Chapter 19: The Gray-Robed Cultivator, Part Six

For the next two days, Phyllis stayed quietly in the monastery, never stepping foot outside the gates again.

During this time, others had knocked on the monastery doors seeking help. But upon hearing that there were infected monks inside, nearly everyone’s reaction was to turn and flee. Only a few would offer prayers, such as "hoping the monks recover soon," through the door panels before leaving.

Thus, apart from the boy she met on the first day, Phyllis saw no one else.

Seeking gain and avoiding harm was human nature; Phyllis did not think there was anything wrong with those people leaving. In fact, she found the way Brother Salvatore tirelessly helped others without asking for anything in return to be the truly strange part.

Moreover, as things stood, she was genuinely worried that this saintly old man might catch the plague himself and suddenly perish.

Setting aside whether Brother Salvatore was a good man who truly wanted to find her a home, a crueler reality remained: if her guide were to die first, Phyllis, a child without a guardian, would lose all protection.

Even in modern times, many adults face accidents when traveling alone, let alone in the medieval era hundreds of years ago. Phyllis really did not want to play a survival game in this frail body.

Consequently, besides cooking, she spent most of her time cleaning the monastery, ensuring not a single blood-sucking insect appeared within her sight.

In particular, regarding the monks' dormitory that Brother Salvatore had sealed off, she stood outside the door and emphasized repeatedly that their clothes and bedding must be kept clean. Once lice or fleas were discovered, they had to be washed immediately, and their daily intake of food and water had to be maintained.

As for why a child would suddenly say so much... this time, Phyllis didn't bother finding another excuse and simply recounted her story of "dreaming of the Virgin Mary" once more.

Whether it was because she told the story well or because the monks were simply that devout, Brother Salvatore listened and solemnly promised that they would eat on time and that he would "communicate" with his "insect brothers" to keep them away.

"'Insect brothers'... does he really think he is Saint Francis, believing all things in the world are 'brothers' capable of being preached to?"

Relying on the fact that the others could not see him, Professor Pyleusso couldn't help but retort on the spot.

However, after a few seconds, he did not receive an approving response from the girl beside him; instead, he saw a thoughtful expression on her face.

"You don't actually believe he..."

"Then, could you help me tell them to stay away from me as well?"

The ghost’s voice and the girl’s voice spoke almost simultaneously. The latter added, "Of course, it would be even better if they didn't drink human blood."

There was a moment of silence on the other side of the door, followed quickly by two laughs.

"Good child, they will not come near you."

The old man said slowly in his reassuring tone, "You don't need to worry too much about us. I can see that Brother Bruni's illness has improved. With the protection of the Virgin, I believe he will surely pull through..."

To be honest, Phyllis did not believe this at first.

But facts speak louder than words. On the morning of the third day, when she heard from Professor Pyleusso that the infected monk was already able to walk, she was truly astonished.

Through the ghost's retelling, Phyllis learned that the infected monk was the very person responsible for treating patients in the monastery and was one of the few survivors, so his understanding of this epidemic was naturally deeper than anyone else's.

From him, Phyllis also learned information that shattered her perceptions.

It turned out the Black Death was not one hundred percent fatal. Excluding cases of sudden death, as long as the patient’s constitution was strong enough and they received diligent care, they could generally survive if they made it past the fifth day after the onset of symptoms.

The most terrifying aspect of the disease was its extreme contagiousness. Often, before the first group of patients had recovered, those caring for them would fall ill as well.

In this cycle, people in the monastery would quickly collapse, leaving all the patients without anyone to look after them, which robbed many who could have been saved of their last chance at life...

Upon learning this, Phyllis remained lost in thought for a long time.

She looked out the bright window, and in a trance, she seemed to see that hunched silhouette again.

If she had gone to care for that person herself, and been more attentive than others, would that person have had a better chance of surviving?

The thought had barely surfaced before she denied it herself.

Not to mention that Massimo would never have agreed to let his beloved granddaughter care for him while he was infected, even if she had gone, how could a child who struggled to lift a bucket of water take care of an adult man?

