The church door swung open welcomingly, and Reyland waited for Griff to accept the invitation before following him inside.

The sight inside the church was far from what Reyland had expected. The entire floorspace had been cleared of the pews, and filled with makeshift cots and beds. Townsfolk of all ages filled them, many sleeping, but a good few made to sit up to see the outsiders, only to be struck with coughing fits and lay back down. It was exactly the same sight both men had encountered before… a sick bay. Although, unlike the ones they had seen, where the patients were covered in bandages and open wounds, the people here showed no signs of injury.

Even Griff faltered in his step at seeing it, recognizing the only other thing that could put this many people in a sick bay at once.

“Is the town plagued?” Reyland asked the elder man, standing cautiously just inside the doorway. He was ready to turn and leave the church at a moment's notice.

“Mmm, we thought that was the case as well, at first,” the elderly man responded calmly. He coughed into his elbow, his entire body shaking with the force of it. “But, I have my doubts about such a thing as the plague appearing here, of all places.”

“What makes you think that, elder?” Griff questioned.

The old man laughed slightly. “I may not look it, but in my younger years, I was quite the renowned doctor,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “The symptoms are all wrong for any plague I’ve heard of.”

Griff gave the man an appraising look, before nodding in acknowledgement. Reyland wasn’t fully sure of the old man’s claims himself… but if Griff believed him, Reyland would trust his master’s judgement.

Maybe someday, Reyland would be able to judge people as accurately with a simple glance.

All three men walked through to the back of the church, passing the aisle between dozens of filled beds. Reyland eyed them warily as he passed, but he also felt his heart wrenching at the sorry state of them. Most could barely roll over, and had their eyes shut tight as if in pain, even though they were clearly awake. Few could even muster up the strength to make eye contact with him.

They arrived at the back of the church, where two small rooms sat facing each other, both doors closed tight. The elder pushed open the one on the left, and invited them into the small room beyond. There were a couple of chairs, a dresser and a double bed. It seemed well lived in, and was presumably the old man’s bedroom.

As Reyland took a seat near the door, Griff remained standing.

“Oh, where are my manners!” The old man proclaimed suddenly. “My name is Arthur. Eldest still living in Arcaster.”

“My name is Griffith, of the Order of Alexandros,” Griff responded, “and this is my apprentice, Reyland.”

Arthur gave a small, polite bow to Griff, or at least as much of a bow as he could manage, given he was already hunched most of the way over. He nodded towards Reyland as well, which was honestly more than the young man usually got for attention in situations like this.

“Well, now that introductions are out of the way…” Arthur continued. “What brings two of the Order’s members out to such a tiny old place like Arcaster?” The man spoke politely.

“We were sent to convince your town to leave. Though I see now that there’s a very serious reason why you can not.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Those that were able to leave, left long ago, I’m afraid. The rest of us… well,” he gestured out towards the room filled to the brim with the sick. “We don’t have much of a choice on the matter, do we?”

The old man was wracked again by a coughing fit, shaking as he wearily sat back down on his bed. Reyland felt terrible just looking at him. Arthur had clearly been pushing himself just to stay standing as long as he had already.

Just then the door opened, and all three men turned to see a woman standing there, every bit as aged as Arthur.

“I thought I heard someone talking in here… Arthur, who are these people?” The woman said. She was glaring at them with a much less welcoming gaze than Arthur, eyeing the weapons the two men carried distrustfully.

“Ah, Matilda! These men are from the Order, they’ve come to help the town,” Arthur said quickly. “Griffith, Reyland, this is my wife Matilda.”

“The Order?” She asked, surprised.

Griff nodded in response.

“Right, my apologies, then,” she said, much more politely than before. “It’s been a long time since last I saw outsiders that looked… quite like you two.”

Reyland nodded in understanding. Griff and him both were fully kitted out in mostly black armour, carrying weapons and dressed in a long, dark riding cloak. To someone who wasn’t accustomed to seeing Order members around, they would certainly have looked suspicious. Especially in such a small town, where outsiders of any kind were likely a rare occurrence.

“You mentioned earlier,” Griff continued, as Matilda took a seat in a chair next to Arthur. “That those who were healthy enough to leave had already left?"

It was Matilda who answered this time.

“Not many, but a couple of families had the sense to leave before the sickness got too severe. But the rest of us, we assumed we could hold off on leaving until we recovered.”

“Has anyone recovered?” Griff asked, although he suspected he already knew the answer.

“Not a single person,” Arthur replied. “The only reason we have space for everyone in the church here is because of all of those who have already passed on.”

Reyland felt the mood in the room grow a little colder, at that.

“Arthur and I have been taking care of the community. Neither of us has been as affected by the sickness, not that I could tell you why. But we have enough of our health with us to tend to the sick, for now at least,” Matilda added.

Reyland let his eyes wander around the room they sat in, absentmindedly tracing his fingers over the hilt of his shortsword. He paid close enough attention to the conversation to pick up on key point, like how the sickness had started around two months prior, or how the town had begun running out of food... but mostly his mind wandered.

How many people had been packed into the sick bay outside? Fifty? A hundred? It must have been half of the village, going off the number of houses they had searched.

The door to the bedroom had been left open when Matilda had entered, and he could see out into the hallway and across to the other door that he had seen when coming in. That door had also been left open, presumably after Matilda had left it… and Reyland heard the shuffle of something moving inside. All his attention suddenly focused on the dark opening of the doorway, he leaned in towards it, straining to see clearly.

Suddenly, a pair of eyes caught the light shining into the room from the hall. A dull, amber-ish red colour, they locked onto Reyland’s own eyes, before widening in surprise. The door was pushed shut immediately after, closing with a dull click. Reyland could faintly hear the sounds of shuffling footsteps as whoever was on the other side hurried away from the door, and then nothing. The shadows had completely blocked out the person’s face and figure, but Reyland could guess that they had been young. The eyes had only been a little bit taller than the door handle.

“Reyland will assist with that, then.” Griff spoke abruptly. Picking up on his own name, Reyland jolted up in his chair slightly, turning back to the conversation where Arthur was currently rising from his seat on the bed.

“Ahh, these old bones appreciate the help, young man,” he said kindly.

Standing suddenly as if he knew what he was meant to be doing, Reyland smiled politely back at the elderly man as he hobbled out of the room. Reyland kept his eyes on the other door as he followed, curiosity burning a bit in the back of his head, but he pushed those thoughts aside for the moment.

Once they were out of earshot of the small bedroom, Reyland leaned in towards Arthur.

“...what exactly am I helping with, again?” He whispered.

Arthur laughed, a hoarse chuckle that ended in another small cough.

“Some of the ill need tending to. Beddings changed, medicine administered and waters refilled, mostly.”

As they passed by, some of the townspeople seemed to stir. A couple were actually sitting up this time, from a middle aged woman leaning back against the wall to what looked like a young married couple, leaning on each other for support. The closer Reyland looked, the more desperate the situation seemed. Most of them had withered away to near skin and bone, with sunken cheeks, hollow eyes and knobbly bones sticking out all over. Through the holes in many of the men’s sleeveless gowns, Reyland could clearly count the ribs on them.

“Just tell me what to do,” Reyland said solemnly.

Arthur chuckled again, looking almost fondly at the young man.

“Well, to start..."