CHAPTER 1: Prince Drustan

Dead bodies aren't supposed to glow, yet the body at Prince Drustan's feet does. The poor deceased man's skin looks sickly pale which is fitting because the man's skin is cold to the touch, his heart having stopped hours ago. The dead man's cold, lifeless skin looks impossibly paler still against the bright green glow of his veins. The color is an eerie green, a green so light and vibrant that no color in nature could possibly match its hue. There's no doubt in Prince Drustan's mind that the glow within the man's body is caused by magic. No human, no being blessed by the resourceful god of metal and swords known as The Forgemaster could wield magic. Only elves can. Magic sickness, magic death... This man was killed by an elf but why? He is no knight. No gleaming metal armor adorns the man's body. In fact, the man appears to be a nobody, his corpse is clad in the humble brown and gray fabrics of a farmer. There's a hole in one of the dead man's scuffed leather shoes, a hole just big enough for a piece of thin and frayed sock to stick out from. With a gentle but purposeful shove, Drustan rolls the body over, searching for any signs of injury. The man is free of cuts, scrapes, and magical burns alike.

Rolling the man again so he's lying on his back once more, the prince lowers himself onto one knee so he can get a closer look at the deceased farmer's face. his silver and scarlet steel armor softly clinks as he does so. The sound of the prince's own armor is echoed by that of his guard, Edmund Armstrong, who wears similar but simpler armor. Edmund's armor is polished and gleaming like Prince Drustan's, but it is not blemish free. Even with frequent polishing, scratches and scuffs mar its surface, and there is no detail other than the scarlet paint that accents the armor, branding Edmund as part of the royal guard. In some ways Edmund is fortunate to have simpler armor. After all, armor free of fine engravings is easier to clean and polish. Meanwhile, Prince Drustan's armor is covered in immense detail, seen in both paint and engravings. Paint and engravings bleed seamlessly into another as his armor documents the many battles fought by the knights before him in his family tree. His armor is a family heirloom, after all.

"With all due respect, Drustan," Edmund remarks, announcing his presence with a soft but purposeful clearing of this throat. As a member of the Armstrong family Edmund is in a position of power. The Armstrongs are renowned blacksmiths and blade-smiths, providing the kingdom with weapons, armor, and tools alike. In fact, it was Edmund's family that made both of their armor. Edmund, according to social hierarchy, is not his equal but he is close to it. After all, if anything were to happen to Prince Drustan, his siblings, and the ruling king, Edmund's family would be next in line for succession. It's because Edmund's family is so skilled and respected that he gets away with addressing Drustan without the formality of inserting his title of 'prince' before his name. "I do not think you should be touching the body so much. I know your father tasked you with investigating this magic sickness but surely the need for answers does not override the need for your health and safety?"

Edmund means well because Edmund cares. Edmund and Drustan are more alike than not. Like Drustan, Edmund is the youngest of three children. And like Drustan, Edmund is treated as the backup-heir to the backup-heir. Edmund is a last resort, a living emergency plan that goes more or less ignored by his parents unless he does something to bring them great pride or great shame. The only way Edmund will become Head of Household is if both of his brothers die. It is unlikely Edmund's brothers will die. Edmund's oldest brother, Edwin, is a muscular mountain of a man who has lifted two ample bodied maidens at once with ease. Edwin is the literal golden child of the Armstrong family, with hair as glistening as bright as the summer sun. Edmund's other brother, Edrich has the same glowing hair as Edwin. The golden hair seems to be a defining family trait. Although Edrich isn't as muscular as Edwin, he is tall, his long legs making him one of the fastest men in the whole country. Compared to his brothers, Edmund is of average height, strength, and speed. The only way one can even tell they are related is that distinctive sunny hair.

Edmund's concern sparks a bitter chuckle from Drustan. "You are hilarious, Edmund. You and I both know my family does not care about my health. They would care about my funeral, of course. My untimely death would bring dishonor and a large amount of work. And it would be costly. They could afford to pay for the decorations and rites, of course, but they would not be happy about it." Edmund doesn't object this statement because he knows its true. However, after a beat of silence, he does reply with a different counter argument.

