After agreeing to meet the others for a drink, Thom and Louie walk back up towards the grave, Thom stopping to exchange whispers with Mr. Keel while Louie continues on to the graveside.
"Let me have a go at that shovel, Ernest, wouldn't feel right having not done my share."
Ernest gapes at Louie, obviously unsure of how to proceed. "Well, uh... um..." The lad looks to Father Grimsby in confused desperation, who nods in allowance.
Ernest shrugs, holding out the shovel. "Here ya go, mister!"
Louie assists in burying the doctor, and afterwards all five men eventually find their way to the modest sitting room of the Lakeside Inn, a simple but well-kept establishment that is just as far from the lake as the rest of Helorus's town center. The Inn's lobby serves as sitting room; next to the door at the front is a wide window which provides a pleasant enough view of the main street, with much of the rest of the room being taken up by a half dozen aging armchairs arranged in a semi-circle before a black iron wood-burning stove. At the back of the room is a small check-in desk attended by the Inn's owner, a middle-aged man by the name of Harold, as well as halls leading to the small dining room, the two first floor rooms, and a staircase leading to the two second floor suites.
You've been given a small brass bell which you may use to summon a maid, who is more than happy to take your orders for tea, beer, and wine of modest quality, as well for toast, jams, and hard boiled eggs. Upon arrival, you all discover Stanislav seated with a bottle of wine, a platter of food, and four empty glasses; in his hand is a fifth glass, from which he is guzzling red wine.
Stanislav grins out from the depths of the chair and furs he has seemingly sunken into, some color returning to his face.
"Come! Sit! Enjoy Mr. Oculus's reparations; they are modest but well-intentioned, I am sure."
"Thank you, Mister Vredovsky," Thom replies with a smile as he neatly stowes his top hat beneath his arm, "but I fear I may be a bit overdressed for the inn's parlor. If you'll all pardon me for a moment I'll go change into something more appropriate." without really awaiting a response he walks briskly up the stairs to his suite.
Returning too quickly to have changed without help, the young New Yorker is now dressed in a smartly tailored but more casual brown suit with a forest green waist coat, a yellow ascot, and a brown bowler hat in his hand (still the same gold watch chain though). He is followed by an even younger man with brown hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a simple black suit. Sitting in one of the chairs Thom says, "Apologies for the delay. I do hope you weren't waiting too long."
While he speaks the other man retrieves one of the empty glasses, fills it with the red wine, and delivers it to him. After that he stands quietly to the right of Thom's chair.
"I too would like to change."
Oculus heads upstairs to change as well, and returns in high quality casual wear.
Oculus conceals his lock-pick set as well.
Louie sets his pack in the corner of the room and drapes his coat over it. He asks the maid for a beer, while he waits for her return he takes his boots off and sets them to dry near the stove. When she arrives with the drink, he sits down next to Vredovsky.
"Glad to drink with you Stanislav, my name's Louie.
He raises his cup.
"To adventures. What stories have brought you half the world away from home?"
Oculus seats himself with a view of the front door, wary of further trouble with the Townies. He sips his wine slowly, his tolerance to alcohol being weak. He pulls a small coin from his pocket which he rolls through the fingers of his non drinking hand continuously.
Stanislav raises his glass. "To adventures." He knocks back the rest of the wine in his glass the refills it, ringing the bell to order a fresh bottle.
"My story, Louie, is one of Russia, and so it as a tragedy. I have no home; in his mad desire to make the Russia of my birth more "enlightened" and "modern," Emperor Alexander has destroyed the traditions of my ancestors and changed it into something I no longer recognize. First he took my son from me in Sevastopol while he was busy planning Russia's surrender, and so I took a new wife, my Onya, to try and have a new son. Then he took my land and my servants, giving the one to the other, and so I purchased new land across the Bering Sea. But this he did not like either, and so he took my new land from me as well and sold it to your Seward.
"All this was too much for my young Onya; she was a woman of delicate sensibilities and constitution. In her shock at Alexander's final insult she fell terribly ill, and despite my best efforts she quickly succumbed.
"And so now I am left with no family, no land, and no servants. The history of the Vredovskys shall end with me, and I am doomed to spend my final days in a land which the Emperor destroyed my life trying to emulate."
Stanislav raises his glass once again. ""
Louie raises his beer and attempts to repeat Stanislav's toast phonetically.
