"The mask suits you." Aerith said, looking Mahmoud up and down. "You will make a fine bodyguard. It makes me want to bring you home." She mused. Then, switching topics "While it will be a sacrifice, I suppose that a...decent...room will suffice." The idea of passing up a suite was bad enough. But the idea of going down so far as the "standard" rates that commoners purchased never even crossed her mind.
With lodgings secured and Mahmoud sporting a fresh tattoo, the two of you head to the Great Library of Tephu. The high blue dome, topped with shining gold pinnacles, towers over the surrounding buildings. Huge columns rise from immense footings along the edifice's sheer walls. Inside, a large, ornate desk lit by a magnificent lantern seemingly made of water stands in the center of the entrance hall. Statues of enigmatic sphinxes sit in each corner of the room, their gazes an impossible mixture of pleasure and defiance. Archways in three walls open into larger spaces, the chambers beyond drowning in books, ledgers, librams, scrolls, clay tablets, tomes, and other more obscure forms of record, held in countless shelves and cabinets. The smell of old books is almost overpowering.
Aerith entered the library as serenely as she could, though in truth she was fighting the urge to rush in. After what felt like an entire age traversing through catacombs, ruins, and (almost as bad), what she assumed were slums, it felt like a fresh of breath air to enter the library of Tephu. "Mahmoud." She said, catching her breath as she looked over the countless shelves and cabinets. "We can separate and do our own research, or you can come help me." Fighting to keep herself from just rushing off, she kept a careful leash on her emotions lest she lose her dignity, as she marched into the library.
Mahmoud nods absently, his eyes narrowed through the lenses of his mask. "I will remain with you unless you would prefer to be alone," he murmurs. "Perhaps while you are investigating the powers of the mask, we may learn more about its original owner. I have been thinking about it, and I suspect the mask had been hidden in the temple to Nethys that we originally searched in the lottery-- The Temple of the Erudite Eye, was it not? The group that tried to claim the site instead of us may have known something. It may even be that the necromancer who we killed at the tomb looted it from the temple under our very noses, since it protects the wearer from magical detection, and it seems to me on reflection that there were signs of another person there. Perhaps also that is why there were so many undead creatures there."
You spend a full day exploring the library's Outer Sanctum - a vast store of knowledge without much of an index. It's a confusing mass of charts, papers, maps, and texts that contain a bewildering amount of information. You manage to locate general information about Osirion's most famous royal dynasties, but there's obviously quite a lot of knowledge missing. Interestingly, some of the more interesting and secretive works appear to have been deliberately removed. It's possible that this is why you find no information about the Mask of the Forgotten Pharaoh. The most useful thing you end up learning is that information relating to less well-known dynasties and older families is contained in a library section known as the Upper Stacks.
Upper Stacks
The vaulted dome of the library rises like the heavens above the floor of the main chamber. A broad balcony circles the base of the dome, lined with shelves and piles of books that loom like cliffs on the brink of collapse. A jumbling array of ladders climb to these teetering shelves, propped against the stacks, hung from ledges, dangling from wires overhanging the library far below, or fashioned from spikes hammered into the walls.
"Mahmoud, would you mind being my eyes up there? I do not trust myself on these ladders, and there are a number of tomes which would be most helpful. Once you find what we need, I could use telekensisis to bring the books down so you don't have to climb up and down incessently."
Mahmoud nods and makes himself available to Aerith's research needs. If he has any trepidation about the climb, he doesn't show it.
Constantly climbing precariously-balanced ladders that reach up to 60ft off the balcony floor is quite a difficult task, but Mahmoud is more than up for the challenge.
It's a long day of navigating treacherous ladders and deciphering ancient tomes, but you're able to come away with two noteworthy resources.
- A papyrus scroll dating from Osirion's Second Age over 6,000 years ago references a "lost" pharaoh named Hakotep. The scroll ascribes the epithet of"Sky Pharaoh" to the forgotten ruler and recounts his ability to "ride the stars by night." The scroll even contains a crude illustration of the Sky Pharaoh, a figure standing upon a dais surrounded by glass and crystal. Mahmoud notices that the dais and crystals are floating, seemingly part of a vast temple that somehow sits in the night sky. Aerith realizes that the image can be further interpreted as depicting the technology of the Shory - an ancient empire of central Garund known for its arcane engineering and flying cities.
- An obscure index compiled by a previous curator of the library lists the scroll referencing Hakotep as one of many that were copied from the personal library of the Sky Pharaoh. This collection of scrolls is held in a part of the Great Library's Inner Sanctum called the Spiral Archive, described as a chamber resembling a vertical scroll tube crossed by a latticework of papyrus bridges.
