Kien returns into the building, the familiar heavy frown back on his face as he opens the door a little too roughly. "We're leaving." He states, holding the door open for the others.
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Tyrus stumbles over an apology as he grabs the proferred paper bags. "Sorry. Must dash! Sorry. Luca! Sorry!"
by the fourth apology he's out the door Kien holds open. "What is it?" he asks, more quietly. "We only just got your buns"
Kien shuts the door and starts setting a brisk pace, although not so much that the old man or the child can't keep up if they hurry. Once they move a few more blocks and Kien has taken some strange turns, glancing behind him frequently, he pulls them into an alley. "We were followed by a woman, a keeper of the library and a priest of the Triarch. I don't know what they want with us, but they saw fit to stalk us first. We need to be cautious here."
Luca's face instantly went pale, and she tugged her cloak tighter about herself as if to hide her face. Not that she expected anyone to recognize her - she was a nobody, less than a nobody, dangerous and yet wholly dependent on others for her basic needs. There shouldn't have been a good reason for anyone to want to look for her, so that left only the bad ones... "So, how do we lose them?" she whispered.
"By doing what I said, they're lost now. But they can find us again, we stick out too much. Tyrus, these members of the library, are they potential allies? I need to know if we need to disappear or not."
You know that the librarians come from all over the world, though most of them are of course from the local people. The Library and those who run it have no official ties to any religion, though again the local makeup of predominantly Triarch worshipers is still found among their number.
The only way you could count on surefire support from the Library and its people is if you were attempting to preserve some information that others were attempting to destroy, as the preservation of information of all kinds is the Libraries sole concern. Any other trouble is unlikely to gain their help - they would direct you to other institutions to seek aid.
Tryus looks thoughtful.
"As I remember the Library stands alone, obsessed with the acquisition, categorisation, and especially preservation of knowledge. Actual use of that knowledge is regarded with some disdain. I know 'clubs' have sprung up in the city, groups of academics who seek only to use the information in the library and thus are not part of the library per se. I had hoped to find such a club dealing in healing, rather than try to wade through the library itself."
He pauses, leaning breathlessly against a relatively clean wall nearby. "According to my journal we have unearthed rare information on four different occasions. Firstly with that dwarf's book - merging divine and arcane magic. Secondly with the ruins we encountered rescuing the apprentice, though admittedly only little information was found. Thirdly we have recently succeeded in acquiring a large quantity of information from our most recent archaeology dig, including some rather startling information on Blood Magic and Infernalism. Finally there is my own research into a unifying theory of alchemy and arcane magic."
He shrugs "It is possible they have become aware of one or more of these events - especially if a summary of our archeological dig has been made public. That might justify looking for us, though I question whether stealth would be used."
"On the other hand, unless we seek to destroy information - and we don't - we are unlikely to gain their enmity. While they have many Triarch worshippers - this city is flooded with such - I have never heard of any direct ties."
"We're unlikely to make allies with the library unless we're directly working to support their agenda; though..." he trails off "We could see if they are interested in buying and/or restoring the dwarven journal we've carried so long. That would give an excuse to approach the library proper, and possibly see if they have heard of us."
"As for blending in... Luca might do so easily. Perhaps with some effort you might appear a young gentleman, Kien. A man of my... presence" Tyrus self deprecatingly slaps his girth "Is unlikely to go unnoticed."
" I could then approach the Library, and if all goes well I will reappear with information. If not..." he trails off "I certainly can't think of any reason they might want me. I can claim we have parted ways if it is one of the two of you they seek. I can wear a token, so you know from a distance to beware, in case they are following me."
"There are some spells - not ones I know, but relatively easily acquired - that could help you to blend in. Alternatively we could simply go shopping."
Kien shakes his head. "I'm out of my depth here old man. You know this library stuff better than I do. If you think we should approach them I'll go along. It sounds like selling this dwarven book to them is the best way to get in."
