Chapter Fifteen
The ride through the city and up to the Keep was short, the carriages regal decor distracted many and drove even more to move at the drivers behest. Alder thanked the man promptly, introduced himself to the Head Guard and Head Servant, a pair of well tanned men standing near 6 foot and bald. The guard wore intricately designed half-plates over top old chainmail and draped in a fine cloth, while the other wore a similar cloth of beige overtop a pair of dark pants and shirt.
To Alders surprise the Count was actually no longer home, and had apparently left to attend to matters in a nearby village. Alder was shown to his room, which was nearly half the size of the shared quarters he’d just left, and then shown to the library. A single guard and servant were assigned to watch and attend respectively, and thus Alder was sent to work upon his task.
The overall quality of the tomes, scrolls, vellum, snips, and journals were all of incredible heights. Alder even found original scripts referenced in later works by lesser recorders who had searched in vain to find it. To think that it had possibly been within these very walls all along was something that he found both amusing and horrifying. Thankfully both his sudden onset of anxiety and overaching fawning over the contents before him eventually gave way to genuine interest in certain areas.
Alder first set about assembling a pile of relevant materials that he found would be useful in his search. Only materials he could use for reference should the need arise, as often it would. These he browsed just long enough to confirm some sort of authenticity and accuracy before adding to the growing stack. With a satisfying amount of options and selected works, he next set about amassing the next stack and the one he knew would be the most difficult.
He asked the servant if there was a librarian available to assist, but was informed that the location had been curated by the Counts family independently for generations. That didn’t exactly give him much in the way of assistance until the Count returned, and there wasn’t any telling of the exact time for that. Instead he made due with what knowledge he could of the goings on around the city and tried to link anything within the myriad of works around back to the task at hand.
It was slower than he’d expected. Most mysteries, if they had answers, could be solved with a healthy amount of skepticism and curiosity, but the affair of the current pseudo-possession was almost unheard of apart from myths and legends. He considered the likelihood that the old stories held some truth behind them but didn’t wish to try it, he’d need to be desperate if he began chasing fables for facts.
Alder sat at the far desk completely immersed in scrawling letters bending their way across the tightly bound scroll. The material was thicker than he’d originally have guessed and felt far more like a hide than the pocked papers of the books. It had been a story, a legend from the desert about strange creatures. When he realised the authors intentions behind the words he leaned back, slumping and resting his head against the high back of the chair.
“Seems you’ve had about as much luck as I have.” Philistine made his way across the library with a single servant in toe, they carried a ovalier tray bearing two plates.
“No, just stories.” Alder said. He stood to greet the man but wound up with a sudden pain in the back causing him to jerk sharply.
“I figured,” He motioned to the servant and a table beside his desk was laid with a small cloth and decorated for two. It wasn’t fancy, in fact the meal seemed almost pauperish in comparison to the tastes of the wealthy, and the cloth seemed only to protect the wood of the tables from these forgien and dangerous objects. “You’d not eaten in some time, and since we’re to be sharing this space it’d do us well to get along.”
“Meals then?” Alder asked. He seated himself across from the count and sipped a dark, steaming liquid from a small cup. On first taste it seemed to be a tea, but it wasn’t one Alder had ever had before. The taste was sharp and citric, but left him with a mellow feeling of warmth.
“It’s only an offer, you needn’t take me up on it if you don’t wish.”
“No!” Alder kicked himself for possibly insulting a noble in his own home. “Thats not-”
The count raised a hand and smiled, “Forgive me, I can be a bit harsher in my words than I mean. Without Elizabeth to temper my attitude and angers well, im afraid I can come off rather stand-offish at times.”
“I shouldn’t have… Thank you. I’ll gladly accept.”
The meal consisted of boiled greens, a fish, and a small roll. It was a librarians regular meal during his days working and researching for their job. It actually surprised him how simple the meal was, but more interesting still was that the Count had pulled a small book from Alders pile and had cracked it open, beginning to read. Alder had already resigned himself to the monotony of idle dinner chat, but instead Philistine was far more interested in the benefits silence offered a working mind. So the meal was eaten in peace, the tea was refilled quietly and eventually the whole table setting was whisked away into the depths of the halls.
“How are things coming along?” The count asked.
“Slowly.” Alder said “more so than I had assumed. Nothing I’ve found so far even so much as references any studies of something that can accomplish this.”
“Surely demonic possession is common, especially in your trade.”
“Common?” Alder scoffed, then immediately corrected his action “No, sadly the work I do is far more safe. I mostly handle the scholarly work. Reading & Writing of a few early languages that were common in the areas I study, but typically nothing so impressive.”
The Count seemed almost disappointed, but instead waved a hand as if to dismiss the thought.
“You’ve never encountered anything in the way of dangerous Arcane arts or Demonic possessions?”
