Episode 11

“Ciel-sama, this looks like the countermeasure headquarters.”

Led by Golton, they arrived at the building being used as the headquarters. Inside, people who seemed to be officials, soldiers, magi, and medical staff bustled about.

“Are you from the Astera Ducal House?”

A man who looked to be in his forties addressed Ciel and the others. Deep shadows lay under his eyes; he seemed terribly exhausted.

“Yes. By order of the Duke of Astera, I have been assigned to Apion. My name is Ciel Astera.”

Reactions rippled around them—some looked relieved; others showed unease, suspicion, anger, or simple indifference.

“We are grateful for your concern… Forgive my late introduction. I am Yan Kruus, the one in charge of this headquarters. If possible, I would like to share the current situation right away.”

“Of course. But first, may I ask the lord of the Etra Domain to join us as well?”

Yan’s face clouded, and the others wore similar expressions when she glanced around.

“…The lord has been moved to the quarantine facility. So have this city’s administrator, the commander of the troops, and the Church’s bishop. All of them collapsed and lost consciousness.”

“…! I never imagined the damage had reached that extent. We were told nearly forty people had fallen ill; what is the number now?”

“It has easily surpassed two hundred. With so many cases, it wouldn’t be strange to find common factors among the patients, but we have not identified any—cause or otherwise.”

They had tried treatments by magic and medicine again and again. They had combed old records for similar cases based on the symptoms. The results did not change.

“The patients keep increasing, but we have no clue for treatment… We’re approaching our limits.”

No one here could be blamed for walking away. In fact, the roster at headquarters had changed drastically from the beginning.

“Ciel-sama. What has the crown—the ducal house—said? Any plan to break this deadlock? Will there be reinforcements?”

Material support from the crown had been generous—only natural with travel restricted. But there was still no fundamental remedy to solve the problem. No matter how many supplies they had, without people able to use them effectively, it was all as good as junk.

It wasn’t only headquarters; the entire city was approaching its limit.

“…We are, in effect, an advance team. Depending on our report—”

“D-don’t mess with us!!”

One of the soldiers who had been listening raised his voice.

“What ‘advance team’!? There are only five of you! What did you even come here to do!?”

“!? H-hey, stand down!”

Yan tried to stop him, but the soldier only grew more heated.

“Do you get it!? People living their lives just… suddenly fell into comas! At first some said they felt unwell, but now they lose consciousness without warning! And not one or two—many!”

Yan tried to lead the enraged soldier to another room, but the man wouldn’t budge; he even shoved Yan away.

“I get that you can’t let people leave the city when we don’t know the cause. But for how long? How long are we supposed to stay penned up here!?”

Those around them fidgeted helplessly, unable to stop him—but some turned the same hostility on Ciel and the others.

“Until there’s a sign you’ll solve it? So you mean—until every last person in Apion collapses!?”

“…”

Head bowed, Ciel said nothing. She couldn’t.

“Say something! Ducal house! …Is that silver hair just for show? Faker, pretending to the royal line!”

“…I can’t overlook that.”

“Oh yeah? What will you do—execute me for lese-majeste? Which is worse—dying of the plague or being killed by you? …It’s not just me. Everyone thinks it: in an emergency, the royal family and the ducal houses are useless.”

“Ciel-sama, permit me to apprehend this man. He has crossed the line.”

Golton and Stille stepped forward. A few people edged back from the suddenly dangerous air, but only a few; the soldier in question and the others—soldiers and magi alike—showed no sign of retreating.

They all understood: their opponents numbered only a handful. Even if some were seized, no one could leave this city anyway.

“Stop this. Venting at this lady won’t change a thing.”

An elderly man in a white coat stepped forward on the brink of a clash. He looked like a medical professional.

“I’ve heard it through old connections, but they say the current ducal house has an ‘unwanted child.’”

According to the old man, in every era—royal or noble—bastards and children of concubines were born. It was nothing unusual; history was full of such cases.

“Whether misfortune or blessing, that child’s hair was entirely silver.”

It was rare for a bastard to bear the royal sign. Yet, on very rare occasions, it happened.

Such a child was often dealt with in secret—for fear of destabilizing the realm. Ciel might have been among them, but the royal and ducal houses stayed their hand. A head of fully silver hair was historically uncommon—perhaps it could be put to some use.

“What I mean to say is neither a sob story nor a revelation. Silver hair may be sacred to this country, but it also invites strife… and this lady has no real power. In the end she’s likely become a thorn in the side of the ducal house.”

The old man concluded that she had likely been chosen as a “firefighter” to smother the current uproar.

“What the hell… So the script is: a person tied to the royal line stakes her life to quell the plague?”

“An old man’s babble… Either way, fighting here won’t change the situation.”

Whether by his intent or not, the mood settled—pitying gazes turning toward Ciel.

“…Old man, you’ll be disposed of. Treason is a grave crime.”

“Please wait, Stille-san! There are other things we should—”

“Indeed. Even if we can’t leave the city, there are plenty of ways to send information out… such as that Apion as a whole is plotting rebellion.”

“!? Not you too, Golton—don’t say that… No—Zeke, stop everyone! …Zeke!? What are you doing!?”

Before anyone noticed, Zeke had moved—over to Yan, who had been shoved by the soldier… and he had grabbed Yan by the collar and was shaking him.

“Hey! Brat! What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Providing care… for a man you shoved into unconsciousness.”

“Like hell you are! Who shakes an exhausted man as ‘care’!?”

“Hmph. He may have been exhausted, but you finished the job. Citizens turning on citizens—this is terminal.”

After shaking him, Zeke slapped Yan’s cheeks, forced his eyelids open to check his pupils, then doused him with water and chilled him with magic. Yan suffered rough treatment, and everyone present was appalled.

“…Brat, you can use magic? Are you with the ducal house too?”

“You can’t use magic? …Useless. And no, I have nothing to do with these Asteras.”

“Well, not nothing… Anyway, we need to get him to a medical facility!”

“No need. Leave him. He’s the same as the others. We’re done here.”

True to his words, Zeke tossed Yan aside and strode straight for the exit.

“Eh!? Wait! Where are you going, Zeke?”

“To this ‘quarantine facility.’ There might be something interesting to see.”

Zeke swept the room with an evil smile. He looked like a reaper; it was no wonder some people trembled.