Unfortunately, the Spiral Archive is not open to the general public. Access is controlled by Tephu's haty-a , Deka An-Keret, high priestess of Nethys.
The day was long, but Aerith was undaunted. Truth be told, she found the day to be as exciting as any that they had thus far.
"It seems that we have hit an end to our investigations unless we can get access to the Spiral Archive." She said to Mahmoud. She had been somewhat hesitant going into the library about what use he might be, but as usual, he had proven himself to be invaluable. "And for that, we must receive an audience with Tephu's haty-a."
Mahmoud frowns and purses his lips behind his mask. "Is that the only way in?" he murmurs. "I believe this investigation is important enough that if the governor will not allow us access, or he will not even see us, we should find a method that goes against protocol."
Given her family background, Aerith is quite knowledgeable about setting up meetings with important personages. Deka An-Keret oversees the city from the Sanctuary of Nethys, which faces the Great Library across the wide expanse of the Plaza of the Bright Horizon. Unfortunately, the acolyte you speak to informs you that the haty-a is kept very busy with both civic and religious duties and has no time for audiences with casual visitors.
"Casual visitors?" Aerith's face darkened, as she took a step closer to the acolyte. The joy in research and her friendly exterior crumbled, revealing another side to her. Whether it was the black dragon within her, or the imperiousness of nobility, her voice grew cold and her tone sharper. "Never has House Lithanel constituted a casual visitor."
Her lips curling down into a scowl she continued. "I would have you know, that but days ago the dead rose and attacked the living in a tide of necromancy the likes of which are only whispered about in history. The research I am conducting is critical to ensuring that it does not happen again."
She raised her hand, revealing the signet of her house. "The Spiral Archive holds what we seek. A scroll, an index. Answers." Her eyes locked into those of the acolyte. "I would advise you to relay this information with all haste." It was clear from her tone and her posture that this was not a suggestion. In many ways, Aerith was far scarier as an elf than she ever could be as a dragon.
The acolyte bows respectfully. "I will relay this to the haty-a. Please return tomorrow morning."
Aerith inclined her head in acknowledgement and then turned to leave. ”Come, Mahmoud. We have done all we can with what we have access to.” She said to her companion. ”Unless you would rather stay, or course? I believe that I saw lessons on alchemy from J. Narthropple. There is more to this library than just duty, of course.” She turned to see his reaction, hoping he did not find her rude for unilaterally stating that it was time to leave.
Mahmoud shrugs and follows. He's trying to look like her bodyguard on social occasions, so he gestures to indicate that he is willing to go or stay as she wishes. "It might be worth seeing what we can see about entry to the special books section," he murmurs. "Just in case their response is negative." It had been some time since he "cased a joint" and he wouldn't mind brushing up.
”I see…” Aerith said. ”In that case let me grab that volume. I will sit by there and read while you, case it out, as you would say.” It seemed like the best of both worlds. She would get to relax and enjoy herself, all the while making a useful excuse for Mahmoud’s actions while he scouted the area out.
Mr. Narthropple's writing style is cantankerous, and he clearly has a rather high opinion of himself. The alchemical lessons, nonetheless, are interesting and informative.
At the rear of the library, you find an immense, circular bronze door marked with a single hieroglyph of an eye. It's securely locked (though well within your ability to open), and you notice that there's some sort of gas canister inside. You believe the triggering mechanism is tied to the rotation of the keyhole.
Overheard chatter from the library curators reveals the Spiral Archive is guarded by a ceustodaemon and multiple invisible stalkers.
You also notice an interesting statue near the library's entrance. Describing it to Aerith reveals that it's likely a tophet: a guardian construct designed to swallow trespassers and hold them for later release.
Aerith put down the book she was reading and listened intently. ”I truly hope that we are allowed in legally. From what you describe, even if we get in we might do irreparable harm in the process of defending ourselves.”
Mahmoud scratches his head and nods dubiously. "Unlikely we can get in and out quietly, so we'd need to make a run for it afterward. They can probably guess who did it, so we will be fugitives here from then on."
"Then we are agreed, we will go about this the official way. Meaning..." Aerith got up. "It is time that we had some real food. We have the night to relax, and I mean it when I say that we have earned it."
After a proper meal and a relaxing night, you return to the Sanctuary of Nethys to meet with haty-a Deka An-Keret. Unfortunately, this meeting is short and rather frustrating. The haty-a begins by casting a spell to determine the veracity of your words before asking you about the specific topics you wish to research in the Inner Sanctum. After hearing your response, she politely - but firmly - refuses to grant you permission.
