During the procession, Mihaela finds her thoughts returning to Gibs and the others. Why did they think Petros was a necromancer? Hopefully Kendra can shed some light on things.
Mihaela declines the offer to say something, feeling that there are others better suited to the task and who also had known the professor much better than she herself had. However, she listens attentively to the others, feeling comforted by their obvious devotion to the late professor and how he seemed to have had an impact on som many lives. He was such a kind man.
Seeing the men begin to disperse, Elisa relaxes a little and releases the grip she has on the knife hidden in her sleeve.
She says nothing as Gibs has his rant, knowing nothing short of a miracle would convince the man any differently.
As they get ready to start the procession again, her eyes fall on the newcomer, who she didn't see arrive. "When did he arrive, I didn't see or hear anything?"
When the priest asks if anyone would like to speak, she allows Ellie and Christoph to speak first then stands up herself. "I don't have much to add to what Kendra, Christoph and Ellie have already said. I just want to reinforce that the Professor was a kind and courageous man, one who was willing to help out others, including myself, even if it made him enemies or was not a popular decision. The result of which, I believe we saw today," she says, referring to the mob earlier. "He had a great passion for knowledge, especially if that knowledge could help others, and often put himself in danger to learn more. I hope that he earns his just rewards from Pharasma and the other Gods for all the good he has done in his remarkable life." As she nears the end of her speech, her eyes begin to tear up, and as she finishes, she walks back to Kendra and gives her another hug, before retaking her place at the graveside.
Sofia was relieved when the angry villagers dispersed. Even with Gibs' parting remarks, it felt good to have the confrontation resolved. She tried not to dwell on their accusations -- she couldn't imagine any of their slander being true.
When the casket was in place at the grave site, Sofia laid her hand on it for a solemn moment and whispered a quiet goodbye.
Hearing Kendra and the others tell their stories, their eulogies, was an emotional time. Sofia hadn't known many of Petros' colleagues, nor his own adventures, save the few he mentioned in his letters. It was endearing to hear about his life, and all those he had touched throughout it.
After Elisa spoke, Sofia stepped forward and tried to organize her own thoughts. She was grateful the spirit inhabiting her was a scholarly one; it helped her lend structure to her thoughts, feelings, and memories, so she could string something coherent together. "I was a just a child when I met Professor Lorrimor," she said. "It was after an accident... Petros sought me out; invited me, and my family, into his home while he treated me and helped us cope with all we'd been through. He was sweetest man, always compassionate, caring, and did everything he could to help. It heartens me to hear so many others have similar stories... That he touched so many lives, just as he touched mine." Sofia almost lost her composure, and needed a moment. "His absence will be felt, every day... Not just by me, or by all of us here -- but by everyone whose life Petros has touched...
"Th-thank you..."
Sofia stepped back, solemnly.
Freija is glad to have held her tongue during the confrontation with the smallfolk, the others calmed their nerves where Freija would have throttled the fools. Lorrimor might have been foolhardy, but he was no necromancer if mere zombies were beyond his power.
That Gibs however, he might cause a real problem, Freija would have to keep an eye out for trouble that daft fool might cause.
At the funeral, the dwarf decides to put in her bit, "He seemed a brave man, did Lorrimor, the one chance I met him. A bit foolhardy, aye, but brave." Her usually hard expression softens as she continues, "He seems to have made an impact on many lives, and that's as much as one can hope." Perhaps there was more to the old man that foolhardiness.
Solemn nods and the occasional bout of polite applause accompany the speeches offered, all kinds words that help bring the tone away from the accusatory confrontations behind you and back into the sweet remembrances that this ceremony is supposed to be about. It helps lift the mood to remember him as he was, with his kindness so firmly ingrained.
None of the locals seems to have much to say about him, but the latecomer does, adjusting his coat as he steps forward after each of you willing to speak have had your turn. He speaks in a very airy and aristocratic voice, his accent lingering with traces of an Ustalavan accent slowly beaten out through either effort or many assimilating travels. "Petros was truly a brilliant man. Perhaps the one one I would ever call brilliant; it was a word I otherwise reserved only for myself before I met him, but there was no mistaking his mind. From the first day I sat in his class, I was hooked on his every word and I could only sit there and listen to him begin to drift off into lecture and reverie with such passion and sharpness. His mind could drift onto a myriad of subjects, but he was no airheaded fool; he understood the links between them, and used that depth of mind to find new angles and connections through which he could better understand something. Watching him work and think was always a joy, and it inspired me to perform similar duties with glee.
"I spent years as the professor's research assistant before deciding that academia was not the life for me, and in that time he showed me the world through a lens that I had never seen it before. He showed me kindness, too. Took me in and treated me like a son. Not, perhaps, as much as he did when he adopted the baby Kendra, but..." There is a faintly resentful tinge in his voice as he motions his hand, but quickly seems to realize he's stepped a bit out of line and moves on quickly. "Even in our intellectual disagreements or when we saw a find from different angles, I could never truly argue with his methods or his understanding. To the very end, I considered him my mentor, my equal, my friend. We did not always agree, but he never took those disagreements as a reason to not be cordial or considerate, even as we grew further apart in time. To see him go so soon into the ground and under such tragic circumstances is certainly a shame, and a crime upon this world." He steps toward the group again.
