The Doctor and the Swan

Far away from any inhabited settlement, a tall, dark figure stalked into the woods, wearing what looked like thick black robes, covering his whole face, gloves over his hands, and heavy boots over his feet. However, the main feature of his appearance was the long, tapered bird-billed mask that completely covered his face except for his eyes, which were cold and emotionless.

The mask of the plague doctor.

It was a figure that, since time immemorial, had walked on the Earth, moving constantly from one place to another, looking for new ingredients for his own moisturizers and guinea pigs to test them upon.

In some places, he was remembered fondly, as a kind, generous man whose appearance had helped save many lives; in others, he was hated and despised because of the experiments he had performed on rats, pigs, and small animals. In some places he was respected and recognized as a scholar and a sage superior to all others; in others he was considered a charlatan, and the few who remembered him spoke of him with derision. Sometimes he was regarded as a saint; sometimes he was considered a monster, a madman, and a heretic who experimented on children and old men and condemned men to a fate worse than death itself.

And wherever he had passed, one thing had never changed: his mission to create medicines and vaccines, in the hope that, one day, one of them might be the ultimate cure to combat and eradicate the 'pestilence' that lurked in equal measure in the filth of the streets and in the souls of human beings.

The last town he visited was a small seaside village located on the southern border of the kingdom of Cymdros, famous for its fishing, sheep, and the implants for their processing. Here, he stayed for about two months, renting a small waterfront premises (as usual, using a fictitious name and identity) and converting it back to a pharmacy. He had quickly built up his own small business, which, in addition to providing him with funds and cover, had enabled him to continue his medical experiments undisturbed, mixing new compounds and medicines and adding local ingredients to produce decoctions, serums, and potions, which from time to time, he administered to unsuspecting townspeople.

For the first month, nothing had gone wrong. Having overcome the initial difficulties, he had managed to fit into the town's social fabric (to remain, from the locals' point of view, a weird and creepy-looking character), had built up a decent reputation, and the new results of his experiments had been promising, to the point that he decided to carry out a larger and more decisive test by pouring his most promising new compound into the town well so that all the inhabitants who drank from it could serve as guinea pigs.

Once again, however, fate and overconfidence had sanctioned his downfall.

Two days, and the first symptoms occurred. A week, and all who had drunk the water were feverish, reduced to shadows of their former selves, aggressive and threatening against every other human. Two weeks, and the local governor had to request that Cymdros send troops to stabilize the situation and impose a strict quarantine to understand what calamity might have befallen their once splendid city.

And fate had been so adverse this time that news of the disaster had reached their ears, and so he had to flee again, even before Cymdros' soldiers raided his pharmacy and found the remains of his 'experiments' encased in the backroom.

So, this is why he was once again on the run, looking for a new place to set up as his temporary residence and workshop, new stocks of ingredients to refill the ones he lost, and new living creatures he could test his own 'creation' onto. The idea of being far away from any living soul didn't' seem to weigh on his mind, but rather, it had a soothing, almost relaxing effect: the less he had to deal with those pesky small kings of the region, the better.

It would take another thousand years before a powerful organization, built to preserve humanity's innocence and safeguard its existence from the shadows by containing anything they would see as 'abnormal,' would appear, and the traveling being would become one of their main prisoners, one among countless other creatures and objects in their prisons.

He had many names, so many and variegated that no men, with standard mental abilities and skill given to humans, could ever hope to remember them. Yet, for the sake of brevity, and in tribute to the brave men and women who would later end up becoming (unwittingly) some of the most relevant and vivid memories he had, we will call him by the name he would be given one thousand years from now.

For he was SCP 49, and he would later become one of the most notorious individuals among the 'anomalies' of the SCP Foundation.

"Looks like the night started off well." The tall, dark figure with the bird-like appendage said with satisfaction, using a short knife to cut off a few bright yellow flowers and pouring them into one of his pockets. "These new ingredients will give me more than enough options to try a few more concoctions. Thus—"

The doctor stopped suddenly, his senses becoming alert, as he heard human voices in the distance. Humans… here? Who was on his path? Were they adventurers or regular travelers? Would they be people he could dare to approach, either to ask for information or to trade with for new ingredients or equipment? Or perhaps they were soldiers, and could they end up revealing his position too soon?

The dark figure moved silently, careful whenever he moved his next feet, as he proceeded in the direction where he had heard the voices come from. After a few minutes, a singular scene appeared in front of him.

On the shore of a large lake, filled with crystalline water, the remains of a large stone palace loomed skyward. The palace was semicircular in shape and consisted almost entirely of a large arcade, similar in some ways to an ancient aqueduct of the Romans. Two structures mainly stood out to the eyes: on the left, a large circular tower, with a small stone staircase connected to the wall and giving any visitors direct access to the top floor; on the other hand, in the center of the building stood another tower, even taller and more majestic than the other, composed of several parallelepipeds stacked on top of each other, with an identical but smaller tower connected to it by a small arch, also made of stone. Finally, a long flight of steps, also made of stone, led down to the lake, indicating that it must once have served to allow small boats to dock for recreational purposes.

While still awe-inspiring, the fortress showed evident signs of abrasion and decay, with many trees and other plants growing wildly around it and without care, a clear hint that the whole building had been abandoned for a long time and left empty.

