The Steam Age: Gears and Bones

Chapter 13 Holy Romulus

Three days later, they arrived at the Holy Romulus Empire.

This land was once home to the most powerful empire in the Old World—its code remains the cornerstone of the legal systems of all monarchies in the Old World, its architectural style has influenced every city from the Old World to the New World for centuries, and its written records and artifacts are still the lifelong research subject of archaeologists at the Royal Academy of Sciences.

However, its civilization had already declined thousands of years ago with the end of the Age of Gods.

It is now merely a military aristocratic alliance, with the emperor elected by seven electors. It is nominally unified, but internally each harbors its own ambitions.

The long-running war with the Rus Empire had nearly depleted its national strength.

The cruiser entered a port city called Stokana, located in the northeastern corner of the Romulus Empire, less than two hundred kilometers from the border of Rus.

When Perfit looked out from the bridge, her first glance brought her a slight sense of relief, but her second glance made her lips tighten.

The port is closed.

There were at least three barriers outside the dock, the outermost one being barbed wire.

Quarantine officers, dressed in full protective gear—covered from head to toe in thick canvas and leather—are taking temperatures and conducting skin checks on everyone entering the port at the entrance to the quarantine area.

Further out on the dock, Perfitt saw steam billowing from an entire requisitioned warehouse. It was a disinfection station.

The Romulus people at least took this matter seriously.

But once she disembarked and entered the port quarantine station, that feeling of relief quickly vanished.

The head of the quarantine station was an elderly military doctor with a gray beard. He was very polite to Perfit and even took her on a tour of the port's quarantine facilities.

He showed her how they treated the wounded evacuated from Ross in the quarantine zone, how they disinfected clothing by soaking it in vinegar and lime water, and how they used branding irons to burn the wounds of soldiers who had been bitten to stop the bleeding.

"A branding iron." Perfit stood at the door of the processing room, watching a medic pull a red-hot iron bar out of the furnace.

"This is the most reliable method," the old medic explained, his tone carrying the certainty of an old-school soldier. "High temperatures can burn anything unclean to death."

“Stopping the bleeding is certainly possible, but have you considered disinfecting the instruments and the environment?” Perfit turned to look at him. “The sheets, surgical instruments, and even the floor of this treatment room that the infected person has been in contact with—these could all contain traces of infection.”

The old military doctor paused for a moment, then shook his head: "We can only clean the equipment with hot water and soap, and mop the floor with vinegar water. That's all we can do."

Supplies have been scarce since the start of the war; priority is given to the front lines, while we in the rear have to make do.

Perfitter paused for a few seconds, then took out a small notebook from his pocket, tore off a page, and quickly wrote a few lines on it with the pencil he always carried.

She handed the paper to the old army doctor: "This is the recipe for hydrogen peroxide. The ingredients can be found in any alchemy workshop. It works much better than vinegar water for wiping instruments and floors."

Additionally, if high-proof alcohol—at least 75% purified—is available, it can be used to soak instruments; high-proof alcohol is also very effective at cleaning.

The old military doctor took the paper, looked it over carefully, then looked up at her with an expression that was a mixture of gratitude and confusion in his eyes.

He seemed to want to ask why a noblewoman from Victoria would know so much about disinfection, but in the end he simply folded the paper carefully and put it into his breast pocket.

"Thank you, miss," he said. "I will do as you say."

Perfit didn't say anything more.

After leaving the quarantine station, she opened her notebook and added another line to her previous notes: Romulus Port Quarantine – There is awareness of isolation and basic protective procedures, but the disinfection methods are primitive; there is no standardized infection control process; no effective disinfection measures have been taken for the environment and equipment, posing a systemic risk.

That evening, as she was preparing to return to the cruiser, a dispute suddenly broke out at the entrance of the port quarantine station.

She turned her head and saw the quarantine officer stopping a man—a tall, upright young officer in the uniform of the Romulus Empire.

Behind him followed a squad of fully armed knights, each wearing dark gray armor with the Romulus eagle emblem engraved on their breastplates.

"I am a major in the 7th Cavalry Division of the Empire. I have urgent military duties and need to go to the northern front. My travel documents are here." The young officer's voice was calm and firm.

"I don't care how high your rank is, everyone leaving the port must go through quarantine first." The quarantine officer stood firm.

Perfit observed from a distance for a few seconds before turning his gaze to the knights behind him.

Her gaze lingered for a moment on the insignia etched on their gray armor. It wasn't the emblem of an ordinary cavalry division.

It was an image of an eagle's talon grasping a lightning bolt, surrounded by a wreath of oak leaves.

She had seen the emblem in the archaeological archives of the Royal Society.

This is a rather ancient family crest, and if its history is traced back, it can be traced back to at least the end of the mythical era—that family once produced more than one elector.

In the Holy Romulus, such a lineage meant that a single word from him carried more weight than the division of an ordinary major.

She walked over.

"Major, if you are going to the northern front, we can give you a ride. We are an expedition from the Victorian Empire, and our destination is near Saint Petersburg in the Ross Empire—not far from the front."

The young officer turned around.

Only then did Perfit get a clear look at his face—about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, blond, with strong facial features, and a weariness deep in his eyes that only a veteran could have.

"A Viktorian?" He looked Perfit up and down, his gaze lingering on the Royal Chartered Alchemist's badge on her chest. "You're going to Ross just to investigate the Blight?"

"Yes."

The young officer was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled. There was no joy in that smile, only a sense of relief that had been suppressed for a long time and had finally found a way out.

“My father was the commander of the Northern Army,” he said. “Last month he wrote to me from the front, saying that what the Rus’ were using on the battlefield was no longer any known weapon. He called it ‘the immortal soldier.’”

I sent him three emails, but received no reply.

Two days ago I finally received the telegram—his legion had been besieged at the border for two whole weeks, suffering more than a third of its losses. It was out of control. I had to go to him.

He paused for a moment, then looked into Perfit's eyes.

"My name is Ludwig von Oberstan. If you can take me to the front lines, my knight and I are willing to go with you to investigate."

Perfit looked at him and the knight behind him for a few seconds, then reached out his hand.

"make a deal."