Editing Adventures in Kingdom Management:Dragos (section)

==Backstory==

As the Varisian caravan approached the remote village, it was clear from some distance away that something was wrong. There were no people working the fields, or in the village square. The windows of the houses were shuttered. And the wind brought with it the smell of death.

"Foul humors," the caravan matriarch said. "The rumors were true. There is sickness here. Stop the wagons!"

As the caravan stopped, several people emerged from one of the houses. Members of the same family, apparently. They looked angry, and some were carrying farming implements. "You!" an older man at the front shouted. "This is your doing! We know your kind - wandering around, bringing trouble with you! You brought this sickness upon us!"

"And once again we get blamed for everything that has happened," the matriarch sighed.

"Calm down!" Two figures hopped from one of the wagons. They looked quite different from the others in the caravan. It was their gear. Both figures wore thick, dark greatcoats and masks that had what looked like beaks. The appearance was somewhat intimidating.

"Plague doctors..." The old man said.

"Indeed," one of the doctors said. "The Varisians are not to blame for the epidemic, we just got here. In fact, we are here to help. I know all too well how Varisians often get blamed for various illnesses because they rarely get ill themselves. But that is because they know all about proper hygiene! They have to, considering what they may be exposed to in their travels. But you - let me guess - everyone barricaded themselves in, and those who got ill and died were left to rot in their houses? And as their diseased bodies were left to fester, the illness just spread all the more!"

The villagers looked at their shoes.

"We need to start burying the dead right away!" the doctor said.

"Our priest was among the first who died," the older villager said. "He tried to help the ill."

"Without taking the steps to protect himself, no doubt," the doctor said. "Prayers alone won't keep the infection from spreading." He looked at the other doctor. "We need to go from house to house. Find out who is healthy, who is ill, and who is dead. Then we gather the ill to the church and use it as a hospital, and see that the dead are buried."

"Yes, father," the other man said.

"We will set up camp over there, outside the village," the matriarch said to the older doctor. "You be careful."

"Always, love."

''Years later''

The Varisian caravan had stopped outside a small town. As they were setting camp, the two doctors walked from the town. This time they had their masks off. The older doctor was clearly not Varisian, his features were Taldane. But the dark haired young man next to him had features that hinted at a mixed ancestry. He looked otherwise like a Taldan, but had the olive-colored skin and beardless face typical of Varisians.

"Back so soon?" the matriarch asked. "And you are not wearing your masks."

"It was no disease," the younger man said, patting the alchemy kit he was carrying. "I tested their well water. It was contaminated. That is why so many were ill."

"They need to dig a new well," the older man said. "Until then, I told them to boil the water or add a bit of alcohol."

"Well, good thing that for once everything went smoothly and without trouble!" the matriarch said.

At that moment there was a sound of hooves. A large wagon with a royal crest was approaching, escorted by a small troop of cavalry. "I spoke too soon..." the matriarch sighed.

The wagon stopped some distance away, and a white haired old man stepped out. He looked like an even older version of the older doctor.

"Grandfather," the younger doctor said.

"What brings the Minister of Health so far from the capital?" the older one asked coldly.

"I heard about the outbreak and knew I'd find you here," the old minister said. "We need to talk."

"We had our talk years ago," the older doctor said and started to turn away when the white haired man said "Please."

His son paused and turned back to the minister. "This has to be important."

"I will make tea," the matriarch said.

A moment later, Minister of Health Anton Nicolescu was explaining the situation to his son and grandson. "High King is establishing a new base of power. A settlement. The expedition needs a head of medicine - and we all know that the medical academy graduates cannot cope. It would be nothing like what they trained for. The land was once occupied but that is ancient history. It is practically new land, and you know what it means. The settlers will have no immunity against the native diseases, and none of the known cures and medicines may work. No, it has to be a plague doctor. Only they have experience in something like that."

"You threw a fit when I threw away a position at the Royal Hospital for a life on the road and one of the most feared medical professions, and now you come asking me for help with your royal expedition?" his son asked.

"No, I know I have no right to ask that. I came to ask my grandson. Dragos."

"Me?" the younger doctor asked.

"An expedition like this is not for old men. It is for young and vigorous people. And you have experience. You have traveled with your father, seen all he has. This would be an important position, as an advisor to the Heir leading the expedition."

"All right," Dragos said. "I will go."

His grandfather was actually taken aback. "I really thought I would need to do harder work convincing you..."

"I am half Varisian!" Dragos said. "Wanderlust is in my blood. How many times does an opportunity like this come up? A new land! Of course I will go!"