"Coin can do anything." the merchant's daughter said quietly. "Get you to the people you want to see, uncover the information you want to know. In the end, everyone uses coin - if you do not act, someone else ultimately will. But these clubs sound promising. They would be the type to hoard information - knowledge others do not have is worth much more than coin to them, and they are easier to deal with besides. I think we should seek them out."
Tyrus looks torn. "Long term, finding a group of like minded academics is critical. Contacting the library is more about trying to head off any potential issues."
A thought occurs "I don't suppose we could stalk them, Kien?"
Kien looks at Tyrus for a beat, seeming mildly surprised. "Yes. I confronted the woman who was tailing us so I got a good look at her. She was...memorable. And if they have established buildings we could check that out as well. Do we know where that may be? Or do we need to ask around town?"
From his university days, Tyrus remembers that there was a focal point for these 'clubs' that served as something of a meeting place and debate ground. A large, multi-level inn and tavern known as The House Of Lights. Assuming nothing has changed in the admittedly long years since then, that would be a good place to start.
"Well, if they're not an aggressively secret society, they should be pretty easy to track down." Luca noted. "Just find someone who probably sells things to them and ask."
Tyrus suddenly straightens at Luca's words "I remember! In University I studied with a young lady from these parts. She worked for her father, who used to sell paper to them. She joked about how she grew up in a tavern, because that's where the different clubs all met. What was it called... Lighthouse? No - House of Lights. That's it!"
"Kien - could you recount the story in more detail? Perhaps something
in that will prompt my failing memory to regurgitate a useful fact. Ironic if it turned out this is simply an old student."
"A small woman with long black hair, middle age. Her eyes were gold, and she spoke of being able to see beyond this world." He curls a lip, clearly not liking mysterious takes on magic.
"She wore the half-robes and insignia of one of the keepers of the Great Library, as well as others denoting her to be a worshiper and priest of the Triarch."
"I, uh, I wouldn't trust anyone who likes seeing beyond the world. It's not as fun as it sounds." Luca muttered. "Especially when it starts looking back at you."
A quick inquiry to another streetside food vendor gets you directions to the House of Lights. It is an impressive structure - three wide stories built into the side of a hill at the top of a busy road. The traffic in and out of it seems to indicate that it is a center of some kind of activity.
You ask around a bit, and rather than getting an answer from somebody you ask you are overheard by a thin, short man who appears to be somewhere near his fortieth year. "Looking for the academies!" he says in somewhat broken and accented Obanese. "You want over here!"
He leads you to the furthest reach of the lowest level of the House. Many people are sitting outside on a patio of sorts, and you can tell you've been brought to the right place. There are conversation in half a dozen different languages that you can hear, and what little you can pick up is about topics ranging from geologic formations to the true origin of dragons.
Your escort interrupts one of the conversations and peppers one of the participants with Athekoran words. This one, a middle-aged man with the dark complexion of a man from one of the Golaporan cities, speaks to you in impeccable Obanese. "A newcomer! Welcome to the House of Lights, or rather our little corner of it. If you're an academy member they request you don't enter the Inn proper unless and until you're staying there. It's how we keep the peace with the House and its other clientele."
He takes a moment to clearly study Tyrus and the others. "An interesting assortment you lot make! I am Sulimach Sett, but many here call me Sully if that agrees with their tongue better. I am a scholar primarily of herbology, and one of the semi-official hosts of the Forum - which is what we call this space. What may I do for you?"
We should sell the Mensha to him. Luca thought, remembering the plant's effects on Tyrus. So far as she knew, it was relatively rare, and it would probably be much safer with a scholar who studied plants... and might even be able to make a cure for the darn stuff.
Better to do that quietly, though.
"Delighted to meet you Sulimach. I am Tertius, and am myself somewhat of a herbologist, through primarily I am interested in its applicability to alchemy." he waves to the others, carefully leaving their names out "...and these are my students."
