The market was at the height of its usual bustle the voices of vendors, the ringing of tiny bells, children shouting, and the footsteps of soldiers checking the order. But something changed this morning. A sudden stillness fell across the faces, as if silence itself had taken over the air.
In the center of the square stood a tall man, wearing a faded grey robe, his face hidden beneath a black hood. No one knew where he came from, but his words pierced through the market whispers like fire through dry straw.
"Are you searching for salvation? You are dying slowly… mercilessly slow… and I bring the antidote. Just one… a single drop is enough to cleanse the body from the rot that eats it."
An old woman approached him, worry carved across her face.
The Woman
"You mean… the antidote for the infection? The Grey Blood disease?"
"The name doesn't matter. What flows through the veins and brings death… I stop it."
He raised a small vial made of dark glass, glimmering in the sunlight as if it held a star.
"My son… he's on the edge of death… is it true?"
Her tears fell from her eyes, dripping onto the ground.
"Take the dose… and test the truth."
Inside the royal palace, at the same moment.
King Yaram sat on his throne, surrounded by his court, but his eyes were fixed on the report the guard captain placed before him. The paper trembled under his hand, though the room was warm.
An antidote? No… impossible. All the palace scholars...
He suddenly rose from his chair, pushing the goblet aside unconsciously, stepping toward the window, opening it, gazing out at the distant square.
"Could it be coincidence? Or is it a trap?"
"Your Majesty, the people are gathering around him. The first vial saved a boy who was in his final days, and the whispers say it's a miracle."
"Miracles don't appear without a price. Nothing ever does. Anything that shows up suddenly… always has something dark behind it."
A heavy silence fell.
Back in the square.
The crowd began to swell, more vials being sold, one in exchange for a gold coin. Some sold their rings, others screamed at the vendors.
"I ask only for what equals a life… gold means nothing to me, but it means everything to you. That is your justice, not mine."
One hour later.
In the consultation chamber of the palace, King Yaram sat in the shadows, speaking more to himself than to his advisors.
If he truly has the antidote… why now? Why not offer it as a gift? Why sell it? Is he a merchant? Or a messenger?
"Bring him to me… not as a guest. As a prisoner. But do not touch him until I see his eyes. Some truths are not spoken… but read in the silence between human glances."
After sunset, in the throne hall.
The man stood before the king, his hands unbound, but surrounded by six guards.
"Do you know who I am?"
"I know who you think you are."
"You speak of death as if you're its friend… did you create it? Or do you just accompany it?"
"Death is not created, Your Majesty. It is only allowed to pass. Just as I am allowed to, now."
Yaram thought to himself:
This man is not afraid. His eyes do not move. No lies, no truths. Just emptiness… more dangerous than all the enemies I've faced. This type… does not crave power, but something deeper. This type… cannot be negotiated with.
"He does not leave the palace. Treat his body with respect… but do not trust that he is human."
Yaram whispered to his guards.
Then he turned to him, with a faint smile on his face.
"You are not the only vendor in this land. But I suspect you sell what cannot be bought… the truth."
"The truth… is not sold, King. It is only displayed. And woe to those who shut their eyes to it."
Several hours later.
The cell was filled with silence, except for slow, broken breaths coming from the man bound to a wall of black stone. His eyes were still open, shining with a light that didn't resemble fear… but something like anticipation for an inevitable arrival.
"Do you think he's a sorcerer? Or just a madman who happens to know something we don't?"
Spoke the guard stationed outside his cell.
"If he were mad, he wouldn't have spoken like that. His eyes… it's like they're not looking at us, but… behind us."
Suddenly, his body began to tremble. No sound came from him. Just a low moan, as if his heart choked from within. He turned his head to the right, then to the left… before he breathed his last breath.
"What the…? We didn't touch him!"
"He shows signs of poisoning… no, this… this was something else. Something planted in him before. A slow… timed poison."
In the palace.
He stood before the tall window, overlooking the square still filled with crowds now not around one man, but three. Three new strangers, each holding vials of the antidote… selling them, with the same words, the same smile.
He was not alone. He was merely a fuse. And there is someone lighting the fires in the shadows.
"Your Majesty… reports confirm they do not know his name. Nor his origins. And the three new strangers… they speak in the same tone, as if reciting a memorized script."
"It's like we're in the middle of a play… and the audience is applauding because they don't know the ending is a tragedy."
Blue flames flickered over vials and elixirs, and soft ticking sounds came from intricate alchemical tools. In the midst of it all, Alexis Lockard sat in complete stillness, before a glass wall overlooking the city of Ephis. His face held nothing but a small smile, not joyous, but contemplative.
Alexis thought:
Phase one is complete. The shock, then curiosity, then dependence. Fear is stronger than reason… and need is what blinds kings.
He opened his notebook and wrote with his ink pen:
"Experiment (A): 96% success rate. The self-activating poison is effective. The first carrier of the antidote acted as expected. The king didn't make an immediate decision… Excellent. His delay will amplify the emotional impact on the people."
He chuckled quietly and turned his chair toward another table, where several vials were arranged meticulously, each one numbered.
