The land of Aragoven was as flawless as a royal diamond. No death, destruction, or disease. The most heinous crimes one could commit were never conceived in the minds of the many who lived here. But as a mysterious plague kicked down the gates and swept through the great kingdom like an unstoppable wave, life became unhopeful.
Sir Cristofre of the King Godric's Order stood alongside the other knights as the king gave a speech to his trusted court about the plague devastating the land outside of Archhaven, the capital city of Aragoven. The king, resting on his throne, took a breath and began his speech.
"In these recent times my kingdom has been attacked...not by men, but a pestilence, from the hands of the fallen angel...ruler of the Abyss...below us in this very moment. My people, fallen ill and weak, unable to live in peace, nor die in peace. I demand action be taken. Close the docks! I want no galley to arrive here. Prevent any outsiders from entering this hold. Make sure the apothecaries are well," The king lowered his head, then raised it again. "Sorrowful, our times have become."
King Godric ordered his knights to stay as the other members of the court returned to their duties. The king rose from his throne and walked towards the knights, who stood in a line beside the king's throne.
"My great order, you all have a mission that must be carried out this day." The king approached Sir Cassian, one of the Order's best swordsmen. "Sir Cassian, you will go to Foglane and let them know of the coming changes. Sir Kenric, you will go to Driftrose and do the same." The king approached Cristofre, who was waiting for his duty to be given to him. "Sir Cristofre, you will travel around Aragoven to all the smaller towns and villages and give any help that is needed. The rest of you will remain here." The king backed away. "You all will be accompanied by one or two apothecaries. I trust you fulfill your duties, as you are my greatest men. You may leave now."
Cristofre left the king's hall and exited the castle. In a nearby stable was Cristofre's horse, which served as his riding horse. Cristofre mounted his steed and began his way outside of the walls of Archhaven and into the plagued lands of Aragoven. Cristofre's first destination would be the village of Oakfeld along the Edon River. During his journey down the old cobblestone pathways, Cristofre thought about the plague that had suddenly struck the land. Is the everlasting reign of Aragoven ending? He thought. Aragoven had never faced a plague as destructive as this one. To many, it felt as there was an eternal shield protecting the land. To some, it was like Heaven. No darkness, no illness, nothing. A beacon of light in a savage world. Cristofre felt uneasy thinking about it, but he didn't let it cloud his judgment. He remained optimistic in concerning times.
It was around 6 o'clock in the evening when Cristofre arrived in Oakfeld. As he rode into the town, Cristofre felt only the scent of death in the air. The town had been devastated by the pestilence. Carriages filled with the dead rolled down the roads constantly. A lack of healthy farmers in the town created a severe famine, leaving both the sick and healthy without much food to eat. In Oakfeld, there was only misery. The apothecaries assigned to accompany Cristofre arrived in the town shortly after Cristofre did. Cristofre and the apothecaries went to a shelter where the diseased were kept. Men, women, and children in the shelter sat in the cold shelter praying for either good health or death. Cristofre felt a great sadness within, seeing the people in agony and despair. The apothecaries began administering their medicines to the children as Cristofre went to the town hall to talk to the Baron who was living there. Cristofre was allowed entrance into the town hall, so he entered. Before him sat Jerome, the Baron of Oakfeld. The Baron looked pale and sickly, which Cristofre assumed that the Baron had caught the pestilence. Cristofre approached the Baron with caution.
"You must be one of the king's knights. Has the pestilence reached Archhaven?" The Baron asked. "No, lord," Cristofre replied. "and I pray it doesn't." The Baron looked at Cristofre and examined his armor. "What is your name, sir?" The Baron questioned. "I am Sir Cristofre, of the King Godric's Order." Cristofre answered. The Baron coughed loudly before speaking again. "If you've come to help us, there's not much to be done anymore. Food has become too scarce and the graveyards have become too full. I have become greatly unwell, and many of my close brothers have died due to this pestilence. I see no recovery in sight." The Baron looked down and coughed again. "Unless your apothecaries can perform miracles, leave us here to die. It is best for you to protect those who still are untouched rather than try to save those who are already dead." Cristofre thought to himself: I cannot do this. I cannot let these people suffer, but what must I do? Maybe it is too late... Cristofre looked again at the Baron. "We will try, lord. I have hope that this pestilence will be eradicated and lives will be saved." The Baron continued to seem doubtful. "I wish you the best of luck, Sir Cristofre. I pray it will be gone." The Baron said. Cristofre left the town hall and returned to the shelter. The apothecaries had been feeding the ill from a bowl of different ingredients, including some special herbs that were once used to cure a virus long before the days of Aragoven. One of the apothecaries approached Cristofre.
