A plague was tearing through the temple, and Set-mena certainly wasn't affected. Nope.
He definitely hadn't noticed a rash across his upper back. And he certainly didn't have a fever. He wasn't sick.
He certainly didn't need to be quarantined.
So he was hiding his symptoms, keeping himself fully covered at all times and being careful not to show signs of being sick. He kept a flask of water with him at all times, and tried not to talk too much to others.
Was it irresponsible? Maybe. Did he want to be stuck in a room with other sick people until the priests and priestesses figured out a cure? Not a chance.
He stood at his post, trying to ignore the itching on his back. His cheeks were somewhat flushed, but he was standing tall and desperately trying to appear the solemn guard he was supposed to be.
And then he felt the queasiness in his stomach rising. His brows furrowed. Crap.