Private Tales Home Is Where The Heart Is

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

How the world changed.

Though how it so oft stayed the same. The greed of others. The twisted desires. Hieron stroked his beard, lost in thought as he pondered the younger man's words.

"Of course, Erren, best hold such things close," he took up another chip, dipped it idly and ate it down.

Soul. Energy. Shattered. Over and over. A cycle. Refracted. The old maester made a sound in his throat. His own thesis being formed.

Erren spoke again. Brought the prism into focus. Aligned it to this peculiar creature that was before them now. The Allita that bore no hate. "Could it be," his hand nocked idly at the table. Wanted to press against the pocket where he had stowed the cylinder. But, he had learned long ago how to hide such simple tells. "That the two are connected, I wonder," he hummed aloud. "If a soul, marked for death by this... Allita, were... well..." his fingers bunched into a fist, then bloomed out, as if a seed pod come to bust. "Shattered," he said, voice heavy with all that could mean. "Would that be anomaly enough to disrupt the contract,"

Having spoke it aloud, Hieron grabbed up his beer, knocked Erren's own cup with a clink. "Best drink up," he said with a shake of the head. "Speak evil, and evil draws closer, they say, but good spirits and fine drink chase evil away, those same they say," he laughed at his own terrible joke, and took a drink from his cup.

How much truly went on here, he could not help but wonder.

 

[Erren Serris]

Several days later
​

Erren Serris was already on the outs with Elbion College. He'd been stripped of his title, his privileges, and his livelihood solely for asking the wrong questions to the wrong people. One would think, perhaps, that the man would learn from that mistake, and tread lightly when it came to his former compatriots of the Foard. Perhaps obedience was indeed the right call, for the sake of his and his son's lives.

Instead, he was preparing to break several more laws of the College, and this time with the enlisted help of one of his closest friends. Perhaps no lesson had been learned after all.

For today was the day Hieronymus and himself had been preparing for; Erren was to be debriefed on his findings on his last assignment, the very same he'd found the targetless hate-familiar which he now wore around his neck. It was during this debriefing that Pangloss intended to present the document pertaining to the mysterious Prism artifact.

But Erren was not going to mention the creature he'd found, and the document Hieronymus was going to provide had been reworked by the both of them to slow the Foard's pursuit of the dangerous item in question. They were undermining some of the most powerful people in Elbion for what they thought right.

To say Serris was nervous was an understatement.

"You're sure they won't catch on? If they believe we are deceiving them, neither of us will see outside the city again. You know that, right?"

Erren paced back and forth in Hieron's office, his eyes fixated on the patterns on the floor, the tile all that prevented him from sheer panic. It wasn't his own soul he worried about, rather the fate of his young son, should he finally cross the Foard to the point of no return. "Is the container for the familiar ready?"

Another ingenious idea on the part of his colleague, Hieron had set about work on a method of ensuring they could hide the Allita from the Foard without worry of its escape or detection. They'd cut it close, but the older mage was certain he was nearing completion.

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

You're sure they won't catch on? If they...

Hieron took in the words, like an old tree might drink in water, brow quirking at the question.

"Not like you to doubt my experience," he said with a sly grin. "But yes, I am well aware of the many ways the Foard has dealt with... obstacles in the past,"

And if what was deciphered from the document carried any truth to it, then what the Foard may be want to do could far exceed simple house arrest, or detainment.

Many were the methods of the Foard. And any Maester who had their eyes set on a device with such potential.

The old Maester made a sound, as if a cog in his mind had clicked into place. "I am one of the finest documentarians amongst the Foard," he said matter of fact. "Thus," his smile grew a little wider. "I know just how far the digging goes," he gave a slow nod. "Our chances are as good as they can get,"

The forgery was not magical in nature. Painstakingly translated by the two of them, and transcribed by Pangloss himself with an ink which matched the original sampling. Even the vellum had been sourced from the same stock, matched to the year of production.

In a college that specialized so heavily in wizardry, the old fashioned craft of things was oft overlooked.

Next, Hieron procured an object from his robes. Similar to the cilindrical stone, the rune etchd cube, latticed in matrixes of script, gleamed in the light of the hallway. He handed it to Erren.

"The container," he announced. "Presse the switch and," the cube grew large in the palm of Erren's hand. "Viola," it opened on its own next, and looked large enough to contain the familiar.

