Richard's recovery took nearly six whole months.
Two months of rigorous, daily treatment in the Healing Chamber, followed by four months of monitored physical recovery, led to the complete restoration of his mobility, strength, and Core stability by the conclusion of the sixth month.
During those six months of recuperation, the atmosphere surrounding Richard underwent a transformation.
His mother visited frequently, spending time speaking with him, bringing trays of sustaining food, and showing a certain warmth that comforted his very soul.
Crucially, the staff of the household had also re-evaluated him. Servants and attendants were no longer evading him and he built effortless rapport through daily walks across the manor grounds and casual discourse. The reserved heir who once inspired only speculation and indifference now elicited regard.
The soldiers stationed around the manor treated him with newfound respect, acknowledging the difficult battle at Oakhaven with genuine, sincere salutes.
Lucien, Richard's personal attendant, was the most visibly affected by this change. He who had previously faced mockery from his peers for serving the incompetent young master was now respected among his peers.
This period of recovery was the most stable and contented time Richard had ever known across both his lives.
Yet, Richard knew comfort was transient.
During the recovery, Richard used to maintain a rigorous routine--early morning walks and regular exercise.
Other than that, he would occasionally ask Lucien to bring daily news, reports and documents from his father's office. Voltair, who saw this as without harm--perhaps another display of the unanticipated curiosity the heir had begun to show--always gave permission to him.
It was here first that Richard started observing some abnormalities.
--
The Continent's territories utilized a system of administration where governors were put in charge of the major cities, and mayors governed the towns. Smaller villages and neighboring tribes were merged together into one large town or city, making administration more straightforward.
Richard spent hours reviewing the documents that he would get. These accounts came from various administrators across the vast territory of Frostpeak.
Multiple reports shared the same suspicious quality: they only emphasized trivial matters, omitting crucial things that should actually be in the report.
The unusual pattern of only mentioning unwanted matters was disturbing.
Another suspicious occurence was the unusual rise in severe illness among the soldiers that were stationed in the castle. These were not routine colds; the afflicted individuals showed no trace of conventional symptoms at first, then succumbed rapidly. It was a sudden attack, and many were affected all at once.
The healers, despite their extensive knowledge, were absolutely helpless. Every disease in the continent had a recognized treatment or cure, yet this affliction resisted all efforts. The most they could do was delay the discomfort of the sickness for a certain period of time.
This lead Richard to believe that the illness was either through a magical spell or through food poisoning.
The six months of rest had provided him with a deceptive feeling of security.
However, all of these signs ultimately led Richard to force himself into delving deeper.
--
[Present Day]
Richard rose significantly earlier than his established training hour. The castle was shrouded in the deep, silent peace of the pre-dawn. He quickly got dressed in simple, practical garments.
Last night, while resting in bed, he had already decided how he was going to conduct his search.
Firstly, to get more information on the reports, the best place was the archives--the voluminous repository of the Duchy's administrative memory. This would involve a significant amount of reading, but Richard was certain it would prove useful, perhaps yielding subtle clues that were overlooked by others.
And as for the illness, he would personally go to the soldiers' dorms and talk to them. Direct observation and unvarnished testimony from the victims would be most reliable.
Richard hastened through the near-empty passages toward the archives.
He reached the heavy door and found a solitary guard stationed outside. The man, a tired-looking veteran, immediately straightened his posture upon recognizing the young master.
'Young Master Richard!' the bewildered guard exclaimed. 'What brings you here at this hour?'
Richard met his gaze levelly. 'A sudden curiosity in some matters.'
The guard hesitated for a brief period. Access to the main archives was usually restricted until after the morning muster. However, the reputation Richard had earned in the past months was now his primary currency within the castle walls.
'Very well, Young Master,' the guard said. He unlocked the massive door quietly.
Richard entered and the guard firmly secured the door behind him.
The archives immediately overwhelmed him. The hall was vast, its length seemed endless, and its breadth was tremendous. Undoubtedly, it was the largest section of the castle, a massive monument to years of paperwork and governance.
There were countless small shelves, roughly about a hundred could be seen at first sight itself, stretching into the shadowy distance. And in those shelves, were kept several tied documents and records, all bound with aged, brittle twine.
It would take a lifetime to actually find something if Richard were to go through all of them indiscriminately. But, luckily for him, the system was meticulously organized. There were signs above each shelf, and the shelves were kept in distinct sections: logistics, administrative, records, history, among many other such classifications.
For now, only the records and administrative sections would prove useful to the troubled heir.
