Castle Kingside

Hesitant relief seeped into the dank cellar beneath the former church, bringing a much-needed sense of hope to an otherwise gloomy space. While Dimitry’s discovery of a potential cure didn’t completely allay the pernicious despair that hung in the air, threatening to resurface at the first failure, it gave everyone a chance to catch their breath.

Among the weary was a purple-skinned couple. Their shadows projected across the carved stone room by a flickering fireplace, Clewin and Claricia whispered amongst themselves, sharing plans for the future. Their gentle chatter was interrupted only by Angelika’s intermittent comments and questions. Although the reluctant guard spent the past two days stressing about her mother’s terminal condition, she now had a cautiously relieved smile on her face as she leaned back against a wall, twisting her long red-brown curls around a finger.

She watched Dimitry prepare the next batch of rat samples—ten vermin trapped in adjacent makeshift containers, each destined to become heirs to subject ‘B’. They would shed further light on the plague. So far, Dimitry learned that the disease resulted from a bacterial infection, but that knowledge alone wouldn’t be enough to cure the entire city.

From the gut to the skin, the human body overflowed with bacteria. The single-celled organisms served a wide variety of vital functions, such that being healthy without their continued assistance was impossible.

Subject ‘B’ displayed diarrhea—a condition often seen after taking antibiotics and one that indicated intestinal microbial depletion. But that was just a short-term effect. What about delayed symptoms? Could they lead to malnutrition as the body struggled to supply and digest complex nutrients due to a lack of essential gut bacteria? In a city filled with starving people, it could be a death sentence.

That was why modified preservia’s current state, one that demanded it kill every single bacteria, was dangerous.

Dimitry’s solution was to uncover the specifics of the plague-causing culprit, allowing him to cull it while minimizing collateral damage. Back on earth, a microscope would’ve made short work of the matter, revealing the bacteria’s shape, size, and structure with little effort. A luxury this world didn’t have. Magic would have to make up for the lack.

He affected five out of ten rat subjects with versions of preservia that killed only one subgroup of bacteria: either gram-positive, gram-negative, rod-shaped, spherical, or spiral-shaped. If Dimitry learned which of those properties matched the microbe causing the plague, he could spare the benign bacteria not within those categories, thereby decreasing side-effects like diarrhea.

That wasn’t the only benefit to this method. If his illumina experiments were anything to go by, specificity raised the power of Dimitry’s magic. A boon he desperately needed. As it was, his magic took too long to show symptom resolution in rats, which was problematic since Dimitry didn’t have the time or vol to cure thousands of Malten’s plagued residents. He needed his magic to work quickly and efficiently.

However, like everything else, his vermin subjects were limited. Two out of ten became the negative control and the positive control. One received no magic treatment, while the other received the same DNA-degrading antibacterial preservia that ‘B’ did. They were necessary to identify the effectiveness of the other tests.

That left only three rats to discover new pathways to killing bacteria. Although heating DNA was effective, better methods could save more lives.

Dimitry placed his hand against a small wooden crate, thinking of heating carbon-carbon bonds in peptidoglycan molecules present in bacterial cell walls, causing them to break apart and rupture the organism, killing it.

“Preservia.”

He shook his arm to wave off the bone-splitting pain that came from using seven crude vol pellets in quick succession. If a few spells caused him this much grief, how could he possibly treat every patient in Malten with magic? He glanced at an enchanted towel that cost him a fortune, but now hung uselessly on a nearby shelf. It gave him an idea.

“Angelika.”

“What’s up?”

“How difficult is it to enchant something?”

She shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”

“Your mother and older sister are enchantresses, surely you know something.” Dimitry reached for a brass pot containing the ninth subject. He placed his palm against it and thought of heating the ATP synthase of any bacteria within, denaturing the protein to stop ATP production. Bacteria would cease to function and die without a source of energy.

“Preservia.”

Angelika kicked aside a crate—from which a shrill squeak resounded—and sat beside Dimitry. “Although Leona never complained about it, she definitely makes it look hard. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking of enchanting a blanket.”

“With your modified preservia?”

“Yeah,” Dimitry said, “I think I have to. Not only is it impossible for me to cast it on everyone without getting overloaded, I don’t have the money for it either. And I don’t think that relying on her majesty to supply enough vol to treat the whole city is wise, considering she never helped when I asked for protection or maids.”

