldn’t have drunk so much.
The alcohol, like an adhesive, slowed his thoughts, recalling details as painfully as winding a rusted spring.
Then again, it was the drinking that reminded him of this matter.
Otherwise, he would never have brought up such a troubleso subject during a pleasant reunion.
Fortunately, Fisher was patient.
While Keken pondered, he took the opportunity to observe the absent-minded Rafael.
Turned out, Keken’s two ladies were curiously observing her, making her adjust her sitting pose awkwardly.
But her flamboyant way of eating rendered such attempts to appear refined too late.
Several seconds passed before Keken resud the topic.
“Here’s the thing, about a month or two ago, we just received our first such patient.
It was a city doctor who reported to …
she suspected a new contagious disease and ca to ask for my opinion.”
“So, after the report, did anyone else get infected?”
Upon hearing Fisher’s question, Keken shook his head,
“No, after I learned about it, I imdiately isolated the first patient in a cell, along with the doctors and nurses who had contact with him.
But a month passed with no sign of infection, so I had to release those doctors and nurses.
Yet, cases kept arriving from outside the city, and up to now, there are already over a dozen, all locked up in the city’s cells.”
Fisher pinched his fingers, pondering diseases that could cause such symptoms, but few could et both conditions—especially the oozing of blue liquid from all orifices.
“Fascinating…
take to see the cells then.
Perhaps we’ll discover sothing new.”
“Are you interested?
That’s great!
Why not set out now?
Dora, go arrange the carriage; we’ll go take a look right away.”
With Fisher’s affirmation, Keken was visibly excited.
As Dora left to prepare the carriage, Fisher briefly ntioned to Rafael about visiting the cells to examine the peculiar disease.
Fisher thought the disease, being confined to the South Continent, might be caused by sothing endemic to the region, so he casually inquired with Rafael.
Knowing they were departing, she was more than willing.
Those two human won had nearly driven her scales to stand on end—any longer, and her rear would have stiffened like a slab of iron.
When Fisher described the disease, she simply pursed her lips and responded,
“Dragon-n rarely fall ill; how would I know about your human diseases?”
Fisher dismissed her slightly sharp tone; after all, he hadn’t expected a reliable answer from Rafael in the first place.
As they waited at the gate for Keken to return from the lavatory, Fisher used the mont to confirm through his hand cane that no one had approached his carriage.
Only when he saw no light up or gaps in the purple stripe in the middle of the cane did he breathe a sigh of relief.
It ant no one had tampered with the protective Emblem of the carriage, either from the inside or outside.
If the carriage was his most precious possession, then this cane was his second most important.
It bore many ready-made magic emblems, of various types and effects.
Mages in this world could not cast spells instantaneously as in novels and myths, where rely chanting a few spells would trigger wondrous effects.
After all, the essence of magic was to invoke the “Reverberation” of the world through a Magic Circuit, and the more powerful the “Reverberation,” the more complex the required Magic Circuit.
Such a level of Magic Circuit could not be completed in a blink of an eye.
Real mages often engraved their magic in certain places for future use.
When danger or other situations arose, they would release their prepared Magic Circuits like using disposable items.
“Magic is not a fortunate miracle, but a rigorous structure.”
This was Mr.
Fisher’s introductory speech for the first session of “Basic Magic Theory” at the Royal College.
Despite the pervasive decay of Saint Nali Royal Academy that he could hardly bear, he had to admit that there were many wise scholars there, from whom he had benefitted greatly.
The handcanes Mr.
Fisher held in his hands were engraved with all the Magic Circuits he possessed.
Losing them would be a trendous loss indeed.
It probably hurt about ninety percent as much as losing a carriage.
Mr.
Fisher was making this odd comparison in his head.
“We’ve kept you waiting, let’s set off now.”
“It’s no trouble.”
Keken grabbed a towel to wipe his hands, then donned his suit jacket again and walked out with Mr.
Fisher, while Rafael trailed beside Mr.
