Sunday, June 10, 2018

Page 1817

Parson wasn’t sure what to make of it. That posture brought to mind the notion of a broken servant, one whose reaper had been killed; but if that were the case here, then this man would have been acting much, much more aggressively instead of merely stumbling around.

Was the man simply ill? If so, he could pose just as much of a threat to the city as an army of ten thousand strong.

The guards along the wall were looking to Parson for direction now.

He wanted to consult with Overra another time, however. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

I’m not happy about it, but I think you’re going to have to go talk to him yourself. If he’s carrying some sort of plague, we can’t risk sending any of the guards.

Parson had been afraid she was going to say that. She was right, of course, but he knew from personal experience that merely being a servant did not mean that he could wholly disregard all forms of disease and waltz around as he pleased.

That was a common misconceptions among younger servants--and indeed, even among reapers, it seemed. Perhaps it was because reaper themselves were truly immune to disease and therefore did not pay the subject the attention and concern that it was due, but from the servant’s end, Parson had found that illness was a hugely complicated and underestimated issue.

Too many young servants seemed to think themselves invincible against the natural world. And yes, while it was true that their reaper could “cure” them of almost any disease by invoking the regeneration or simply resurrecting them from scratch, there was still the very real problem of spreading contagions. Even if servants themselves did not have to worry about a normally fatal illness, they could still spread it to non-servants and annihilate entire cities without even realizing what they had done.

Parson was keenly aware of that issue because it was the pet project of one of his earliest comrades within the Vanguard. Fen Frederick was his name. He hadn’t seen him in years, but the man had left such a favorable impression that Parson didn’t expect to forget him anytime soon. Moreover, Parson had recently heard about him receiving a promotion to regional captain much like himself, as well as acquiring the nickname of the Surgeon Saint while touring the Ardoran continent.

And so, that was where Parson’s mind went as he looked out over the barren stretch of land outside the city and observed the obviously troubled man there. He wondered briefly how Fen would handle this situation. It didn’t take him long to realize that he already knew exactly what the man would do.

With his legs under him again, Parson stood and turned to his guards. He pointed at the nearest group. “You three, go fill my position in the Arlick Tower. Watch the border. Don’t listen to my wife if she asks you for anything.”

There were a few nods and chuckles, and they were off.

“The rest of you, stay here and wait for my order.”

“Yes, sir.”

No comments:

Post a Comment