"Primarily" Tyrus starts "I am here looking for information on a particularly pernicious illness. There is some evidence it may be of a supernatural nature. There is even a chance - albeit a small one - it may be more a malady of the soul."
"Other than that: I have a few miscellaneous arcane research topics I would like to pursue. I am hoping to find a friend of a friend who I believe lives in the city." he smiles "I believe that covers it. Is there any chance you could point me in the right direction? I am not wealthy, but I do have a somewhat valuable tome I am willing to part with if I need to raise capital."
Kien shadows behind Tyrus, taking in the sight and keeping his ears sharp, but otherwise staying silent.
"Malady of the soul? Why, I have never heard of such a thing - but then, I am no physic. I can introduce you to the academies of surgeons, physics, and such easily enough. And perhaps to those concerning theology, if you think that may help. As for your friend, I would need a bit more information to know where to begin. But let us be about the first bit, mm?"
Sulimach takes you into the Inn, which turns out to be several adjoining halls, each filled to varying extents by academics in debate that range to polite to nearly violent. Fortunately, the academies concerning medical pursuits seem to meet in one of the more peaceful areas.
Tertius strode among scholars, and despite his affliction for the first time he felt something new. Confidence. He'd always felt an impostor in such events, trailing in his wife's shadow.
He had no discoveries. No acomplishments. No stories. No real friends.
Tyrus had all four.
"Indeed I did deal with several cases - we had somewhat of an outbreak of them in Keldradt. Understandable, I remember facing down a horde of the undead, my companions injured. When they turned on me... well, I'm not ashamed to say I ran. I have literally felt the icy grip of the undead on my body, and I am convinced the problem is psychological, rather than physical or psychic..."
"Indeed, I had the same thought. My researches into unifying alchemy and spellcraft are still young, but I am convinced that alchemical formulae and arcane spells are simply two different ways of encoding the same information. Let me demonstrate..."
"Indeed I am a Haemothurge, but I can assure you Blood Magic is far from the dark art you suspect. I always believed so, and while my time when captured by pirates reinforced my belief, I recently had the opportunity to lead an expedition to unearth a Makon 'devil-king's' stronghold, and it is the unwilling taking of blood that leads to the corruption endemic to..."
"In fact glass, properly shaped and strengthened, makes an exceptional surgical instrument. Strengthened? Oh, indeed, there are several techniques to strengthen the glass. Have a look in my journal, here, and you'll see - oh never mind that, just a sketch for a statuette of Lianna I made. Doesn't capture her true beauty of course..."
Some combination of his sketchy memory of more recent days and the sudden immersion in academia makes Tyrus comes alive in a way he hasn't known since he himself was a student. His breadth and depth of knowledge impresses even the most dour-faced practitioner, and he is able to weigh in on several arguments with authority. When several of the members approach him to ask more about his own specialties, they listen in rapt attention to the ephemera he is concerned with, which while not entirely unknown are certainly rare pursuits.
It is common to ask about each others' academic history here. While self-taught individuals are not unknown, a considerable amount of honor is given to those from prestigious institutions and backgrounds. When the question of your own learning comes up, what do you tell them?
You note that several of these so-called academics are probably more than they want to let on. A few of them carry well-concealed weapons, and some of them move like fighters who know how to handle themselves. Not to say any of them have nefarious intent - you see no obvious evidence of that - but not all of them are book-bound pushovers.
One or two of them notice you surveying the room, and make clear that they too have noticed you. A quick dip of the head, a twitch of the eyebrow. Quiet signs of respect from one formidable individual to another.
You come across a couple of individuals who 'take the hint' at what you want - and what you are offering. In a town like this mensha is in high demand, and you don't have any trouble selling it for a good price. Nor is it technically considered a dangerous substance, so while they may wonder how you came across it they won't wonder too insistently.