"A design I've played with in the past," similar to the cylinder he had hidden the document away days prior. "A few brave mice gave their lives to see it could contain a small life with the new scripting," he said grimly, and shook his head. "But, it does work," he assured his friend and former pupil. He nod to it.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Ordinarily, Erren wouldn't have doubted his old friend, but his nerves were on end and still frayed from the last time he'd suffered the Foard's wrath. The only difference was that last time he had been justified in his actions, and while he had good reason to do what he did now, it was far more blatant. What was more, he risked the reputation of the man he respected most of anyone.

The reassurances Hieron provided did not fall on deaf ears, however. Erren listened to his words, watching as he demonstrated the ingenious container for their serpentine friend. It was a design that only Pangloss would have thought of; the idea of an adjustable cylinder was simply out of Serris' realm of thought.

"You're right..." Erren finally conceded with a sigh, lowering to sit in one of the chairs, his body flopping back to recline as far as he could. "Panicking won't do us any favors. We've taken all the precautions we can. All that's left is to put it all into action." The luck-mage extended his arm, and the cobalt-scaled serpent slowly slithered down the length of it, as though offering itself to Pangloss. "Tuck him away then. We only have a few minutes before we're expected, no?"

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Hieron nod, as an old member of the family might. An agreement that acknowledged both the new found affirmation made by the other party, and that of course he was right.

"And put it into action we shall," the old Maester smiled, watched the cobalt creature snake across Erren's limb, and how carefully it moved into the capsule. He even raised his nose a tad to see if he might see more with a shift in angle as the last bit of iridescent scales shimmered into the darkness. He tilt the cylinder toward himself, peered inside and saw two azure eyes stare back at him. He nod, and carefully sealed the capsule before he pressed the button, and it shrunk down to a size that fit easily within the palm of his hand.

A quick action saw the container tucked away behind robe and leather.

"We will see this through, Erren," Hieron assured, and gave a bob of his moustache and a wink of his right eye. He cleared his throat, and turned to the door of his office. Felt the weight of his old bones bare down upon the soles of his feet, the pain in his knees. He smirked. "Let's be off then,"

---

"Hmm," Maester Lonaris said as he scrutinized the piece of parchment. "My elvish needs some work," one of the men stated. Sighed as he leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Give it here, Lonaris," a sharp eyed young man chided. Maester Ezard. He fixed his own spectacles. Gold rimmed as they were.

Hieron stiffled a laugh in his throat.

"Hmm, does something amuse you, Hieron?" Maester Lonaris asked, looking down from his upturned nose.

"The same things that always do, Lonaris,"

Lonari's teeth showed in the slow slice of amusement that was his smile come cut across his face. "Pray tell, no need to be so coy, old friend,"

"I am afraid I only know the words for it in elvish, old friend,"

Lonari's eyes narrowed, and his smile vanished. He huffed a breath out from his mouth, dry and unamused.

 

[Erren Serris]

And so once again, Erren stood before the Foard with his head down and hands behind his back. There had been a time in which his posture would have been straight, and his face brimming with confidence as he proposed grand ideas and plans to the group of a wizened few, but that was before he'd been made an example of. Now, their gazes bore into him, the judgement, distaste and ridicule practically tangible in the air each time they dragged him back to saddle him with yet another suicidal task in the name of academia.

It was, at least, deflected somewhat by the attention placed on Pangloss today. He'd presented the findings beautifully, taking what the Foard thought they knew and twisting it around with charisma and a little forgery into what he wanted them to believe. It was actually quite admirable, the way they'd fallen under his spell so easily.

But it wasn't over yet, and it would make a fool of him to relax now. The Foard now held the parchment in question in their own hands, passing and going over every detail with experienced eyes. If even one of them found a problem with the document that made them suspect it had been tampered with, it would mean the end of both his and Hieron's careers.

Even if they believed the alterations made, they may still send him to the Blightlands to look for the damned thing regardless, and though Serris was powerful, he did not like his chances of coming back from an extended vacation to that hell hole.

Finally, as Lonaris and Pangloss prodded at one another's egos, Erren cleared his throat.

"As you can see, the work behind this so called 'prism' is highly theoretical. It wouldn't be even remotely applicable without at least a few decades of further research, and even then, I doubt it would work as intended..."

