novelraw Chapter 13: Azure Frenzy
Chapter 13: Azure Frenzy
“Azure Frenzy?”
Fischer chewed over the awkward-sounding term in the Nary tongue and spoke up with a touch of confusion.
“Yes.” Keken cut a piece of steak and quickly swallowed it before continuing, “Have you ever seen someone go berserk—turn into a mindless beast?”
“You mean like some kind of mental illness?”
But Keken shook his head. Something terrifying seemed to flash through his mind, leaving him visibly unsettled.
“What if I told you... their eyes, nostrils, and ears all started oozing blue fluid? And while they were going insane, they came at you with mouths soaked in that blue stuff, trying to tear off your flesh—like we’re some kind of delicacy...”
Countless diseases flashed through Fischer’s mind, everything he’d read in medical texts—but not a single one matched. In all his years of study, he had never seen or heard of a case like this in the Western Continent.
It didn’t sound like a purely mental illness. But then how to explain the blue liquid? Poison? Some kind of infection?
His interest was piqued. After wiping his mouth, he looked at Keken.
“Fascinating… Tell me everything. How many cases? What’s their condition now?” “Let me think…”
If Keken had known he was going to talk business, he definitely wouldn’t have drunk so much wine. The alcohol now clung to his thoughts like glue, making it hard to recall the details—like trying to crank a rusty gear.
Then again, it was precisely the wine that brought this matter to mind. Without it, he never would’ve brought such a troublesome topic into an otherwise relaxed and pleasant meal.
Luckily, Fischer had patience. While Keken was thinking, Fischer used the time to observe the distracted Raphaëlle.
It turned out Keken’s two wives were watching her with interest, making her shift awkwardly in her seat again. But her exaggerated eating earlier had already ruined any chance of appearing ladylike.
After several seconds, Keken finally picked up the thread.
“It started about a month or two ago. We had the first case right here in town. One of the city’s doctors reported it to me—she suspected it might be a new infectious disease and came to ask my opinion.”
“So, did anyone else get infected after the report?”
Keken shook his head.
“No. Once I learned about it, I had the first patient isolated in a prison cell. The doctor and nurses who had contact with him were also quarantined. But a month went by and none of them showed any symptoms, so I released them. Meanwhile, new cases kept coming in from outside the city. As of now, we’ve got over a dozen, all locked up in the city prison.”
Fischer tapped his fingers, mentally sorting through possible illnesses. But the number of diseases that could meet both criteria was slim—especially with something like blue fluid leaking from all facial orifices.
“Interesting... Take me to the prison. Maybe I’ll discover something.”
“You’re interested? Excellent! How about we leave now? Dora, go get the carriage ready—we’ll head over right away.”
Keken was clearly excited. While Dora went to prepare the carriage, Fischer gave Raphaëlle a brief explanation about the illness and their upcoming visit to the prison.
Since the disease only appeared in the Southern Continent, Fischer wondered if it was caused by something unique to this land. He casually asked Raphaëlle for her thoughts.
Of course, she was more than happy to leave. Those two human women had stared at her long enough to make her scales stand on end. If she stayed any longer, she feared her butt would turn to iron.
But when she heard Fischer’s description of the illness, she scoffed and said,
“Dragonkin rarely get sick. How would I know about your human diseases?”
Fischer didn’t react to her slightly annoyed tone—he hadn’t expected any useful answers from her anyway.
While waiting near the front entrance for Keken to return from the washroom, Fischer checked his carriage through his cane. Seeing that a certain purple stripe on the cane remained unlit and undamaged, he let out a breath of relief. It meant that no one had touched the protection sigils on the carriage—inside or out.
If the carriage was his most valuable possession, then the cane ranked second. It was etched with countless pre-engraved magic circuits—of every type and effect.
After all, magic in this world wasn’t the instant-cast, spell-chanting miracle of myths and fantasy. Its essence lay in triggering the world’s [Resonance] through magical circuits—and the more powerful the [Resonance], the more complex the circuit.
That level of complexity couldn’t be drawn in the moment. Real mages engraved their magic ahead of time, storing it for later use like disposable tools.
“Magic isn’t a lucky miracle—it’s meticulous architecture.”
