Great disaster breeds greater plague.

Fate, it seemed, had no mercy left for this ravaged land.


A deadly epidemic silently incubated in the mud and ruins left by the receding floodwaters.

It began with just a handful of refugees—fever, bloody coughs. Within days, the contagion raced through the entire Lorraine region like wildfire.

Black lesions erupted across victims' bodies, fevers raged unchecked, and within days, death claimed them all.


"The Black Rot," the elderly Chief Physician whispered, his face ashen, voice hollow with despair.

Frelis, however, refused to accept defeat.


She barricaded herself in the ancient monastery library for three days and nights, refusing sleep.

Though her eyes sank into dark hollows and her face grew gaunt, her hands remained steady as they turned brittle pages.

Finally, in a worm-eaten parchment scroll crumbling with age, she discovered it—the "Variolation Method."

A forbidden technique from the Far East that involved deliberately infecting healthy people with material from mildly ill patients to build resistance.

"This may be our only chance."

Frelis emerged from the library, the precious scroll held aloft. Her voice, though raw from exhaustion, rang with unwavering conviction.

"But someone must be first to test it."

The chamber fell silent as a tomb.

The method was unthinkable—tantamount to courting death itself.

Frelis's gaze swept across the silent physicians, her silence more powerful than words.

With one deep breath, she rolled up her sleeve, exposing the pale skin of her arm.

"I will be first."

Ludwig stared at his wife's determined face, gripping her hand with such force it seemed he might absorb her into himself.

"Then I stand with you."

The hall erupted into chaos.

After a moment's hush, a frail nun stepped forward, her voice quavering but clear: "I... I volunteer as well."

A knight followed, his armor clanking as he struck his sword against the stone floor. "By my honor as a knight, I too will serve!"

Peasants in rough homespun stepped forward, leaning on each other for support. Sisters of the faith clutched their silver crosses, whispers spreading through the crowd: "God bear witness, we are willing."

The voices swelled, merging into a chorus of courage that seemed to shake the very foundations—

"We are all willing!"

They held the inoculation ceremony in the cathedral's sacred nave.

Ludwig insisted on being first.

With her own hands, Frelis pressed the silver needle into his skin, carefully introducing the deadly yet promising substance.

Not once did he flinch.

For four endless days, Lorraine Castle held its collective breath.

On the dawn of the fourth day, the miracle came.

Three knights from the first group of inoculated warriors saw their fevers break—they would live!

The news raced through the city like wildfire, and for the first time in weeks, hope flickered in the darkness.

That night, Ludwig clutched Frelis to his chest, his voice raw with barely contained terror.

"You shouldn't have risked yourself... I nearly lost you."

Frelis smiled up at him, her fingers gently smoothing the worry lines from his brow. Her voice was soft but unwavering.

"My King, I am your equal in this. Your burdens are mine to carry."

"If I stood safely aside, how could I deserve to stand beside you?"

Three days later, in the kingdom's grand cathedral:

Ludwig addressed the assembled crowd from the pulpit, announcing their triumph over the plague.

When he spoke of Frelis's courage in testing the treatment herself, this young ruler—known for his iron resolve—suddenly faltered.

Sunlight poured through stained glass, catching the tears that tracked unashamedly down his face.

The cathedral exploded with cheers that shook the very stones of the ancient building.

"God bless our King! God bless our Queen!"

The cries echoed beneath the soaring arches, raw with genuine devotion.

Weeks later, spring sunshine bathed the palace square where countless subjects gathered for the coronation.

The old king, frail but clear-eyed, raised the royal scepter with trembling hands and presented it to his son.

"My time has passed," the old king proclaimed, his aged voice carrying surprising strength. "Now begins your reign."

Ludwig knelt to receive the scepter. The Archbishop lowered the golden crown onto his brow, and as he rose to his full height, his gaze swept across the vast crowd. The people's response was immediate—a deafening roar of approval.

"Long live the King! Long live the King!"