"You are a strong fella to have had all that happen and still keep going. Sorry for your boy and your missus, it's a real shame"
Oculus makes brief eye contact with each of the party as he speaks.
"Indeed. So how do you gentlemen know the good Doctor? I must admit I met him only briefly, and quite recently. I am surprised that his estate contacted me, or even knew how to contact me."
"I took a course he instructed at Columbia University," Thom answers, "and the good Doctor took interest in one of my inventions. He connected me with some other acquaintances of his who helped to produce and market the device. My career, I believe, would not yet have advanced nearly as far as it has without his aid."
Stanislav smiles and nods eagerly at Louie's echo of his toast. "Da! Very good, Louie, very good!"
"I met August in Alaska over ten years ago; he was studying the beliefs of the natives, and he stayed at my manor as my guest for several weeks; though it was still being built, it was already better than any of the shacks there, and it is always a pleasure to share the company of educated men." He takes a long pull at his wine glass, nodding and smiling at you all. "We discussed Russian history and my own experiences in Alaska, as they were at that time - this was before that bastard Alexander had sold it, you see.
"Yes, August was a very eloquent and knowledgeable man, and we exchanged letters from time to time. I was actually nearby, in New York City, when he passed, and they sent for me right away. Of course I came on the next train. They asked me to embalm him, as there would be some delay in burying him to give yourselves time to arrive."
Stanislav hunches himself deeper into the depths of his furs, and assumes a quiet, more secretive tone. "Of course I did what I could for him, but rigor mortis had already begun when I arrived - his expression, very regrettable. He must have suffered quite a shock. It can happen that way, you know; the muscles, they spasm and lock. Usually not the face, but it's not unheard of."
Stanislav drains his glass and begins to deftly pour himself another, his earlier shakiness apparently gone. He continues in his normal tone. "I was surprised and honored to learn that he had named me in his will also; when a man of such distinction thinks so highly of you, it gives you hope that maybe there is something left for you in this world, no?"
"I met the Doc while he was crossing between Chicago and Buffalo on a ship I cooked for. He liked the grub, so we got to talking. Turns out he had an interest in my mother tongue, and in the peculiar thoughts my people have about twins. Funny thing there is I'm a twin myself, still trying to find my older brother. He encouraged me to see what I could remember about the stories the old-timers used to tell, had me do it in my old language, rusty as I am. He listened for a quite a while, helping me fill in words I'd stumble on or forget, wished me luck with my brother, and complimented my pie."
He nods to Oculus, and goes on.
"Then a week or so after we dock a package shows up where I live, from the Doc himself. No idea how he knew where to find me either Oculus. But there was the books he'd mentioned he'd studied from, all about Yoruba language and culture. Two of the books was from London, a few had been written by a Yoruba preacher including a translated bible. And a note of encouragement from the Doc. Thought I should practice, keep the language and the search for my brother alive in me."
He nods to Stanislav.
"The fact that a man like the Doc takes an interest, and thinks well of you is an honor, as you say Stanislav. I'm guessing I'm here for the will reading to make sure the books get back to his kin or a library or somesuch. I wish his passing and his funeral could've gone off with fewer hitches."
He raises his glass.
"To the Doc!"
"To the Doctor," Thom echoes raising his glass.
"Louie," he continues after the toast has run its course, "this might seem a strange question but do your people also have superstitions about hares or cleft palates?"
"To the Doctor," Oculus says solemnly.
"I've heard a strange story of the moon splitting rabbit's lip with a shovel, but its from other African folks, not my people. Yoruba old timers would blame most anything bad that happened to a baby on witchcraft. As twins we were considered lucky, and got away with pranks no other kids could."
Louie sighs happily in reminiscence and takes a long draw on his beer.
"How interesting," Thom answers, "I took a course in world religions while at Columbia and learned that among some uncivilized people hares and cleft palates are a bad omen because the split lip is believed to be a sign of a split, as becoming twins, that never reached fulfillment."
"Do you have any clues where your brother might be?"
Louie's face clouds and he drops his chin as he answers.
"I lost track of him in Chicago. No word on him or any of the folks he travelled with. I ended up in Buffalo."
He lifts head, his eyes gleam a bit, and he downs his beer.
"There's always a place to get a drink in Buffalo, and I mean always! With the folks and goods heading west and the news and cargo heading east, railroads, ships, barges and borders, she struck me as a fine crossroads to sit at for a spell. Good place to stumble across any word of him. Oh and the gambling joints and dance halls can't be beat, filled with folks from all over, makes it easy to forget feeling lonely. Loud as loud gets, even at all hours, not like out here where you can hear every regret you've got."
