Following the servant out of the manor, a four-wheeled camel cart with an open canopy awaited them at the entrance.
The carriage differed significantly from traditional horse-drawn vehicles.
It featured a metal frame with two rows of seats, one on each side.
Its base, constructed from coconut wood, held only railings, creating an open-air space.
Its practical design leaned more towards sightseeing than passenger transport.
“Are you planning to personally give us a sightseeing tour of the town?”
Konehl-Ghervil stood three meters from the cart, showing no inclination to board.
She doubted that the old man, unsteady on her feet and reliant on a crutch, could competently drive the vehicle.
“This old companion and I have a long history; only I can make it go where it pleases.”
Indeed, it was neither a servant nor a coachman seated on the front plank; Genipa-Berber, the old town chief, had one foot dangling and the other pressed against the footrest, reins in hand, leaning back with an air of leisure.
“To be honest, I’d still prefer to rely on my own two feet.”
“There’s no need to worry; Bali has an excellent temperament and is quite intelligent; she’ll avoid any bumpy patches.”
Sali was the first to climb aboard, demonstrating.
‘Bali’ was the camel’s name.
With a flick of its white tail, it turned to gaze at Konehl-Ghervil, its mouth working on the thorny brambles it had plucked from the roadside.
Shaking its somewhat shriveled hump, it backed its four feet, pushing the cart right before Konehl-Ghervil.
“Another animal with human-like understanding. I wonder if it’s as clever as your big, fat rat.”
Esli, brimming with curiosity, settled into the innermost part of the cart, reaching out to pat Bali’s rump, whereupon the camel turned its head and curled its thick upper lip at her.
“One of these days, I’m going to sew that unlucky brat’s mouth shut.”
The voice in her mind had surfaced at some unknown moment.
At this point, not getting on the cart would seem overly affected.
“Provided you can beat her.”
Responding with a single sentence, Konehl-Ghervil lifted her robe with one hand, braced herself against the railing, and boarded the cart, choosing a seat a little distance from Esli.
‘She had to guard against misfortune at all times.’
****
As the morning sun just emerged, Konehl-Ghervil, enjoying the cool breeze, recounted to Govet-Ghervil the events of last night and this morning.
When the conversation turned to the town’s current immunity to the plague, Govet-Ghervil immediately interrupted, emphasizing,
“Such a situation might exist elsewhere, but certainly not in this tiny place. They don’t even have proper means to prevent the plague.”
“Do you think the town chief lied to us?”
“Who knows? In my experience, ordinary people lack basic knowledge and judgment regarding plagues. A simple example, that pervert… your employer’s illness: Crimson Lotus. In a place like this, no one would know until she either willingly exposed it or died.”
“The true situation of the town can only be clarified once she investigates firsthand.”
It was indeed an easily overlooked possibility, and Konehl-Ghervil found it highly plausible.
‘The plague wasn’t absent; it was merely undetected.’
“Roughly when can she find out?”
“That depends on how much ‘chicken blood’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘jixie’, literally meaning ‘chicken blood’, used metaphorically to describe an extreme state of excitement or motivation, often artificial or over-the-top.) you’ve given her.”
“When did I…”
Feeling bewildered, she frowned, recalling last night’s questions and answers.
She had merely stated what she believed to be facts.
‘How did that become ‘chicken blood’?’
“Before she was energized to instruct her subordinates to gather information, she stared at your face for an hour without tiring. If I hadn’t been there, she probably would have stared for a whole day.”
“Surely not…”
Konehl-Ghervil’s voice lacked conviction as she spoke.
“Whether it is or isn’t, I must warn you: prepare yourself to wake up to her ‘further advances in friendship’,” Govet-Ghervil continued to tease.
Feeling somewhat annoyed by the remarks, Konehl-Ghervil simply stopped responding.
‘Her method of using a hidden identity to curb the growth of friendship seemed to have backfired.’
****
The camel cart moved at a leisurely pace, comparable to a person walking normally.
