The Shrill Voices Do Sing
The plague spread quickly, and ruthlessly, through the tightly compact quarters of the Northern Kingdom, culling the unjust as much as the just; ripping through the urban quarters of all the Duchies, guided through filth and the festering wounds of those of abject means.
As millions lay dead upon the Kingdom’s soil, a funnel of souls swoon into the lips of the Ancestor Gods. Given great power by the commitment of these souls, the bonded vestiges of Rynmere speak, singing to the ears of their descendants through the harrowed lips of the Justicar, in a tone only deciphered by those of trueborn blood. The voices boom, echoing louder than anything - awakening even the forlorn nobles from across the sea, unable to be blocked even by the shrieking song of a scream. Their whispers rebound, shifting through seven voices. In explanation Cyrene’s voice echoes the loudest, followed by Brandt in moments of rage, and Warren in philosophical whispers, and Verne in commanding prose. Henry’s voice speaks with each word of valor, Oron in pragmatism, and Rahiko with the inciteful words of adventure.
Before the nobles who listened, an image of their Ancestor would appear before them; Cyrene in her flowery dress with the Crown of Thorns mounted upon her head… with streaks of shadow wisping from her shoulders, Verne with a blade and Jacadon scale armor…
Each would know. Each understood. This was their Ancestor speaking to them, and though their mind may have desired solace from the booming cries of the Great Shades, the blood that pumped from their heart would beckon them to consider.
The voices began…
T
here is no shame in the epithet of the boy King. The service of a child is most endearing, beloved most by all, as the Lady speaks fondly of the precocious wisdom of a child’s lips.
We will not remember Cassander as such. To call him a King at all would be to tarnish the principle upon which Our Eternal Kingdom was built. Cassander was a weed, one which waded into an unsuspecting bed of flowers. He was the Deceiver, born of a bastard’s infidelity, a betrayal to his Royal father who sought desperately to maintain his legacy.
We offer Stephen Renault the kiss of forgiveness, for his misdeeds. But not his son, for betraying our Kingdom, for turning our people into enemies… for inviting foreign ideologies into our lands, and giving them preeminence over our own descendants. For envenoming the name of Cyrene, who saw magic as more than vice.
For bespoiling our traditions. The Herald and King are never meant to be, for the Herald is our instrument, not our master. As the plague consumed the body of the Deceiver, a man you previously called your King, he cried out for our salvation. We did not offer it to him.
The Bloodless King has died. He has gone to the darkness, never to return beyond the Vale. He will never enter the Eternal Kingdom, nor will he leave its dark shadow. To all who opposed him, rejoice; rather than the unlearned accusations of treason, we offer you forgiveness. All of our blood who have been exiled, outlawed, and thrown bereft in the face of the Deceiver are forgiven, returned to the Faith, and restored their nobility.
The Herald has been dethroned, allured into the dark by the voice of a Witch who fears not our wroth. She has been cast to the wilderness; mock her, lodge stones into her flesh, and feed her blood to the forest.
There are greater illnesses that still fester; the Witch breathes life yet, and escapes our retribution. A King or Queen must be chosen, for the darkness lies across the isles. We feel the true disease. We know of its coming. Come back to us, our Children; find us in our Temples, and hear our commandments. To each of you, we carry a task. Each of you must again rule.
We will not remember Cassander as such. To call him a King at all would be to tarnish the principle upon which Our Eternal Kingdom was built. Cassander was a weed, one which waded into an unsuspecting bed of flowers. He was the Deceiver, born of a bastard’s infidelity, a betrayal to his Royal father who sought desperately to maintain his legacy.
We offer Stephen Renault the kiss of forgiveness, for his misdeeds. But not his son, for betraying our Kingdom, for turning our people into enemies… for inviting foreign ideologies into our lands, and giving them preeminence over our own descendants. For envenoming the name of Cyrene, who saw magic as more than vice.
For bespoiling our traditions. The Herald and King are never meant to be, for the Herald is our instrument, not our master. As the plague consumed the body of the Deceiver, a man you previously called your King, he cried out for our salvation. We did not offer it to him.
