The preparations for the voyage took about a month.
Eleanor and Margaret selected other volunteers and taught them the basics of first aid, simple dical knowledge, and how to handle and maintain syringes as quickly as possible.
The rest of the people worked together according to the angel's will, loading various cargo onto the ship: all kinds of dicines, clothes, equipnt, and even food for them to eat during the voyage.
Thanks to thousands of people participating in the preparations, the preparation period was reduced to one month. At this rate, they could set up a hospital as soon as they arrived.
And so they set sail.
About a month and a half passed.
"..."
"..."
"...Well, there are places you need to go."
Lord Raleigh pointed to Southwark, Houndsditch, Aldgate, and others as he spoke.
"These will be where the most rats swarm and the most sick people wander."
In other words, all slums.
"We need to set up treatnt centers in these places. I'll give you money, so secure a place in a building in the area and set up tents. Understand?"
"I understand. Then should we set up tents as soon as we land in Southwark?"
"Hmm? Of course we all need to go to the Queen first. Who else would close public places by royal decree? Who would mandate wearing masks covering nose and mouth and prohibit various gatherings?"
"...You, my lord?"
"Her Majesty the Queen."
"Ah."
"By this ti, the plague should have started to spread gradually. Nemo said that by the ti we arrive, even the court would have been aware of the plague."
"..."
"..."
"Then we should go to the Queen, tell her we've discovered a cure, and first set up treatnt centers in the slums. Understand?"
Eleanor and Margaret looked at each other for a mont at Lord Raleigh's words.
London's slums were notorious. For all kinds of cri, sin, and filth. It was a very dangerous place.
"Yes."
"We should go."
And the two didn't hesitate particularly.
As if on cue, just as Walter Raleigh finished speaking, the ship stopped with a rocking sensation. When the three ca out of the cabin, a nauseating stench hit them. They disembarked at Southwark, mixed with luggage and people.
Then Lord Raleigh turned to the other two and said:
"Phew... now, let's cross the bridge and report to Her Majesty the—"
"Um, excuse ."
"What is it?"
"..."
Margaret grabbed Lord Raleigh's collar and turned her head toward their surroundings. And then...
"...Good heavens."
A man whose skin was turning black from the extremities was collapsed on the street. People were fleeing around him in shock. When the man died soon, his body would probably be burned.
Because he was a plague patient.
"Um... how long would it take if we went to see Her Majesty the Queen and ca back?"
"...At the quickest, 3 days."
Streptomycin sulfate cannot save a person unless injected within 48 hours of onset.
And the man before them did not look like he had just contracted the disease. And behind the alley where the man was lying...
Countless people were seen coughing.
They would all die.
"..."
"..."
"...Do we really need to go to the Queen first?"
Margaret asks.
Lord Raleigh hesitated for a mont... then spoke.
"No. Only one of us needs to go."
"Then you go, Lord Raleigh. We'll set up a treatnt center here first."
"Eleanor, will you be alright? This is a dangerous place."
"All of London is dangerous."
"..."
"We'll be setting up here, so please hurry back."
At those words, the hesitant Lord Raleigh eventually nodded and caught a passing carriage to depart for Whitehall Palace, where the Queen resided.
"Um... Mrs. Dare? Ms. Lawrence? About half of the cargo from the ship has been unloaded. Now what...?"
Now there remained a hundred-so volunteers, dicines to save thousands, and disinfectants.
Eleanor Dare and Margaret Lawrence looked at each other, then rolled up their sleeves.
"Let's set up the tent here first."
Thus the first treatnt center was established in London.
And five days passed.
Rumors began to spread throughout London.
==
The closure of theaters that began during the last riot was extended, and taverns were closed. Public places where people might gather were shut down one by one, and London beca more desolate than before.
However.
"...Have you heard the rumor?"
The world of social circles and gossip was as lively as ever.
"What rumor?"
"You know, the 'free treatnt center.'"
"Ah... you an the one collecting patients in slums for treatnt? Isn't it run by so local church?"
