CH227 · Rewrite
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Chapter 227: The Whistleblower

In the church’s grand hall, Priest Ferry looked down at the farmer kneeling at his feet.

The man had been broad-shouldered once. You could still see it in the frame, the way the shoulders were built for carrying things. But something had eaten through the structure from inside, leaving the posture folded inward, the hands trembling at his sides, the skin of his arms running purple-brown at the patches that hadn’t yet hardened into spots. By tomorrow those patches would be dark. By the day after, they’d have spread. He must have been infected recently to still be walking.

“I remember you,” Ferry said. “Rocky Hill, from the Eastern District. You bring us grain.”

“You recognize me — thank God, Your Reverence—” The man pressed his forehead to the floor, again, again. “The plague has taken my family. Please — I need the Holy Elixir, I beg you—”

“But what have you brought to the Church today?” Ferry didn’t stall; there was no pleasure in it when the conclusion was already visible. “The Holy Elixir isn’t something I can give away arbitrarily. What it asks for must come from the heart.”

“I — I tried the black market.” Rocky Hill’s voice was barely audible. “They took everything I had. I know my heart wasn’t sincere. I should never have looked for shortcuts. Please forgive me.” He reached into his shirt with shaking hands and produced a single egg — plump, clean, carefully transported. He held it out above his head. “This is all I have left. Please accept it.”

“A lost lamb who loses his way is always punished,” Ferry said. “But God has never stopped reaching out his hand.” He took the egg. “Only those who acknowledge their own faults can continue on the pilgrimage.” He allowed a smile. “Rise. God forgives you.”

Rocky Hill looked up with the expression of a man who has stopped believing in anything and found something to believe in again. “Really?”

“God’s envoys do not deceive.” Ferry beckoned, and a follower materialized with a box of potions. Ferry counted four bottles by touch, knowing the family’s size from memory, and placed them in Rocky Hill’s hands.

The man bent forward to kiss the priest’s shoes, weeping now, and the believers who had been watching from the sides of the hall began to cheer — the warm, communal sound of a congregation welcoming a new member home. Rocky Hill’s gratitude was absolute, unconditional, the kind that gets written in a person’s bones.

Ferry waited until the cheering settled, then raised his hand for quiet.

“Next.”


The distribution ran until the city’s bells announced dusk.

Ferry declared the day’s ceremony finished, leaving the crowd still begging in the hall, and made his way back to the rest area. His body had tired but his mind was still alight. The petitions, the prayers, the desperate calculation in every face — watching people offer everything they had left, watching gratitude replace fear in real time. No other work he had ever done felt so close to the divine.

Because what is God, ultimately, but the power to decide who lives? The Church had the disease and the cure. It had, in the most literal sense, the authority over life. In the face of that power, the wealthy and the noble stood in the same line as the destitute. Ferry had given up a merchant family’s comfortable inheritance to join an institution, and only now, watching the effects accumulate, did he understand fully that he had made the correct choice.

A clergyman appeared at his elbow. “Your Reverence. A street rat has come with information. He says it concerns the refugees and will only speak to you directly.”

Ferry considered it. The Church’s instructions had been clear: use the plague and the antidote to expand the faithful, treat King’s City as a conversion opportunity. The refugees mattered to that plan, but less than the citizens. He had intended to wait another two or three days — let the homeless camp thin itself out naturally, then arrive with salvation at the moment of maximum despair, when the contrast with Timothy’s abandonment would be sharpest. By his estimate, this approach would leave ninety percent of King’s City’s population owing the Church something they could never repay. A performance like that would secure a bishopric.

What could possibly have gone wrong out there that required direct attention?

“Take him to the secret room,” Ferry said. “I’ll follow shortly.”

He changed out of the ceremony robes and put on the flexible plate armor he kept in the closet, covering it with a loose coat. A glance in the silver mirror, a brief reorganization, and he went.

The man in the secret room was thin in the way specific hunger produces — bones visible through the skin of his arms, complexion the color of old candle wax. But here was the strange thing: not a single dark spot on him. Not one. The plague was running through the outer city like water through sand, and this man who lived in it showed no sign.

The moment Ferry entered, the man dropped to his knees. “Your Reverence, my name is Needle. I have important information.”

“Then speak.”

“But—” He glanced at the other two people in the room — Priest Shattrath, Ferry’s right hand, and the old woman Hera who managed the secret room and seldom left it.

“They stay,” Ferry said. “Shattrath is my right hand. Hera has been with this room longer than either of us. Speak.”

Needle’s eyes shifted to the blue vial in Ferry’s coat pocket.

“The promised—”

“The Holy Elixir is here.” Ferry produced it. “As long as what you tell me has value, you’ll be healed.”

“Your Reverence.” Needle’s chin came up. “I swear on everything I have that this information will astonish you. Someone is transporting the refugees away. Ships, one after another, all along the canal — I saw it myself. Within a few days, every refugee outside King’s City may be gone.”

“They’re moving infected people?” Ferry frowned. He’d known about a fleet transporting refugees before the plague broke out — that was ordinary enough. Nobles always picked through other nobles’ disasters for useful workers. But now? Knowing about the plague? “You’re certain you didn’t misread it?”

“I’m certain. They have a cure.” Needle’s voice quickened. “Bags of some strange water — I saw it work. A man drank it, and the dark spots on his skin disappeared within moments. The mercenaries told the refugees they’d receive food, shelter, and wages in the Western Region. The Lord of Border Town needs workers.” He let the pause breathe. “And the most astonishing part: they have a witch with them.”

The room went quiet.

“They have a witch,” Ferry repeated.

“Flying in the sky.” Needle’s eyes were large. “When another man jumped ship, the mercenaries gave chase — and that’s when I saw it. A shape moving in the air, too deliberate for a bird, circling the area around the ship. I didn’t dare move. I waited until we were several kilometers out before I slipped into the water and swam back. Nearly a full day’s journey.” He rubbed his hands together. “Your Reverence, is that not worth one bottle?”

“One moment.” Ferry looked at the man’s unspotted skin. “You said you boarded the ship and drank what they gave everyone to drink. If you were sick before, that means you’re cured now. Why do you want the Holy Elixir?”

Needle’s grin came out sideways — apologetic, revealing uneven yellow teeth. “Ah — well, the thing is—”

To sell it. Ferry had seen every version of this. An empty vial fetched twenty-five gold royals on the black market. The man wasn’t here for information; the cure was incidental. He was here because he’d stumbled onto something valuable enough to trade.

“How many men?” Ferry asked.

“Not more than a hundred. Maybe fewer. No armor, no horses — wooden spear things. Mercenaries, definitely, not military.”

“The ships?”

“No flags. Or flags I didn’t recognize. But they said they were heading for the Western Region. Border Town — the Lord there is reclaiming land, needs a large workforce.” Needle scratched through his memory. “That’s all I can remember.”

“You’ve brought me something worth knowing,” Ferry said. He pulled a blue vial from his pocket and tossed it across the table.

“Thank—” Needle lunged for the bottle, caught it, and then went still.

A blade stood out from his throat. Not deep — precise. Behind him, the old woman Hera stood without any particular expression, a slender dagger in her hand.

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