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Lonaris' turned his gaze onto Erren. A smirk plane on his face. "My wouldn't that be convenient, Serris?"

Hieron cleared his throat. "Factual, in fact,"

Lonaris nod slowly. Not attempt to hide his contempt made.

Ezard looked up from the parchment. Laid the fine vellum down onto the desk. "Highly theoretical," the young Maester's eyes were on Serris. The two had been classmates. Students of promise. Only luck had put them on the opposite sides of the table. "I do not doubt that even for a man as talented as our good Serris, it would take more than a few years to crack the meaning,"

A few mutterings from the crowd.

Lonaris eye Ezard from behind his hawkish beak of a nose. "Years?"

Ezard smiled from behind his gold rimmed glasses. "That is assuming, other information is not found that might aid in the code cracking,"

 

[Erren Serris]

That shit-eating look on Lonaris' face... Erren had to fight not to sneer up at the cocksure bureaucrat of a mage. Heironymus' support was the only reason his claim hadn't been disregarded outright the moment he spoke it. They had to listen to Pangloss to an extent-- His position gave his words power. Erren? To them, he may as well have been a first-year student presenting a badly-written essay.

Serris did bow his head to Ezard. One of the youngest serving on the Foard, his morals hadn't been greyed nearly as badly as his peers, and he still showed Erren a modicum of respect. Even so, he knew that Ezard would wish just as badly to grasp anything that could earn him a win amongst the Foard.

Something that could solve the riddle before him, for example.

No sooner had the words left the Maester's lips, indirectly suggesting yet another search assignment then did Erren chime in with a clearing of his throat. "Noble gentlemen of the Foard..." he interjected, "Currently our efforts to learn more about the artifact are at a dead end. We've no reliable leads on the whereabouts of any further information and despite the previous motion to deploy me to the Blightlands..."

This was it, his chance to by time. Sweeping his eyes across the Foard, he took the shot.

"...In the event that such an excursion results in failure or death, the timetable for anything further on this topic will be delayed dramatically." He brought his hands behind his back as he spoke. It was formalized, but his point was clear; If you send me to my death, you'll never have a shot at this Prism you want so badly.

"I'm formally requesting a motion to suspend my position as Artifact Retrieval and Disaster Investigation, temporarily at least. I wish to stay in Elbion and continue my work on the Prism under the strict supervision of Maester Pangloss."

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

A muttering amidst the members of the Foard. Whispers and words spoken loud enough for all to hear.

"Well why not..."

"He is quite talented, it would be a shame to lose him,"

"Any excuse to avoid work, I see,"

"That, or we move another young graduate to the task, perhaps one hoping to be Maester,"

Hieron let their chatter wash over him like waves against a stone. A happy little sound in the back of his throat.

"Now you have them all in a tizzy," he whispered to Erren.

Ezard raised his hand for order. Maester Lewony, motioned next, and like a ripple across their body, came the quiet. Last to sign for order, was Lonaris, who still grinned wide.

"Before we put this motion to vote, I would ask that Maester Pangloss give his testimony to this proposition," Ezard bowed his head toward the old wizard.

Hieron cleared his throat. "Why, in honor of this chamber's propensity for regurgitation and aggrandizing," a few sneered, some groaned. Hieron only smiled, the twinkle in his eye bright with all the worse things he could have said.

Ezard motioned for order, and Lewony followed.

Hieron did not wait for the grumbles and groans to cease. "I concur with my friend and colleague, Erren Serris, Graduate of this very same institution, and a Scholar with whom I have worked with for many years,"

Lonaris cut in. "So, you shield him from his duties out of favoritism, is that it Pangloss?"

Hieronymus smiled. "Being an active researcher, and member of our instructional faculty, like many of us here today, having a solid understanding of how to work with Scholar Serris will only serve to expedite the time it will take to decipher this recovered mystery, and take us closer to the Prism,"

Lonaris' expression curdled like spoiled milk.

Ezard bowed his head with knowing, and Lewony seemed to agree as they weighed the words put forth.

"All in favor of Scholar Serris' Motion," the aged Maester Rangovold put forward. The Foard fell to silence as the Maesters readied to vote.

