The air in the study seemed like congealed glue, thick enough to suffocate.
The heavy glass shut out the cheers and sea breeze outside, leaving only the crisp rustle of papyrus being roughly turned.
Veylin stared at the words "Clover Village." It lay deep within his territory, far from the coast and far from any border with the outside world.
How could the embers of a plague they had already stamped out defy all reason, leap across more than a dozen li of safe ground, and land in an enclosed farming village almost entirely cut off from the world?
Was it Hector?
Such vicious, covert methods were all too reminiscent of that "old friend." Taking advantage of White Tower Territory's victory celebrations and lowered guard to drive a knife straight into its heart was entirely something he would do.
Veylin tried to find some clue in those few lines of hastily scrawled reporting-a suspicious vagrant, a contaminated water source, or traces of some Alchemical Potion.
But there was nothing.
The report contained only cold descriptions of symptoms and death counts. Everything was still conjecture based on instinct. He had no tangible leads, no idea where to begin tracking the poisoner who might be out there.
Veylin closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, forcibly burying those tangled, ungrounded suspicions. Whether Hector was behind this or not, and however the culprit had done it, the immediate priority was not investigation but damage control.
When he opened his eyes again, he had reined in every trace of emotion.
"Tristan."
Tristan already held a quill and writing board he had prepared earlier. "My lord."
"Activate the Level One Epidemic-Control Plan. Declare everything within five li of Clover Village a restricted zone. Seal every road in and out. No one leaves, and no