Serena sat upright, the candlelight flickering against the spine of her book. The room was quiet, the air thick with the scent of incense and aged paper, when a soft voice called out.
"Your grace, can I come in?"
"Yes," she said, marking her page.
The flap opened, and in stepped a girl with warm brown hair braided neatly over one shoulder and sharp green eyes that seemed to gleam even in the dimly lit tent.
"Greetings, Dowager Duchess," she said with a respectful bow.
Serena's gaze narrowed slightly. "Who are you?"
"I'm an apothecary," the girl replied. "I heard you're looking for someone named Charles."
Though her posture remained composed, Serena couldn't hide the brief flicker in her expression. "What of it?"
"I know him," the girl said simply. "My name is Catherine. Charles is my uncle."
Serena blinked, genuinely taken aback. "Your uncle?"
Catherine nodded, stepping forward. "Yes, my paternal uncle. He raised me after my parents fell ill. He studied at Serenleaf Academy—a prestigious medical institution—and became a licensed physician. But misfortune followed soon after."
Serena tapped her fingers against her desk. "Go on."
"My father became sick shortly after my uncle's graduation," Catherine continued, her voice soft with memory. "The symptoms were exactly the ones we're seeing now—high fever, shortness of breath, weakness. My uncle tried everything to save him, but my father passed. Not long after, my mother showed the same signs."
Catherine paused, her hands clenching at her sides. "Fearing the worst, my uncle began isolating her and took me to stay with him. He practiced strict precautions, always wearing a protective mask and changing his clothes before and after every visit to her. He studied day and night, desperate to understand the disease."
Serena listened intently, her heart heavy.
"He eventually identified it as a strain of influenza. He discovered it had once ravaged the East Kingdom of Ruderian decades ago. Using old books and his own trials, he developed a treatment. He compiled his knowledge into a book and managed to publish it, hoping it would help others before it was too late."
Catherine's voice faltered. "A week after the book's release… he died."
There was a long silence in the room before Serena finally spoke, her voice hushed. "I'm sorry. He must've been a brave and brilliant man."
Catherine nodded with a faint, bittersweet smile. "He was. And I've continued the same path. That's why… I came. I want to help."
Serena stood and gently patted Catherine's shoulder, her voice warm but firm. "Let's see how many lives we can save, together."
With the weight of the revelation still fresh in her heart, she wasted no time. Serena called Lucas and Lucia into her tent, explaining everything Catherine had told her. Both siblings listened intently—Lucas with his arms crossed, deep in thought, and Lucia with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.
"We finally have something," Serena said, holding up the book. "Elderberries—they're not rare, and if we move quickly, we can gather enough."
Without delay, a coordinated effort began across the Duchy. Local foragers and herbalists scoured the nearby forests and markets. Elderberries—dark, purplish-black clusters—were found in abundance near the riverbanks and woodland edges.
Apothecaries were carefully chosen from among the most trusted, and under Serena's guidance and using Charles' notes, they began producing the elderberry syrup. The process was meticulous: simmering the berries with water, honey, and a blend of herbs to strengthen the immune system. The air around the makeshift apothecary tents was soon filled with the earthy aroma of boiling fruit and herbs.
Lucas oversaw distribution logistics, setting up designated areas in the medical camp for syrup administration. Lucia, tireless as ever, helped calm the sick, offering words of encouragement and gently administering doses.
It was the first flicker of hope the Duchy had seen in weeks.
The news of the elderberry treatment quickly reached the empire, carried by whispers of hope and official reports alike. Before long, a sealed letter bearing the imperial crest arrived at Selwyn Duchy. Its contents were brief but clear—the palace had heard of the developments and demanded more information.
Lucas sat in his study, the letter in hand, deep in thought. Serena entered quietly, her steps soft against the wooden floor.
"Mother," Lucas began, still staring at the letter. "Are you sure you want to give the treatment away so freely? The empire is asking questions. Once they confirm it works, they may take credit for it or even try to control the supply."
Serena met his eyes, her own gaze steady, calm, and resolute. "There is no need for hostility over a treatment, Lucas," she said gently. "This isn't a weapon to hoard—it's a lifeline. The epidemic won't subside by politics or pride. And I won't stand by while innocent people suffer, whether they live under our roofs or beyond our gates."
Lucas slowly nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. Her words were firm, but they carried a warmth that couldn't be denied.
"Very well," he said. "We'll prepare a report for the empire—but on our terms."