Rider's Dispatch Number 46

Greetings, My Lord, from the men of the 13th Company. I bring to you dismal news from the Kingdom of Belgium. A mysterious bacterium has taken hold of the land, ravaging the population. Despite the efforts of the local physicians, the contagion could not be contained. We are riding now West to find a vessel on the north coast and possibly solace in the marshlands. The sickness has affected all ages and classes, sparing none. The death toll rises with each passing day, and on death, the dead seem to stiffen. Wounds and boils such that I have only seen from scalds or burns coat the body of the person, before they launch back to a half-life. It gives me no pleasure to attempt to transmit in writing what sounds fanciful or foolish had I not seen it with my own eyes. Once alive again, these devilish corpses take chase in an attempt to attack and subdue the healthy until they too are turned into ghastly devils. We do not know the name or nature of these creatures except that they possess a furious, ravaging hunger. The Belgian army, already engaged in the ongoing conflict with the French, is unable to provide aid or succor to the afflicted masses. We have ridden through more than a score of towns and villages. The people are gripped by fear and despair, and many have fled the cities in search of refuge. The structure and economy of the nation are in shambles, and it is uncertain what the future holds for both Belgium and France. Few bridges or roads remain untouched by danger and I know there may be little chance of this ever making its way back to friendly shores. Should it, I pray that this information provides you better comfort than I, and that early notice may enable measures be taken to halt the spread of this terrible malady. Our best advice is and remains to close the ports at once in order to best attempt a stay on the spread of the bacterium. I remain, My Lord, Yours in service, William Howe De Lancey