The Bloodless King has died. He has gone to the darkness, never to return beyond the Vale. He will never enter the Eternal Kingdom, nor will he leave its dark shadow. To all who opposed him, rejoice; rather than the unlearned accusations of treason, we offer you forgiveness. All of our blood who have been exiled, outlawed, and thrown bereft in the face of the Deceiver are forgiven, returned to the Faith, and restored their nobility.
The Herald has been dethroned, allured into the dark by the voice of a Witch who fears not our wroth. She has been cast to the wilderness; mock her, lodge stones into her flesh, and feed her blood to the forest.
There are greater illnesses that still fester; the Witch breathes life yet, and escapes our retribution. A King or Queen must be chosen, for the darkness lies across the isles. We feel the true disease. We know of its coming. Come back to us, our Children; find us in our Temples, and hear our commandments. To each of you, we carry a task. Each of you must again rule.
The Plague
Beginning to sweep through the country at the end of Zi'da, Arc 718, a plague of historical magnitude has spread rapidly through Rynmere. Though not common or public knowledge by any means, it is known to Rynmere's highest officials that the plague began from the confines of the University, around the middle of Zi'da. According to the University Board, two students seeking a Licentiate in the sciences began to develop an affordable and highly lethal rat poison, notable for its ability to infect other rats the victim came into contact with. Of course, what they had actually created - noted by the contagion - was a disease, and one of the two students developed the disease amidst working on the "poison".
They proceeded to dump the contents of what they'd been working on in a dilapidated farm outside of the city of Andaris, though with a number of the local livestock becoming infected with it. The poison then mutated with a mild but contagious bug mostly present within the city's surrounding animals, shifting into that of an airborne killer that quickly spread outside of the boundaries of the city by the end of Zi'da 718. The city went into quarantine to prevent the plague from entering into its population, but inevitably it snuck in through imported food shipments. Being that Andaris was the first major city hit by the plague, it has since devastated the Crown City, and with all of the trade routed through Andaris it spread across the Kingdom within a very short period of time. By mid Cylus, 719, much of the Duchies had become infected with the plague, with the southern ones hit the hardest due to their higher population density, greater number of livestock and more hospitable climates.
By the beginning of Ashan, a great number of nobles and high level officials within the Kingdom - including the Herald of Rynlism - were infected with the plague. The Duke of Warrick passed on, and multiple other Dukes have also shown symptoms of the plague developing within them. Even the noble Houses are in quarantine, and the healthy members of each House are largely avoiding the ducal capitals. It is estimated that by the end of the plague, Rynmere will likely lose around a third of its population, though notably the Eastern Settlements have seemingly managed to contain their own outbreaks. Generally, the Plague is most devastating in the more urban areas of the Kingdom, particularly in Andaris and Venora, and Warrick to a lighter degree. Many of the staple, large cities of Rynmere such as Dunwich, Starkender, Oxentide, Drakengard, Andaris and Sabaissant have entered a state of quarantine, and travel between cities has become entirely restricted for any with even minor symptoms of the plague.
Not far into Ashan, beginning around the 25th of the season, the burning of many densely compact towns has begun in order to cull the plague's hotbeds. Uniquely, the people of the Kingdom seem to generally favor the idea, perhaps because the plague seems to have had considerable more impact on impoverished, unemployed and other 'distasteful' communities, such as foreign ones.
Symptoms
The plague begins with cold-like symptoms, but quickly develops into a mess of red cystic bulbs growing all across the victim's skin, not dissimilar to shingles. This usually happens within five trials. At this point, the plague becomes extremely painful as the red bulbs appear to constantly sting with burning pain, as if they are the result of boiling water scalding the victim's flesh. By the seventh trial, the victim's tongue will become highly swollen and inflamed, and they will be unable to speak very well. The symptom that ultimately results in the death of the infected is the collapse of their throat, typically suffocating them by the ninth trial. Not all patients develop this symptom, however, as some immune systems seem to prevent the progression of the plague from arriving at this point. Of all of the infected, around eighty percent die, and twenty percent appear to recover entirely within fifteen to twenty trials.