Before you can reply, your meeting is interrupted by a slave rushing into the audience chamber, prostrating herself on the floor, and begging to deliver a message to the haty-a.
"My deepest apologies for the interruption, but I've been sent by Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis. She requests your presence immediately."
With a resigned sigh, the haty-a turns to you. "I must go. This meeting is concluded." She then exits the room, leaving the slave behind.
"My deepest apologies for the interruption, but I've been sent by Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis. She requests your presence immediately.
Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis, Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King, is in Tephu as the personal representative of the Ruby Prince. As such, she's currently the most influential individual in the entire city and is clearly someone who's used to immediate obedience. She's currently residing in the Palace of Gentle Reeds, and it's rumored that she's fond of tossing people she dislikes to the crocodiles that live in its waters.
With a sigh Aerith turned to the slave who was left behind. ”That is what you put up with every day?” She asked. Sliding ten gold crowns to him she said ”For your trouble. We appreciate…” She paused, as if an idea just occurred to her. ”Would it be possible if I could but see what a pass looks like? When I report back to my superiors it would be most useful in making my report so I am in…ah…less trouble. If I can’t even describe the pass, it will look very unfavorably on me. My cousins will certainly accuse me of either inventing this, or incompetence.” She paused, the coins heavy in the man’s hand.
As a young noblewoman, at least in recognized name, she hoped that the combination of a modest gift (insignificant to her, but a fortune to him) and a reasonable excuse would be enough to get her the details she would need to forge her own pass.
The slave stares longingly at the coins but doesn't take them. "I'm deeply sorry, mistress, but library passes are written by the haty-a and sealed in an envelope that is given to the recipient. She doesn't keep a store of them."
From his position behind Aerith, Mahmoud steps forward and looks down at the slave through his imposing mask. "You serve the Fan-Bearer? We would like to speak with her as soon as possible. Perhaps she will understand the importance of our request better than the haty-a." He indicates the coins with a flicker of his eyes. "You can make this happen, yes?"
The slave eagerly takes the coins. "Follow me, please."
---------------------------
A great palace towers over the canal, fronted with a palisade of beautifully painted pillars in dazzling colors. In front of the palace, moored to a magnificent marble quay, a luxurious river barge wallows in the turbid waters of the canal. Between the barge and the palace, a makeshift camp of colorful tents and stalls has sprung up, creating a small village worth of bustling activity.
A gangplank leads up from the quay to the deck of the pleasure barge. Brightly painted and trimmed with shining gold, the barge's polished wooden planks gleam in the sun. Toward the stern of the vessel, painted and gilded columns support a silken canopy, shading a pyramid-shaped dais heaped with cushions that rises from the barge's deck. Sheer curtains between the pillars stir slightly in the weak breeze along the canal.
The barge is inundated with courtiers, guards, slaves, and servants. Wealthy citizens and members of the local aristocracy sit upon cushions on the deck, beneath huge parasols held up by eunuchs. A lion is tethered to each of the four corner pillars, each watched by a guard holding a huge whip. Scantily clad slaves move silently through the gathering, bearing trays and pitchers of refreshments for the guests. Almost lost in the vast mountain of cushions atop the pyramid is a heavyset woman dressed in revealing silks and wearing a gold headdress: Her Excellency Muminofrah of Sothis, Fan-Bearer on the Right Side of the King and personal representative of Ruby Prince Khemet III.
Aerith paused at the foot of the gangplank, taking in the kaleidoscope of parasols, perfumed guests, and chained lions with a cool eye. She was not a stranger to such scenes, even if she looked down upon such extravagance. There was certainly merit, if one could call it that, in such explicit opulence. Social stability often stemmed from such scenes, as those below were left in awe of those above. But the sheer wastefulness of it all from a practical point of view was not something she could ignore.
After the briefest of moments, taken for self-composure, she turned to Mahmoud. "We enter knowing that we belong. But belonging is often as much posture as anything tangible." She said to her companion. Then, with her head bowed slightly out of a sign of respect, she allowed herself to be guided to the edge of the gathering. She made no immediate move to the dais. To do would be be gauche, at best, presumptuous at worst. Instead, she lingered at the periphery, where it was clear that she would be noticed. There was a formality to this that had to be respected.
Turning, as if though to speak softly to Mahmoud, she ensured that her voice was pitched just loud enough for the courtiers to 'overhear.' "This is the Fan-Bearer herself." She said. "Only provincials would overlook such a person, for the Empire turns on the breeze she stirs. If we are to do our part in saving this realm, then it is imperative that we begin here, where the seeds of power grow."
