𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐊 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐑 || 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 [ II ]

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓: 𝖂𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖉𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖂𝖎𝖓𝖉, 𝕭𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖊 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖆𝖉𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝕾𝖆𝖎𝖑𝖘

"AN EPIDEMIC?"

A small group stood around the man they had welcomed onto the Dawn Treader. It had not taken long for the dragonship to sail into the bay of Terebinthia. She had glided in smoothy, the rowers wiping the sweat from their brows as they came above deck to look at the magnificent city before them. After they'd rounded the two stone island that covered direct sight of the island, most of the crew grew silent. Just enough to hear the waterfall plunging down behind the city and the seagulls scream as the circled around one or two ships in the small harbour—which was basically the whole coast of the lower part of the city.

Terebinthia was a small town on a big island, but it seemed they made due. Between the big cliffs and few smaller mountains around them they had found enough room to build their white houses and towers, plant their trees and even grow their fields. It was a beautiful sight, and for a moment Muriel—and everyone around her—had forgotten the things she had heard about the island.

Until a low, slender rowboat had made its way out of the harbour, slowly gliding towards them. The man on it had been waving at them, but most had only noticed his attire. He was welcomed aboard, slowly climbing the ladder on the side while exclaiming his greeting.

"Your Majesty," he had breathed, the leather part of his black coat coming up to nose and over his mouth muffling the sound of his voice. His matching brown leather hat made it so only his eyes were visible. He was quite the sight, with his long coat open they could all glance at the small viles and bottles hanging from his belt. "We Terebinthians are loyal to the one true king of Narnia. But I've come here to warn you to not approach the city. An epidemic has been raging on the population."

The news had send a wave of reactions through the surrounding crowd. Some took a step back, knowing that this man looked like a doctor and had obviously been in contact with the sick. Others looked concerned, listening intently to the mournful news. Now that they had looked closely at the harbour town, they could see smoke rise from a small part to the right, the few black ashen houses contrasting against the white. Perhaps they had set it aflame some time ago to avoid the illness from spreading any further.

There was one, however, who had watched with a deep frownline between her eyebrows.

"Still?" Questioned Muriel, observing the messenger closely.

It had to be around fifteen years ago when Queen Nain had sailed to aid in their fight against the epidemic. And though she had no reason—or perhaps little reason—to claim that his words were mere lies, Muriel had started to wonder to what extent this illness had helped the sovereign of Terebinthia so far. Perhaps it was as simple as this, keeping people like them, as far away from the city as possible.