The chair is offered, and he does take the small gesture of kindness. It’s hard to speak and stand and keep composure all at once. Shivers and tremors from the shmowder also made standing fully at attention extremely difficult.
Murmuring a small motion of gratitude, he nods at the recognition of Clara.
He hoped that none of the townsfolk had gotten to her.
“The beginning of the outbreak. Yes, the outbreak was identified on that day. Bachelor Dankovsky confirmed the symptoms of the Sand Pest, which had afflicted this town five years before as well, shortly after the completion of the Kains’ project- the Polyhedron, that Miracle Tower on the shore of the Stone Yard.”
“There are a few suggested origins for the Sand Pest. Thus far, we have been unable to identify a singular origin for the Pest, and there is substantial evidence that there is a supernatural carrier- a creature locally referred to as a Shabnak. The evidence was corroborated by Yulia Luricheva.”
He pauses briefly as the air feels very still for a moment. Aglaya ceased her pacing. Recognition of the name, perhaps? Or was it disbelief? Either way, she’d come to discover both, soon enough.
“The townsfolk blame this creature for misfortunes and plagues. It is allegedly a spirit that assumes the shape of a deceased woman, and formed from clay and bones. After Simon died, there were witnesses and rumors that claimed to see him in the company of a woman that appeared from the Steppe. In retaliation, lynch mobs formed to hunt suspected shabnaks. This was quickly dispersed- but not before the mobs claimed two victims, herb brides.”
Saburov measures her responses to the information as he relays it. She listens thoroughly, and… almost seems surprised by some of the details. She didn’t seem to know some of the basic information that was detailed in the initial report to the State Inquisitors. Which meant either that she neglected to read it (highly improbable), or never received it- for one reason or another.
Which meant that everything he said would set the precedent for others that followed, and solidified the urgency of fully disclosing everything- especially the structure and demograpgics, cultural relations in the town.
He takes a moment to derail- explaining the Kin and their caste roles, how the townsfolk adopted practices and taboos from the Kin, especially relating to bodies and their sacredness.
“Apologies for the tangent, but I assure you, it isn’t unimportant, and it is crucial for understanding the basis for the current disorder. The Pest… has two other suspected origins. The waters of the Ghorkon, and pockets of Earth that can be released by digging. The Bachelor posits that this disease, physiologically, is a bacteria. Symptoms are as follows-”
He straightens his posture in his chair. He was overly familiar with the symptoms. “The bacteria targets old scar tissue, and breaks it down, and eats away at four main organs- the brain, the kidneys, the liver, and the heart. Extreme changes in behavior reminiscent of rabies begin to manifest, fever, organ failure… It is transmissable through infected bodily fluids- coughing, sneezing, the curious clouds of dead skin and phlegm. These in turn infect surfaces, bond with a rare variety of house mold… rats also carry the disease.”
Saburov’s chest rattles as he speaks, “Once infected, symptoms manifest within twenty-four hours and, if lucky, die. Victims typically die within forty-eight hours, though there are those that suffer much longer. There is no cure.”
The weight of his words carry with the swing of the pendulum. Everyone here was living on borrowed time. Pushing against the inevitable. It’s a futile battle, the war against death, but one that must be fought, and hope spared where it could be.
“The only reason I stand- well, sit… before you is due to the intervention of the Bachelor and the administration of a toxic and volatile collection of ground pills referred to as ‘shmowder’ which, is fatal in any other circumstance, and is not without consequence. I’ve had one seizure since taking it. ”
He pauses, “Dankovsky has been working on a vaccine. My daughter has healed perhaps fifty people while aiding our search for the carrier, Stanislav Rubin has aided in the theater and advanced research. Burakh… I know not what he does,” he admits, “Only that he is trying to discover Isidor’s secret to curtailing the First Outbreak, whilst also accused of being a Ripper.”
“Sand Pest has a ninety-eight percent mortality rate. We only have four healers, each doing what they can. But near ten thousand people… maybe more now, have already perished. I tried to maintain order.”
Shoulders slumped slightly, he forces himself to regain his posture.
“I am prepared to discuss the measures taken, the challenges faced. I accept any and all responsibility for the resulting failures that arose during this. I will lend you any assistance I can while I live.”
Nodding to his own resolve, he looks up at her, “I also formally relinquish all executive authority to you. Yes, this may only be a formality for us- but understand, most of the patrolmen are loyal to me and my house. They are also mostly Kin, and do not recognize the authority of the State.”
Her pacing pauses at two moments: when the Tower is mentioned, for she stops to peer through the Cathedral windows at the shape of it on the shore beyond, and at the mention of one Yulia.
How. . .odd, the way lines connect here. She had never thought to hear that name again in good company.
“ This creature sounds to be nothing but childhood horror stories, and so I will disregard this idea for now. ”
The Sand Pest was a disease that ate the body apart at the weakest points, before it devoured the mind and killed whoever it came into contact with. She knew the barest amount about it. The dead did not spread it, though the houses did somehow.
This Town was doomed. If that were true, the solution would be to level it to the ground. Unless. . .
“ Your healers. You said their names. Will they be amicable to meeting with me? ”
Even if they weren’t, she would call for them anyways. They had no choice but to speak with her.
Saburov struck her as a man doing his best in a very desperate situation. The entire town must hate him for trying to seize power in a vacuum where the others would simply watch them die.
She walks back and forth a number of times more, considering the situation laid before her, and sighs audibly under the ticking of the clock. When she finally stops to stand before him, her hands folded at her back, the clock above tolls for proper morning.
She scrutinizes him with a careful look, her head tilted to the side.
“ I see, I see. . .I have only a few more questions for you, Governor. The first one: heads or tails? ”
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