“Well…” in truth Alder had encountered more than a fair share of strange and dangerous events, but each one had left an impression on him in different ways and none were something he’d be willing to share.
“See! You must have something then! Battle mages are exceptionally rare, and ones working fully in the field as a Pere even more so.”
“I don’t-”
“Come now, you can regale me with at least one tale, right?” The Counts face beamed with excitement at the prospect, and under the circumstances Alder felt no power to refuse. So he sighed, set down his work, and did his best to change the subject.
“What have you been working on?”
“What?” He seemed surprised “No no no, you can’t get out of it that easily.”
“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean sir.” Alder feigned the ignorance of a newborn child
“You promised to tell me something of your work! You can’t just ignore that!”
“Of course, and I promise I shall. However, you’ve asked me to share one with you and that also brings with it the prospect of having it be somewhat entertaining aside from simply a dredge into horror. That means I have to choose one. That will take time, and that is something I can’t afford until after the Young Lady is safely resting.”
Count Philistines face went through a range of emotions during his speech. Understanding, shock, anger, and then acceptance, all before finally nodding and giving an exasperated breath.
“Forgive me, with everything going on I find it hard to ignore the possible distractions. Anything is better than the reality I face currently.” He stood then and nodded. “I’ll be working here from time to time, in between my other duties of course. I shall try to make our meals a regular habit as i’d like to stay up to date on your progress.”
“Yes, of course.” Alder stood and did as noble a gesture as he could muster.
When he was nearly out the door, the Count turned back and said “I very much hope I can hear that story Alder, and that you can share it with Elizabeth when you tell it.” then he we was gone and Alder left standing alone in a library feeling slightly guilty at his own tactics.
True to his words, Philistine arrived the next morning to have breakfast. They didn’t talk much, Alder was still far too invested in a series of scrawled accounts from some partially literate farmers, giving their stories of a fire appearing from within an animal and seemingly from nowhere. In fact he didn’t even notice when Philistine left to continue his day. The brief interactions offered Alder a small bit of company after long hours spent reading, interwoven with small amounts of sleep and breaks to keep sane.
Philistine was also Alders only source of interactions for the first few days as it became clear to him quickly that Jeann and the rest of the crew was quite busy elsewhere. Whether that was still gambling away what they earned with surprising ease, or otherwise causing trouble was hardly of any concern. All that it meant was that during the times of his work he would be alone. This had always been the case, as one rarely worked with other Arcanists on the same project unless it required several parts. Something about creative control an instructor had told him once.
With so much of his life dedicated to the monotony of his work, Alder began to crave the small interactions Philistine offered as a welcome distraction from the growing frustration of his task. Each hour that passed seemed to reveal more and more of the picture, and unfortunately it was becoming increasingly clear that the picture heald nothing of relevance. It became a cycle then, Find, Search, Fail, Find, Search, Fail…
“You look terrible.”
Philistines voice ripped Alder from his stupor with such force that he nearly flung himself into the desk. The Count stood in the doorway of the Library once more, followed by a different servant this time, an older man with grey hair and sagging skin, and took his place at his usual seat. The servant follow their pattern rhythmically in turn, placing the contents of the meal tray before each person before hastily retreating back down the halls.
“It’s been an unheartingly slow process so far.” Alder lifted a spoon to the steaming pale broth and felt the warmth fill him even before it crossed his lips. Had it been a full day already? Had he forgotten to eat again? In patient to an answer he knew wouldn’t come, Alder instead returned to the slow process of eating.
“I would Imagine it to be as such. I find it unlikely that the answer would appear so readily after such a short time.”
“Of course, especially given the amount of work you’ve dedicated as well. I suppose I just thought that i’d have something to start on by now, at the least.”
“Well, I’m sure there will come an answer eventually. Though I pray it saves my young daughter in the process.”
The two sat in the silence that only spoken optimism in blinding hopelessness can create. They ate quietly from then on, spare small bits of semiconversations referring to reference materials Alder could draw upon. They weren’t terrible suggestion, but most were ones Alder had already run through, though a few of the more mundane ones he’d overlooked were something on second glance. Still the collection he’d amassed even with the Counts assistance was miniscule, and even that may have been a generous statement, but nevertheless the task would still be waiting and the longer he waited the more annoyed he’d become with it.
It was a week of continuous failure that drove Alder to the waiting pages of the exceptionally poor condition journal, and that was only after he’d exhausted what elements of the mythos he could parse. Even among the wives tales of the area, no one seemed to have come across Elizabeths likeness. The journal offered little, only that the writer was an arcane researcher under the former Count, Philistiens late father, and had subsequently been transferred over once the man had passed.