49 had seen many buildings in his long life, many having belonged once to powerful kings and nobles, others to long-forgotten kingdoms and dynasties, who once stood strong and vibrant as many nations of the present did. Yet not, nothing was left of their past greatness, except their ruins, to teach any would-be traveler that were to pass nearby and gaze upon its once-mighty walls that no dynasty, no household, no kingdom, and no nation would exist forever.

On the side of the lake, two humans stood in sight. One was a barrel-chested, balding redheaded man with a handlebar mustache, dressed in a dark dress with a pitch-black cape covering his shoulders and his back, while the other was an old hag, whose hair was tied on both sides of the head. And from their bodies, 49 could clearly smell the repulsive stench… of the Pestilence.

Good heavens. It's worse than I thought. Like wildfire, it spreads.

In front of them, swimming in the crystalline water of the lake, was a beautiful swan with brilliant white feathers, the tips of its wings glinted with a silverish look, and it had a patch of yellow shone on top of its head, like the sun itself had kissed it. For some reason, the swan seemed much more noticeable than the two humans.

The man stood silently, yet threateningly, as he watched the swan, while the old hag began to toss breadcrumbs into the water, obviously for the swan. Perhaps some kind of prized animal, or maybe—

"Now, don't let my little spell make you sad, Odette." The man said, apparently 'talking' to the swan. "It doesn't even last the whole day. As soon as the moon comes up…"

As he pointed toward the moon, the swan turned its head, looking at it and then back at its reflection in the water. And then, an instant after the swan's silverish wings came in contact with the moon's light, a golden circle seemed to appear around the animal, the water swirling around it for a full minute, as the swan was instantly replaced by a young, beautiful woman with long blonde hair and a white-and-blue dress.

49 said nothing, yet his eyes widened in realization behind his mask. While he considered himself a man of science above everything else, he was more than knowledgeable enough to recognize a magic spell when he saw one. And he was smart enough to realize that the young woman hadn't been turned into a swan by her own free will.

"…and that's how it works," the man finished. "Every night. You'll have to be on the lake, of course, and when the moonlight touches your wings—

'Odette' stuttered visibly, glancing back at the man with an indignant look. The hag, so far, hadn't said a single word, but her facial expression and body movements were like an open book to someone as smart as 49.

"Now look, Odette." The man assumed a more threatening tone. "This sort of thing doesn't give me any pleasure… Well, maybe a teensy bit. But what I really want is… is your father's kingdom."

"Take it, then!" Odette challenged the wizard. "You have enough power."

"Nah." The wizard scoffed, rejecting the suggestion. "Tried that already. Once you steal something, you spend your whole life trying to keep it. While I may have more than enough power to conquer the capital, doing that would only push every noble and wannabe pretender against me. That's the problem when you kill a king: you set up a dangerous precedent. But—"

The wizard suddenly did something with his hand, a strange glow appearing on his gloves as Odette's dress was replaced by a nuptial one, the old hag now wearing a bright red and pink handmaiden dress with a bouquet of purple roses in her right hand, the scenery surrounding them changing to now resemble a luxurious and well-illuminated throne room, several people looking at them with smiles before kneeling down.

And yet, 49 could clearly tell it was nothing more than an illusion, a holographic representation of a reality that wasn't true.

"If I married the only heir to the throne," the wizard continued, putting a small crown on his head. "We'll rule your father's kingdom together, legally. King and queen. You know."

So, he kidnapped a princess… and turned her into a swan… just to blackmail her into marrying him so he can 'legitimately' take the throne? That's got to be the worst evil plan in the whole story of evil plans.

"Never!"

The illusion the wizard had created to depict the twisted wedding dropped as Odette rejected it, as he tried to walk away.

"Where are you going?" The wizard asked mockingly. "As soon as the moonlight leaves the lake, you turn back into a swan… no matter where you are."

Odette began to weep, while 49, having heard enough, retreated to safety, careful not to betray his own presence or risk facing the wizard at this time. While it wouldn't be the first time he fought a magic user, he didn't know enough about the kind of magic he used to attempt a confrontation at this point.

So, the guy with the ugly moustache was some kind of evil wizard, perhaps a warlock; the hag was his assistant, or more generically, a helper, while Odette was the daughter of some king, thus a princess. The wizard had kidnapped her and cursed her to become a swan just so he could torture her psychologically to force her to marry him in some kind of half-baked attempt to take over her kingdom.

The only thing worse than how lame and unrealistic such a plan sounds is that it's not the first time I've heard of some ambitious noble attempting such a scheme, 49 thought, resisting the impulse to groan.

A part of him hurried to the dark pharmacist to keep going, to forget the castle and the poor 'swan princess' who the wizards had taken hostage. This wasn't his business after all, and there was no reason for him to get involved without something tangible he could earn in return.

And yet—

49 turned his head once again, looking in Odette's direction. There was something in her that made him hesitate, stopping him from leaving, as the wind carried her weeping to the hiding spot 49 currently lay. And if her jailer was a wizard, then perhaps—

"Well, well, well, it seems like my initial assertion was correct." 49 mused as countless plans and opportunities began to form in front of him. "This night DOES favor me…"