Along the way, the old man occasionally paused to purchase local food specialties from the street vendors.
Esli, one of the tasters, gave them high praise.
Konehl-Ghervil could only offer comments on the texture.
As day fully broke, the streets, pastures, and fields buzzed with renewed activity.
Genipa-Berber led them to a narrow, densely packed alleyway, far from the working populace.
The camel cart could go no further, so they proceeded on foot.
Most of the houses could be described as crumbling ruins; emptied of their contents and uninhabited, some corners revealed dried, dark bloodstains, remnants of many years past.
The entire area was segmented by several small paths, with no more than three exits.
“This is where people lived when the plague was still active.”
The old man, leading the way, explained,
“They used a single exit system, so if someone became infected, they could be discovered and their escape route blocked as quickly as possible.”
“Does anyone still live here now?” Konehl-Ghervil inquired.
“You’re not questioning this dense residential layout at all.”
The old man glanced back at her,
“Considering how young you are.”
‘Was he underestimating her due to her age?’
‘Suit yourself.’
Konehl-Ghervil remained impassive,
“The more concentrated the population, the easier it is to manage. While there’s an increased risk of infection, in a place with such scarce proper transportation, it’s certainly necessary to control costs, in every sense.”
“The sooner it’s discovered, the easier it is to handle.”
“Yes, some terrible plagues are useless to hide from, no matter how far, and there’s nowhere else to go in the desert.”
The old man grinned, stopping before a barely intact wooden door,
“We’re here; this is the place.”
With a gentle poke of his crutch, the door creaked open.
A stale, musty odor wafted out.
Without rushing in, the old man turned to caution the person at the very back,
“Don’t speak of what you see here, Sali. Should I pass away one day, it will be up to you to keep this secret.”
“Town Chief, I recall the rumors…”
Ever since entering this area, Sali had been distracted, sometimes failing to keep pace with their slow walk.
Now, hearing the old man’s words, he uneasily snapped back to attention.
“Coming inside might answer some of your questions.”
With that, the old man led the way, stepping over the threshold.
Konehl-Ghervil noticed Esli, who had been intently staring into the house, suddenly become uncharacteristically serious; standing beside her, Konehl-Ghervil felt a chill.
Despite their hesitation, the three outside followed them in.
****
The small living room, bedroom, and kitchen.
The furniture was mostly intact, yet everything lay overturned on the floor.
Some items were broken, others merely shattered.
Dust and footprints covered the floor, and trash lay scattered in the corners.
Some of the refuse, like fruit peels, appeared surprisingly fresh.
The foul odor emanated from these very items.
Following the old man to the innermost bedroom, the door creaked open as he pushed it.
“This is where Sausy-Alamany lived.”
He turned his head to look at Konehl-Ghervil and Esli,
“He was once a skilled adventurer, but now…”
He took a few steps further in, yielding space, his gaze fixed solemnly ahead.
Even with her mental preparation, Konehl-Ghervil was still profoundly shocked.
Obscure, grotesque symbols, drawn in blood, covered half the wall above the bed, densely packed and incomprehensible.
They were also present on the floor and the bed.
Some of the blood had not yet dried, revealing deep scratch marks from fingernails.
These symbols were no less disturbing than the writings she had seen after drinking the potion.
Her head spun, and her eyes, burning with an unbearable ache, closed shut.
‘Several words echoed repeatedly in her mind.’
‘Serlai—Egh—Old Norse—’
Esli noticed her unusual state and came over to gently pat her shoulder.
Waving her hand to indicate she was fine, Konehl-Ghervil averted her gaze from the symbols and left the bedroom.
‘She had memorized them all.’
The two ladies, filled with concern, followed her out.
“Every so often, people in town go mad, just like Alamany.”
Inside, the old man rummaged through a pile of old junk indistinguishable from trash, using his crutch.
“Before they went mad, they all shared one common trait: they claimed to have seen the legendary adult Lizard Dragon.”