“You want to cure the whole city?”

“As many people as I can.”

“If I tell you, you have to promise something.”

“And what’s that?”

Angelika sat up straight. “When you figure this whole plague thing out, I want you to help my mom first.”

He looked into her desperate orange eyes. “Are you sure you want that? I’ve only tested it on rats so far, so there’s no way for me to know what effects it’ll have on people. It might help early on but create other long-term symptoms.”

“I don’t care. The plague will kill her while she’s waiting for you to cure everyone else in this goddamn city.”

Dimitry sighed. “Fine.” He pushed aside the brass pot and reached for an upside-down wooden bowl containing the final test subject. “Now tell me about enchanting.”

“Okay, so.” She leaned back and slammed her boots onto the top of a rat-filled crate. “Enchanting is really hard. Not only do you have to know the spell, but you also have to know how to weave.”

“Weave?”

“Yeah, you have to layer vol in a certain way or something. I tried to do it before but couldn’t. Probably because I didn’t put much effort into it.”

“I’m sure that’s the case. So, you’re saying I can’t learn to enchant?”

“Don’t bother. Just channel it.”

Dimitry’s eyes narrowed. “Do what?”

“Seriously? You can use weird and powerful magic, but you don’t know what channeling is?”

“We didn’t have it where I come from.”

“You’ve really never seen mages hold hands and stuff when they cast powerful spells before?”

Thinking back, Dimitry did. While plotting his escape from Ravenfall, he watched hand-linked acrobats chant a noisia that amplified every sound within an entire market square. “And I’m guessing there’s a way to do the same with enchanting?”

“Yep. Sometimes mom gets requests for spells she doesn’t know, so she just channels it from another Sorceresses Guild mage.”

“Would she be able to do the same for me?”

“Dunno.” She took a deep breath and looked down at her boots. “Lately, mom’s been feeling dizzy and getting nosebleeds, so it’s hard to tell if she’ll be able to handle the feedback.”

“How about your sister?”

Angelika shrugged. “Maybe. I’ve seen her do it a couple of times, but mom’s obviously way better at it.”

“I see.” Dimitry retrieved another rough and spherical aquamarine pellet out of his pouch. Palm held against the upside-down wooden bowl containing the last rat, he thought of targeting bacterial ribosome subunits with heat, denaturing them, and therefore killing the cells when they couldn’t produce protein to sustain themselves. “Preservia.”

“Is that all of them?” Angelika asked.

“Yeah.” Dimitry threw on his cloak. “Come on, let’s go.”

The girl rolled her crimson robe’s hood over her curly red-brown hair and stood up. “Where to?”

“First, we’ll check up on the hospital, then visit your family’s store.”

“’Kay.”

“Clewin!” a desperate voice rapidly approached, ringing from the adjacent alleyway.

Just as Dimitry was halfway up the stairs, a woman with a freckled face and a disheveled red ponytail held together by a pink ribbon darted down. Blinded by panic, Lili’s foot slipped.

Dimitry caught her before she banged her head against the wall. “What’s the hurry?”

“My apologies, Mr. Dimitry.” Lili performed a crude curtsy. Her breath mangled and hasty, she continued. “We need boiled water right away!”

“Did something happen?”

“T-the patients.” The woman heaved to catch her breath. “We just got here, and everyone is screaming!”

“Relax a moment and tell me everything exactly as it happened.”

She leaned back against the stairwell wall until her breathing steadied. “When I got here, I found out Josef operated on every patient, even the ones that weren’t purple. They’re still screaming and huffing upstairs and no one knows what to do! I suggested to the other nurses that we should ask Mr. Dimitry for help, but they still think you’re a sham even though the patients you treated yesterday were the only ones to recover all week!”

Dimitry grit his teeth. Josef was really starting to piss him off. “Lili, let’s go. Clewin, bring water and towels upstairs as they become ready.”

An afternoon spent cleaning pus and herb-filled lesions left Dimitry seething. He performed wound care he shouldn’t have had to. Dozens of unknowing patients groaned from sustaining pointless injuries inflicted under the false guise of medicine and a stupid grudge. Two died despite immediate treatment. More would soon.