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren had done his part, now it was time for the bickering monotony of deliberation to take its course. He could do nothing but stand by, struggling not to roll his eyes at some of the more choice quips he could make out in the dribble of the Foard. It was telling of their collective intelligence that they didn't see the obvious benefit to them, but then perhaps some of them were more inclined to do what they could to stifle him.

It was one sentence in particular that nearly broke him.

"That, or we move another young graduate to the task, perhaps one hoping to be Maester."

The man felt himself snarl. The bloodsucking sharks. To actually consider using an ambitious upstart for an assignment so ethically bankrupt all so that they could send him to a likely demise without any possible setbacks. Were he not wise to their ways, he'd have been appalled at the very notion. Ezard was in the minority, indeed.

When they called for Hieron to put his own opinion forth, Serris felt his anger lessen, stifling a laugh and stepping back. So many times the Foard, especially Lonaris, sought to clash against Pangloss' legendary wit, and they never triumphed. Were it not for their stubborn egos, they may have learned to pick their words carefully. His friend deflected the speculation put before him expertly, and Lonaris once again took a loss.

The Foard readied to vote, and Erren stepped up beside Hieron again.

"If you keep doing that to him..." Serris whispered to the older man. "...He's going to look for a way to take you down a peg."

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Hieron's neutral expression pulled, ever just. The right corner of his lip quirked up. "It wouldn't be the first time he's tried, my friend " he whispered in turn, each syllable like a gentle knock against warm wood.

While it was undoubtable that the Foard was full of snakes. Those who only cared for their own gain and position. There were still those who believed in something else. Something greater than themselves. The promise of what Elbion could be. The promise of what Elbion could bring, not to the self interested and self important, but to it's students. To the people beyond it's walls. Knowledge, to better the conditions of all.

One by one, the Maesters cast their votes.

"Aye,"

"Neigh,"

"Neigh!"

It was a grand and lofty ideal.

"Aye!"

Hieron's smile remained. Unwavering.

"Neigh,"

"Aye,"

For he understood the fragility of such things.

"Neigh,"

Ezard nod. "Aye,"

Where a single voice could make a difference. And a single word tip the scale.

"Aye," the wizened old wizard added his vote.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

With the final call of 'Aye,' all the breath held in Erren's lungs left him in a heavy sigh of relief. Perhaps there was hope for this troubled establishment, however small it may be. Through some miracle of luck and silver tongue, the pair of them had bout themselves time to attempt an aversion of disaster before it sent the College and its morals beyond the point of no return.

Serris gave a small bow, offering a display of gratitude towards those who supported him in this endeavor. Now came the challenge of maintaining what little backing he did garner; This would not be the end of this discussion. No, the Foard would be breathing down his neck for every day that passed without results. It would be up to Pangloss and Himself to keep them satisfied until they could find the answers they sought.

"I humbly thank The Foard for their support on this matter. I will be sure to send regular reports on our progress, as I'm certain you would expect."

Looking over at Hieron, he gave a small, almost apologetic smile. It would be a necessary evil, and if Erren had not offered it now, they most likely would have been asked to do so anyway. Better get that part over with than have Lonaris go poking around their work with the excuse of delivering said request.

"Are we dismissed?"

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Lonaris glared at Erren and Pangloss each in equal measure.

Hieron remained standing, a look of satisfaction clear upon his face. He nod to Erren, to assure him that it would be alright. Papers would be pushed. Reports would be written. Tedium handled tidily. And he would stay close to home. Close to his loved ones.

Maester Rangovold scribed the notations of what had transpired.

Maester Ezard glanced about. Nod to both Erren and Hieron. "I motion that the hearing of Scholar Erren Serris' findings be adjourned, and that it be noted that Scholar Serris will be under the supervision of Maester Pangloss,"

"I seek to amend the motion," Lonaris added.

Maester Rangovold nodded. "Proceed,"

"Let it be noted, that in congruence with Scholar Serris's appointment under Maester Pangloss' supervision, weekly reports are to be made, and that failing to do so would invite review of performance and efficacy, and possible reassignment of Scholar Serris, as this board sees fit!"

A murmur of commotion rippled across the gathered Maesters.

To this, Hieron did raise a brow. "Well," he grinned, "The snake strikes early," he muttered beneath his breath. But there was no worry in his voice.