Fisher, warily watching the two ladies who were smiling and waving at her.
Truly strange humans.
She thought as she flicked her tail.
“Speaking of which, things are hardly peaceful in the Western Continent…
I’ve heard the friction between Schwali and Nali has been getting worse lately.
Even here in the South Continent, you can sll the gunpowder.
People from Schwali next door have been visiting us less and less, and they’ve also been shipping in a lot of weapons…”
In the carriage, Keken rattled on about the affairs of the Western Continent.
Mr.
Fisher and Rafael looked out of the window, where they passed the marketplace that sold demi-human slaves again, only this ti the slave trader was not hawking his goods but taking a small rest on a nearby chair.
“They do this every year.”
“No, Mr.
Fisher, this ti is serious…
Schwali’s new Queen is a sharp and capable woman.
The developnt of the South Continent is an opportunity she’s long-awaited.
She no longer wants to play house with the Nali and Kado in the Western Continent.”
“…She’ll have to deal with those nobles in her own country first, Nali and Kado won’t let her have her way so easily.”
While discussing this sort of gossipy political news, they were getting closer to the prison that Keken had ntioned.
The prison was just a street away from where the demi-human slaves were sold.
When they got off the carriage, Rafael looked in that direction for a long ti, her expression indiscernibly somber.
But she didn’t speak, and Mr.
Fisher didn’t bring it up on his own accord.
He slowly withdrew his gaze from Rafael and simply urged her to keep up, heading towards the jail.
“Mr.
Fisher, this way.
I’ve locked them up on the top floor, isolated from the other prisoners.”
The conditions in the prison were abysmal; there was no coal lamp or any form of illumination, aside from an oil lamp at the guard station.
The weather in the South Continent was humid, causing a thin mist of moisture to hang on the stone walls.
In the depths of the dark cells, the dripping sounds echoed continuously.
Mr.
Fisher, holding his handcanes, followed Keken upstairs.
The further up they went, the more distinctly they could hear the moaning and groaning that was barely audible below.
It was the sound of humans but sounded utterly vacant, as if they were unconscious beasts.
Unlike the lower levels, this area had more guard stations arranged by Keken, and torches were planted all around the cells, allowing Mr.
Fisher to get a clearer view of the inside as he walked past the cells.
“Mr.
Fisher, look.”
Heeding the instruction, Mr.
Fisher peered inside through the light from the outside torches.
He saw several figures in the spacious cell, murmuring in low tones as they sat or lay like zombies.
Many were still wearing their original clothes, but after months of confinent, they were dirty and foul-slling.
Yet they seed completely unaware of their condition, appearing emaciated and withered, their faces gaunt and twisted.
“Do they eat?”
“Yes, they do.
They ingest raw at and water unconsciously, but they have no cravings.
If we don’t feed them, they won’t cry out.
We’ve already had one or two starve to death.
They only react to…
well, people.
If soone gets too close, they’ll attack in a frenzy.”
It sounded like a monster crafted by a science fiction writer from Saint Nali—but they were real and right before their eyes.
Mr.
Fisher stood at the entrance of the cell, a bit too far to see details clearly.
Yet, from the darkness, he could distinctly see the bright blue liquid dripping from those people’s faces onto the floor of the cell.
Rafael’s pupils narrowed, her dragon-man vision allowing her to see the humans clearly in the darkness.
Watching those pitiful humans, a twisted sense of pleasure arose in her heart, as if they were the ones tornting her kin.
But soon, she thought her feelings were foolish.
Obviously, she could not muster any sympathy for the humans inside.
So she quickly lost interest and occasionally glanced at the intently focused Mr.
Fisher, wondering if it would be possible to attack him at this point.
But then even if she killed him, she would be captured by the other humans, right?
Unaware of Rafael’s thoughts, Mr.
Fisher narrowed his eyes for a mont, then suddenly turned to Keken and said,
“Open the cell, I want to take a closer look.
It’s too far from here, and I can’t see clearly.”
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