"The plague? I think it's rather pitiful for the poor victims. After all, it could happen to just about anybody, can't it?"
A few of the nobles nearby finally broke their silence, voices carrying through the Great Hall. Where Duke Charles Venton sat, the nobles surrounding him were a mixture of ages, some as old as the Duke himself, while others were young and new to politics.
"What do you think should happen to the victims? They're simply living in perpetual pain, are they not? The doctors who monitored them reported bleeding from the eyes, unnatural spasms, and other horrors."
The question came from an older gentleman, clearly one of the senior figures in the room. He appeared even older than Charles, which made him unusual in such a gathering.
Luca studied him. The man wore a plain but conservative suit and held a pipe between his lips. His hair had long since receded, leaving behind a thin crown of gray, and his pale eyes were a soft shade of silver-gray.