Especially since Master Giovanni was a close friend of Massimo, and at the time, the full horror of the plague had not yet manifested; she really had no reason to suspect that those who cared for Massimo had not done their best...

Phyllis took a deep breath and buried her face in her hands.

Even though she understood it rationally, the bitterness in her heart lingered.

But what was done was done. Since she could not change the past, she could only keep it in her heart... The dead were gone, and the living had to go on.

On the fourth day of arriving in Velis, the caravan that had been delayed finally sent word.

The leader of the caravan finally set a departure time and sent his nephew to the monastery to pass the message, bringing news that was neither good nor bad.

"...We have received confirmed news that the city of Orjan is now completely sealed off to the outside, and outsiders are strictly forbidden from entering."

The young man who delivered the message took a sip of water to clear his throat before continuing to explain to Brother Salvatore with great fervor: "I heard that the moment the plague appeared, the Lord of the city issued a ban and even had people use bricks to seal off the three households that were sick! Even if there were people inside who weren't infected yet, they would starve to death! He is a tyrant, through and through!"

Phyllis, sitting to the side, was stunned, experiencing a complex feeling.

Even in modern times, the most effective way to control the spread of an infectious disease is still "quarantine." But even though this is a concept everyone can understand with a little thought, executing it is not easy.

Except for some self-sufficient villages, the vast majority of people need "trade" to meet their daily needs, and "quarantine" undoubtedly hinders the process of "trade," thereby affecting people's normal lives.

Every person is an independent individual, and everyone has their own interests to protect.

Therefore, even if it is a plan that benefits the vast majority, let alone a nation or region, even within a company or a department, implementing it will encounter various obstacles.

At this moment, due to the waning power of the Holy Remu Empire that once ruled the Intuo Peninsula, the Emperor had long been a figurehead. Republics like Aska had publicly declared independence without the Empire even making a peep.

Under such circumstances, for an order to be forcibly implemented across the entire peninsula, it had to align with the interests of all the city-states.

For republics like Aska and Velis, which relied on "trade" and were governed by various noble families, money was always the priority. Cutting off trade routes was akin to killing them.

So, even knowing the dangers of the plague, merchants would not stop trading between city-states.

It was for this reason that Phyllis never expected there would be a city lord here who could override everyone's opinions, completely close the city gates, and resolutely carry the quarantine policy through to the end.

To those three infected households sealed inside their homes, he was indeed a "tyrant," but to the people in the city who had not caught the plague, they were indeed kept alive by such "tyrannical acts"...

Phyllis shook her head, telling herself this had nothing to do with her.

Since the city of Orjan was now sealed, she could not enter the convent located within its walls. It seemed she would truly have to follow Brother Salvatore all the way to Roland... It was just that their "ride" was no longer going that way. She didn't know if they would have to find another caravan or walk the rest of the way...

On the other side, Brother Salvatore raised the same question: "Since we cannot go to Orjan, do you plan to return to Remu now?"

"My uncle has been worrying about this for the past few days. Since we haven't cleared even two-thirds of the goods on hand, we certainly can't go back like this... so we plan to change our route to the city of Rona..."

The young man rubbed his fingers under the table, glancing guiltily at the old monk opposite: "But this way, this way we won't be passing through Orjan... though it wouldn't matter even if we went there; even those seeking refuge with relatives are considered outsiders, and they wouldn't let you in anyway..."

He was still feeling guilty about the caravan breaking its promise and had even thought about how to discuss compensation, but he did not expect the old monk opposite to reveal a smile.

"Since we cannot enter Orjan, the child will stay by my side for now," he explained to the young man. "I originally intended to send her to Orjan and then go to Lyde, which is partially on your route. Once we reach Lugu, we can find another caravan heading north to Lyde."

The young man was stunned for a moment, then overjoyed: "No need to look! We've arranged to travel with another caravan heading to Roland these past few days; their destination is the capital of Roland! Let me have my uncle talk to their leader later; they certainly won't refuse!"