The documents within, the few that had survived both the years and considerable scroch marks, bore the indications of Royalty along the Notshian Coast, normall associated with the keeps and Nobles of the Jeweled Road. To see the Crowns Sigil attached to something so far from it origins was an evergrowing curiosity, on top of the increasingly deranged scrawlings of pages marked by being nearly torn from their stitchings.
All in all the journal was a far less “reliable” source than Alder had any intention or right to trust, years at the Academy had dulled his mind to the possibilities of anything credible being written by those other than the Researchers, but the Sigils were genuine…
Alder thrust the book out onto the table before him and leaned back, leaning his head back against intertwined fingers. The process had been beyond exhausting, and even less rewarding. If the works took time to decipher, if they offered something of even a close relevance, anything of an inconvenience then perhaps he could justify the stagnation. If he was caught on a word, back checking dates to historical accounts, even checking against paintings! But no. Everything was decipher, all the texts intricately documented, nothing to double check; because there wasn’t anything.
So here he was. At a perverbial edge of academic disaster. Trust the feeling and curiosity, or beat his head against the wall further. Of course his professors would reprimand his lack of commitment after only spending a few days past a week on the project and calling it impossible. “Surely the Gods tasks must have seemed impossible too!” they’d likely chide, falling so far as to trust an unverified account of some raving lunatic in the hopes it may offer some secret answer to all.
In all reality the first few entries were completely sane, introduction to the writer and their various small works throughout the early reign of a prince. Their province was along the Jeweled Road, which explained the Sigils, but the dates marked back a few decades. The details marked them as a Researcher with some promise, but far exceeded by that of a college working on another project in the same field. The works were based on the far less used Abstractions Arcane, the third work of the gods.
The field of study was new at the time, atleast in the area as they clarified, and was being treated as something of great interest. Interest to the right people who could better use it to their “interests”, the situation was complicated and dirty, but the study and work seemed to be functionally safe. The test weren’t anything special either, small feats to test the Abstractions hold on actual matter and physical material. Turned out it was… complicated. Regardless the small bits of understanding that the Consortium and the prince were achieving kept everyone happy and out of the Research teams way.
A year into the work and that college starts going a bit further in their research, morally speaking. Theyre noted as leaving more and more of the dangerous crystals the teams were using, out and around for anyone to interact with. The results were rarely pretty and a few of the other Arcanists started to develop strange illnesses and shifts in their Essence.
The disaster, as the writer put, was expected and only the work to consistently delay the chances had held it back so long. The majority of the team was killed in some strange reaction when testing the material on a young child. Little was stated about the young specimen, other than that the subject was unwilling at the time. What followed, unfortunately, was unwitness by the writer at the time and so only the hastily scrawled fever dreams of the closest survivors made it out
Whatever had happened had something to do witht both the materials and the previous loose-cannon-college that the writer started referring to as “Harbinger of Doom” from then on. The author quickly took the moniker of “Unwilling Demon” in subsequent ravings that appeared as a result of the accident, but both the Harbinger and Demon weren’t finished there; as the creature that clumsily forced its way from the event horizon was unbelievable. The creation could alter its appearance to that of anyone or nearly any thing. It was a remarkable sight, one that filled the Demon with both Joy and Dread.
It was “Killed”, stored and locked away was a better term but the Heads of the Study had been clear on referring to it as a dead and gone threat. When it seemed as if all had been lost and the entire study was to be shelved, another prince stepped in to shoulder the burden, and the Harbinger was whisked away. The Unwilling Demon however refused the offer to follow, and instead did their best to forget the events of that night, but rarely is life so simple as only a few years later they were back in the fold once more after having nearly starved on the streets.
When they returned though, they found a world completely alien to them, the Harbinger was leading the charge on creating more of these monsters, these “changelings” as they called them, but more than that was the ever present fear of actual failure; as it turned out opening a door didn’t mean it could always be closed, and when it stayed open long enough it could let in horrible things. Few were noted, often the writer refused to even acknowledge the reality of how horrible the creatures were, and when a failure happened the words “It happened again,” would be written.
It was near the most deranged parts of the middle that Alder found a note on the location of Domina, mentions of the Older town and its occupants, and the possible plots of people being taken as test subjects. The records in the Journal were growing more deranged with each entry, and by halfway it was becoming nearly unintelligible, but the notes of the town, talk of unknowable creatures accidentally released upon the land, and little bits of mythos around them seemed like just enough to keep it out of the “useless” territory.
Alder reread the entries several times, doing his best to traces the lines of information given between the jumbled ramblings, trying to find anything weak enough within the Journal to bring it wholly crumbling beneath reason, but it was quickly growing clear that neither his understanding of Reality nor reason seemed to align with the truths contained. Normally that would have given him doubt, but something about the Journal, its contents, and its story just seemed crazy enough to be possible.
All that left was finding someone crazy enough to believe it outright, and a brief check of his possible options pointed him to just the woman for the job.