"I care," Edmund reminds him, gloved hand patting Drustan's armored shoulder with a soft series of metallic clinks before he too kneels beside the deceased man. "Besides we do not know how this sickness spreads... Only that it spreads fast. Half the countryside is sick with it. And it's not just people. Animals have been dying too."

"And plants," Drustan notes, using a pointer finger to motion to the corner of the deceased farmer's lip. "There, a bit of carrot. The carrot is glowing green. He ate an infected carrot. And that carrot killed him." Although Drustan remains kneeling beside the deceased man, his brown eyes shift to the nearby carrot patch. Most of the carrot patch is bland, dark, and normal. However... However there is a patch of freshly dug dirt that glows a soft green. If the whole patch was not infected, why would the man purposefully eat an infected carrot? Raven black brows furrow in confusion. It makes no sense.

Edmund, ever the observant guard and best friend, follows Drustan's lead, blue eyes following the path of Drustan's brown eyes before returning to Drustan's face. Drustan, despite his many years of training, has little practical experience in both fighting and investigation. Despite being the backup-heir to the backup-heir, he was sheltered and spoiled just as much as the rest of the royal family. His tawny skin is free of sunburns and battle scars alike. Although lacking experience, Drustan does not lack passion. He cares deeply and wholeheartedly for his kingdom. It's a trait that Edmund has yet to see in the oldest of three royal children, Crown Prince Bertram. However, Edmund has always been prone to disliking Crown Prince Bertram since he is best friends with his oldest and favored brother, Edwin. "The magic sickness spreads fast, and so does misinformation. Common-folk don't understand how wild and dangerous magic is. Perhaps the farmer thought the magic could just as easily heal him of an ailment just as easily it could kill him?" Edmund offers as an unproved but likely hypothesis. "Common-folk seem to be allergic to common sense, after all."

The fact that such a guess is likely true only makes Drustan further annoyed. With a short and sharp huff of air, Drustan rises back up onto his feet. "I know not all common-folk can read or write but surely word of mouth travels just as fast? The death toll from this sickness grows higher with each passing day. It was stupid to eat the carrot. I do not know of a single, confirmed case where someone was infected with this disease and lived. Why take a life or death risk on a rumor? It is incredibly stupid." The prince then pauses to mutter a string of choice words under his breath. Edmund may not be fluent in Drustan's native tongue of Spanish but he has spent enough time with Drustan to recognize a few swears and other un-princely remarks.

"People make foolish choices when desperate and in dire need of hope," Edmund reminds him, attempting to pull the prince out of his stressed, ever spiraling thoughts by playfully bumping his arm with his own. "Your father tasked you with investigating this disease because you are capable of solving this. And you are capable of being the people's hope. The strong jawed, bright eyed, and handsome prince saving the country from the magic plague? Why that is a legend just waiting to be written and a legend waiting to sung by bards at taverns across the country. We may not have solutions to stopping it yet, but he now know it spreads to humans, plants, and animals alike. We can slow the spread of the disease by informing common-folk to not consume tainted plants or animals."

With one last heavy sigh, Drustan runs a weary hand over his face before addressing Edmund. "You are right. I loathe it when you are right so often. How did you become so smart so fast?"

Edmund's smirk is sharp, like that of a scheming fox as he replies, "it is simple. I wait for my siblings and your family to make mistakes and task myself with not repeating such mistakes." A purposeful, dramatic pause, then, "I also had a rather passionate affair with a farmer's daughter one summer. I almost gave up my family inheritance to wed her but then I learned she hates animals. How can you be a farmer and hate animals? It is like as a fish hating water. It makes no sense."

