Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

“The sheriff needs a medical examiner.” The word “medical examiner” was mentioned by Lyle to Ralph. In some cases, the cause of death is not so easy to find out. Lack of evidence and ambiguous statements from witnesses are all obstacles to the investigation.

"And what were the autopsy results?"

"Autopsy?"

"Aren't there any forensic doctors among the sheriffs?"

"...(Forensic pathologist?)"

Lyle explained the role of forensic scientists in detail.

"Desecrating the dead. (This is wrong.)"

"The dead are not as important as the living."

"..."

Lyle was surprised that Ralph would bring it up again. He thought to himself that it was indeed a way out, but now it seemed to be a bit unorthodox.

Medicine is taboo, and desecrating corpses is taboo. If the church finds out, they'll probably burn it.

"I'll give you the official title of sheriff. (You'll be doing forensic work in private.)"

"..."

"The higher-ups don't want to rely too much on the church."

"?" You're a police officer, what did the church do to you?

"The murderer surrendered and described his modus operandi in detail. (The church made him do it.)"

My God, this is amazing! What's the point of having police now?

"I understand. We share the same fate, and we grieve for each other when the rabbit dies."

"...Are you in or not?"

"Damn! How's the pay?"

"Standard treatment."

"Alright, I'm a civil servant now, after all. I'm going to work tomorrow. Do I need to prepare any written documents? Is there an exam?"

"No need, there's something waiting for you right now."

"Ok?"

"There is a body lying in the station now, the cause of death is unknown."

"Should I go now?"

Ralph glanced in the direction of the pot.

"Actually, there's no rush. (You can eat first.)"

"Would you like some too?" Lyle pulled up his chair, ready to serve Ralf a bowl. After all, he had helped Ralf solve his employment problem, so he wanted to express his gratitude.

"I still have patrol duties to attend to. (No need.)"

"Go report to the station later." Ralph pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, with his name written on it, probably a letter of introduction or something.

"Give the letter to Mr. Wilt, and he will arrange a job for you."

"Ah."

Ralph walked out the door, his figure slowly swallowed by the darkness, and then he came back.

"Lyle".

"Did you forget something?" Lyle stood up.

"Remember to lock the door when you leave."

Lyle, who had come back specifically to say this, glanced at the bare walls of the house illuminated by the firelight and smiled at Ralf. "Okay."

"Ah."

Chapter Four: Plague Doctor Set

After a quick dinner, Lyle put on his college robe, which was the medical school uniform. Although it was just densely woven linen, it was Lyle's best garment, and he would only wear it for important college ceremonies. When reporting to work, he naturally wanted to make a good first impression.

He extinguished the candles on the table, locked the door, and stepped into the night alone.

The sheriff's office was located on the outskirts of Cassandale, five blocks from Lyle's house. The grease in the streetlights had probably been recently added, casting a dim, yellowish glow that made it possible to see the road even without a kerosene lamp.

A portable oil lamp is practically standard equipment for sheriffs, who frequently patrol all the dark corners of the city, relatively chaotic areas, and high-crime zones. Lyle may have considered using his position for personal gain; these days, life is tough, so every penny counts.

Around 10 p.m., the residents of Cassandale were already fast asleep, the lights inside their houses had gone out, and only a few scattered lights remained in the town.

The lights in the police office were one of the few exceptions that were always on.

The oak door, inlaid in the square stone wall, was open, and as Lyle approached, he could faintly hear voices coming from inside the office.

Fingers tapped on the door, the crisp sound jarringly clear in the desolate night.

"Excuse me, is Mr. Wilt here?"

There were two people in the lobby wearing the same uniforms as Ralph, but they looked much better than Ralph.

“I am Wilt, Gibb Wilt.” The man who spoke was probably over twenty-five years old, with regular features, short, curly brown hair, and narrow eyes. He looked at Lyle with a somewhat appraising gaze. “And you are?”

“I am a newcomer introduced by Uncle Ralph. This is a letter he wrote to give to you.”

Wilt took the letter, quickly glanced at it, and after understanding the situation, said with a hint of sarcasm, "Another Mr. Buller?"

Lyle should have thought of that. He had no intention of hiding it. His relationship with Ralf would inevitably be viewed with prejudice, so Lyle made their relationship clear from the start to avoid being talked about behind his back later.

Lyle had clearly overestimated Ralf's social skills. Wilt's eyes narrowed, like a fox ready to hunt, and the malice hidden in his teasing was as obvious as a fly on rotting flesh.

"Sheriff Ralph said there's a body tonight that might come in my hands."

“Of course, Mr. Lyle Buller, you’ve come at just the right time.”

He greeted the rest of the people, took a bunch of keys from behind the counter, and walked straight to a door leading inside.