Kien calmly eyes the armed men. The cold and neutral gaze that fighters share when they silently size each other up and make intricate plans on the most efficient way to kill each other at the drop of a hat, however unlikely that the situation will turn to violence.
Good, he knows where the threats are, and they know that he is one.
A bond is formed, one of mutual respect.
Kien silently follows his companions, them none the wiser of the silent conversation he just had with the most dangerous men in the room.
Alright, that was one (significant) problem out of the way. The merchant's daughter in her was a bit disappointed she hadn't had more to sell, but the practical side was just happy to be rid of a potential temptation. Tyrus had enough problems without turning to drug use, and somebody had to take care of the things his frazzled mind might forget. ...Was this what adulting was like? ...Also, maybe frazzled wasn't the best word to use, given how much the academics seemed to be hanging on his words. Had he always been that much of an expert?
When interrogated as to his qualifications, Tertius hesitates a moment, then admits to his training - though not his rank. "Medicine is not exactly a speciality of the university, and I have gone out amongst the world to learn more." he adds.
"My primary interest here is in degeneration of the mind, and diseases of the soul." Once he has found an audience who engages, he goes further.
"I seek a cure to the disease that afflicted my grandfather in his final days and, I believe, is fated to afflict the same suffering on me. "
Degeneration of the mind is a relatively common, and much debated, topic at the academies, so invested as they are in the mind's good operation. You'll find plenty of opinions and theory, and plenty of people who say they treat such things. Your initial descriptions of the disease gets many of the same misdiagnoses that you yourself wrote down in your journal. When you share this information, some stand by their original opinion and others admit to being stumped without more study and examination.
Tyrus ends up speaking to an elderly human woman, one of the most aged members of the medical academies. She is one of the few people there who has much in the way of knowledge over illnesses of the soul. She is from far northern Golm, from the lands beyond the Godswall mountains. A cold, harsh place, she says there are old, primal gods there, barely more than beasts, who subsist not on worship but on predation of the souls of mortals.
She says that the souls is one of the last great mysteries of the academia. But at least one thing she knows for certain: there are two classes of entity which have inherent power over souls: beings with divine power (gods and divine spirits) and the soul itself. Thus, if a soul is sick, one can discern the nature of what ails it by self-mastery of one's own soul, or to seek the help of a being with inherent divine power.
Self-mastery is a tricky subject, she acknowledges, and is always to to mastery of the rest of the self (body and mind). She says that she thinks there are two routes: one through self-denial - Meditation, the subjugation of wants, desires, earthly goals, etc. Or conversely - abandonment of self to those same wants and desires without consideration for anything else.
The woman readily admits, however, that her thinking on the matter is likely heavily flavored by her own trials, her own life, and much else. This is how she understands the matter, but she cannot be sure there are not other effective approaches.
Blood magic is treated... carefully, at the academies, as is necromancy. Not that all of them shy away from it, but that because such practices can have corrupting effects the local religion of the Triarchy treats their practice poorly. "All theory, no practice!" is the byword when it comes to such things, even if said with a wink and a nod.
Makon study is relatively common here. There are academies dedicated to several elements of the culture. So wrapped up in the rest of the conversations is Tyrus that he doesn’t really make time to meet them today, though.
Tyrus remains at the academies the entire day, happy as a child at the beach. At the end of the day, an elf enters each hall in turn and rings a small gong.
”That, alas, sound the end of our day. The House of Lights insists they have these halls for less cerebral evening festivities,” somebody says to Tyrus. ”We’re welcome to stay and drink and carouse with the other patrons – and some of us do – but the atmosphere is less than conducive to continued discussions.”
Tyrus huffed a little as he pulls himself down into a comfy chair, a slight groan emanating from both sitter and settee. There was a joy in his heart that was... unprecedented.
'Perhaps... I think perhaps when I first started dating. Joy. Hope. Excitement. This is what I always thought University could be! I should have come here years ago! Before I...' knowledge of why he was here surfaced again - there was no time to relax into the environment. He needed a cure, or very soon he'd be unable to participate in any meaningful way.
