Crow’s Plague has undoubtedly left its mark on London. A horrendous stain on the city’s and nation’s history. Society is slowly healing as more and more people are being treated with Rainmaker by the Black Doctors of the Institute. That’s not to say there hasn’t been hiccups along the way. While the margin is low compared to successful recoveries from Crow’s Plague, there of course are people who were beyond saving. Some who’s immune systems were too compromised for the cure to fully cleanse them.

  The most disastrous and terrifying effect of Crow’s Plague is its destruction of the body. Rotting organs away. Infesting the blood. Eroding the brain. Its rare for such a disease to wreck such havoc on the body in such a way. At least these days with the advancements of society, technology and especially medicine. Those who perished from the plague died in a way that would be described as “torture”. A way nobody deserves to go out. The only thing worse than an instantaneous death is a slow, creeping death.

  Every death from Crow’s Plague has been documented. Whether they were from the very start of the plague spreading to most recently. Some scientists had taken the liberty to make copies of the research notes to set aside potentially. This was made a direct order from chairwoman Weston. According to the field marshal of the United Kingdom and General Enright of the United States Army; It’s very much possible to develop debilitating chemicals that can be weaponized against enemies of the nation. Crow’s Plague can theoretically be “reconstructed” in labs through careful containment and development procedures as a chemical weapon capable of devastating consequences should it be utilized in times of war. This is what Weston had told the heads of the research department when the plague outbreak first started. Of course, containment and treatment were priority. But now with the plague nearly gone after several long grueling weeks; research on how it came to be is already underway.

  Historians are comparing Crow’s Plague to that of the London Plague and even a smaller-scaled Black Death with a much lower body count. General Enright and the USS Armitage are en route back overseas to the United States. The criminals involved in the vermin outbreak remain locked up for an insurmountable amount of time alongside sir William Corbeld.

  As for the whereabouts of Clifton Magrath, he is nowhere to be found. Police and the military forces of the USS Armitage searched all over the city. His realty office was abandoned. His home devoid of the man’s presence. Nobody even knows what he may have taken. No damning evidence aside from the papers found in Corbeld’s home by the doctors Peter and Marianne came up. The man is a ghost. Vanished from the face of the planet. For all his colleagues and the authorities know; He snuck out of London when the lock-down was lifted.

  Queen Victoria makes a public appearance to address the people. She, alongside miss Weston of the Institute, announce the progress in eradicating Crow’s Plague. They also provide updates on the state of the city in terms of governance and authority. Boroughs are reopening. The borders are open once more. Only a few pockets of London remain under quarantine to finish curing of the deadly plague.

  The Black Doctor division of the Institute will remain as is even after the last of the infected are cured as remnants of the disease could be very well lingering. That and with how much Crow’s Plague shook the very foundation of London’s society as whole; The Black Doctors are crucial to independent medical care. Only the hospitals and those quarantined boroughs remain in the same states. Black Doctors are being sent to the hospitals to help the overworked staff by continuing to tend to patients who wound up being infected by the plague.

  What’s still being accounted for is the mass amount of people who died to the various diseases and illnesses spread by the vermin infestation unleashed towards the tail end of Crow’s Plague’s peak. Many of the city’s poorest residents suffered from this catastrophe. While considered a tragedy by all, the government sees this tragedy as a boon to the recovering economy of London. No public comments have been made as the people would cry in outrage since many knew victims of the vermin outbreak regardless of their social status.

  Crow’s Plague is dissipating now. London’s people are sluggishly returning to a normal life free of containment and fear. It will take a long time for a complete recovery but progress is steady thanks in no small part to the Institute’s efforts. The people’s worries are easing, even if there is still much more to be done and grim articles are posted in the news.

  Peter and Marianne return home after a long shift at work. They remove their coats. Peter hangs his black hat on the coat rack. He goes and sits on the couch to read the newspaper. Marianne heads into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.

  “Let’s make a wager, shall we dear?” Peter says.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Marianne turns the stove on to start boiling water. She peeks out of the kitchen and leans on the wall with her arms crossed.

  “Oh? On what?” She asks.

  “How much longer until these people are cured and the last of the quarantined boroughs are opened back up.”

  “Hm. Alright.”

  Marianne adjusts her long skirt before taking a seat next to Peter. He sets the paper down to meet her eyes.

