- — ☯ — -

A variety of vials adorned the laboratory.

Emptied crates lingered in a corner, still giving off a fresh musky scent of soil and herbs.

Leonardo continued his seclusion and experiments, with the orphans and the thieves’ guild put to full use as well. A variety of plants were delivered to him each night, and by morning they’d be emptied.

A soft knock broke his focus and interrupted his intense stare contest with a half filled glass ampoule.

“Come in,” he sighed in resignation, before dispelling the numerous magic enhancements on his eyes and mind.

His brain chemistry was completely messed up in the past week. Not only did he get insufficient rest, he also constantly pushed his mind to the limit of its functionality.

“Oh, Yuki. It’s you,” he sighed, this time for a different reason, “Did the new shipment arrive?”

“Uhm. No, it’s...” she shot the cellar door a weary look, clearly still traumatized, “It’s sir Chimente. He’s in the hall waiting for you.”

“Got it… I’ll be there soon.”

Forcing a smile to push away the pity in his eyes, he sealed the container and then passed it to Yukiko.

“Take this to Sana. There’s 50 doses here, have her administer to the patients with worst symptoms. Gather responses as usual.”

“Did you do it? Is this one going to be a success?” Yukiko perked up, her uneasy look fading away.

He’d already tried several mixes, some more successful than others. Sana and the guild administered it to willing patients who had nothing to lose. It didn’t lessen his guilt when he failed, though.

Despite losing a number of patients, the cure was largely effective. The drawbacks were also dealt with, for the most part.

“Not really…” he admitted with remorse, “But I tried my best. I don’t think I can do any better.”

This was going to be his best cure. Anything better required him to have a far greater understanding of the Vita and Materia Dharma.

“There just isn’t enough time.”

Lamenting the rapid spread of the virus would be of no use to anyone, though.

Separating from Yukiko, he briskly made his way to the hall and sat across Chimente.

“Greetings. You’ll have to forgive the absence of small talk, I’m in a big rush. Is there anything you need, Chimente?”

“You really need to take a break, my boy.”

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Despite voicing concern, Chimente also knew what’s at stake. Without further ado, he took out an envelope and pushed it over.

“A duke’s butler passed to me at an auction. It’s sealed, so I didn’t read what’s inside.”

‘A duke, huh? I don’t have time for custom orders.’

Quite a few greedy nobles found out about the Daedalus Astula over the years. Chimente was the only seller, so they soon tracked him to Malta. None knew where the elusive workshop was, however.

Spies were occasionally dispatched to investigate and follow Chimente out of Valetta, but they tended to ‘get lost’ in the woods, or wake up stripped bare by the docks. This was naturally done by Leonardo, who welcomed the prey with swift takedowns.

Some that showed malicious intent he outright killed and hung at the entrance. It has since stopped happening.

It was for this reason Leonardo assumed someone contacted him to create something. It had happened quite often, but despite being a profitable affair, he simply had no time or mind for it now.

Tearing the seal open, however, he found himself proved wrong.

“Forgemaster of Daedalus Astula,

I wish to offer my sincere gratitude for the information you’ve so generously shared with us. It has proved to be of great use in our efforts to combat this untimely plague. We’ve imposed the quarantine you spoke of in your letter, and thus prevented the wild spread of the disease. The medicine was of little help according to our doctors, but I have had them issue it either way.

Your wisdom has preserved countless lives, including that of my daughter, and for that you have the gratitude of me and my Principato.

Unfortunately, your grace fell on deaf ears in the Sicily islands, and has been rejected as heretic nonsense. I would advise you against interacting with our Southern neighbors, lest your kind intentions be misunderstood as a stance against the Church.

Should you require anything of me, feel free to write back and know that I will repay my debts.

Gustav Salerno, Duke of Citra.”

The letter was quite brief and didn’t contain the plethora of tiresome euphemisms he was used to. Normally, he’d have to decode and read between the lines, which annoyed him to no end.

“Still, this doesn’t bode well…” he sighed involuntarily.

“Hm? What is it, my boy?”

Disregarding Chimente’s curious look, he held the letter over a candle flame and burned it then and there.

“Nothing. Don’t let it bother you…”

From his dream records and general impressions he gathered, the church was a fearsome entity. He had no interest in stepping on them, but it seems he’d already wound up on their radar.

Even if he omitted the fact that the plague’s origins are a curse, the Sicilians still brushed his intel as heresy. Their nobility had always leaned more on the church, so it didn’t surprise him all that much. Particularly concerning was that Malta technically belonged to Sicilian rule, who in turn was ruled by the Crown of Aragon.

‘How tedious.’

“Say, Chimente… our five year contract is almost over, right?”

“What brought this on?” Nervous, the merchant rose from his chair almost in a comic panic.

“I just think it’s about time for you to retire… you always did complain about Fino listening to me more than he does to you. Your son isn’t getting any younger.”

“I’m still young and able, but… I suppose you’re right. I should spend some time with him before he’s an adult.”

“Why don’t you just sell me your ship? Buy a vineyard and rest easy in your final years. Maybe even get remarried,” Leo teased.

“Ha! No way. I’m young, but not -that- young.”

The two shared a brief laughter and continued to chit chat, distracting Leonardo from his strenuous work.

“By the way,” Chimente started with some concern, “I’m quite worried about my boy. He’s never home and even his aunt doesn’t know what he’s up to. I’m afraid he might have gotten in with some ruffians. Those moor refugees are never up to any good.”

‘Always the same problem, huh?’ Leonardo thought with mirth. Despite civilization evolving, some problems stayed the same. Wars, plagues, and immigrants.

“History doesn’t repeat, but tends to rhyme…”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. I was just distracted. As for your son, he’s doing great and is not in any trouble. You have my word.”

Shifting his focus back to the passage of time, he realized it was almost time to receive his new herbs shipment and stood up.

“I’ll get back to work. Take care, old man.”