The gravediggers slowly ease the professor into the ground, lowering him down with ropes and easing him slowly into the grave dug for him, as the old priest reads another, final prayer to commit his body to the ground and his spirit to Pharasma.
Before Kendra turns to you, she says her goodbyes one by one to the guests, speaking last with the late arrival. A few short words offered; an invitation for tea later, once matters are dealt with. The man seems amenable, nodding slowly as he turns away. Then, Kendra focuses on all of you. "The sooner that I am out of this graveyard, the sooner I can find sturdiness. My house? Councilman Hearthmount has business to attend to after the funeral, so we will have some time to relax before the reading of the will." She looks gratefully at each of you, thankful for your arrival and eager to bring you somewhere else, away from here.
****************
The Lorrimor home, once Petros's but now, in all likelihood, Kendra's, is a modest home but very heavily cramped. Crowded bookshelves make each room feel smaller than it is, as what must be hundreds of tomes, history books, and technical manuals line up the shelves with what must be some kind of order, but the system is almost certainly dead along with its inventor, leaving everything to look very chaotic. The living room is a comfortable enough place to settle down comfortably, and Kendra quickly heads into the kitchen. "I will need some time with my mind," she says firmly. "Please, just remain here for the moment, I will be back with tea shortly." She hurries off, already fretting with her dress and wiping at her eye. She's held it together well so far, and now she just needs a private moment to deal with it all.
Which leaves you in a room with five other people all brought together by one dead man's adventure and kindness.
Elisa nods with understanding as Kendra heads towards the kitchen. "If you need any help, just give me a call," she says before Kendra leaves the room. She turns and slowly walks over to one of the many bookcases, trailing her fingertips across the books. The sight of the haphazard arrangements of books and manuscripts brings back fond memories of the Professor trying to explain some of his more complex theories to her, without much success. "He always did love his books," she says with a wistful expression on her face.
As Kendra exits the room, Freija finds a corner in which to prop her spear and shield and lay down her pack. That finished, she peruses the shelves looking for a book or section on either dwarves or religion.
Ellie slowly wanders the room, looking at the books, transported out of the moment by the presence of so much knowledge. She was never able to 'crack' the system by which the books were arranged, but there clearly was one: she remembers the Professor being able to lay his hands on any given book without effort.
Ah well. One more thing that she'll never know, now.
She instead occupies herself by inventing a system in her head by which she would arrange these books, but it soon breaks down when she can't decide where she would catalogue this tome (in Thassilonian) describing Azlanti burial customs: it's part of a set of books in Thassilonian which she feels instinctively ought to be kept together, as the Professor did, but they're on such diverse topics that she can't construct any way of doing it in a rational manner...
She spends maybe ten minutes with the book in her hand, just staring at it, before shaking herself out of her stupor and putting it back on the shelf. Maybe the system is that there is no system: Petros just knew and remembered where each of these much-studied and well-loved books lived.
Sighing, she sits down and begins another minute inspection of her ancient wooden staff, examining all of the carvings carefully. Maybe this time she'll see something that she hasn't seen any of the hundreds of other times she's done this. Most likely she won't. But it at least keeps her mind occupied.
Mihaela scans the shelves, looking for any book on alchemy or something written in Infernal or Abyssal. Surely, there must something in this treasure trove. What I wouldn't give for a library like this. And time to actually read all these books.
Even with the funeral concluded, Sofia didn't feel any better yet. If anything the day felt even more bleak now that the deed was done. She felt even worse for Kendra, with Gibs' words still fresh in her memory. Not only did the poor girl have to cope with the loss of her father, but knowing that the locals didn't want her to live in her family home was heart-wrenching. And considering the last speaker's slip of the tongue about adoption at the funeral... Sofia could only imagine how Kendra was feeling -- and couldn't begin to imagine how the poor girl was keeping herself together.
Sofia slowly walked along the shelves, just brushing her fingers along the spines of each book, almost absentmindedly. She had no idea what the will reading would be like, but somehow doubted it would be all that cathartic. When all was said and done, she knew she had a home waiting for her return. But her heart wept for Kendra...who knew what her future would hold?
"Of course, Miss Lorrimor. Take your time." Christoph takes a seat, mind still turning over the days events. It still doesn't seem real. The Professor has been committed to the Lady of Grave's care, but I would still readily believe it were he to walk around the corner and start lecturing on the differences between ghouls and ghasts. The room around him, the people in it, and the Professor's books: all began to feel surreal. If he was shaken awake, to find that this was only a dream, it wouldn't surprise him in the least. Drawing a deep, ragged breath, he forces himself to focus on practical matters, "Do any of you know the latecomer to the funeral? He was obviously close to the Professor, but I don't recall ever meeting him."