He wasted no time. Starting with the records section, he quickly untied and tied documents. His eyes scanned for the distinct pattern of bureaucratic obfuscation. He moved with the speed and focus of a man who knew precisely what he was seeking.
Sure enough, Richard would eventually find the stack of governor reports he had previously reviewed in his room.
But one thing was not clear.
Why was this not detected by anyone else?
The pattern was unambiguously recognizable and suspicious enough to catch the trained eye of his father.
The trivial matters were so numerous that they acted as a kind of camouflage, obscuring the critical omission beneath a mountain of insignificant detail.
An hour of continuous searching later, he finally moved on.
What he found was satisfactory enough: The governors of Rjord and Monchall--two of the rather important cities within Frostpeak--were the primary senders of the vague reports designed to look active, alongside several significant mayors.
Richard left the reports precisely as he found them, securing the twine and returning the stacks to their exact spot.
On his way out, the guard asked, 'You were in there for quite a period, Young Master. Did you find what you required?'
'Yes, I did,' Richard replied.
The guard, though perplexed by the answer, accepted the explanation and locked the door with a firm, final sound.
--
Richard's next concern was the sickness spreading through the army, a matter he treated with absolute seriousness.
An army stood at the core of any territory's strength; weakness within its ranks translated directly into weakness for the ruling house. Any ill intent aimed at the army, whether indirect or concealed, amounted to hostility toward the entire region. Richard's concern was entirely prudent. He was familiar with the rulers of Zogria, aware that beneath polite faces often lay calculating minds and aggressive ambition.
The sequence was too convenient to ignore for Frostpeak--an injured heir, a strained leadership, and now an afflicted army. All of these conditions made Frostpeak highly vulnerable to both internal and external threats.
A sudden illness--one whose cure was unknown at first--felt disturbingly familiar to Richard. Richard had already suspected something, and that was his only fear.
Richard headed at once to the soldiers' dormitory.
Training had been called off for the day due to the reasonable fear that the illness might spread faster during strenuous effort. The courtyard, usually a scene of unified movement and sharp command, was empty.
The moment he stepped inside the dormitory, the scene struck him deep. Rows of beds filled the hall, most of them occupied by soldiers burning with fever, their faces flushed and eyes unfocused.
Veterans moved among them, offering water, support, and care, while unaffected soldiers assisted wherever they could. The remaining health of the company was devoted to nurturing its sick.
One of the senior soldiers approached Richard and bowed a little.
'Young Master, may I ask what brings you here?' the soldier asked.
'I wished to see for myself how the men were faring,' Richard said calmly.
'While I am grateful for your concern, I must also express my concern for your safety. The atmosphere here is genuinely hazardous. For your own well-being, I strongly advise that you depart at once,' the soldier countered.
He urged Richard to leave at once, insisting the sickness spread through breath. The fear in the man's eyes was genuine.
The man then asked if Richard had any further questions, and if he did, he would try his best to answer.
Richard took the opportunity and instantly asked about the so called sudden illness.
After a moment of reflection, the senior advised him to speak with Bertha, the healer overseeing treatment. 'She is the only one who truly understands the affliction, Young Master. She has been here almost without cease for the past few months.'
He added that Bertha had gone to retrieve additional medicine from the healing chambers.
Richard thanked the soldier and turned back toward the chambers he knew all too well from his months of recovery.
By chance, he encountered Bertha along the way, as she was returning with a bulging satchel filled with vials and bundled herbs.
She was an elderly woman, her hair was silvered and her skin lined with age. However, one look at her confirmed that her expertise was unmatched.
Richard's abrupt inquiry about the sickness caught her off guard, though she offered no objection to his curiosity.
She asked him to accompany her back to the dormitory as she explained.
According to Bertha, the illness began roughly four months earlier with a sudden surge of fever among several soldiers. After entering the body, the ailment took nearly ten days to fully emerge.
She continued, describing the progression in detail. It started with ordinary coughs before escalating into vomiting, severe fever, repeated sneezing, and regurgitation. The speed and intensity of the symptoms were what defied the healers' expectations.
Frostpeak's healers eventually discovered that a certain herbal mixture could suppress the symptoms for a time, though it provided no permanent cure. Regular doses were required to keep the soldiers functional, placing growing strain on the healers and the Duchy's medicinal supplies.
As Bertha returned to her patients, Richard remained behind, absorbed in thought.
He recognized the sickness without uncertainty.
The symptoms--the initial delay, the escalation to vomiting and deliberating fever--matched exactly
His suspicion was correct.
The soldiers were suffering from none other than the Blackthorn Syndrome.
---