Ezard seemed to think on the matter.

"Lonaris," Maester Rangovold cut in. His quill did not move. "A week?"

"I did not mix my words, Good Maester,"

Rangovold scoffed. "A week?" he repeated.

Lonaris seemed shocked.

Lewony cleared her voice. "Maester Lonaris, given the importance of the work, a week... seems... far too constraining a time to result in anything meaningful,"

Maester Guntri cleared his throat. "A week is ample time for meaningful progress, enough so for a report,"

Maester Rangovold shook his head. "And who is to preside over said reviews... every week," he mocked.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren winced at the declaration and then cringed as he realized who had made it. Of course, Lonaris may not have won the battle, but he was hell-bent on drawing out the war. A report every week was... feasible, he supposed, but it would certainly put them under a microscope that would restrict their freedom to an aggravating degree.

Hieron whispered to him in a murmur, and Serris shot him a look that could probably kill the old man if he wasn't so damned solid. "S'what I get for trying to play by the rules..." He grumbled. It was debatable, seeing as they'd most definitely been cheating the system since they'd walked in, unbeknownst to the group in front of them.

Nevertheless, the Foard seemed unsure of Lonaris' idea. Even some of those who had opposed allowing Erren to remain in Elbion seemed to scoff at the restrictive timeline he'd proposed. Serris felt his teeth against his cheek, his mind quickly debating whether or not to roll the dice and push further. Lonaris would no doubt suggest himself for the job, and that would complicate matters beyond acceptable levels.

He needed to think fast.

"If I may interject..." Erren rose from his bow and spoke before he had the chance to second-guess himself. "Seeing as this has been a somewhat divisive subject, I would suggest any such reviews be done by different members of this Foard each time, if they must be done in such a tight timeframe..." It wasn't exactly wise to speak out of turn, but there was nothing more important than beating Lonaris to the punch. "This way, those of you both in support of and against this line of research can see firsthand what we are or aren't accomplishing, without the facts being muddled by opinion."

Quickly, he added for safety, "Involuntarily muddled, of course. I don't mean to suggest you would bend the truth on purpose..."

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

The old heads of the Foard weighed the new information put before them.

"Yes, that seems like a most fair arrangement," Maester Ezard added. "I motion that Scholar Serris' amendment be adopted, and, when the Foard's committee meets to review Scholar Serris' and Maester Pangloss' findings, the members of the committee be alternated, to avoid any... implicit bias from affecting the validity of the information found,"

Lonaris seemed none the pleased. His frown long across his face, and his eyes as narrow as murder holes.

"I second this motion," Rangovold put forward.

A murmur of agreement sounded through the room.

"A majority has agreed, and the motion will be passed,"

Lonaris sneered. "But, the findings will be submitted to the Foard, each week,"

Another groan from the crowd.

"Are you daft man?"

"No one has time for such meaningless committee sessions, Lonaris,"

"Just get the students to review the findings,"

"Oh, the students, yes, clearly, this task must be of paramount importance to the Foard if we trust the students to lead the review committees,"

Pangloss turned and tittered.

---

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren was well and truly beginning to lose his patience with this lot-- If they kept arguing over every little topic that came up, he feared they would never leave this chamber again. It was a marvel they accomplished anything anymore with this incessant banter. His only solace was his ability to keep a calm face, even if it meant looking anywhere but the sniveling orc-taint named Lonaris.

Honestly, it was a testament to Hieron's patience that he still had breath to chirp up his two-sense at the Foard, considering Serris was about to blow a metaphorical fuse. His eye flickered to the old man in some mix between awe and disbelief. He was enjoying this, the old haggard!

"This how you get your kicks these days, then?" He muttered under the layer of arguments overhead. This meeting should have ended half an hour ago, and if Lonaris had his way they'd be in here another three. "Riling up the rest of the old folks home with your incendiary wit?" Serris smirked. One of these days Pangloss' mouth was going to be the end of him, and Erren would mourn, but also leave a note that said 'told you so'.

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

"After seeing so many Lonaris speeches," he shrugged with a smirk. "Only so much an old wizard can do, really"

Animated calls for order rang out across the hall. Claps of magic spell sounded out loud as hammer blow.