Mihaela stops looking through the shelves for a bit and turns to Christoph. I've never seen him before, but I only met Petros once, so that is hardly surprising. To tell you the truth, I didn't much care for the latecomer and his superior airs. Might he have been a student of Petros' before us, perhaps?
She then lowers her voice and in hushed tones, whilst at the same time keeping an eye at the door through which Kendra left, asks the people who knew the Lorrimors from before, Is there any truth to what he said? That Kendra's adopted, I mean. If so, did she know? If not, that would be a terrible way to find out.
"I didn't recognize his voice," Sofia added to the budding conversation; even if it wasn't much help. Her shoulders slumped at Mihaela's whispered inquiry, a horrible notion that hadn't occurred to her...
"I hope she already knew... And if not, that stranger should be ashamed for even mentioning it. News like that would be the last thing the poor girl needs right now. If it's even true."
** spoiler omitted **
** spoiler omitted **
Elisa is broken from her reverie when the others begin talking about the newcomer. " I can't say that I ever recall seeing him either. He appeared rather suddenly around the time we were dealing with the disgruntled villagers. He clearly knew the Professor well, his description of him matches up with our own after all. He seemed rather... jealous... of how the Professor treated Kendra. I have a strange feeling he might be back later and could cause trouble for Kendra. I plan on keeping an eye on him if that is the case."
Christoph whistles softly when Mihaela makes her suggestion. Shaking his head, he adds in an undertone, "That'd be a terrible way to learn that. I never knew, but I hope Miss Lorrimor did." He shakes his head as he thinks through the implications. "I don't care for thinking ill of a man I don't know, but something struck me as off about what he said as well. Might be worth keeping an eye on while we're here."
Is there any truth to what he said? That Kendra's adopted, I mean. If so, did she know? If not, that would be a terrible way to find out.
Ellie shrugs, momentarily drawn away from the minute inspection of her staff. "Uh, I wasn't going to say anything - it's not my business - but... yes. It's true. But I don't know any more than that. Like I said, not my business." She frowns. Whoever that stranger was, he had no business making something like that public.
She looks around at the others, seeking their opinion. "Should I... should one of us go and see if she's ok? I know she wanted to be left alone, but sometimes people say that when they really don't mean it. I don't want her to feel alone."
"Should I... should one of us go and see if she's ok? I know she wanted to be left alone, but sometimes people say that when they really don't mean it. I don't want her to feel alone."
Mihaela looks up from the alchemy book she's been leafing through. Maybe one of us should. I can do it, but I've never met her before, so I'm probably not the best choice.
Before such deliberations can continue, Kendra walks into the room carrying a tray with teacups and a steaming kettle in the middle of it, and there is more of that post-crying puffiness in her eyes now, but she's tidied herself up as best she could to come out and greet you. "Tea is ready," she says softly, placing it down onto the table and starting to pour equal measures of tea into the seven cups there, with a small vessel of cream and a bowl of sugar sitting for anyone to apply to their drinks as needed, as well as a plate stacked with biscuits and a little thing of jam to spread onto them.
Only once she's finished pouring all the drinks does she look up at you and notice the tenor of the room, her brow furrowing as she gazes across you all, about to say something, but deciding otherwise, instead settling down comfortably into her seat and giving up a relieved groan as she finally takes a moment off of her feet. "I honestly cannot thank you all enough for coming all this way here. It means a lot to me."
Elisa sits down near the table and takes a cup and then a sip of tea, "Thanks Kendra, you always did make the best cups of tea," she says with a smile.
"As to coming here, it's the least I can do after all your family has done for me. I hope I can find some way to repay you properly in the future."
Sofia found a seat and picked an unclaimed cup of tea from the tray, adding a generous spoonful of sugar. "You don't need to thank me," she said, not presumptuous enough to answer for anyone else. "My heart broke when I heard your letter -- your Father has done so much for me, and so many others. Sending a letter of condolences wouldn't do; I had to come in person. And if there's anything at all I can help with, just let me know."
Mihaela makes a mental note of the book's title before putting it back in the its spot. She then walks over to the table and takes a cup of tea as well as a few biscuits and a generous helping of jam. In her experience, there were few things tastier than a good jam on a biscuit. In between mouthfuls, she says "This is a marvellously delicious jam. My compliments to whomever made it." I'll have to see if I can pick up a jar or two on my way out of here.
Leaning back into the chair, she voices her agreement of what Sofia just said. "The way I see it, I'm the one who should be thanking you, for giving me an opportunity to say a final farewell to a dear mentor, fellow scholar and, most of all, friend." Mihaela's eyes grow misty at the thought of never receiving a letter from the sweet old man again. If only I had done my part and kept in touch these last few years. "If there's anything I can do to help, just say the word and I'll do my best."