  “I say… Two weeks tops.” Peter says.

  “That confident, huh?”

  “You bet. Despite the percentage of Black Doctors moved to the hospitals, there’s still a majority of us treating the infected. And frankly… I just want these poor people treated so they can return to their lives in peace.”

  “Right. I’m thinking… Three weeks.”

  “A little more realistic. I’m trying to be more optimistic.”

  “And just what are we wagering here, love?”

  Peter thinks for a moment. Then it clicks in his mind.

  “Whichever of us is on the money… Will pay for the most expensive meal one can get.”

  Marianne’s eyes widen. She trembles at the mere thought of the bill.

  “Peter that’s nearly an entire paycheck’s worth!” She scowls.

  “It makes the wager that much more interesting, does it not?”

  “Well… oh fine. But honestly, does it not feel a bit cruel to be discussing this based on our current line of work?”

  “Things are finally beginning to look up. A little lighthearted, innocent gambling surely can’t be considered offensive. We need some positivity after all we’ve been through.”

  Marianne sighs. She shakes his hand then stands up to return to the kitchen.

  “I suppose. Then let’s make good footwork and work harder then ever to cure those people, yes?”

  “Absolutely. We have not earned our esteemed reputation for nothing. Once this is all over, we can finally plan our well-earned vacation.”

  Marianne snickers as she is prepping noodles in the pan. Peter smiles and picks the newspaper back up to continue reading. He sees hope in the headlines and articles detailing the eroding Crow’s Plague and restoration of boroughs, businesses and people reuniting after weeks spent isolated from one-another. The macabre news of the victims of the vermin infestation does put a dourness to his mood however. In the current times, no one can escape the chatter of death and sadness still looming over the people of London.

  Corbeld sits silently in his cell with his face buried in his knees. A bobby approaches with a keyring. He unlocks the cell door. Corbeld looks up to him. The bobby’s expression does not bring him any hope of what he’s about to say.

  “Huh? Am I… free to go or something?” Corbeld murmurs.

  The bobby shakes his head as another approaches behind him to stand in front of the cell while the one holding the keys enters the cell.

  “Afraid not. Your trial is today. Get up. We’ll get you in some nice clothes. Unfortunately for you, nobody is going to try and defend your actions. Not a single lawyer wanted to stand for you. So, say your prayers… For you may be living your final moments.” The bobby says.

  Corbeld obliges. He gets changed in a private room. A black suit with a black tie and white undershirt. The two bobbies take him to a carriage. Corbeld is taken to the Royal Courts of Justice in Westminster. Every seat in the courtroom is filled with people staring daggers at Corbeld as he’s lead through the aisle by the bobbies.

  After the judge states the crimes, he’s charged for, Corbeld is told to approach the bench to speak on his behalf. Bitter and broken as he is, Corbeld clears his throat and speaks to the people and the jury;

  “I used to be a man of honor. Of proper judgement. One who stuck to a strict code of conduct at the workplace. One who attended lavish parties or preferred the peace of serenity sitting alone reading a book. But I was… corrupted. Convicted to a twisted scheme in hopes of providing good to the city I love. Alas… I’ve come to realize the part I played led to the deaths of many. To further stain this city amidst an endemic. Everything I was involved with was terrible. Inhumane. Thinking I was clever in keeping my hands clean of murder. As the only one here who was involved in the vermin infestation… I take full responsibility of my actions.”

  The judge slams the wooden gavel down. The jury is taking notes. People in the crowd all show expressions of disappointment and anger. Each and every glare pierces Corbeld’s very soul. He steps down from the bench and returns to his seat.

  “It’s clear what we all see. A monster. A citizen who once held a seat of high presence and nobility only to throw it all away in hopes of remaining clean. For your actions I hereby sentence you to public execution three days from now. Not even the slow, agonizing turmoil of a cell is enough of a punishment for you. Your time is up, sir William Corbeld. Court dismissed.” The bearded old judge speaks.

  He slams the gavel down once more. Corbeld lowers his head as he’s led out of the courtroom by the bobbies. Some in the audience are sobbing and weeping. Others whisper. The jury members all take notes as Corbeld is taken out of the courtroom. The judge just shakes his head. He gives a disappointing expression.