"Well, I wish you luck finding him," Thom offers raising his glass once more. Then he slips his watch out of his waistcoat pocket and checks it. "I hate to cut this conversation short but if we're going to be there for the reading of the will I think we'd better head out."
Standing, the young inventor straightens his jacket and hands his glass to the man quietly standing beside him. "Thank you, Mister Wright. I'll take my dinner in the suite when I return, if you would please."
"Sir."
After drinks in the inn’s lobby, you prepare yourselves however you see fit and congregate at the Pallaver residence at 6 o’clock that evening. It is a comparatively large home at the northern edge of “downtown” Helorus where the cobbled section of the main road ends. A two story construction of stone and heavy timber, lit lanterns are hung out on the posts of the large front porch, and Argentine Keel answers the door when you knock.
You are directed to the sitting room, which contains several full bookshelves, a writing desk, four armchairs and a sofa. Several framed maps hand on the walls, as do a collection of mementos and artifacts from around the world. In the sitting room you are greeted by Katherine Pallaver; unveiled and wearing less formal garb, you see she has long, black hair, a very slim figure, and is of a pale disposition. Her red, puffy eyes contrast with her simple grey country dress.
”Thank you all so much for coming; I’m sorry I didn’t greet you at the funeral service earlier, but I was quite overcome. Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Now that we’re all here Mr. Keel can read my father’s will and we can put an end to this dark day. Can’t we Mr. Keel?”
Mr. Keel nods. ”Indeed we can, Miss Pallaver.” He retrieves his watch from his vest, checking the time and briefly surveying your congregation. He snaps his watch shut and returns it to his vest, then reaches inside his jacket and draws out an envelope. He steps to Miss Pallaver and shows it to her, indicating its unbroken wax seal. She nods her approval and he steps back, drawing a slim letter opener from inside his opposite jacket pocket and unseals the envelope. He draws out a piece of parchment and addresses you all as he reads it.
“I, August Byron Pallaver, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this document my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Katherine. Use or dispose of them as you see fit, my child. Yet beyond the bequeathing of my personal effects, this document must serve other needs. I have arranged for the reading of this document to be delayed until all principals can be in attendance, for I have more than mere inheritance to apportion. I have two final favors to ask.
“To my old friends and acquaintances: I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others whom I have met that are as capable and extraordinary as you. As some of you know, I have devoted my studies to all manner of fields that I might better know the evils that beset mankind, for knowledge of one’s adversaries is the surest path to victory against their endeavors. And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable but dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could lead to dire repercussions. While invaluable for my work in life, in death, I would prefer not to burden my daughter with the darker side of my profession, or worse still, the danger of possessing these books herself. As such, I am entrusting them to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the chest containing my collection to my colleagues at Washington University in St. Louis, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
“Yet before you leave for St. Louis, there is the matter of another favor—please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Helorus to ensure that my daughter is safe and sound. She has no one to count on now that I am gone, and if you would aid her in setting things in order for whatever she desires over the course of this month, you would have my eternal gratitude. From my savings, I have also willed to each of you a sum of three thousand dollars. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with the firm of Binderson & Grief, who have been instructed to issue this payment upon the safe delivery of the books no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
“I, August Pallaver, hereby sign this will in Helorus on this first day of March, in the year 1875.”
Mr. Keel folds the parchment and returns it to the envelope, then steps forward and hands it to Miss Pallaver. "I believe the aforementioned chest of books is in your possession, is it not, Miss Pallaver?"
"Yes, yes it is. I'll fetch it, if you would assist me, sir?" Katherine stands and leaves the room with Mr. Keel, both returning a few moments later. Mr. Keel is carrying a mid-size wooden trunk, iron bound and of old manufacture, which he sets in the center of the room. Katherine sits back down in an armchair, and turns to you all.
"I'm sorry to be a burden to you all, but I certainly would appreciate your assistance. I have several spare rooms here which could accomodate all of you if you are in need of a place to stay. I don't know whether I intend to stay here in Helorus or not, but either way I will have several affairs to put in order. As for these books..." She opens her hand to reveal a small iron key, which she places on top of the chest. "My father told me never to open this, but I suppose it's yours now; you may do as you wish."
Stanislav stands and bows to Miss Pallaver, hat in hand.
