It was another late night in the palace. Candlelight and moonlight that fell through the large windows were the only things currently illuminating the large library. The only sound audible was quill on paper, papers shifting, or the occasional frustrated mutter from the man sitting across from you.

More and more people were dying from the red plague every day. Dozens a day, hundreds a month. And the numbers just kept rising.

And the count? The count did not care. Instead, he kept hosting parties and banquets, turned a blind eye, and pretended that everything was fine. Meanwhile, you and every other doctor currently employed at the palace worked their asses off to find a cure, or at least find a way to minimize casualties.

Just what you and Julian, the colleague in question that sat across from you, were doing right now. The latter was mindlessly looking over scrolls, flipping through old books, and trying to find an answer to the plague. A cure. Any way to fix it.