Immediately, Dirmit's heart welled up with strong confidence, if there was anyone who could solve the problem of the Black Death at this time, it was the mysterious Count Eugen.

To this day, Dirmit remembers what Eugen had said to him when he left that day, when Eugen had said that he would return as soon as possible and resume his role as commander of the Disaster Relief Army.

Now, as expected, less than two months later, Eugen returned.

Dimit's heart lit with hope, his mind also turned active, and after thinking about it, he immediately ordered the guards waiting next to him: "Immediately post a notice in the city to inform the citizens of the transmission of the disease, so that they can avoid crowded places as much as possible, and all leave the city to go to the surrounding countryside, or simply live in the wilderness." ”

At the moment, most of the people here do not understand the situation of the disease, and many people think that if they come to the city and stay with their noble lords, the lords will be able to help them solve this disaster.

It's a kind of trust that doesn't make sense, and what Dimit has to do now is to get the ordinary citizens to change their minds and live not on anyone else, but on their own strength.

Florence will still fall, and it is only a matter of time before the disease spreads, and the only thing left to do now is to evacuate the crowd as quickly as possible to prevent more people from contracting it.

As the intelligence officer of the Medici family, Dirmit knew very well that most of the nobles in the family who originally lived in Florence had already evacuated, and most of the people who remained here were ordinary butlers and guards.

This is the world of the aristocracy, and as long as there is a way out, then they will never pay any terrible price for it.

The same is true of the big names in the Holy See, including the Pope, who had vowed to live and die with Rome, who was also 'knocked unconscious' by his followers and taken away from Rome a few days before the disease broke through the defenses.

Therefore, the real big man who died of illness seems to be the only one who is the Minister of Defense of the Empire, which is a little helpless to say, but this is the reality.

Dimit had dealt with many of the same things for these big men, and he had long been accustomed to them, but that did not prevent him from having respect for figures like the Minister of Defense, and he was also very sympathetic to ordinary people who could not afford to escape.

Although he was a member of the Medici family, he was a commoner, and was later fortunate enough to join the Medici family, where he was given this honorable surname.

However, after all, there are still some traces of his body as a civilian, which are some good, simple virtues.

Although Florence was in danger at the moment, he still did not choose to leave immediately, but stayed in this place, doing his best to guide those ordinary people and use his own strength to fight against the terrible disease.

However, he was not greedy for merit, and the name of the commander was written on every poster, and only by issuing these announcements in the name of the commander of the anti-disaster army could it produce sufficient results.

Also staying in Florence was an old acquaintance of Eugen, Father Martin Luther.

The priest's robe was no longer as bright as it used to be, and it was covered with dirt and dust, which was the mark of these days of hurrying.

His face was covered with dust, his beard was dishevelled around his lips, he hadn't been groomed for days, his hair was disheveled, and there was even a yellow straw stick stuck to it.

In addition to these accidents, the biggest change in him is the pair of 43-yard feet.

His shoes were torn at some point, and at this moment he was wearing a pair of haphazardly woven straw sandals, the white skin was almost invisible, and the surface of his feet had become black and yellow, looking like the feet of an old farmer who had been busy in the fields all his life, and the soles of his feet were a layer of freshly ground blood blisters, as well as some blood stains from the grinding of sand and stone.

This is so because Father Martin Luther walked on his feet all these days.

In the past two months, he used his big feet to travel from Cosenza to Rome, from Rome to Pescara, to San Marino, and finally to Florence, a total of thousands of kilometers in between.

On average, the distance to be walked every day is more than 50 kilometers.

In this case, it makes perfect sense that a pair of feet are ground like this.

Priests are a respected profession, most of them have lived in monasteries since childhood, although they are not pampered, but they are also people who have not experienced any strong winds and waves.

It is hard to imagine how Father Luther, who grew up in such conditions, managed to make it through these journeys, but he did it, not because he didn't have the money to hire a carriage, he just wanted to do it, and he did it.

More than two months later, Father Luther may seem rather miserable on the outside, but what is even more miserable is his soul.

At this moment, the priest's eyes were full of confusion, as if he was a delirious mental patient, and his mouth kept muttering: "Why, why ......"

He carried a bookcase on his back, filled with pages of paper that had been written, as well as some blank notebooks for later use.

He also had a pen and paper in his hand, and whenever he saw a story about indulgences, he would immediately write it down in his notebook and add some comments of his own.

The book is still called the Book of Redemption, but the more it is written, the more confused the priest's eyes become.

In the beginning, most of his comments on these stories were in praise of God, the greatness of indulgences, the merits of redeeming the world, and even if there were occasional problems, he would write hundreds of thousands of words to justify them, and finally attribute the blame for the problems to the user's own ungodliness.

But with the passage of time and the increase of experience, the priest's mind gradually changed somewhat.

He saw, he saw a lot of people cursing about this terrible disease, and he saw a lot of people suffering from the disease, and sometimes the mouths of these people burst out of their mouths with ungodly remarks: that this plague was a curse of God, that indulgences were useless waste paper, and so on.

This made him very angry for a while, but after watching more, Father Luther gradually calmed down and ...... He began to reflect.

Some rebellious, some terrifying thoughts began to grow in his heart, like uncontrolled weeds, and the more he tried to suppress them, the more frantic the thoughts flowed out.

He felt like he had been caught on the shore, and he felt a strong sense of suffocation.