Chapter 328: The start of Biological Warfare

"You can’t be serious, Your Majesty?" Henryk said in disgust. "To disgrace the dead like this."

"GIVE ME A BETTER OPTION THEN!" Alfred slammed his fist onto the table, and his voice boomed. Getting up, he walked before the old man with cold eyes. I want this war over quickly now. My son has become a target, abused because of Snowid’s insidious plot. I thought you would understand, Henryk."

"Your Majesty..." Henryk said with a trailing voice as bad memories flooded his mind. The image of his dead son and grandson, which he had suppressed for so long, came back clearly, and all he could do was lower his head and bite his tongue.

"I don’t care if I’m evil for what I’m doing. I don’t care if it’s morally wrong. I just want to win. I want to see those gates open and the people flood out begging for me to put an end to their misery. Do you understand Duke?"

Hearing the venom in Alfred’s voice, Henryk could tell Alfred wouldn’t change his mind. It was now a simple test of loyalty. If he failed at this hurdle, then what future awaited his family? "No problem, Your Majesty." Henryk lowered his head, hearing a scoff come from Alfred.

"CHARLES!" Alfred called out for the man as he left the tent, "Let me see the bodies." Charles nodded and led Alfred just outside the camp they had set up. Although it was common knowledge for people in the world to not have dead bodies next to them, Alfred knew the real dangers of collecting so many near each other.

The area to keep them had been built quickly. A large wooden fence made it so no one could enter, as the corpses were thrown on top of one another. It was easy for them to find bodies. Snowidf had left many in their last battle. Alfred also ordered his men to go to nearby villages.

Looking at the pile of bodies, he nodded and moved on to the next batch. There were many fewer, and each one was evenly spread apart from the other. His hand was about to touch the fence around them, but he stopped at the last minute and looked at his bare hand. One minute." Alfred quickly ran off, back to his tent and covered every inch of his body in protective clothing.

It was nothing compared to the clothing in his old world, but it at least made sure to cover his face and hands. Letting himself in, he stopped Charles from following and examined them. The bodies were all of people who had died of disease or infection in nearby villages and towns. There was only a small amount, but it would be enough. Going around, Alfred looked at them, trying to compare how they died to illnesses of Earth.

All of them had obvious ways of showing how they died. Some had warts showing syphilis, others had no symptoms that showed and must have died from a disease internally. A random disease or illness he had no clue about, or some std. None were good, or what he wanted. Maybe he may get people ill, but chances are they would die in a couple of years’ time from any illness.

Walking around, my eyes landed on one. Rashes over its neck. Pulling a knife from his back, Alfred cut open the person’s shirt and revealed their stomach. His eyes squinted, seeing the recognisable pattern over the man’s chest and stomach.

’Typhoid Fever.’Alfred’s lips curled. It was one of the killers during the medical age in his last world, but he didn’t know it from there. He was a man who travelled the world in his old life, teaching those who couldn’t afford to get an education. He may have never had it himself, but he was around long enough to see someone else get it.

He knew how deadly it could be if left untreated. Even if it wasn’t deadly, the amount of discomfort someone would get just by having it was enough. "Charles." Alfred called his name again, "Would a fort like Malbork have its water source?"

"Of course. There would be no point if it couldn’t do that."

"Perfect." Alfred grabbed the body’s arm and held it up for Charles. "Do you think you could get this guy in the water source?"

"Alfred?" Charles was so stunned by the question that he forgot to address Alfred with his title. "I thought the plan was to launch dead bodies using trebuchets."

"It is. Just not this one. The thing is, this guy died off, which is so much better than contaminating their water." Alfred looked back at the body with a child-like grin, "In a few, we could have the gates opened for us if we do this."

Charles felt horrified by how easily Alfred spoke about it. He wanted to say something about the plan. How crazy it was. How inhumane. But he couldn’t. There would be no point. Alfred was already set on making Snowid’s life a misery now.

"Alfred." Despite how he felt, there was one thing he had to ask. "Will this hurt the people afterwards?"

Alfred looked at him and shrugged. "Probably not. I’ll deal with it." Charles took a deep breath. It wasn’t the answer he wanted. He just hoped that even in the state of mind Alfred was in, he still planned ahead.

"We should be able to sneak in. But we need Henryk. He would know Malbrok best." Alfred smiled.

"Have this body preserved. We need to get this done soon." Charles nodded and bowed, and Alfred got up and closed the gate. Going to a nearby fire, he stripped and threw the clothes inside it. Everyone shot him weird looks, but said nothing. They didn’t know what it was about him, but he always made sure his men followed weird orders whenever Alfred mentioned corpses.

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"Another batch is coming," someone shouted to Michael as he saw a group of people crossing the river with the help of Ammary soldiers. He frowned seeing them but didn’t refuse to help. He could tell what Williams’ plan was: to overload him and his army with refugees.

Michael clicked his tongue. He couldn’t reject them. If he did, what kind of message did it send? The Church only helps people when it doesn’t pose a hindrance to itself. That wasn’t what the church was. That wasn’t goodness.

"We can’t keep accepting them," Agust said coldly, watching the peasants cross the river. A slight disgust was in his voice as he saw the Templar help them over to the camp to dry up.

"Isn’t your king waiting for you, Duke?" Michael’s displeasure was also obvious in his voice. He tried to keep his emotions in check at all times, but to him, August was what was wrong with humanity—a vile pest on the world.

"He can lead from there, I will lead from here. I already sent him some of my men." August looked across the river. The Ammary soldier watched them like predators in the night, waiting for them to turn their backs. "Back to my point. We can’t keep accepting them."

"You would abandon your own people? They are running to use for a reason." Michael said, full of righteousness, making August scoff.

"The Empire is sending them. Whatever is happening is being caused by them. It’s all a plan. Overload us with mouths to feed and attack whilst we are starving." Michael knew Agust was telling the truth, but he couldn’t stop it despite that. If he did, then how was he any better than his enemies? August saw the conflict in Michael and shook his head in disgust. "This is the problem with you lot at the church. Your self-righteousness gets in the way of making tough choices. Just stop them. Maybe they might die, but it shouldn’t worry you. After all, how many have you killed, Michael?" August said mockingly. Peeking at Michael from the corner of his eye.

The old man’s face was dark, but taking a deep breath, he calmed himself down and chuckled. "I am a hypocrite, but I am very glad I am not you, Duke. You view the world with such a cynical view. It must be incredibly sad."

"I’m a realist. Nothing matters more than my family. I will do what it takes to see them rise, even if it’s distasteful."

"Touch the refugees and I will excommunicate you, Duke. You forget I have this power." Michael stared coldly into August’s vile eyes. August was tempted to say something, but held his tongue. He knew Michael wasn’t bluffing. Despite fighting the same enemy, the two were in no way allies, only people who wouldn’t kill each other.

"I will cut how much they eat until I can find somewhere to put them. That much should be enough."

Michela paused and nodded. "I have the church behind me. I will look to Chent for food imports. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of asking you to pitch in." August laughed, watching Michael’s back disappear before looking back across the river at the Ammary soldiers who hadn’t moved.

"Righteous Sword. What a hypocrite." August chuckled to himself and watched the refugees eating small meals they had been handed.