In life, one must understand their place in the world. Only those who relish in the things they are meant to have, in the place they are meant to be, discover the truest form of joy!

 So I doubt You can even imagine my delight, as I've finally found myself in an environment befitting of one such as I! The warmth, the comfort, the carpet! And how could I forget the wine!

 This is truly the place I, Sabinian, The Saint, belong in!

Yes indeed! Your eyes do not deceive!. I have acquired a title at last!

''The Saint'', as the lowborn of Lockrifta have dubbed me. No more of that ''beggared hermit'' rubbish, as I'm the sole savior of this city's remaining inhabitants.

 Can't say I am very keen on the religious implications but a title writes itself after all!

 Thus as I sit here, in these silk sheets, accompanied by a slumbering beauty, who sadly is not Miss Nancy, due to some... complications. Let me tell You precisely how Sabinian, The Saint was born!

 Let us return to 2 months ago, just as we finished our last... escapade. I and Arvel had gotten comfortable weathering the last weeks of winter and plans of favor and conquest had been in their beginning stages!

 As mentioned in my previous report, the blight which had plagued this corner of The Nation of Vistar had already found its way into Lord Heimerichs borders. Lockrifta, being an important center of trade, had not been excluded. Yet, the rise of this infection is of the most peculiar origins.

 It was born in the ''Holy'' City of Smurtberg- the birthplace and capital of The Church of Fraust.

 There, the religious fanatics had taken the ever-growing disease as a sign from their ''God'' and had interpreted it as a punishment, for neglecting pagan and heretic movements. They had decided, to raise their gospels and swords, to share the word of their God and Prophet, with a ''righteous pilgrimage'' across the land. All the while saving the world from the Wrong. Naturally...

 For nearly 2 decades their forces had moved across the known world, not only saving it with their sword and fire but also gifting their follower the blessing, in the form of a disease. It is fascinating how they had kept it at bay for this long!

 Thinking about it, I would choose death over filing my brain, for someone force me in place...

 King Vistar, as gullible as the day he was born, had fallen for the romantic notions of the religious ideas. He never resorted to any radical actions, yet he keenly demonstrated his faith, by cutting any and all contact with the University. Which also included funding.

 Luckily, other nobility were not so senile...

 However, now that they've begun moving out in force, sending inquisitors, to purge the heretical, seems as though their remedies- their ''healing word''- have lost their effects.

 Now, scatter and preach, accusing the nonsubmissive of the blight they themselves had raised. All this in a desperate attempt to make their delusions a reality!

 To think, there is someone so ignorant and conceited to believe only themselves to be in the right... Makes one question any validity in what these lowborn come up with.

  Another theory of mine is that they are desperate for a cure themselves. Yet, the reasons as to why they choose to ''purify'' the knowledgable and scholarly escape me.

  What I find curious, is that it has been rumored among the University scholars, for years now, that the head of their Church once roamed the University's halls, as a scholar. Until unknown circumstances had made him abandon the path of Sorcery. Instead, turning towards worship and prayer.

 If that is the case, it would be no surprise how The Church of Fraust had convinced so many to believe their tall tales and promises. To mere lowborn, Sorcery might as well be the miracle of God.

 Enough about trivialities!

 Soon enough the last winter snow returned to its liquid form. This change in weather gave the infection a rise, as a sudden spike drove half of Lockrifta to the edge of death.

 One windier eve, Arvel collapsed with a fever. It was a mighty one!  Luckily for him, he works under me. And I can get quite bothered with a grunting man on my floor!

 With a slight pinch of skull-rose dust, salt, and a mix of river lily extract, the fever subsided. Added a spoonful of ground elderflowers and strips of white willow bark, chewed up, swallowed with water, of course, made sure the fever ran for its life!

 On second thought, I should have simply made them into tea... That would have made ingestion less of a chore...

 Oh well! He still lives, healthier than before, I might add!

 What did strike my attention, were the odd, puss-filled tumors, which had covered his skin about a week after the fever had passed. They weren't big, yet seemed to cause incredible pain, until, he once again got on my nerves with his moaning and groaning. Not to mention, the fever returned with a vengeance.

 The simpleton just couldn't suffer in silence!

 As there was no use in explaining to a dying man, that concentration is key in Sorcery practice, I made a decision to explore Lockrifta in search of any treatments to this headache of mine.

 To no one's surprise, the city was littered with pyres and the smell of burnt flesh crawled up Your nose like allergies on a summer morning.

 Yet, as much as I, validly, judge their methods and faith, their practice of ''purification'' might have been the one reason, as to why its spread had been under control.

 Due to their crusades, the burning of infected, and their ''last rite of death'' ritual, where a dying man, usually a follower, is burned at the stake, with the belief that he will ascend to stand beside their Prophet.

 However, these days with the increase in the faithful, and the ritual now only reserved for the clergymen, the illness has had plenty of room to fester.

 The Church, now validating other funeral customs for the common folk, such as burials and ''death parades'', has released any previous hold they might have had over the disease.

  I soon discovered, the flames had also ''purified'' the two only physicians of Lockrifta, making the only ''medicine'' available the ''healing word'' of Fraust, as a mass of people stood at the church gates.

 Mothers, wailing- begging for the salvation of their children, as their knees plowed the gravel path. Brothers and fathers- hardy-looking men- cried for ''God'' to spare their wives and sisters, as they punish themselves for their disbelief. Orphans- too young, too confused as to why their families had been set ablaze just a night before, stand with dull eyes, watching rats scurry around the chapel.

 Truly, a pathetic sight to behold, of those who are so far from their place in this world...

 I had gotten curious to see the customs they've adapted in order to combat such a disaster. I should not have been surprised by the uneducated barbarism I bore witness to.