He waved over a waiter, ordered food for himself, Kien and Luca, and waited for his companions to return to him.
"Much as I'd like to carouse..." Tyrus says to his companions when they return, startled out of his inner contemplation "I'm not a young man anymore. I suspect it might be best if we retire to a suite, or find ourselves a base of operations. I confess I am inclined to find a suite here, if only to repay our hosts for their forbearance - though it would be wise to use a pseudonym."
"Once we retire I'd like to share what I've found - and if you've found anything of interest. I may have found a lead - mastery of ones soul through either asceticism or hedonism, and while a part of me would be interested in hedonism" he smiles self-deprecatingly "I suspect asceticism is more in line with my constitution and our financial constraints!"
"Should either of you two wish to carouse, of course, you would be welcome to return after we debrief. You're still a young man, Sean, and our purse can stand a little bloodletting" this last added to Kien - though whether the name is an impromptu attempt at an alias, or simply Tyrus' tired mind having a moment is hard to tell.
A few quick inquiries into the House of Lights reveal that the inn is quite expansive, and has ample rooms from pedestrian to opulent open to let in short or long-term. It is, however, on the more expensive side.
Somewhat intimidated by the costs at the House of Lights - whatever the comfort may be - you look into other lodgings. The academicians are happy to help. Many of them are forced to be highly conscious of money, as well. They point you to a reputable and safe inn some distance away where you can acquire a room just large enough for all of you and food for 1.5 silver a day.
Luca looked at Tyrus like she thought he was losing further marbles. "I think I'd rather stay closer, where it's safer." she said, quietly and with what firmness she had the courage to muster. "I'll see if I can sell some calligraphy, too - if nothing else, that should help reduce the costs while we're here."
The party decides to stick with the more humble accommodations at first, with hopes to move to the House of Lights should the stay in the city turn out longer and - with regards to Luca - lucrative.
The inn you decide on, known as the Dancing Pig, is in a quarter of the city frequented by small-time merchants, craftspeople, and their customers. It feels quiet and almost lonely after the bustle of the House of Lights, but there are several other academicians of limited means staying there as well (none, however, from the medical academies that Tyrus has gotten to know).
The night passes without incident, despite Kien's run-in the day before.
Finally seeing all his dreams come true, accepted as a scholar in a city of education and erudition, hunted by strangers and feeling his mind slowly eaten away by disease, Tyrus tried to think and feel nothing.
It was not successful.
"The Gods Damn it!" he swore, pulling himself to his feet. "Six tries! This isn't going to work. I could be at this for years!"
A man as large as Tyrus cannot stalk, but he looms around the tiny apartment the group has hired.
"We need to find out who is hunting us." His complaints turned to something he might be able to achieve "Kien, Luca; did you hear anything yesterday?"
None of the group feel up to the task of investigating things in a city in which they've spent not even twenty-four hours. And so they decide to go about their business and wait, but to be on their toes.
Luca, aiming to be useful, goes about the town to find work and help them pay their board. Kien accompanies her for safety and so he can have good reason to be out and about. Tyrus continues to meet with the medical Academies.
Luca's style of calligraphy isn't much in vogue her in a city so distant from where she learned, but eventually she finds hire - at least for a few days - with a wealthy merchant who does business in the Obansul. He contracts her to write up decorative title pages for several long-term contracts as a sign of respect to his foreign business partner.
Kien notices nothing untoward to give him unease as he follows Luca to and from her work, and busies himself in the day getting to know a bit of the city. However, it is only three days into her contract that Luca is greeted at the door of her workplace (the merchant's home) by an unfamiliar face...
Even before he begins, Tyrus realises what he's up against. Meditation had never been something he'd practised or prioritised - he was a scholar, not a sorcerer - despite the number of his colleagues who claimed some questionable benefit.