Then, with a calculated pause, she became still and watchful. She knew that business came after pleasure, and that it was a delicate touch to be respectful of tradition, while not debasing oneself or your house. It was a lesson in propriety which she had been forced to learn, even if she had nothing but distaste for it all buried within.
Aerith let her eyes drift across the gathered enterouge. Not searching for a face, but for a rhythm. There was always a moment when laughter stopped or glances shifted: a sign that the currents of attention were changing. Either there would be formal introductions, or she would be expected to organically move forward to the next step. She reflected that courtly intrigue was like dancing. For those not used to it, every step had to be deliberate and practiced. To those who lived within it, they usually forgot that they moved to the rhythm, instead it became as natural as breathing. This was, she thought, because those who failed to internalize the movements didn't survive.
After a few minutes, Muminofrah notices Aerith's 'servant' - or rather, his athletic build. Coyly batting her eyes at Mahmoud, she beckons the two of you over. "Come, my darlings, sit with me. Eat! Drink! Amuse me." With a snap of her fingers, slaves rush over to serve tagine of River Sphinx perch cooked with olives from huge silver tureens, along with grapes, huge loaves of bread, and copious amounts of barley beer and mint tea.
As you eat, you notice Deka, the haty-a, glaring at you from among the attendees.
Aerith glanced over at Mahmoud, hoping that he would be able to take the lead. She understood the proprieties of the situation well enough, but she knew her own limitations as well.
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Mahmoud is startled, but he knows the signs of an interested patron from his days busking with The Tumbledown Players in Sothis. He averts his eyes submissively, and trusting in his skills as a dancer more than his ability to be diplomatic in his speech, he follows her instruction to entertain her. He bows as Aerith takes a seat close by and then when he is sure the Fan-bearer is watching closely, he begins to dance for her. His performance shows off his athleticism well, since he dresses in a manner that some might call provocative, and he incorporates acrobatic moves as if they are dance steps, somersaulting and writhing as he first seems to approach her, and then backs away as if fearful of remaining in her presence too long.
His performance ends with a great leap into the air, and when he lands he holds an object between his hands which he extends towards Muminofrah, his head still bowed.
Muminofrah claps her hands merrily as the dance concludes. Taking the stone, she stashes it somewhere in her clothing before exclaiming, "A fine performance, and a fine gift. As a reward, I offer you a boon! Would you prefer a good or a service?"
Mahmoud bows in gratitude, and looks at Aerith. He gestures towards the elf to indicate that she will speak for him.
For a moment Aerith was lost in Mahmoud’s dance. In all of her long years she had never seen such grace or poise. Even from a purely academic point of view the performance was fascinating. It made her rethink much of her assumptions about the potential for humans. It seemed that it was limitless. She snapped out of her reverie, though, as the performance came to an end. Now was not the time…
Knowing the proper protocols, Aerith followed them to the letter. Every gesture was precise, every word measured. Her grace came not from natural ease, but from long study and deliberate practice.
”If your excellency wound deign to effectuate our admittance into the Spiral Archive, then it would be a most welcome boon. Both for us, our most illustrious patron, and all of the realm.”
"Of course you'd be one of those scholarly types who'd rather spend time with dusty old books," Muminofrah chuckles to show she's only joking. "Deka, honey, be a dear and write them a pass for a couple days."
The haty-a reluctantly writes a note and seals it in an envelope before handing it to you with a glare - carefully hidden from the Fan Bearer's gaze. Aerith notices the envelope bears a faint magical aura - likely from an invisible arcane mark or similar spell. "Two days. As ordered," she grumbles.
Muminofrah moves one of her pillows to settle into a more comfortable position. "We're friends now, my dears, so I hope you'll come visit me again - especially you, my silent dancer."
Aerith did not avoid the gaze of the haty-a, nor did she linger. She recognized enough courtly politics to know that she would have to include what had occurred here when she inevitably reported her, for lack of a better word, adventure, to her family. But that was a problem for another day.
She inclined her head and folded her hands with ceremonial precision. "Your excellency is most gracious." She said, careful to have just the right amount of respect in her tone. "You honor us both with your hospitality and your generosity. I fear, though, that if we were to linger then we would risk depriving others of your illustrious company."
She rose to her feet, mentally reminding herself to be unhurried. She looked to Mahmoud and weighed how best to address him. He was playing the role of her bodyguard, but at the same time it was clear that he was the star of the most dangerous stage that they were on. "Come." She said, her voice dignified and kind. "Her excellency has gifted us with time, and it must not be wasted." She motioned for him to take the envelope and then turned to Muminofrah. She offered a practiced final smile, balancing it between reverence and confidence...even as she mentally groaned under the pretense and yearned to extricate herself. With a bow she made her way to leave, being careful to not turn her back on their laughing patron.