"As for you... you will go to those who deserve to know what absolute dependence truly means."
He opened a crystalline communication channel, magical in nature, transmitting images and sounds.
Voice from the crystal:
"The second wave is ready. Shall we begin distributing the designated dose?"
"Yes. But make sure no one receives two consecutive doses. We don't want suspicion to rise quickly. And let each vendor disappear after the first day. Give them only what they need."
King Yaram now sat in front of a massive wooden table, covered with dozens of maps, notes, and letters sealed with the insignias of various regional leaders. His face showed a mix of fatigue, frustration, and hesitation.
"Positives?"
"The disease has begun to recede in five major areas. There are reports of rapid and effective recovery."
"Public satisfaction is rising. Even the poor are selling their clothes to obtain the antidote. No visible conspiracy so far."
"And the negatives?"
"We don't know who they are. We don't know the source of the antidote. And there's no guarantee the supply will continue. The worst part? No one knows if the antidote is creating long-term dependency."
Yaram sighed as he looked out at his people from the window.
Do I fight the antidote and lose the people? Or let it spread and lose control?
People were chanting, a woman weeping as she hugged her healed child, and a man kissing the ground before one of the vendors. Every scene outside looked like a love poem to the antidote. But no one asked about the true cost.
Meanwhile, Alexis continued spreading his poison to others.
"People don't ask. They only kneel. When we invent fear, sell them salvation, we become gods."
He paused, then continued, as if speaking to himself:
"Yaram will resist… That's exactly what I want. The conflict between reason and fear. It is the cornerstone of Experiment Two."
Inside the palace of Ephis, at night.
The king alone, in his private chamber. He sat before a tall mirror, staring at his tired face, his eyes brimming with unanswerable questions.
"Would I have refused if my daughter were among the afflicted? Am I fighting the antidote because I doubt it? Or because I can't bear being deceived?"
He stood, approached the window.
If I had this antidote... I would've made a miracle, not a trade. That alone reveals their intention.
At that moment, Idalos entered, carrying a new report.
"Your Majesty... one of the vendors has disappeared. He left behind a message."
"Do not try to capture us. We are not sold. We are broadcast. We are the coming truth, whether you want it or not."
In the lab, Alexis turned off the crystal, stood before a giant map of the kingdom, lines drawn meticulously across every village and city.
"First, they get used to it. Then they need it. Then... they collapse if we stop."
Then he smiled that usual cold smile.
"Only then... does my true role begin."
The light was dim, candles burning slowly. On the table, dozens of reports, distribution maps, graphs about the disease's state. But amidst all this, Yaram stood firm. His eyes steady, his face stern.
"Enough. It's time to take back the initiative."
"But your Majesty… the antidote is effective, and the people will accuse us of conspiracy if we stop it."
"Idalos… the people don't want the antidote, they want safety. And I... will give them safety, not bottles."
Yaram personally entered, surrounded by the palace's scholars, and ordered an analysis of the antidote. The work took hours, but finally, one of the scholars came out with astonishing results.
"Your Majesty... the antidote doesn't cure the disease. It merely suppresses the symptoms temporarily. It hides the problem... it doesn't solve it."
"Then everything they sold... was a lie wrapped in hope. That alone is enough."
The city gathered. Fear still present in the eyes, but the crowds looked toward the main platform where the vendors used to stand. Now, King Yaram himself stood there, in relatively simple clothes, without a crown, surrounded by some of the children who had been temporarily healed.
Yaram began his speech, with a calm voice that reached the heart.
"People of Ephis...
I did not come today with a new antidote.
I did not bring a vial in my hand… nor did I offer you a magical promise.
I came with the truth… even if it is bitter."
The people kept murmuring… but they listened.
"Those who sold you the antidote… did not save you, but delayed you from the truth.
They planted in you a false hope, so that you forget who you are… and forget who we are.
But we are not orphans, nor are we slaves to faceless masks.
We are the people of Ephis… and we do not need outsiders to heal. We need each other."
He pointed to the children behind him:
"These… are not healed. Their bodies were merely silenced. The antidote is an illusion… a poison that only delays death.
But in our laboratories, with our own hands and blood, we have begun the first real cure…
One that depends not on dependency, but on knowledge."
He paused for a moment, then raised his voice:
"Today… anyone who owns a bottle of that antidote will receive in return a real cure, free of charge, by royal decree.
And today… we begin a campaign to treat all the infected at no cost.
And we shall not allow any foreign hand to make a trade out of our fear."
The crowd erupted in applause… some wept. Some threw the bottles to the ground.
In the Lucard Palace, the laboratory.
The crystal screen was broadcasting the speech in full. Alexis stood, his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on Yaram's face.
For the first time in months… the smile faded from his face.
"He was supposed to hesitate… to be afraid.
But he… chose truth? In this world?"
But suddenly, he smiled a new smile… this time, not one of confidence… but challenge.
"Good… Very good, Yaram. Now it's personal.
I won't play just one card… I'll flip the entire board."
He moved to a side table, pulled out a sealed file.
"If you love the truth, Yaram… let's see how much of it you can handle when the sky rains death, not bottles."