And so, it was quite miraculous. Although the route and destination had changed, Phyllis found herself once again sitting in the same carriage leaving the city the next day.

Only, unlike when they arrived, there was an extra "passenger" in the caravan—and a very familiar one at that...

"I didn't expect to see you here!"

A boy carrying a pack saw the old man and the young girl sitting on the flatbed cart, his eyes lighting up immediately. He ran over, removed his hat, and bowed: "Good day, Brother Salvatore. I just went to the monastery and was very sorry to hear you had already left... I didn't expect such a coincidence to meet you here!"

"It is all the arrangement of our Lord."

The old monk was equally surprised when he saw him and reached out to help the boy as he prepared to board: "Are you... also heading to Roland?"

"Yes... my parents have passed away, and I cannot manage the inn on my own, so I have sold it."

A darkness flashed in the boy's eyes, but when he looked up again, his face was full of determination: "I don't know when this plague will end, but Pura and Velis are no longer safe... I plan to go to Rona. My uncle lives there, and since it is the city where the Pope resides, it must be the place most protected by our Lord!"

The gray-robed monk looked gently at the boy before him, listening quietly until he finished speaking. He neither agreed nor disagreed, but simply recited a prayer and placed his palm gently on the boy's forehead.

"Everything is the guidance of our Lord," he said. "May you eventually find a place that brings you peace."

The boy smiled, hugged his pack, and nodded firmly.

The city bells rang, and the caravan crossed the city gates once more, driving away from the city.

It was another sunny day, with the sun casting its scorching heat down upon them.

As they passed the gate, Phyllis saw the carts transporting corpses again.

Perhaps heavily influenced by the media of her past life, she always felt that such scenes should be accompanied by wind and rain, or at least an overcast sky, to reflect how terrifying and desolate everything was.

But the truth was, not just today, but throughout the week from their arrival in Velis to their departure, every day had been bright and sunny. If not for seeing these teams transporting corpses again, Phyllis would have almost forgotten that the city was experiencing a "massacre"...

The sun never cared for human thoughts or moods, nor did the clouds or the wind and rain.

To nature, the past, present, and future of any creature had no meaning.

They only needed to operate according to those ancient and fixed laws, moving calmly and slowly; any praise, condemnation, or fear was not worth mentioning...

Phyllis looked at that azure sky, which was flawless, and couldn't help but think this.

Perhaps only humans were arrogant enough to treat certain coincidences as tools to reflect their own inner states; nature itself would never "weep" for anything.

Watching the corpse-transporting team walking alongside them, she found that her fear of the bodies was not as deep as before; at least she wouldn't be retching by the side of the cart as she had previously.

But with so many piled together, and the current temperature exceeding the range suitable for storing meat, the smell when passing by was still enough to make one recoil.

Fortunately, the moment of parting came soon.

When they reached a certain assembly point, the small corpse carts stopped one after another, and the caravan was finally able to part ways with them.

Phyllis, while feeling glad that she could finally bid farewell to that terrible smell, was also curious about how they would dispose of the bodies, so she couldn't help but turn her head to see what was special about the assembly point.

"They dug several large pits there and will bury all the bodies... after all, the graveyards couldn't hold so many people."

A voice suddenly came from beside her with an explanation. Phyllis turned her head to see the boy named "Francesco" also leaning against the side of the cart with her, looking back.

"I’ve seen how they handle the bodies. They pour in a layer of corpses, cover it with a layer of soil, and the next day they pour in another wave, then cover it with another layer of soil..." The boy continued to stare at the backs of the corpse-bearers, his previously indifferent eyes seemingly flashing with something, and the corners of his mouth curled into a mocking arc. "It's just like making lasagna; a pit can hold quite a few people."

Phyllis: "..."

Before Phyllis could express any thoughts on this terrible metaphor, Professor Pyleusso was already nauseated to the point of retching: "Why does this kid speak so... I will never be able to eat lasagna again!"