After a few sips of tea, a frown creases her forehead. "Say, did you recognise that frightfully bad-mannered man at the funeral? The latecomer, I mean, not Gibs.", Mihaela asks, thoughts going back to his speech and his self-proclaimed greatness. "He didn't seem to be the sort of fellow that your father would normally collaborate with."
Christoph accepts the proffered tea with a murmured "Thank you." He takes a sip of the scalding hot liquid, savoring the spreading warmth. It's hard to believe something so small can be a comfort on a day like this. He nods his agreement with the others, "Miss Lorrimor, after all your father has done for me I'd rather have been cast from the Church then miss paying my respects. Your father is a hero for his work over the years. It's an honor to be here."
Freija accepts the tea, absentmindedly drinking it while reading the book. A bit weaker than I'm used to.
As her companions begin talking, she puts down the book and listens to the conversation. When the 'former student of Lorrimor' is mentioned, Freija pipes up "Tha' old man seemed a might too pompous and preenin' for my tastes."
Ellie can't help but notice the symmetry: "I had tea the first time I met him, too," she remarks to nobody in particular. She nods agreement with the others as they express their sentiments. "Nothing would have kept me away either..." she trails off into a fit of coughing, and is grateful that she's sitting down.
Once she's recovered, she asks the question the others are wondering. "Uh, Kendra - who, uh, who was that very strange person who spoke at the funeral? Finely dressed, but very poor manners."
Kendra nods thankfully, but as the conversation circles consistently back around toward the latecomer and his impolite speech, Kendra's nods slowly sink down a little bit. "You mean Adivion. Yes, it's... I shouldn't be surprised that you would have an issue with him, he did step out of line a little bit there. That was was Adivion Adrissant. He was my father's star pupil, and spent many years as his assistant. Please, I know he may seem pompous and impolite, but he does mean well; he's a brilliant man, and even my father often sang his praises. But some men end up so brilliant they lose a certain kind of social grace. I'm sure some of you who've been through academia know the sort. Endless knowledge but very short on social grace. Father spent years considering him his best friend, and I've seen the better sides of himl; he's grieving, just like the rest of us, I just think he's worse at hiding it. Please, don't hold it against him too much; when I see him for tea later, I'm certain the first words out of his mouth will be an apology for how he spoke." The speech seems to not be bothering Kendra at all, amid all the many things more genuinely bothering her.
Sofia offered a reassuring smile towards Kendra. She was right, of course -- there was no need to judge Mr. Adrissant solely on a poor choice of words, on one sad and sodden day. Still, Sofia hoped that she wouldn't have to spend much time with the man.
Hypocritically enough, Mihaela generally had no problem with people being rude, as long they were rude to the right people. The problem was of course that she felt that Petros Lorrimor and this group of people gathered here were the wrong type of people to be rude to.
Therefore, upon hearing the man's name, Mihaela makes a mental note of it, with the intention of finding out more once she's back in Caliphas. Most likely, nothing will come of it, but she might be able to find something, she could use, should she happen to run into Adivion again. Forewarned is forearmed and all that, Mihaela thinks to herself, nursing the petty streak her husband had always hated.
. "I'm sure some of you who've been through academia know the sort. Endless knowledge but very short on social grace." The speech seems to not be bothering Kendra at all, amid all the many things more genuinely bothering her.
Ellie has enough self-awareness to realise that this description could well be applied to her. Turning slightly pink, she hastily moves on. "Oh - well, uh, if it didn't bother you then it won't bother me." Fidgeting a little, she stands up once more and peruses the bookshelves, looking for a distraction from the conversation.
Elisa continues sipping her tea as she listens to Kendra. "I'll defer to your judgement of the man, as I don't know him that well and grief does strange things to people," she says to her.
However, Elisa's own thoughts on the matter are slightly different; "Brilliance is no excuse for being an ass. There are plenty of brilliant people who underestimated a fool and paid the price for it. I'll still keep an eye on him, if only to prevent his lack of grace from hurting Kendra more than he already has."
"At any rate," she sighs, smearing some jam onto a biscuit, "The jam is sold by one of the farmers in town, made from their own crops. I can give you directions before you leave if you wish to pick some up, Mihaela. It is certainly worth stocking up on."
It's just before the silence after her words can really start to become uncomfortable that a knock on the door startles Kendra, who rises quickly up to tend to it. "Councilman Hearthmount, thank you for coming," you hear her say, as she returns into the room with one of the well dressed men from the funeral.
"Greetings," he says tersely as he walks in, carrying a scroll case and a folder with him. He keeps his coat on and even as he enters the room he seems to be just barely out of it, positioning himself in a way that implies he has no intention of staying for a second longer than he needs to. "I am Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, and as solicitor of the Town of Ravengro, it is my duty to read the will of the departed Professor Petros Lorrimor, and to oversee the legal requirements and contingencies placed upon his estate. First, I require a roll call; I will read off your name. Confirm to me directly by stating that you are that person, stating your name in the process as you would when legally swearing an oath." One by one, he goes down the list, sorted alphabetically by your last name and pausing with each one to let you speak up.