"Lady Pallaver, it would be a privilege and honor to assist you in your time of need - you may consider me your servant. I am currently in residence at the inn, but will relocate here tomorrow to be at your disposal."
The Russian sits back down on the couch. You are all impressed by his clear speech and proper bearing, given the amount of alcohol you watched him consume not two hours ago.
A month?!? Mister Edison is not going to be pleased about this... I may not have ever met him without Doctor Pallaver's assistance though... I suppose this isn't exactly the least I could do but if such is the cost of the Doctor's assistance so be it.
Thom stands with his bowler in his hand. "I'd be honored to oblige the doctor's final wishes," he replies. Picking up the key he adds, "and I will relocate to the house as well if you have room to accommodate me and my valet?"
"Yes, of course - I'll have the rooms made up tomorrow morning. Some of you may be sleeping alongside stacks of books, but I'm sure there will be enough room for all of you.
"How rude of me, with the stress of the day I've completely forgotten my manners." Katherine quickly stands and curtsies. "I am Katherine Pallaver, Doctor Pallaver's daughter - though I'm sure you've all gathered that by now. Mr. Keel was kind enough to inform me of your own names.
"Would anyone like any tea?"
"Yes, Miss Pallaver, some tea would be delightful."
Stanislav also indicates his acceptance of the offer, and after she checks with everyone else, Katherine leaves the room to prepare some. Mr. Keel then retrieves from the hall a carry-box bound in plain black leather, setting it down on a coffee table and unlocking it at the bottom. From inside he retrieves ink, quill, and paper, then closes it.
"If I may impose, Mr. Andrews, could we unlock the late doctor's trunk? I would like to inventory the books inside so my firm may verify full delivery in St. Louis."
"Of course," Thom answers moving towards the chest.
excellent, now I can see exactly what books seemed so important to the doctor...
When he reaches the chest he crouches down and opens the lock. As he lifts the lid he immediately starts noting the titles of the tomes contained within.
"Tea would be delightful Ms. Pallaver. I too humbly accept your invitation to stay here for the month's duration. So what makes these tomes so dangerous?"
Oculus stands and makes his way towards the chest hoping to get a glimpse of the tomes over Thom's shoulders.
"Should we be concerned we be concerned with attempts of theft? Did the Doctor have any enemies , other then the townsfolk, or rivals we should be concerned with?"
Thom opens the small chest to reveal six books stacked inside, which Mr. Keel gingerly moves so as to examine and note them. Four have titles either on their covers or inside, while two remain a mystery. They are:
Just as Mr. Keel finishes noting the description and condition of each book, Katherine Pallaver returns with the tea.
"Oh! I see you've opened it. Well, I don't want to know what's in there; I think I'm better off not knowing what it is that's being kept 'neath my roof.
"Now here's tea, sugar, milk, and yesterday's biscuits. I'm going to turn in for the night; you're all welcome to stay, just find a room on the first or second floor that suits you. Any of you who don't, please lock the door on your way out - the key's hanging in the hall, you can just leave it under the rock by the front step and we'll talk tomorrow.
"Good evening to you all."
Katherine gives a weak smile and a curtsy, then retires to the floors above.
Mr. Keel, his notes seemingly completed to his satisfaction, returns his quill, ink, and papers to his case, closing and locking it. He then checks his pocketwatch, nodding.
"Gentlemen, I had best be off myself. My condolences, and a good evevning, to you all. Should you ever be in need of discreet legal representation here or abroad, please keep Binderson & Grief in mind." The solicitor nods a farewell and walks out to the hall, where he puts on his overcoat and hat.
Etrusca Disciplina looks something like this, the parchment inside is obviously aged but well preserved.
On Verified Madness looks something along these lines, but in better condition. Was obviously meant to be bound by the buyer to match their personal collection, a practice common at the turn of the 19th century.
Purple Book; I realize this doesn't completely match the description, but I guess that's publishing for you - it's the official illustration from the module.
Book w/cross, but without the text underneath.
And again, the Umbrarum Regni Novem Portis for sake of completeness.
Thom politely refuses tea then carefully removes the Etrusca Disciplina from the chest and sits with it in the nearest chair. He very gingerly begins reading through it.
This Bible has a print date of 1609 listed, but you're aware that the first King James Bible was not in fact printed until 1611.
You are aware that the title refers to a book or books which detailed the religious beliefs and practices of the ancient Etruscans, especially their various methods of divination, and are thought to have had a strong influence on ancient Roman religion; the last copies were destroyed in the 6th century A.D.