When you return to the library and show the permission note to the curators, one leads you to the trapped door Mahmoud had previously found. You notice that the curator turns the key counterclockwise to open the door. "Please show your envelope to the guardian daemon when you enter so he knows not to eat you."
-------------------------------------------
C1
The walls of this hexagonal chamber are covered with scribbles carved into the stone. A more pressing matter, however, is the Large ape-like creature charging toward you!
The elf let out a sigh of relief as they entered. Courtly politics was as demanding as it was dangerous. She couldn’t wait to get back to the tomes. At least that would be safe…
…the thought faded as a large ape like creature charged towards them. Aerith held out the envelope as she fought to keep her nerve.
”We come with proper authorization.” She said, as confidently as she could. She prayed that the haty-a didn’t engineer a way to remove them. And if she did…well, at least Mahmoud was by her side.
The ceustodaemon screeches to a halt in front of you and sniffs the envelope - or more specifically, the seal. It looks disappointed as it telepathically says, "Enter" and stomps back to the end of the hallway.
-----------------------------------
C2
This small room contains three desks and a handful of uncomfortable-looking chairs. A veiled woman sits reading in one of them, a small pile of books on a desk beside her. She's not dressed like the curators in the Outer Stacks. "Oh, hello."
Mahmoud floridly bows to the Fan-Bearer again, trying to ignore the haty-a. He cannot stop himself from glaring back at her, but again tries to avert his eyes. He backs away behind Aerith, and as soon as they are clear he lets out a long-held breath. "That was one of the most frightening things we have ever done," he mutters. "We are fortunate you are familiar with that element of society, or I am sure I would have embarrassed us." He considers. "It seems like we offended the haty-a. I cannot think how. We must be wary of her continuing to sabotage our efforts."
Later, when they enter the secret library chambers, he is ready to fight if it should turn out that their pass is somehow not genuine, but fortunately Aerith again is cool and efficient under pressure. "Nice work," he chuckles.
She took a moment to compose herself. "Thank you." She said, putting on a brave face. "Though, too be honest, your performance likely did more to effectuate our entrance than any protocol I followed. I am not exaggerating when I say that we were in more danger standing before Muminofrah than we were wading through the horde of undead in Wati."
----
Once past the guardian, the two found their way before the veiled woman.
"Greetings." Aerith said, stepping forward with confidence. "Are you within these archives like ourselves, with a pass to conduct research?"
"I am, yes," the woman replies. "I'm looking for information regarding a magical ring. Did you need anything?"
It's difficult to make out the woman's features behind her veil, but her build and what skin you can see reveals her to be a human. Aerith does notice multiple faint and moderate transmutation auras around her, likely indicating the presence of magic items. Both of you have similar magical auras about you, after all.
"Ah, a fellow scholar." Aerith said happily. "What ring are you seeking knowledge on? While that is not what we are here for, I would gladly share any information that we come across. Or that I know." After a slight pause, she added "And perhaps you could share with us the layout of these archives? That way we might accelerate our own research."
"Certainly," the woman replies. "The item I'm interested in is called the uraeus ring. I'm a collector." She holds up her hands to reveal numerous rings adorning her fingers.
"The layout of these archives is pretty straightforward. Keep along this hall, and you'll come to a winding corridor. At the end is a deep well lined with books. There's an index at the top. You'll need to be careful, though, as the bridges crossing the well shaft are made of magically-strengthened papyrus. They'll hold your weight, but you'll want to cross them slowly so you don't fall."
"Wonderful, that is most useful." Aerith said, with feeling. "I'll keep an eye and an ear out. May your search be fruitful." With a slight bow, Aerith turned to leave.
Mahmoud follows Aerith, wondering to himself why anybody who wasn't mad would make a bridge out of papyrus instead of wood or stone.
Aerith doesn't recognize the ring.
--------------------------------
C3
A stone statue depicting clouds or billowing mist shaped into a humanoid form stands in the middle of this winding corridor that turns abruptly back upon itself in a series of switchbacks.
The statue depicts some sort of extraplanar creature, but you don't recognize it.
---------------------------------
C4
The corridor opens into a wide, circular chamber. Instead of a floor, a vast well lined with row upon row of books, scrolls, and parchment plummets downward. Below, flickering flames gently illuminate the chamber in soft light. A flight of narrow stone stairs descends in a spiral along the inner walls of the shaft, which is crisscrossed by a lattice of slender, impossibly thin bridges.