Once each of you has confirmed your identities and presence, he lifts the scroll case, showing that at the end of the tube sits the professor's unbroken wax seal. "This tube has not been opened since Professor Lorrimor last committed his will, some six months ago. The case has been sitting in the city hall since that day, undisturbed." Once he has made a note of showing each of you that the seal is unbroken, he breaks the tax. A small iron key falls out of the tube, noisily clattering onto the table, but the councilman remains undaunted as he unravels the scroll and begins to read.
I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.
Yet beyond the bequeathing of 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, I hate to impose upon you all, but there are few others who are capable of appreciating the true significance of what I have to ask. As some of you know, I have devoted many of my studies to all manners of evil, that I might know the enemy and inform those better positioned to stand against it. For knowledge of one's enemy is the surest path to victory over its plans.
And so, over the course of my lifetime, I have seen fit to acquire a significant collection of valuable and dangerous tomes, any one of which in the wrong circumstances could have led to an awkward legal situation. While the majority of these tomes remain safe under lock and key at the Lepidstadt University, I fear that a few I have borrowed remain in my trunk in my Ravengro home. 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 tomes myself. As such, I am entrusting my chest of times to you, posthumously. I ask that you please deliver the collection to my colleagues at the University of Lepidstadt, who will put them to good use for the betterment of the cause.
Yet before you leave for Lepidstadt, there is another favour--please delay your journey one month and spend that period of time here in Ravengro to ensure 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 one hundred platinum coins. For safekeeping, I have left these funds with Embreth Daramid, one of my most trusted friends in Lepidstadt--she has been instructed to issue this payment upon safe delivery of the borrowed tomes no sooner than one month after the date of the reading of this will.
I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4711.
With that, the councilman places the scroll down onto the table. "If that will be all, I will be on my way. Thank you for your time, and I am sorry for your loss." He does not linger around for questions, starting out of the house immediately and leaving you to have the reality of his words sin in.
Sofia nodded along to Mr. Hearthmount's instructions, and spoke when her name came up. "Yes, I am Sofia Covanu," she answered the roll call plainly. She took him at his word that the case was sealed and didn't concern herself with the metal object that fell from the tube. She listened intently as the will was read, however, eagerly absorbing every line.
She mulled over the requests, while the solicitor took his leave, and offered a polite smile in Kendra's direction. "I'll be honored to carry out your father's last wishes," she assured. In truth, she was oddly relieved that the requests would give her more time away from home.
Nodding as he continues to sip his tea, Christoph mulls over what Kendra had said. She knows him better. To be fair to the man, he's just lost a close friend and mentor just like we did. Not an excuse, but I'm not owed an apology so its not my business anyway. The knock breaks his train of thought, and he stands and nods respectfully to the councilman. The man's behavior draws Christoph's attention. So it's not just a few hotheads who are uncomfortable with the Professor. Hard to believe he'd choose to live in this backwater where he was feared and hated. It's hard enough to do right when you're not being hounded for it. When asked to give his name, his reply is simple if stiff, "I'm Christoph Metzgar."
He runs a hand through his unruly beard as he listens to the will's reading, his thoughts wandering. Not so surprising a request, when you stop to think through what the Professor studied for a living. Those books belong under lock and key. It might be awkward going back to my duty after so long, but I think an explanation of what was at stake should suffice. Probably need to send a letter though. He clears his throat and says, "I'd of course be happy to stay, Miss Lorrimor. It would be a poor repayment on my part for your father's kindness if I didn't. As for those books-" Christoph runs a thumb along the simple spiral pattern engraved on his dagger's pommel, "-it's also my duty to see that they are returned to the safe care of your father's associates."
Ellie nonchalantly picks up the key that falls out of the scroll case, since nobody else appeared to be interested in it. Other than that, she speaks only to confirm her name - the rest of the will is surprising enough that it temporarily makes her speechless.
100 in platinum - each?! But that's... I hope we're not taking from Kendra's inheritance... did she know about this? I hope this doesn't make things awkward. I'd have stayed anyway, if Kendra asks me to.
The request to stay for a month is actually something of a relief - it's not like she had anywhere else to be, and she had been hoping to get the chance to take a look through the Professor's notes. She's curious to know what - if anything - he recorded about her staff. Was there anything he didn't tell her?
Also: books. Interesting books by the sounds of it. Presumably the key she just picked up fits in the "chest of times," as the Professor's will referred to it. Well, if she's going to be here for a month then she can at least make detailed notes for her own future reference.
But first - "Uh, Kendra?" she coughs a bit, out of nervousness. "Is - is that OK with you, I mean, I've heard people who are bereaved sometimes just want to be alone, and here you are now with a bunch of people in your home for a month, plus, you know..." she trails off. Plus all that money your father is giving us.
