Dear Lucien Crowley,

                                        Somehow, I failed to acknowledge all of the things that has been happening at the palace during the night of the banquet that the Count celebrated despite being bedridden. Jumbled fragments of memories continued to fuss me all these three years, I can't seem to comprehend what really happened that fateful night. I remembered checking on the Count after he attempted to attend the masquerade, red eyes and snotty nose and all, before leaving. I remember the Countess confiding in me, and telling me to let go of my duties that night to enjoy and take a break. Quite knowing myself, I knew that I probably shoved that advice aside.

Meanwhile, I can also remember that I didn't attend the masquerade. I can feel it tugging at the back of my mind, yet I can't properly comprehend all of these. Confusion kept me up all night, all these years. I know not what happened before The Count died, whilst I often relied on my old journals to jog my memory, yet my writings doesn't seem to make sense. As much as I try to remember, headaches were unbearable. Sometimes I would just give up. Three years later, I still remember nothing. I have no recollections about what happened that night. Only fragments and fragments of memories scattered in my head, yet made no sense. I can only remember a few things that night.

Three years felt too long, yet fast. As one of the Doctors of the plague, appointed by the Count, apprentice of Questor Valdemar, one of the most trusted physicians of the palace, I failed the whole city of Vesuvia. I remember Quaestor Valdemar and I knew what this plague was, yet they would often excuse that we needed to test more specimen to determine what causes this plague, whether or not it is possible to spread this through simple contact, etc. That's all the I can recall about the plague and nothing else. After the Count's death, the plague came to a halt. Just like that.

I remember my friend Doctor Julian Devorak, I know nothing about his whereabouts. All I knew is that he escaped after he was declared to be executed via the gallows. Knowing him for a whole lot of years after studying with him in Prakra, he is melodramatic. He would make the most mundane objects into an object of entertainment, of drama. But an accusation of murder was no mundane. Ilya is a good actor, but I can never imagine him fulfilling an actual role of a murderer.

Yes I know he steals, he scams, he lies, but murder? The Count of all people? I think not. But knowing Julian's unpredictable nature, I can't be too sure. Now that I think about, he often subjects himself into things he did not do. I vividly remember that time when I cheated a test in Prakra. I was desperate to pass and earn a license, but I was too busy tending to the death of my older brother Dionysus, arranging his legal documents that I had no time to study. Then examinations came, then the computation of grades. That's when they noticed my points were too high despite not studying. Then there stepped Julian, who dramatically proclaimed to the whole faculty and class that it was he who cheated. He got suspended for a month after that. The fact that he doesn't have a license because of a bad record of something he didn't commit made me uneasy.

Oh Julian... Wherever you are, hopefully you're not causing troubles for yourself. And for your sake, please don't return to Vesuvia.

Countess Nadia has been asleep for three years now. No signs of any illness, as Doctor Satrinava suggested. Just by looking at her make my mentality crumble. Failing her was the worst mistake I made. She trusted me, confided in me about the things that she has never spoken to anyone before, she counted on me... And yet I let her down. Portia insists that the Countess would surely forgive. As much as it sounds reassuring, I can't help but to be guilty. Even if I already failed her, I am still failing her at this moment as the Court ran Vesuvia to the ground.

Portia stood by my side as we took care of my lady Nadia. For a licensed Doctor, I feel ashamed that I didn't knew what to do under these situation. I have been a doctor for almost ten years, surviving two wars assisting Count Lucio's army, surviving the Red plague... I sometimes wished that I too died during the plague. Yet here I am, unscathed, but useless. Portia already lectured me about this trait of mine, but I can't help but to just wish that I was dead. Dead with the other people I failed during those dark times, where they called for help yet I was too busy tending to the Count. I regret serving that coward Lucio. I regret not helping those people who are dropping dead like flies outside of the palace with no chance of survival.

The abandoned island of Lazaret has been a monument of Vesuvia's failure. My failure. A monument to be seen within a distant, yet I knew exactly what happened there. I have never wanted to go there during those times of the plague, yet I was needed there. The screams of anguish of those unfortunate still haunts me to this day.

I met a good fellow yesterday. His pet snake named Faust seemed to have snuck into my bag as I was on my way to the palace to watch the Countess. I felt a small sense of familiarity, yet I can't seem to remember him. Faust was must've also felt familiar by me as she was slithering onto me like an old companion. Eventually, we had to part ways. I hope I get to meet him again. And once I reached the palace, there she was.

I probably should cut this short, it's getting long. Be sure to seal your envelope properly, Lucien. The last letter I received from you two weeks ago was improperly sealed.

Yours dearly,
B. Dynara