It was the work of an asshole who thought it clever to operate while no one was around to oversee him. Unlike Josef’s typical surgeries, where he stuffed cutaneous blisters full of spices, these were deep and sealed with honey, each one a painful and morally bankrupt procedure.

He arrived overnight to scam patients while Dimitry slept. Not only did he collect money from his victims, many of whom could barely afford to eat, but he also exacerbated their already critical states.

Worse still, Josef pushed the blame onto Dimitry. Most of the nurses considered him to be the progenitor of every medical failure because he disregarded astronomical charts and holy prayers. Every death was Dimitry’s fault, and every success a divine miracle.

But the madness didn’t end there. The scrapped remnants of ceramic bottles that used to hold water and ethanol littered the floor, meaning Josef wanted to cause as much grief as possible. Not only did the loss of supplies cost several gold marks, but Clewin and Claricia struggled all day to make up for the loss.

What boiled water remained Dimitry used to flush out the wound of his last patient—a middle-aged woman with dark purple skin who moaned in agony all morning but was now asleep. He used his snoozia canister to sedate her before he could unseal the gash on her thigh to scoop out yellow goo-infused spices.

Angelika leaned against a wall, watching him work. “Even I can see that that fucker is killing people.”

“Glad someone else realizes that Josef is full of shit.” Dimitry wrapped a warm and moist bandage around the patient’s leg. “I bet he’s the one spreading those petty rumors about me.”

She leaned in to whisper into Dimitry’s ear. “Want me to get rid of him? I promise you won’t ever hear from him again.”

“As much as I want to take you up on your offer, I’ll have to decline.”

“Stop being a bitch!”

“I’m not being a bitch.” Wound care finished, Dimitry knelt to scoop up scattered ceramic scraps. “Knowing you, you’d probably clobber him in the middle of the street only to end up locked away in some dungeon for harming a trusted surgeon during an epidemic.”

“But wouldn’t that be worth it for you?”

“No.” He looked up. “People know you’re my guard, so they’ll end up blaming me. More importantly, you’re one of the very few reliable people in this city. I can’t cure the plague without you.”

Angelika’s cheeks flushed pink. “Yeah, but what if mom or my sisters end up in this damn hospital and that asshole cuts them open? I don’t want them to get stuffed full of herbs and spices like fucking aerfowls. They would die.”

She wasn’t wrong: Josef was a murderer.

How many lives met their unfortunate end at the hands of that pseudo-surgeon? Dozens? Hundreds? More? Despite that, not even the town guard would detain him because his astronomical medicine was cutting-edge in this world. Josef held more value in this city than Dimitry.

A more hands-on approach was necessary to deal with Josef. However, as Dimitry learned in Ravenfall, hasty decisions during stressful times only led to long-term consequences.

“You’re absolutely right,” Dimitry said. “But that doesn’t mean we should act rashly.”

“How about tonight?” She pulled the voltech rifle from the holster on her back, orange light from the church’s stained glass windows gleaming down the barrel. “I’ll be silent and fast.”

“Unfortunately, that won’t work either.”

“No one will see me, I promise.”

Dimitry rolled his neck, which was tight and sore after a day of looking down at patient beds. “If he mysteriously ends up dead, I’ll be the prime suspect. Not only are we business rivals, but after today’s fiasco, every nurse and patient here knows that I hate his guts.”

She clicked her teeth. “So you’re just gonna do nothing? What if you end up on one of these beds when the plague makes you start coughing up blood and that fucker decides to operate on you?”

“Firstly, keep your voice down.” Dimitry scanned the spacious room for anyone eavesdropping. Luckily, the nurses were busy, and most patients slept. “I never said I wasn’t going to do anything about it.” He beckoned her closer.

Angelika leaned in once more, her scent like that of olive-based detergent. “What do you mean?”

“Can you make an injury look like an accident while staying hidden?”

“What are you talking about?”

“For example, can you make someone stumble and fall onto a pile of scrapped wood and ceramic so it looks like they tripped? But you have to keep them alive, too—just barely.”

“Oh!” Angelika looked at him with mischievous orange eyes. “As a combat mage, I’d be ashamed if I couldn’t.”

“Good.” Dimitry wiped his hands against a clean towel. “If you have plans for tonight, I suggest you cancel them.” He headed for the domed exit. “But first, there is something interesting I want to try.”