The unexpected but earnest tale makes Drustan laugh. "Never change Edmund, never change." As his laugh fades Drustan whistles, beckoning his horse to him. Drustan's horse is a calm, reliable mare whose skin is adored with splotches of white and chestnut fur. Drustan has never been good at naming horses, having named her Brave since she is brave enough to run to him, no matter how loud or chaotic her surroundings get. Edmund isn't good at naming horses either. He has a dark brown gelding named Bear, named for his fur color. And, according to Edmund, named to shock and scare his enemies into thinking he's tamed an actual bear even though, in reality, Bear is simply the name of his horse. Drustan mounts his horse, Edmund following suit.

"The farmer's corpse will need to be burned as to ensure his body does not infect anyone else or the soil. Although, preventing the spread of the magic sickness on this farm might be inevitable, considering the fact it has already spread to the carrot patch. We should investigate nearby farms and see where else it has spread. We can return at midday or at nightfall to dispose of him and any other bodies," Drustan states, voicing his thoughts and intentions for the day. Edmund nods in acknowledgment of the prince's plan. Although he may have a tendency for good ideas, when it comes to plans, Edmund has no solid plan on stopping this sickness. How do you stop something that you know so little about? Hopefully investigating the infected will provide them with the information they need to stop it. Or at the very least, point them in the direction of an elven mage they can force to use their magical prowess to stop this disease. Sometimes one must fight fire with fire... Or in this case, fight magic with magic.

Drustan's kingdom has a vast, ever sprawling countryside. In fact, farms make up over one third of the kingdom's total mass. And it is a good thing too because both middle class and noble families rely on the kingdom's family run farms to fill their bellies. It is because the countryside is so wide that it takes an hour's ride to find another farm. This farm is different than the last, lacking signs of recent animal and human activity alike. Although the emptiness and silence is concerning, Drustan and Edmund don't linger. They don't have time to chase ghosts. They are far too busy chasing the magic sickness that is plaguing the kingdom.

The two men ride for another hour, this time stumbling upon a farming town instead of a single family farm. The town, although small, should be bustling with activity. The blacksmith's forge should be hot and the sound of metal upon metal should be echoing like an endless chiming of bells. Common-folk should be walking and chatting, their words creating an endless hum in the air. Children should be running and laughing, their small shouts both annoying and amusing the rest of the townsfolk.

Instead their is haunting and empty silence. They are not alone, however. There is a woman lying in the middle of the dirt road. She is still and un-moving, except for the strained rise and fall of her chest. It is unclear what ails her until Drustan and Edmund draw close. Her veins and her eyes glow a familiar and unnatural green. In a rather grim twist of fate, the sickly green glow creates an ethereal and beautiful contrast against her umber skin. The woman's curly, dark brown hair is wet with sweat, the only thing keeping it out of her face is a faded and well beloved headband. Much to Drustan's horror, the woman isn't just sick. As he dismounts his horse to kneel by her side, he discovers two arrows with metal arrowheads sticking out of her shoulders. Metal arrowheads mean these arrows were fired by humans since elves use either stone or condensed magic arrowheads. Why would someone fire upon a sick and defenseless woman like this? Her fragile, and bleeding form makes his stomach twist into angry and disgusted knots.

The woman is slow to notice Drustan and Edmund but when she does, she greets them with a strained rasp. "My lords... You should not be here. It is not safe here."

"Nowhere is safe until we rid the kingdom of this magic sickness," Drustan argues, hands starting to slip under her body, intent on picking her up. Much to his surprise, she pushes him away, using what little energy she has left to desperately crawl away from him. "Stop!" He calls out, although he winces at the sound of his own voice. He didn't mean to shout. He knows shouting will only upset the distraught woman further. "Please stop," he calls out again, this time in the form of a concerned stage-whisper. "I just want to help you. Let me help you."

"You can't help me," the woman argues. This time Edmund tries to pick her up but she swats his hands away as well. "It's too late for me. But it isn't too late for you. The sickness is worse here. Leave." Her voice grows louder as she grows frustrated by their insistence to stay in help her. "Leave before they kill you too."