The difficulties he had had the first night had left him with an appreciation of just how difficult this would be however, and he determined to pull out all the stops to make this work.
He changed his morning preparation, preparing a number of the panacea he'd experimented with over time. Recognising that the magic bloating his body was almost certainly adding to the difficulty, he stopped by a chiurgeon to buy a few nice, healthy looking leeches. On the way back he passed an alchemist and picked up a few herbs to ensure his health was as good as he could manage.
Finally he headed into the House of Lights and started asking around for someone who could lead a meditation - ideally the Golmish woman who suggested it. He was careful to keep his thoughts on the utility of such a practice to himself, given he now found his life dependent on it.
Pulling out all the stops, you spend some money on a set of herbs that combine to form a tea to ward against anxiety and stress. You figure a normal dose will be enough to shut out most of the spurious desires of the flesh and the baser instincts.
Drinking the tea and settling in for another attempt, you wonder what it is success will even feel like. As the herbs take effect, you find it easier and easier to forget physical sensation and focus on pure thought - or absence thereof. You use the most basic meditative trick known to you - focusing on the sound of your own breathing, a simple in-out rhythm. Your eyes are closed and the room around you is mostly dark anyway, Luca and Kien allowed you this solitude at your request.
At the beginning you feel a lingering frustration that you don't even know what is supposed to happen. Undirected exploration into the psyche is the stuff of charlatans, not research. Yet, you find the tranquility comforting, and decide to enjoy it for its own sake. You aren't sure how much time passes before your next conscious thought. You simply become aware of a gap in time, and think that this must indeed be what successful meditation is like. You can feel your own mind almost like an enormous chamber, largely dark and still but still explorable - like a warehouse at midnight.
And then you become aware of somebody else there with you. Or something. Some presence - not threatening, not alarming. Not even stirring. Dormant in a deep and fundamental way. You explore the sensation in your trance-like state, wondering if you are simply dreaming... but no. When you attempt it, you can feel your body. You know you could move if you so wished, but there is no point to it right now. It is not the physical world that currently concerns you, but the world within.
After some contemplation, you become almost sure of it - there is another being sharing your mind and body. But it itself is not a mind - there is no sensation of another will, such as you have felt before through spell and other means. It is presence without activity, but you feel it deeply rooted in you.
As the tea wears off and you feel the pull of the physical world again, you surface to consiousness. But the memories of your experience are clear, as are the conclusions you came to.
There is another soul in your body. And it is growing stronger.
"Um, c-can I help you?" Luca asked, wary (as always) around people she didn't know. That was one of the things her family had taught her, actually. You never knew when someone else was a rival sniffing around your business, so you had to be constantly alert and observant around strange faces. Merchants ought to do that anyway because it would help you spot new opportunities, so it was really something of a two-for-one deal... exactly the sort of thing merchants loved to get, though they were hesitant to offer.
When the others return, Tyrus shares his victory.
"Ah, well, I'm afraid I spent a silver on supplies, but this time with success. While it is difficult to guarantee that I have not simply started imagining things while I..." he trailed off "I felt another presence, in my... me. Another soul. Not doing anything, but there. Given everything, it is hard not to assume a casual relationship with my affliction."
After the first day (or rather, second), when a +2 from the tea gave you a 25 on the check.
Rather than the usual butler greeting you at the door, the person who opens it is dressed in the armor and outfit of one of the temple guards whom you've seen at some point in the city - soldiers in the employ of the Temple of the Triarch. His helmet is off, and he bows politely. "Greetings, young miss. You are the girl called Luca? Indeed, you can help. It is the order of the master of the temple here in the city that you be brought there at once. He has questions he must ask you. Your guardian is welcome to accompany us, as well."
The armored man bows respectfully. "The temple of the Triarchy, the Lords Most High, Makeal, Kabreal, and Atheal. Into whose hands are pledged all those whom enter this city."