Chapter 74

On the day the Moluccas fell, a great fire burned half the sky, hot wind and kerosene fiercely entangled above the rooftops, and everywhere were terrified screams and the wails of the militia before their deaths. The air was not only filled with the pungent smell of burning cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon, but also the scorching smell of burning flesh. The two combined, strangely nauseating, but Gerard walked through the streets—or rather, the ruins of the streets—expressionlessly, giving orders…