She's not sure what else to say, so she shuts up.
"Aye, I'm Freija Runeshield." she says when her name is called.
The reading of the will and mention of the forbidden tomes in this 'Chest of Times' acts as a trigger to Freija's dark fascination with the undead. "I must read those books. Perhaps I'll stay in this Leipstadt once we complete our task. Especially if they have even more tomes."
"Very well, I shall honor the wishes of your father." She says evenly, not wanting to show her shameful preoccupation with the lore of the undead.
Mihaela is delighted that the jam is produced locally and promises herself to pick up a few jars before leaving.
When the councilman mentions her name, she replies, "Yes, I am Mihaela Ardeluc", and gave Ellie a nod as she picked up the dropped key. I wonder what kind of books he kept in that chest? I'd love the chance to go trhough them and possibly also a few of the ones in Lepidstadt.
Mihaela picks up on something in Freija's voice and suspects she's not telling the whole truth, but decides to not do anything about it for now.
Turning to Kendra, she says, "I will of course honour your father's wishes, if it's alright with you that we stay here in Ravengro? I wouldn't want to impose on your hospitality, so if you'd rather I stay at the inn, I'd be happy to do that instead."
Elisa gives a shallow bow and says, "Elisa Salazar," when Councilman Hearthmount calls out her name.
Her eyes follow the key as it falls from the scroll case, "I wonder what that's for?". She nods with interest as the Councilman reads about the books, "Ah, the key must be for the trunk. I'd prefer to not have to read through stacks of tomes, but perhaps I could get Ellie to give me a summary of the more important parts, just in case."
It's at this point that Elisa notices Freija's strange facial reactions to the mention of the books. "Interested in the books as well?"
When the Councilman reads the bit about staying for the month, she looks over at Kendra and smiles, "Looks like you're stuck with me for another month." Her eyes widen as she hears about the 100 platinum coins, "Wow, that's a lot of money." Her mind whirls as she thinks about what she could use it for.
When the others begin talking to Kendra again she breaks free from her thoughts. "Like the others, I'm happy to honour your father's wishes. Any ideas of where you'd like us to start?"
Kendra seems a little shaken by all of it happening at once, nodding slowly and taking a moment to come to answer you. "I would be very thankful if you stayed," she says softly. "I can set you in here, it is no promise to stay here, and in fact I might prefer it. Since father died, the house has been so empty. It never bothered me when he was on trips, but now, knowing he won't be coming back... Company would be very well appreciated. Admittedly, father left me some letters to explain things to me; I couldn't act legally on them until the will was read, but he explained the general extent of what he was leaving me. He'd never sold the home we had in Lepidstadt, the one I grew up in. He said he was worried I may not like Ravengro, and keptheld onto it for if I ever wished to move back to the city or pursue academia. I think now, I may sell this house and move back to the city. It's nicer there. If it is no trouble at all, would you be willing to stay with me while I make the preparations? Perhaps help box up all of these books." She laughs genty. "They will be much more spacious back in the old house. Father bought this place thinking his shelves would fit like they used to, but they don't.
"Oh, right! The books. Would you like to look at the books father needs you to take back? I do not know as much as he did, but perhaps some of you would have clearer ideas of how to handle them if you saw them?"
"Of course, I'd be happy to help!", Elisa says cheerfully.
"Your father must have had his reasons, but I must say, bar the innkeeper, the people here in Ravengro are not very friendly," Elisa says with a frown. "Lepidstadt is likely to have a much nicer atmosphere and should be a much nicer place to live! This is just my opinion, but I think you're making a good decision."
When Kendra asks about the books, Elisa says "I'd be happy to have a look if you like, but I think Ellie and Christoph are much more qualified to tell you how they should be handled," knowing that they had studied these sorts of topics much more than she had. "Or perhaps one of my new acquaintances also has relevant knowledge," she says indicating Mihaela, Sofia and Freija. She finishes her current cup of tea with a final sip and then refills her cup, allowing the others to add any input they might have.
Mihaela nods at Kendra and Elisa, "I would love to have a look at the books, though my areas of expertise might not overlap with the subjects in the books. We will see in due time, I suppose."
She absentmindedly fiddles with the book on alchemy she found in the bookshelf. "As for staying here and helping you get things sorted, I'd be happy to. I agree with Elisa that this place hasn't made me want to retire here, so I completely understand your desire to move back to Lepidstadt. It's as if all the most insular people of Ustalav have gathered here to be miserable together. For the life of me, I cannot understand why the innkeep has chosen to stay in this town."
Sofia offered a solemn nod to Kendra, hearing her intentions to leave Ravengro. "A wise and well thought decision," she said.
On the topic of examining the tomes, and at Elisa's prompting, Sofia gave a hopeful smile. "I can test them for psychic energies, perhaps. Someone else might be able to test for magic auras? If you give me an hour or so to prepare, I might be able to get a reading on one...but where your father was the most recent owner, anything I glean will likely involve his use of it." Sofia shrugged. "If you want me to test the whole lot, it will take a few days."
