While so many of the Crows set out to recruit new members to their ranks, Sir Emeric personally responded to reports of a man in the city of Codul who claimed he could cure the Plague. Such a claim was suspicious for more reasons than Sir Emeric could count. Even so, he prayed that it might turn out to be true as he left the monastery with Shlomo, Fulk, Sir Cristoff, and Caleb.

Under a plague doctor mask, none could tell that Caleb was any less human than the rest of the Crows. Sir Emeric was sure he'd find the way people treated him when they didn't know he was a dog-headed-man disorienting.

Many days in the saddle brought them to the gates of Codul. The walls loomed over them, three stories tall with archers on the battlements. The gate was wide open, allowing merchants and travelers to enter. Though, as Sir Emeric and his entourage approached, the travelers and merchants kept their distance.

Caleb, standing a head taller than anyone else present, glanced back and forth at the frightened passersby and said, "Master, why are they so afraid of us? Aren't we here to help?"

The five of them passed through the gatehouse, with a metal grate above their heads through which guards peered down at them.

"Yes, Caleb," said Sir Emeric. "We are here to help. But so many of these poor people have heard only frightful tales about plague doctors."

"You'd think Giradin's story would endear us to them," said Shlomo.

Sir Emeric sighed. "You'd think... but most of them know that while St. Giradin was a plague doctor, he was also martyred by one. They have as much reason to fear us because of that story as they do to revere us."

Just as they got through to the other side of the gatehouse, six members of the city guard stepped in their way. The one in the middle was a short man with a long, bushy mustache which fluttered as he spoke. "Doctors, may I ask what brings you to our fair city this day?"

Sir Emeric nodded, his mask's beak bobbing up and down. "We have heard stories of a man in this town who says he has the cure for the plague. Naturally, we have come to investigate it. If the cure is real, then we need to replicate it and distribute it as widely as possible. If not, then he needs to be punished for bringing false hope."

"You must be referring to Dr. Yves," said the guard with a grin. "Yes, we've been quite excited for his cure, but he says he's still experimenting with it. He said something about... 'it does no good to cure people of disease and in so doing give them poison.' Something like that."

Sir Emeric glanced at Shlomo and Fulk, then back to the guard. "Where can we find him?"

The Templar noted that some of the guards narrowed their eyes and furrowed their brows at the question. There was a hint of hostility there, as if in their mind he ought not to have asked such a question.

The leader of the six guards said, "Why don't we show you the way? The people of Codul are a bit... leery of outsiders and plague doctors as of late."

And so, the six city guards guided them through the streets of Cobul. The streets themselves were cobblestone, and surprisingly clean. The people of Cobul, apparently, were not merely throwing their refuse out the window any more, as was the custom throughout most of Christendom. The houses were made of gray stone bricks, just like the outer walls of the city. Cats roamed the streets and the rooftops.

In fact, now that Sir Emeric thought about it, it was a rather unusual number of cats roaming those streets.

On the way to meet Dr. Yves, they passed by the local church, and Sir Emeric's eyes fell upon the steeple, where it seemed the cross had been broken off. The result of a storm or disaster? He couldn't be sure, but the thought that the people of Cobul might have removed the cross themselves made Sir Emeric shudder.

Finally, the five plague doctors, under escort of six guards, arrived at the door of a small stone house just outside the gates of the lord's castle. Red smoke rose from the chimney, and the curtains had been pulled shut in front of every window.

"Here you are," said the bushy-mustached guard. "We will wait here for your business to conclude."

As Sir Emeric approached the front door of the house, he felt something churning in his gut. A deeply unsettling feeling that he could neither shake nor understand. Even so, he raised his fist and knocked three times on the door.

He could hear movement inside, and the curtains of one of the windows shifted slightly. Sir Emeric thought he might have seen an eye looking back at him from the other side of the window, but the curtains closed again instantly.

Chattering inside. Multiple voices, but Sir Emeric couldn't make out a word.

Four clicks, and the door opened. In the doorway stood a balding man with wild, white hair around the back of his head and on the sides. A long, gray beard hung from his chin. Burns had made the wiry hairs uneven. His face was flecked with acid scars, and his eyes were bloodshot, though wide open.

Behind the balding man stood another man, this one dressed in all black and wearing a dark, cloth mask over his face. His hand rested on the pommel of a sword attached to his belt.

The bald man bowed his head, his tangled hair fluffing out as he did so. "Dr. Yves, at your service, doctors. I'm assuming you are here about my cure?"

Sir Emeric was about to answer Dr. Yves' question cordially, but his eyes caught sight of a symbol carved into the stone floor within Dr. Yves' home, directly under the doctor's feet. As a Templar, he knew the symbol well. The strange cross represented the Cathar sect, which the Catholic Church had utterly destroyed just a few decades ago.