Private Tales Home Is Where The Heart Is

[Erren Serris]

Erren counted himself lucky that Hieron was here to so easily flip his concerns around. When he was a student, he'd found the old man's boundless optimism infuriating. Age had taught him to appreciate such a mindset, especially when he'd lost his ability to hold such a positive outlook himself.

"I suppose it wouldn't be much trouble to fabricate something that would look about the correct shape. I'd just have to decide on the correct materials. Glass would be too fragile, but I would want light to pass through it nonetheless." With only a little encouragement from Pangloss, Erren had refocused himself into solving rather than complaining. Raking his eyes over what Hieron had written thus far, he tucks his tongue into his cheek and nods. "Yes... this gives me an idea."

Hieronymus was absolutely correct in what he'd said: "Sanity, A word rarely used to describe the depths explored by our ilk,"

There was one person he'd met who knew such a fact better than either of them. Perhaps she had been cast out for helping them, but Erren aimed to make the most of what she'd shown him in the little time they'd had to speak. Reaching out over the older man's shoulder, he quickly snatched the parchment and rolled it up, tucking it into the pocket of his coat as he threw it over his shoulders.

"I'm going to go back to Veliata's lab before they clean it out, procure what I can from it. She was working on translation of the more complex pages of that journal we found, and I'm not letting those beurocrats get their hands on it."

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Hieron's eyes widened as the piece of parchment was plucked away. His head, a quick shake too and fro, as if he had been startled to sudden realization. "Veliata's lab?" he repeated as his brows knit together like gathering stormclouds, and his whiskers bobbed with a happy bit of mischief. "Even the dust of such a place might hide a world of secrets," he nod.

The ancient elf was a force unto herself. A being who held in them knowings that rivaled secrets kept between stone crags and whispering winds.

He gathered up his things. Quick. Long boney fingers, snatched up a vial of ink, then a quill. Quick steps took him to his hat. "You'll need someone at your back," he smirked, as he smooshed on the wide brim hat. "No telling what dangers such a study might hide," he sounded a giddy young rascal.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Before Hieron had even spoken a word, Erren already stood still in the doorway, a knowing smile resting on his lips. He'd gotten the feeling that Pangloss wouldn't pass up an opportunity to snoop around the domain of a person like Veliata. If Hieron could be considered worldly and knowledgeable, then the elven maiden maester could be considered a walking encyclopedia.

Just because she was gone did not mean her work should go to waste.

"Thought you might say that." Serris snickered, turning his head to watch the old man as he gathered his things. "I just hope we can get in alright. The door to that place is so convoluted you'd need a step-by-step guide if you were going in blind. It's hidden away in the Repository, downstairs."

As secure as the room was, Erren doubted the Foard had bothered trying to bypass the door mechanism just yet. That would require effort, more than they usually would put toward the sacking of an employee.

"I don't know what they did to her, or where she's gone, but you know she wouldn't want those beurocrats sifting and categorizing her belongings for eternal storage. Let's go liberate some of it, shall we?"

Erren stepped out, confident that he would follow. The Repository was also where Erren's excuse of an office was, crammed into what had once been a storage closet and not particularly upgraded from that position with the addition of a desk. The walk was a few staircases, down into the depths beneath the College.

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

A thoughtful sound hummed out of Hieron's throat. "Secrets folded onto mysteries," he said as he recalled the door that kept hidden the timeless' scholar's trove. He would agree with a nod, and follow the younger scholar out the door. Through the halls, down the flights of stairs in relative silence.

"You know," his hat, Herold, croaked from atop his head. "She lines her office with death traps, right?"

Hieron laughed, a little gleeful laugh. "I would expect no less,"

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren had witnessed firsthand the complexity with which the now ex-Maester's domain was hidden. He hadn't, however, been privy to any lethal deterrents hidden within the office. More than likely that was by design, of course: Last time he'd been in the room had been with the woman herself.

"Well then," Erren smiled to the man beside him as they began to descend the first of many winding staircases leading into the belly of the proverbial beast that was the College. "There's a non-zero probability that they'd end up sending me in there first anyways, isn't there?"

The traps didn't bother Serris much; Actually, it would prove an ample opportunity to exercise his magic of choice. A bit of chance-tweaking could help them make it through without too much risk of injury or dismemberment.

The Repository was as dank and bleak as ever, rows and rows of dimly lit storage for artifacts forgotten and discarded, no longer interesting enough to be actively studied by the Foard or used in classes. The entire chamber was like a cellar; constructed in stone and lit only by torches: Magelight would require somebody capable of casting the basic spell to travel down this far, when they could simply send a worker to light these.

"Here we are, our own little land of misfit toys." Erren grumbled, stepping forward. "Come, Veliata's door is in the very back, through the old hallways." This place hadn't always been relegated to storage. At one time, it had held classrooms and offices just as any other level of the College.

Hieronymus Pangloss