"No. I heard Lord Raleigh spent his private funds to set it up..."
"What? That fellow? Surprising."
"Strange. How did that man suddenly beco a philanthropist?"
Everyone was astonished by Lord Raleigh's 'good deed.' What is that power-oriented man trying to do by winning the hearts of the poor? Surely he wouldn't need to gather influence in the slums.
Moreover, isn't the plague going around now? In a situation where, if sothing goes wrong, his subordinates or even he himself might face death, he's not fleeing London but opening a large-scale treatnt center?
It could be foolish. Or perhaps he's suddenly awakened as a saint.
"It's like pouring water into a leaky jar."
Soone declares.
"Think about it. If you can't cure the plague, what difference does it make by slightly easing the path of the sick? Only those who nurse them will die as well."
"Sadly, that might be true..."
"From the perspective of minimizing damage, it's not wrong."
While such conversations were exchanged, the person who first brought up the topic rely smirked, not saying anything more, waiting for them.
Finally, when everyone seed to run out of things to say and fell silent, he spoke again.
"I heard... soone has co out alive from Lord Raleigh's free treatnt center."
"What? That's impressive. But why?"
"He must have found good doctors. They might be able to save one or two people."
"It's not just curing ordinary patients.
They say they saved them from the plague."
"..."
"..."
"..."
The gathering responds with silence to those words.
For a mont, a light of 'could it be?' flickers in everyone's eyes.
The plague is a terrible disease. A disease with virtually no chance of survival. That's what everyone thought.
But on the other hand, they recall Lord Raleigh's Arican colony.
That place with all sorts of mysterious things. That place where strange tals and mysterious fruits ca from.
"A... panacea?"
"Perhaps. Why not go and get so?"
"It's free, isn't it? I should send my personal physicians to get so."
"Of course I'll have to give them so money. If they take it for free, wouldn't Lord Raleigh make a fuss?"
They think there might be an answer there.
Soon they scattered to their hos, tossing all sorts of jokes among themselves, but.
They never forgot that rumor.
Maybe...
The very next day.
Doctors wrapped in cloaks began gathering in Southwark from all over London.
==
Eleanor barely opens her eyes in the cabin. With only her nightgown on, she rubs her puffy eyes and speaks.
"V-Virginia? I'll give you breakfast..."
Ah, she's not here.
She is now across the Atlantic.
Smiling wryly at her own foolishness, Eleanor briefly rubs her eyes and imdiately puts on a ridiculous white clown-like suit.
What he called a protective suit, a funny-looking outfit where the top and bottom are connected.
As she leaves the cabin, others ard with protective suits and masks like her are running urgently. Following them, leaving the ship toward the dock, there are tents everywhere.
Margaret, who recognizes her, runs toward Eleanor.
"How many patients today?"
"50 more added! Goodness, how are there so many sick people here?"
"Did you turn away those who were malingering or had other diseases?"
"Yes! I scared them by saying if you administer the drug to soone without the plague, they turn into a monster."
"Well done."
Saying so, the two hurriedly lift one of the tent flaps and enter.
"Aaargh! S-save ! Save !"
"It hurts so much... I'm burning... just throw into the sea..."
"Mom? M-mom? Mom! Mom! Mom!"
It's like a chorus of madn.
All kinds of screams, delirious speech, and last words mix to create a terrible polyphony. Eleanor bites her lip tightly and asks the nurse in charge of this area:
"How much dicine do we need here?"
"Um, 50 bottles! Five new people ca in, and we need to give injections for ten days each, so..."
"Alright. I'll bring it. Margaret?"
"Understood. I'll take charge of directing the nurses here..."
Eleanor examines the amount of dicine needed and the number consud, checking each tent. And then...
Fling!
She arrives at the tent used as a storage area.
Many workers are sweating profusely, carrying new dicines and syringes. In one corner, they're sterilizing syringes with boiling water and fire, and in another, they're repairing torn or damaged protective suits.
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