You have never heard of this book.
You can glean nothing from this book's cover.
You know that the Egyptians linked the scarab to the sun god Ra, and viewed it's rolling of dung balls and hatching of their young from within them symbolic of the sun's journey across the sky, as well as regeneration and reincarnation. There are also eye motifs associated with Ra, but the one on the cover doesn't resemble standard Egyptian religious iconography. Whether this has any bearing on the book's contents, you couldn't say.
Not being particularly interested in reading the books at the moment, Oculus takes his tea and begins exploring the house.
I wonder what I might be able ter pinch. Might need a 'scape route an all, if dem townies come back. It would be jus' me Friar.
The title of this book is familiar to you - word has it that during the war a unit of Union soldiers looted a copy during Sherman's March. After the war one of the soldiers began to make inquiries in New York City about selling the book, after which he was found murdered; subsequently, each member of the unit was killed over the next year all across the U.S., and the book was never found. The book is quite valuable to right the buyers, to the tune of $25,000 or more.
Skimming the folio of parchments for half an hour or so, you find the original Latin is dated 1307, though it's provenance is not noted. The French notes in the margin seem archaic as well, though you aren't familiar enough with the language to try and date them. The English notes seem much more recent, definitely from this century.
The text itself seems to be a translation of a single book of the Etrusca Disciplina, the Libri Fulgurales, which instructs how one may perform divinations by observing lightning strikes. The notes in both languages present questions regarding the practice and suggest that the Latin translation may be faulty in parts, presenting suggestions for possible alternate meanings of some terms based on the authors' knowledge of linguistics as well as their supposedly practical experience in utilizing the methods described. The French notes allude to the translations of more books of the Disciplina from the same source, and this mention has been circled and notated in English - "Not present in the archives; transferred to another preceptory? Must find!!!"
"Excuse me gentlemen, I would like to find a suitable room, and get the lay of the land."
Oy, ha' Thom seems 'o be a bi' ov a prick. Jus' 'elps 'imself as if 'e's in charge. Be''er keep an eye on 'im, 'he wanker. Tha's 'he 'ones' Irish. 'E seems like 'e's go' bees and honey 'hough. Maybe i should go 'hrough 'is malarkey.
Da o'her 'wo seem cushy 'hough. Tha' russian is a bladdered, could smell i' on 'is brea'h. Chris' 'e could pickle a fish from a stones 'hrah away. I wonder if 'e embalmed 'he good dco'aw wi'h vodka.
As Oculus walks through the Pallaver house sipping his tea, he finds one constant: books. Whether on tables, counters, poking out of cupboards, or piled in a corner, every room of the main house has at least a dozen books in it, often times many more. The house is furnished throughout with turn of the century decor and furniture, most if which shows it's age. There are oil lamps mounted in each room, and there is one lit in each of the downstairs rooms save the piazza, as well as the main hall and stairway on both floors.
The first floor is bisected by the main hall and staircase and a rear stairwell and walk-in cupboard. The south side of the house contains the sitting room, a room used for storage of crates and boxes filled with seemingly random knick-knacks and newspapers from abroad, and a pleasant piazza looking out at the field behind the house. The north side contains a formal parlor, dining room, kitchen, pantry, and wash room.
Off the rear of the kitchen is a door leading to a disused-looking unfurnished hall with a floor of hard-packed earth; this proves to be a barn-like structure attached to the house with a small pen for animals, what appears to be some sort of veterinary or taxidermy room, and a storage room with access to a cellar.
The second floor is accessed from the stair in the main hall, and consists of four larger bedrooms with closets and a single smaller bedroom with no storage; there is no access to the rear stairwell on this floor. The four main bedrooms are furnished as such, again outfitted with an excess of books on tables and floors, whereas the small bedroom is completely full of books stacked shoulder-high though a small mattress can be seen upright against the wall at the back of the room.
It would appear that the rear stairwell leads up to a third floor, where Katherine Pallaver has retired for the night.
Louie makes himself a three lump milk tea, dunks a biscuit and wonders aloud:
"So ya think the Doc's old man was Doc Byron, the one who wrote the On Verified Madness?
He takes a bite, dunks again.
"He could have got his middle name and his profession from him."
Another bite, another dunk.
"Wonder if that's who the old timer was up in arms about."