"Keep up, Mr. Buhler."

They walked through the office area, past a dozen or so tables and chairs, but no one was there; perhaps they had gone out on patrol.

Wiltra pulled up a tarpaulin, and behind it, where there used to be a wall, was a small iron door; the rust on the keyhole indicated that it was not used often.

With a screeching sound as the key was turned, the iron gate opened, revealing a stone staircase leading underground.

"A basement used for storing miscellaneous items. This exit is not frequently used. There is another exit that connects directly to the outside of the building. The body was also moved here from that side. This place seems to have been a laboratory before. It's cool, dry, and quite suitable."

"Your job is to investigate the cause of death inside. You can do whatever you want with the process. I just hope that when you come out, there will be a report on my desk. As for the experimental equipment you need, I'm sorry, we don't have enough funding from our superiors. You'll have to make do with the waste materials inside."

"By the way, there's something I need to clarify first. Mr. Brühl, our Director has mercifully agreed to Ralph's proposal, and as his friend and colleague, I naturally hope everything goes smoothly. Good luck, Mr. Brühl."

"I will do my best."

“Hmm,” Wilt yawned, “Let me know if you find anything. You can get back to work now.” With that, Wilt walked back to his original spot.

“Please wait a moment, Mr. Wilt,” Lyle said.

"Tsk, is there anything else?"

“I remember Ralph mentioned that Mr. Wilt would follow up and record the inspection process to ensure the work proceeded smoothly…”

“I know, that’s just Ralph making a mountain out of a molehill. I have complete faith in Mr. Brühl. You can handle the task perfectly on your own. After all, you’re a top student from medical school. Someone like me, an outsider, would only get in the way. Mr. Brühl, you should do it yourself.” With that, he didn’t give Lyle a chance to argue and strode away.

"..." Lyle shuddered as he dissected a corpse alone in the dimly lit basement late at night, but he had no better choice; life had to go on no matter how bad it was.

By lighting the torch on the stone wall, Lyle could finally get a good look at his workspace. A long table stretched across the center, upon which lay the unfortunate man's body. To the left were several bookshelves, now used as cabinets, holding ironware, torn leather, rusted knives, and other strange objects. The red marks on them gave Lyle a bad feeling—could these be torture instruments? This was far more than just a basement. Was that bumbling Wilt unaware of the situation, or was he doing this on purpose?

The right side was much more cluttered, with tattered uniforms, cracked saddles, and mostly leather. Lyle was lucky enough to spot some medical knives, so new that it made one wonder if they had been prepared in advance.

That's not enough; Lyle also needs a work uniform, and hopefully she can find a suitable alternative.

Opposite the long table was a door, perhaps the so-called other exit, locked with chains. Perhaps due to the terrain, several floor-to-ceiling windows opened on the other side, letting in dark blue starlight.

Something in the pile of junk is glowing; it's reflected light. There's glass in there. These days, glass products are luxury items, like the stained glass windows in churches.

Lyle was somewhat concerned and walked towards that place.

It was a strangely shaped bird-beak mask.

The Plague Doctor's Mask.

The pointed mask is made of leather, and the light is reflected from the small glass lenses.

Not far away, Lyle also found a black coat and leather gloves.

Standard equipment for plague doctors.

The reason why the Plague Doctor is famous.

There are two main aspects.

A strange bird's beak.

At this time, it was considered a relatively scientific piece of equipment. The beak of the bird would be filled with fragrant herbs, much like a gas mask, filtering the air we breathed and blocking the stench of rotting corpses. Medieval doctors believed that "corpse odor" was the source of the Black Death.

The Black Death.

Or it could be called the plague. A highly contagious disease spread by rats, the dead are often ashen-faced and bleeding from all seven orifices.

In order to stop the spread of the epidemic, plague doctors came into being.

However, due to the plague doctor's bizarre appearance and the high mortality rate of the Black Death, ignorant people regarded the plague doctor as a messenger of death, believing that whoever he consulted would die.

Another theory suggests that the Black Death was one of the driving forces behind historical development.

The terrible plague killed everyone. It made people realize that whether it was a noble king, a devout priest, an elegant nobleman, a humble commoner, or even a lowly slave, there was no difference in the face of death.

They realized that God had not redeemed them, and this wavering in their faith in God led to the establishment of humanistic thought, which can be considered one of the turning points from superstition to science.

Although he found the Plague Doctor's attire, Lyle had never heard of the Black Death. Could it be that the timeline is wrong?

With divine authority prevailing and other powers suppressed, coupled with the previously witnessed holy light, it's hard to say how long the age of God will last.

Right now, we need to make sure we have enough to eat.