 The tumors were severed, washed, and burned as offerings. The patches of raw flesh were scorched with smoldering metal. The patients were fed nothing but moldy bread and water. You need not an intellectuals eye to see, none would live past this week.

 To those with mild symptoms, they gave a poor excuse of an elixir, they praise as ''fire water''. I took a glass of it, yet did not dare my lips anywhere close. It was nothing more than urine, mixed with vinegar and elderflowers. A disgusting mixture, which seemed to have either no effect or, I suspect, made it worse.

 The smiles of the religious zealots, especially the younger ones, truly believing they are saving people, were quite repulsive, I must say! Yet, in retrospect, I cannot shame the man's prowess! Whoever had managed to exploit such ignorance deserves some recognition.

 As an addition, I overheard the rumor, that Lord Heimerichs wife had fallen ill long ago. That is why The Church of Fraust had been summoned, as no physician had had any success thus far. This had explained their ever-growing presence in the city, as they had somehow managed to keep her in the world of the living. Perhaps there was some merit in their practices after all... As if!

 I am so funny...

 Ahhh... The places these lowborn will crawl to, for a mere droplet of hope. Pitiful really!

 With such information, I had finally seen, how such a crisis brings with it an opportunity! Now that I had a direct course into Lord Heimerichs Court, not to mention a way to embarrass those Fraustian shits- excuse my wording- I felt a rush in my heart, which hastened both, my step and thought!

 After gathering some ingredients, from common herbs and mushrooms to more unorthodox roots, alchemical compounds, and even compost waste,  I made my way home. Only to be stricken with a truly heartbreaking sight!

 Miss Nancy's tumor-covered body had been ditched on a side street, a good 200 steps from the brothel. It was truly a tragedy, not because it seems counterproductive to try and eradicate a disease while festering corpses cover the streets, but due to the loss of a truly masterful professional in her craft.

 My need for Victory over this blight had gotten personal! Very personal...

 Back home a disturbing sight greeted me of Arvel siphoning his stomach contents on my floor. in case that had not been sufficient, he had succumbed to the urge to scratch the tumors, splitting them. He looked like a walking corpse, on its way towards decay. Serbus, the cat, was undisturbed by any of it, as she had simply chosen to lay further from the man's excretions while giving me a curious gaze. Almost asking: ''What are You going to do about this?''

 She also had not helped at all in anything up to that point and will help going forward, as she is but a cat...

 From then on, I began what educated scholars such as I do best- Research!

  I am astonished how Arvel managed to survive it all, if only with a bit of scarring. Say what you will about the man's wits, his vigor is nothing to scoff at!

 Of course, neither is mine, as I never even caught the illness, mind You! The reason for that... I'll get into in a moment.

 I observed the symptoms and administered herbal procedures that seemed to ease the suffering. I am no physician, and my education lies in a different field entirely, yet I did have some theoretical knowledge of medicine. However, theoretics only serve to fill parchment. True knowledge stems from practice!

 So from then on, I crafted and concocted a myriad of elixirs, ointments, brews, chewables, and ingestibles. I believe I went through about 156 combinations of ingredients and processes.

  A lack of any alchemical tools and appliances added a layer of challenge to the research. Meaning, almost all processes, which couldn't be done with cooking utensils had to be induced with Sorcery- Astral arts, I mean!

 It seems living among the lowborn truly has affected me...

 There were a few hiccups and roadblocks, and there was a moment when Arvel's breath abandoned him, yet it is a rarity, if ever, for me to see a failure!

 After a couple of supply trips to the city and 11 days of trial and error, my subordinate finally took a full and effortless breath, as I had come across a permanent cure for the disease I had dubbed ''The Puss Rot'', due to the sheer amount of the white paste one emits under its influence. The cure for it is no doubt common knowledge by the time You are studying these musings of mine. However, for the sake of authenticity, I will still note down some of the peculiarities of this research.

 Firstly, I observed the symptoms, from fevers, stomach discharge, and diarrhea, to tumors on the skin, weakness in the body, and slurred speech. There exists a possibility that might have been his natural speech pattern, however, I couldn't be sure.

 Furthermore, as I observed the townspeople, I noticed, how a lot of liquids were being exchanged among them. Now, it might sound strange when worded that way but do try to keep up.

 I came to the conclusion, that the infection travels through skin contact. More precisely, through sweating, spitting, or any other liquid secretion and exchange. As people rub against one another, spit at each other, or gather in groups, this leads to a lot of liquid contact with the skin, mouth, and so on.

 I'm sure someone must've delved into this topic deeper, however, such a theory- naturally- worked out in my favor!

 Now, after countless experiments and near-death experiences, I came across the final remedy for this vicious ailment.

 This did not come about, through a sudden divine inspiration, or a moment of enlightenment. It came about through the elementary practice of trial and error, within the hands of a prodigy, of course!

 Constant brilliance does not require a stroke of genius!

The cure had come about from my attempts to understand, how exactly the Fraust followers had kept Lord Heimerichs wife clinging to life. You would not believe the hilarity that occurred, once I had finally understood what would save not only Arvel but also the remains of Lockrifta. Nothing other than mold...

 Now, bear with me!

 It is not just any mold. The disinfecting properties only came from the blue mold I found on bread, cheese, and fruit. Luckily, Lockrifta's sea trade down south had already begun, and shipments of fruits were abundant, giving me no shortage of resources.

 My next challenge was to make the disinfectant more potent but also increase its longevity, to eradicate the disease in its entirety.

I mixed and tried, the grueling process of what some would call banging my head against a wall did not break me. Did not even faze one such as I!

And, after 30 attempts, the 31st would claim Victory! In 11 days and 187 attempts, I had persevered at last!

 Sabinian had, naturally, won again!