Christoph, watchful and suspicious by nature, notices the tremor of -excitement? nervousness?- in her voice. He's distracted by the curiosity by Kendra's speech and the verbal tic is driven from his mind. He nods his agreement with the others, "I'll -of course- be happy to help. Don't blame you for wanting to move back to Lepidstadt. It's a fine city and Ravengro is..." Christoph visibly struggles to find the right word, "...not as refined."
It's obvious to all that the talk of examining the books makes Christoph nervous. 'Dangerous and valuable' the Professor says. And about the kinds of topics that he'd study. Can't say I like the sound of. He asks in a voice that's entirely too innocent to be without ulterior motive, "I don't suppose you have some idea what's in these dangerous books? Do you know what your father was studying recently, maybe? I'm a Voice, so I can tell you a fair bit about the undead. Outside of that though, I'm not so sure I'd be of help. Ellie's the magician, so she'll know a touch more, I imagine."
"I'll gladly help you move from this place, you'd be a fool ta stay here. Without some reason for staying that is." Freija pauses, not wanting to seem too eager, then says "Why don't we have a look at these tomes causing all the consternation."
Ellie is blissfully unaware of the undercurrents and ulterior motives of any of the people in the room. The prospect of a month in these lodgings, getting to read all of the Professor's old notes, is dizzying. People, by contrast, aren't nearly as interesting.
She nods, confidently, at Kendra's question. "I will certainly have some ideas, once I've had a chance to read them. So let's make a start."
"The villagers take a long time to warm up," Kendra agrees, "But they are simply scared and perhaps a little ignorant. Around the time shortly before father's death, people began whispering here and there of intermittent oddities. Screams in the night, little flashes of uncertainty. When he was found dead peeking around ruins, the belief was that he was somehow to blame for it. Outsiders, especially ones on business for him, would be looked at strangely, but I assure you, given some time in the town they will come to understand you pose no danger. By the end of this month they may well be sad to see you go.[b]" It's a hopeful remark, one that maybe comes from a place of naivety, but she doesn't linger on it too quickly, rising up to her feet and taking the key from the table. [b]"Come with me, please. Father's office would be the best place to do this." On that note, she moves to lock the door before guiding you into the room and into the dusty old office, where books sit in an even grander state of disarray and hopelessness, with inkwells, worn down quills, and journals lying about everywhere. Sitting beside the desk is a modestly sized chest, and she moves to slowly open it with the key, looking almost halting and nervous for a moment as she undoes it, as if worried there is something bound to jump out at her.
Instead, she is greeted with a journal, looking much like all of the others sitting around the room but with many more scratches and marks of wear on its leather exterior. In particular, the phrase Read me now! is scratched tight into the leather, exposing the white beneath it with deep, intentional scratches. "Oh my," Kendra says, lifting it up and ignoring for a moment the other books in the chest as she holds it up. "One of father's journals. His will didn't mention anything about it, but clearly he wished for us to see it?" She begins to rifle through it in confusion, furrowing her brow and explaining, "Father kept many journals, meticulously organized by subject so that he had research notes where they were easiest to find, but this looks like one of his personal journals." The rapid turning of paces plays out, and as she does so, it becomes obvious that several entires have been circled with red ink in hasty, sloppy motions. She begins to read off the entries with slight confusion in her voice.
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now; undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous. I hesitate to inquire any further, but also wonder if such hesitation would not qualify as destructive ignorance.
Several years of entries go on uncircled until this next one, dated two months ago:
It is as I had feared. The Way is interested in something here in Ravengro. But what could it be?
Then, from one month ago:
Whatever the Way seeks, I am now convinced their goal is connected to Harrowstone. In retrospect, I suppose it all makes sense; the stories they tell about the ruins in town are certainly chilling enough. It may be time to investigate the ruins, but with everyone in town already being so worked up about them, I would rather not let them know about my curiosity. There are plenty of folks hereabouts who already think I'm a demonologist or a witch or something. Ignorant fools.
Twenty days ago:
It is confirmed. The way seems quite interested in something--no, strike that--someone who was held in Harrowstone. But who, specifically, is the Way after? I need a list of everyone who died the night of the fire. Everyone. The Temple of Pharasma must have such a list.
Eighteen days ago:
I see now just how ill prepared I was when I last set out for Harrowstone. I am lucky to have returned at all. The ghosts, if indeed they were ghosts (for I did not find it prudent to investigate further on my own) prevented me from transcribing the same symbols I found etched along the foundation. Hopefully on my next visit I will be more prepared. I almost considered calling for help from an associate, but it feels there is little time for that now, and I would only let the sand run down waiting for someone to answer my call. Thankfully, the necessary tools to defend against spirits are already here in Ravengro. I know that the Church of Pharasma used to store them in a false crypt in the Restlands at the intersection between Eversleep and the Black Path. I am not certain the current clergy even know of what their predecessors have hidden down below. If my luck holds, I should be able to slip in and out with a few borrowed items.