As he finishes his biscuit he carefully wipes his hands on his shirt, makes sure they are clean, and peers into the chest, and picks out the grey bound book and takes a look inside
"What's a Catholicon? Any of you gents know?"
He nods his head towards the crate.
"One of the other books in there has a canard I've tripped over a couple times. A unit of ZuZu's out of New York, Union soldiers, got their hands on it. One of them started asking what it might be worth, ended up with his throat slit. As did all the other soldiers in the unit, no matter where they had spread out to after the war or where they ran to when they heard about the rest. Supposedly worth a fortune, but better poor than dead"
"'Catholicon' can refer to the church at an abbey or monastery," Thom answers, "to a comprehensive treatise, though usually only in religious circles, or, as I believe to be the case here, to a panacea or universal remedy."
Having ascertained the subject matter of the Etrusca Disciplina, and gleamed a most rudimentary familiarity with its contents, he carefully returns the papers to their portfolio and the portfolio to the case. Then he removes the yet unidentified Latin text and with great care begins to leaf through that.
Thinking over Miss Pallaver's negative shake of her head at his earlier inquiry regarding her father's enemies or rivals, Oculus decides that further investigation of the residence may be warranted.
You take a candelabra from the dining room table and light it with the help of a wall lamp, then quietly head out through the kitchen into the barn to begin your inspection. The indoor animal pens have obviously not been used in some time, probably years. The initial veterinary/taxidermy room features a large, sturdy oak table at waist height in it's center, the top scored with gouges and scratches as well as being stained darker than the rest of the wood. The second room has walls lined with countertops and associated cupboards, as well as a large wash basin and a door leading outside. The door is latched shut on this side, and cracking it open and looking outside you can see a water pump about 100' away.
The cupboards house a variety of sealed jars containing organs floating in a preservative fluid, a small square of paper glued to the side of each jar clearly labeled with organ, species, and date. All the specimens seem to come from animals common to the area, both wild and domesticated/farmyard, from ducks and pigs to deer and cows. They are all dated between 1825 and 1851, though the bulk are from 1835 and earlier.
You also find a variety of medical and measuring tools, from commonplace scalpels and forceps to hacksaws and a yardstick, as well as some more esoteric devices that Oculus isn't quite sure about, such as a trephine and a saw-like device. They are generally in acceptable condition, though you also find a velvet-lined wooden case with a full set of oiled surgeon's tools.
The storage room has a wall of shelving containing rows of organ-less jars filled with the preservative fluid, several of which appear to have been knocked off and broken on the ground. Given the strong chemical smell in the room, they were probably disturbed within the past two weeks at most. You find faint bootprints in the dirt floor near the broken jars; someone must have left them by treading through the puddle of preservative fluid from the broken jars. There is a side room containing a heavy wooden trapdoor which can be latched open to the wall, presumably leading to a cellar.
"Yes, you are quite right about the book, Louie; August's father was a doctor as well. But I do not know if his father had anything to do with the ruffians at the funeral today - August never really spoke to me of the man except in passing."
Stanislav raises an eyebrow at Louie's tale of murder. "And which book was this?"
This book, while written in Latin, seems to be nonsense - it is random words separated by punctuation. The illuminations are quite beautiful and detailed: the first page is an illustration which depicts some sort of daytime feast or celebration presided over by four kings on thrones; thirteen large, half-page illuminations are spread throughout the book, each incorporating the first letter of text on the page; and on the back of the final page of the book is another full-page illustration, this time depicting the same setting as the first, but at night without any kings/celebrants and with spiders and cobwebs hanging down. Much smaller embellishments and designs are also present throughout.
"Umbrarum Regni Novem Portis, Stanislav. Think it's the one done up in black."
He grabs another biscuit, and repeats the dunk, bite between thoughts.
"So Thom, it says here 'case studies from the Helorus Catholicon'. I thought maybe an asylum put up by the church? But you think maybe it was the two docs' fix for madness?"
"The preacher said something about folks here not forgetting the past too easy, and the old timer directed us to head north rather than burying the Doc where we did."
Louie strolls around the room, book tucked under his arm, tea in one hand, biscuit in the other, and inspects the maps.
"And the preacher said the Doc had built a new reputation for him and his kin. Wonder if the Doc was making up for his old man's dirt."
Finishing his biscuit he rubs his hand clean on his shirt, and takes On Verified Madness from under his arm.
"Guess I can see if this gent has any answers for me," he says brandishing the book.