> The right thing to do... that's... sometimes hard. I've an entire city of badly infected people. If even one individual gets out, the surrounding countryside will be in immense danger. But if I keep them trapped here, I'm removing their freedom, and treating them like prisoners. What do I do? -- Anon Guest
The plague had come to Lessermont. The local healers had caught it before the merchants who brought it could move out, and the local Lord was wise enough to close the city down. All gates out were shut and locked with the Lord's key. Patrols along the gate were doubled, and orders given to never let _anyone_ out of the city.
No exceptions.
Lord Mariaster explained it in a way that Arrin Gudshild would never forget. "Certainly," m'lord said, "you may be offered more money than you have ever seen. It may be tempting. I know it _will_ be tempting. You will have more money than a lord, and could pay for a whole new life. But what will you pay the widows and orphans you make by letting one entitled body with money out of the city? How many deaths will weigh your soul down when you go to judgement before the Dread Daughter[1]? It won't be worth any gold _then_."
Arrin didn't need a sword or a bow. People approaching the gates turned away when they were told the town had plague. It was the people trying to get out that caused the most trouble. Arrin was armed with a long stick with a fork on the end. The only way to leave was to climb a ladder and go over the city walls.
It would take too much effort and bother to attempt to tunnel _under_ the walls. Every cellar had been dug with great effort out of the toughest granite that even the D'varuv had seen. Nevertheless, there were those whose job it was to listen for attempted sappers.
Lord Mariaster was deadly serious about this. Including measures to safely import food and medicine so the city would not starve. He worked with the healers to launder bedclothes, often seen over the boiling cauldrons with his sleeves up. Sweating as he agitated the contents with a copper stick.
Food and medicine was free during the crisis. Paid for by Lord Mariaster's treasury.
It had been weeks since Arrin had seen a ladder, but one appeared now. He swung the fork, pushing it away until it was vertical. By then, a tiny child with a baby strapped to their chest was most of the way up. An adult would weather the fall. A child and a baby would not.
"Please sir, I don't want m' sister to get sick."
There was nobody on the other end of the ladder. There was no pack of supplies on the kid's back.
"Did you even _have_ a plan?" Arrin asked. "You got nothing. You wouldn't last a day out there. Bears'll eat you _and_ your sister."
"Mister, she 'n' me are all m' family left." Their mother and father had perished from the plague. Their aunty was working all the time brewing up potions for the healers.
Arrin let them up on the wall, but held fast to the kid's arm as he confiscated the ladder. "Nobody leaves. M'lord's orders. Since you don't have anybody, can take you to new carers."
Which happened to be his spouse, who followed all the rules from the healers to keep the plague at bay. This included washing and delousing the new kids under their care. And whatever meals they could share.
And most importantly, why the rules were the way they were. Illustrated with mud and marbles before yet another bath.
Some who came to the walls argued that they were being treated like prisoners. Some pleaded that their freedom was more important than thousands of strangers' lives. Those arguments were convenient lies, and not worth the lives they could cost.
[1] Lady Death, also known as the daughter of Meridia, goddess of love.
[Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@bkaraivanov?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Bozhin Karaivanov</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/photos/a-brick-wall-with-a-hole-in-it-nXHkztl47Xo?utm_content=creditCopyText&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash">Unsplash</a>]
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