Seventeen days ago, the date the professor's body was found:
This evening i return to the prison. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution had already cost me too much time. I am not sure what will happen if I am too late, but if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don't have time to update my will, so I'll leave this in the chest where it'll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass.
From inside of the page slips a letter, scrawled in the same handwriting as the journal.
If you are reading this letter, I am very regretful to inform you that I have most certainly perished. This letter would not be but embers were I still drawing breath, and with that in mind, I would like to say that I am sorry. If my dearest Kendra is reading this, please hold back the final paragraphs as they are only for you, and if you are not Kendra, I implore you please let only my daughter read the closing sentences, as they are for my daughter's eyes only.
I am sorry that I cannot tell you more, but in my haste I must run and there is little time to explain all of the many things I must say. But you are a clever lot, and I am certain you will come to learn all the details yourselves before it is too late. What is important for you to know is that it is no coincidence that put each of you in my will. The dark forces that I have worked to study and move against in all of my years have always been a threat, and I realized that were I to perish alone, it would likely be due to forces that endanger the people, and you would all know well that I cannot let such dangers proliferate.
Each of you was put into my will from a position of trust. Across all considerations of capability, intelligence, trustworthiness, and a willingness to do the right thing, each of you are among the best I have ever met in my many years. I apologize, but your placement in my will was as much a contingency as it was a care for each of you; Kendra may need you, but there are others who need you as well. Your thirty days in Ravengro will not be a slow and quiet vacation, I am afraid, because there are matters to attend to, and I hold you in high enough esteem to have entrusted whatever may lead to my death to you. Ravengro is in danger, and Harrowstone is the key to it. I implore you to please consider your choices wisely and to help these people. To keep this evil from spreading and hurting countless people.
By the time that Kendra is finished reading it all, she's in tears again, fingers tightening against the letter as teardrops wet the paper. "I-I will give you some time," she says, walking quickly out with the letter to leave you to talk about what happened or to examine the books, her footfalls sounding more erratic as the door closes behind you and Kendra leaves, perhaps to give herself some isolation rather than to leave you be.
Elisa's mind whirls with the implications contained in the circled journal entries. "Ye-Yes, that might be best. I...I need some time to take all of this in." she says haltingly in response to Kendra.
She pauses for several minutes thinking, Whispering Way... a group of necromancers? Harrowstone.... the ruins outside of town obviously. The Way looking for someone held in Harrowstone? Ghosts...related to the necromancers perhaps? Supplies for fighting the spirits, like those Christoph and Kjell showed me perhaps, located near where the Professor was buried. Buried because of what this Whispering Way did most likely. Maybe because the Professor tried to stop them. I'll make them pay for that! You got in over your head again you foolish old man! You never did have any sense of self-preservation.
Elisa sighs and looks around to the others, "This is all rather overwhelming but, it looks like the Professor intended for us all to be a safeguard if he failed to prevent this Whispering Way doing something bad. Something really bad, from the sounds of it, important enough that it looks like the Professor laid down his life to stop it. I don't know about the rest of you but, I'm going to find out what's going on and make that scum pay if they're responsible for what happened to the Professor! Is anyone else interested in joining me?". Her face hardens and her eyes fill with resolve as she finishes what she was saying.
Ellie just nods, dumbly, absolutely stunned by what they have all just discovered. "I..." She trails off.
But Elisa is right: it's time to be angry. The Professor's death was no accident, but murder. Her mentor, her friend, has been taken from her by the deliberate actions of someone else. That person (or people) is now her personal enemy.
Enemy. It's not a word she's really used before. She savours it, that slow controlled feeling of wrath building up within her. She wipes an angry sleeve across her eyes. Tears and mourning can wait. While there is even a prospect of vengeance, she will not be found wanting.
Her mouth sets in a firm line. "Right. First things first." She starts to tick actions off on her mental checklist. "We need to collect the rest of the items from the crypt that he mentioned. We also need more information about the place he was exploring, as well as about this Whispering Way. I suggest we divide our efforts, we're already days behind the enemy and we need to catch up fast."
She looks around. "So, who wants to do what?"
Elisa nods at what Ellie is saying, "I definitely agree about gathering the supplies from the crypt and about gathering more knowledge, for that matter. His journal entry also suggested he borrowed some things. The Professor was very knowledgeable about these things, maybe we could ask to see what he had on him when he was found? He might have picked up the most suitable gear for this and he may have had some other notes on his person that could help."
Elisa turns away from everyone for a moment and rubs her arm across her eyes, then slowly lowers her arms by her sides, clenching her fists and turns back around. "Providing, of course, that whoever or whatever got him didn't remove anything first.", she says, eyes tightening in anger.