Tasa had been staying at a downtown hotel these days, anxiously awaiting a reply from Border Town.
The towering inner city walls divided the royal capital into two distinct realms, with strict access controls enforced. Both nobles and wealthy merchants underwent thorough inspections in designated chambers at the entrance. Those exhibiting symptoms like fever, flushing, or dark spots were barred from entry. Departing the inner city required a swift return by dusk, as the sun's setting would lock the gates, forcing overnight stays outside.
Yet this still couldn't stop the plague's spread. Yesterday, he'd heard rumors of Noble infections in the inner city. Had the Church not finally released the first batch of Holy Medicine, the Nobles would have fled the capital en masse.
Six days after the letter was delivered, word finally reached the Margery Guild. He hurried to the agreed location—a tailor shop—and was led into the basement by the shopkeeper, where the guild owner had been waiting for some time.
Margaret sat upright at a low table, a basin of ice-cold water still steaming from it. Tasa, drenched in sweat, sat cross-legged across from her, feeling a sudden gust of cold wind that sent a shiver down his spine.
"Your Highness, the letter entrusted to me." She handed over a folded parchment envelope, its sealing wax intact.
Tasa eagerly opened the letter, which outlined the action plan, the First Army's departure, and his assigned tasks. After reading it carefully, he silently tucked the paper into his robe and turned to Margery. "Your Highness, do you have any requests?" "None. He merely sent this letter via courier—though express delivery incurs a fee, which I've already recorded." "Ah, that's the point," Tasa cleared his throat. "Your Highness needs to repatriate all refugees to the Western Frontier within a short timeframe. Therefore, he requires substantial fleets for continuous transport, not just a couple of squadrons." "Even if they're infected?" Margery speculated with curiosity. "I doubt he'd want to turn the entire Western Frontier into a wasteland. So... Your Highness has found a cure for the plague?" "Exactly," he nodded. "In fact, the first fleet already carried infected individuals, though the outbreak wasn't detected until they reached the town. They're now en route back to the capital, and all crew members are safe." "Roland, Your Highness is truly extraordinary. Even the Church couldn't produce the antidote so swiftly," Margery marveled. "How many days does he plan to transport the refugees? A week?" Tasa extended three fingers.
"This... is impossible!" The merchant paused for a moment, then shook her head repeatedly. "Even if half of these people perish, there would still be over five thousand survivors. Transporting them all within three days would require nearly a hundred sailboats. Even if the chamber's other vessels were diverted for this purpose, we'd barely meet the demand. The losses could exceed thousands of gold dragons, and the lost customers are too numerous to count. Even free steam engines couldn't offset this cost. So... I must decline." "If everyone sat on the deck instead of lying in bunkbed cabins, a ship's capacity could double," Tassa insisted. "If comfort isn't a priority, two-masted ore carriers could be repurposed for human transport. Just lift the deck cover, and you could load around two hundred people at once. Your old friend Hog should have plenty of such ships, right?" "In Silverlight City, he does have several large vessels..." Margery looked hesitant. "And by your calculations, we could reduce the fleet to about fifty ships. But... this isn't a good deal." Tassa agreed. Gathering dozens of ships along the canal alone would require immense coordination and scheduling. Not to mention the rental costs that wouldn't even cover expenses. It was a thankless task with minimal returns. At this point, he had no choice but to resort to his final move.
At the end of the letter, Your Highness wrote a brief note: If Margery refuses to help, tell her that the lightning has struck too.
The remark left people scratching their heads. Could there be some special connection between the merchant and that lively blonde girl? They looked nothing alike... But Your Highness must have his reasons. At this thought, Tassa spoke slowly, "Moving out within three days was a last resort. Your Highness's actions are like snatching food from a tiger's mouth. If we delay too long, the Church might come knocking—especially since Lightning was spotted by them during this expedition, and their presence of witches could be dangerous." "What do you mean?" Her voice suddenly rose. "Lightning's here too?" "Your Highness's letter does mention it," Tassa put on an honest face. "Probably to guide the party and give advance notice. After all, this is King Tefiko's territory." "I see," Margery stood up. "When do you need the ships?" "Probably in four days, if they don't delay their journey." "I'll try to arrange it," she said, walking to the desk and starting to write hastily. "But I have a condition: you must tell me where Your Highness's party is stationed. If they want to enter the city, I can arrange sufficient accommodations." Well, this move seemed effective. "That's reasonable," Tassa thought to herself. "Besides, I need your help with something else." "That's all," Margery sighed.
"I need a caravan of carts hauling wine barrels—more the better, but filled not with wheat or wine, but with river or well water." According to Your Highness's letter, the key figure in combating the plague remains Witch Lily, who can transform ordinary water into a cure for diseases. However, this plan has a critical flaw: the rats must never approach the First Army camp. If they discover that someone in the camp is continuously producing the' Holy Medicine,' Tasa would bet the news would spread like wildfire the next day.
"River water and well water?" She raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?" "Don't worry, Your Highness will cover the cost," Tasa said with a smile.
For confidentiality and security reasons, the journey from the troop camp to the capital could only be personally transported by him. If he were to carry water bags individually to eliminate the evil plague, as he did with the refugees from the eastern border, it would not only be troublesome but also highly inefficient. He must find a way to bring in as much purified water as possible in one go.
The massive wine barrel mounted on the four-wheeled carriage was clearly a good choice.