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3rd Last Seed
I finally arrived in Senchal. It is in chaos from the outbreak. I admit a moment of weakness: when I saw the victims today, I felt revulsion. I wanted to run. Mara preserve me! The sores, the bloody coughing, the rasping cries of pain! I nearly fled. But if men of wisdom like me run, how will we ever cure this plague—how will we prevent another? We cannot allow the Knahaten Flu to be the victor. By the Eight, I will help bring about its end!
8th Last Seed
There are others like me in the city, those who have left home to risk their lives finding a cure. I am glad for the company, and with our combined efforts, we have found ways to comfort those dying of the disease. We keep them (and ourselves) wrapped from head to toe to limit exposure to the sores. The rumors of chicken broth easing the cough seem to be true, but none of the remedies I brought with me have cured even one soul. Once the symptoms begin, there is no stopping it.
12th Last Seed
We have tried everything. Every potion, salve, incense—even prayer. Not one has recovered. I am so tired, so distraught that I cannot even eat. My stomach churns. My eyes are bleary. Even breathing seems difficult. I just need a good rest, I know. I still have hope.