That was the opening line of Fischer’s very first “Foundations of Magic Theory” class. Saint Nary’s Royal Academy might have been unbearably old-fashioned in many ways, but it did house some truly brilliant scholars—Fischer had learned a lot there.
His cane contained every spell circuit he’d ever etched. Losing it would be catastrophic.
Probably about 90% as painful as losing the carriage.
Fischer mused over that strange comparison in his mind.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. Let’s head out.”
“No problem.”
Keken wiped his hands with a towel, threw on his jacket, and walked out with Fischer. Raphaëlle followed closely, still eyeing the two smiling wives warily.
Strange humans.
She flicked her tail, thinking just that.
“Speaking of which, things aren't exactly peaceful on the Western Continent... I’ve heard tensions between Schwalli and Nary are getting worse. You can smell the gunpowder all the way from the Southern Continent. The folks from Schwalli have been keeping to themselves lately—and they’ve been shipping in loads of weapons too…”
In the carriage, Keken rambled on about the Western Continent.
Fischer and Raphaëlle looked out the window. Once again, they passed the street where demi-human slaves were sold. This time, the slave trader wasn’t shouting—just dozing on a nearby chair.
“They do this every year.”
“No, Mr. Fischer—this time it’s serious… Schwalli’s new queen is sharp and capable. The development of the Southern Continent is a golden opportunity. She’s long grown tired of playing house with Nary and Cardo on the Western Continent.”
“...She’ll have to bring her nobles to heel first. Nary and Cardo aren’t going to let her have her way.”
As they chatted about these political tidbits, their carriage neared the prison that Keken had mentioned. It was just one street over from the slave market. When they stepped off, Raphaëlle glanced in that direction and stared for a long time, her expression somber and unreadable.
But she said nothing, and Fischer didn’t bring it up. He simply turned his gaze away from her and reminded her to keep up as they entered the prison.
“This way, Mr. Fischer. I’ve isolated them on the top floor, away from the other prisoners.”
The prison conditions were poor. There were no coal lamps—just a single oil lamp lit in the guard’s office. The humid weather of the Southern Continent left a fine mist on the stone walls. From deep inside the darkness of the cells, the faint sound of dripping echoed.
Fischer carried his cane and followed Keken upward. The higher they went, the louder the vague moaning sounds became—moans that had only been barely audible from below.
They were human voices, but filled with a kind of dazed confusion—like the cries of mindless beasts.
Unlike the lower levels, this floor had more guard posts and torches lining the exterior of the cells. This let Fischer clearly see inside as they passed.
“Mr. Fischer, look.”
Following his cue, Fischer peered into the cell through the flickering torchlight. Inside the wide room, over a dozen shadowy figures sat or lay on the ground, murmuring like the walking dead. Some still wore their original clothes, now filthy and reeking after months of captivity.
But they seemed completely unfazed. The patients—both male and female—were all emaciated, their bodies skeletal and withered.
“Do they eat?”
“They do. They consume raw meat and water unconsciously—but they show no desire. If we don’t feed them, they don’t even cry out. A few have already starved to death. The only thing that rouses them is… well, people. When someone gets close, they go berserk.”
It sounded like something straight out of a Saint Nary sci-fi novel—but it was all very real.
Fischer stood by the cell door, still a bit too far to see clearly. But even in the dim light, he could easily spot the vivid blue fluid leaking from their faces, dripping onto the prison floor.
Raphaëlle’s pupils shrank. As a Dragonkin, her eyes allowed her to see perfectly even in darkness. Staring at those miserable humans, a flicker of satisfaction rose in her heart—like justice for how they had treated her fellow kin. But soon she felt differently, ashamed of her own thoughts.
Still, she couldn't muster even a shred of sympathy for the people inside.
So she quickly lost interest, only occasionally glancing at Fischer’s focused expression, wondering if this might be a good moment to attack him.
But even if she killed him, wouldn’t the other humans catch her right after?
Unaware of her scheming, Fischer narrowed his eyes and observed the patients for a moment, then suddenly turned to Keken and said,
“Open the cell. I want to go inside and take a closer look. It’s too hard to see from here.”