Chapter 2: Plague City

Meanwhile, far to the west, there was a city that was once grand and prosperous. It was a city that had once been one of the three mightiest cities in the known world. It was the city of Ardougne. But when the last king died, however, his two sons split the city in two, creating East Ardougne and West Ardougne. Years later, the brother who ruled West Ardougne, King Tyras, went out on a crusade against the elves of Priffdinas. Thru ought the campaign, Tyras only ever returned once, then went back to fight. But that one visit had been enough. A mysterious disease was left behind as Tyras and his men returned to war, a disease which soon transformed into a raging plague which ravaged all of West Ardougne. In a bid to stop this plague from spreading, King Lathas, brother of Tyras, erected a wall to separate the western half of the city from the rest of the world. Everyday since, the groans of the sick and dying could be heard from miles away.

The only ones who could help the people of West Ardougne were the mourners, mysterious men in bio-hazard suits sent by King Lathas. There's was the duty to bury the dead and give comfort to the living. This is the story of one of those mourners...

A man dressed in a brown bio-hazard suit and carrying a staff and a large cowbell made his way through the muddy, crumbling streets of the once-proud western sector of Ardougne. Following him was another mourner, carrying a heavy cart filled with corpses.

"Bring out your dead!" the mourner shouted as he walked down the street, banging the cow bell with his staff with each repetition of the phrase. "Bring out your dead!"

A small group of weeping people carrying the bodies of a newly deceased loved one approached and deposit the body onto the cart then paid the mourners a small fee for his service. The mourners carried on.

"Bring out your dead!" the mourner continued to cry out with another bang of his bell. "Bring out your dead!"

Another man approached with a corpse slung over his back. However, there was something odd about this new piece of baggage.

First off, the man was dressed in fine clothes, much finer than what anyone in West Ardougne had anymore. Secondly, the corpse bore a remarkable resemblance to King Lathas himself. Thirdly, the body had a crown on its head. Finally, the body appeared to still be breathing.

"Here you go Bob, nine gold," the man with the body said as he approached the lead mourner, nine gold coins glittering in the palm of his outstretched hand.

"I'm not dead!" the body slung over the man's back suddenly croaked.

"What?" the mourner asked in surprise.

"Oh, nothing," the man replied evasively, "Here's your nine gold."

"I'm not dead!" the body said again.

"Hey there! He's not dead!" the mourner exclaimed.

"Oh, he will be," the man assured, "He's very old."

I'm King Lathas!" the body declared, "Let me go! I'm fine!"

"No you aren't, you'll be stone dead in a moment," the man replied.

"I can't take him," the mourner said with a shake of his head.

"Oh, come on; do us all a favor," the man insisted.

"It's against regulations," the mourner answered somewhat sadly.

"I think I'll go for a walk!" King Lathas whined pitifully.

"You're not foolin' anyone, you know," the man snapped.

"I can't take him," the mourner repeated.

"Oh, just wait a few moments," the man pressed, "He won't take long."

"No, I can't," the mourner answered sadly, "I've got to get to the Robinsons. They lost nine this morning."

"When's your next round?" the man questioned.

"Thursday."

"I feel at ease!" Lathas began to moan incessantly, "I feel at ease! I feel at ease! I feel at ease...."

After about half a minute of this, the mourner and the man looked around to make sure that nobody was watching. Once they were sure that it was safe, the mourner proceeded to smack Lathas over the head until the unfortunate king's neck was snapped.

"Thank you very much," the man said as he dumped his load onto the cart, then paid the mourner.

At that moment, King Arthur and Patsy suddenly "rode" past!

"All we had to do was go around the castle, sir!" Patsy said, "How did we get so lost?"

"Oh, shut up!" Arthur snapped. "This is all your fault anyway. After all, you're the one who somehow managed to get the Sandwich Lady mad at the both of us!"

"It's not my fault that she's so sensitive," Patsy muttered as the pair rode on out of ear-shot.

"Who was that?" the man asked.

"I dunno..." the mourner thought for a moment, then said, "Must be a king."

"How do you know that?"

"He doesn't got poo all over him."

To Be Continued...