The terms decided. A report, every other week. The doors shut behind the pair of scholars, and Hieron dusted his red robes. "Well," he said with a smile. "That could have gone a lot worse,"

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren struggled not to roll his eyes at Hieron's optimism. "Yes." He agreed, sarcastically. "And it also could have gone about thirty minutes shorter, but we can't have nice things, can we?" The smirk on his face betrayed his dry humor; He was happy enough about the outcome, regardless of the time it had taken them to get there.

Alas, in the grand scheme of things, one could consider the next phase of their work to be the hardest. Not only did they need to decide how to permanently put an end to the College's interest in a dangerous, albeit fragmented crackpot device, but they also needed to provide enough results every two weeks so that Erren was not sent to the blightlands on a wild goose chase.

That wasn't even mentioning the strange creature stowed away in Pangloss' office.

Clicking his tongue, Serris pulled out his pocketwatch to inspect the time, his brow furrowing. "I'm late reliving my sitter. I must get home to my son before she has a conniption fit." He snapped the device closed and slid it back into his pocket with a sigh, looking over at his friend with a tired smile. "Tomorrow, the real work begins. I'll be at your office first thing in the morning to get underway."

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

A laugh, hooty and every bit an old man's. "No, not without a bit of unnecessary grumbling, and groaning," he joked. "Such is the price for the ideas like process and fairness."

A patient nod as Erren announced his needings to do. "Of course," Hieron agreed. "Give young Zak my love, and," he pat about his robes, worry on his face. Till his old fingers felt something, and his wrinkles smoothed to easy smile. "Here," he pulled a small confection, wrapped in brightly colored tin. "The boy can have chocolate?" it was a little round, filled with sweet mallow.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren looked between the wrapped candy and Pangloss with a resigned sigh and a shake of his head. "Can doesn't always mean should. A bit of sugar and I won't be getting any sleep tonight." His father at home for the night and candy? Erren wasn't certain the walls of his home could contain that level of excitement. Nevertheless, he reached out to accept the treat, tucking it into his own pocket. "It will be strange, sleeping in my own bed for the foreseeable future..."

The smile on his face faded, his expression misting over with politely withheld emotion as the ex-Maester bowed his head low to Hieronymus.

"Thank you." He muttered quietly. "I'll repay this kindness, I promise you that." And Erren knew well that his old friend would try and assure him such repayment was unnecessary, that he was doing enough by helping him manage this as of yet unknown threat. It wasn't enough for Serris, though. What Pangloss had done for him today... the old man couldn't fathom what it had meant to him.

It wouldn't do to show tears though. Not to a man he respected so deeply.

Turning his back on Hieronymus, straightened himself as best he could manage and headed towards the rear staff exit of the College, eager to return home to the only family he had remaining. Unbeknownst to all but him, this pair of days had nearly broken the spirit he'd had remaining. A trip to the blightlands, his life blatantly being thrown away by those he'd once trusted, the notion of leaving his only child alone in this oft unforgiving city...

Hieronymus had saved Erren's life in more ways than one.

It was with renewed resolve that Serris returned home to his sleeping son and politely annoyed babysitter. Resolve to remain strong, for both himself and the sake of the only family that he had left.

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Hieron gave a nod, mustache bobbed up at its ends as his brow wrinkled, pleased that Erren would accept the gift, despite his misgivings.

Never having had his own children, Hieron knew little of the troubles and considerations that came with rearing such a new being in their world.

His former student confessed to their mixed feelings, and Hieron gave another nod. "A pleasant strangeness, I would hope," he offered, and was caught off guard by the low bow. He looked around, wide eyed, and cleared his throat. Smoothed his robes, and bowed to the younger scholar in turn.

"Your success is repayment enough, Erren," he said and rose up. "Go, and be with your child, enjoy your home," best he could.

A hand was offered, to brace him by the shoulder before he left. When they parted ways, Hieron would return to his study, whisper to his living ink to see it turn to a dragonfly, and buzz its way back to his home as he took the parchment from the magicked cylinder, and studied the strange text into the night.

The silvery blue ink carried a message. Worked itself onto a loose leaf of parchment by the bed. Leo lay sleeping, covered and cozy. But the buzz of magicked wings had him stir. For he knew what the sound belonged to, and he turned to find the missive manifest across the parchment.

Might be a bit late, my love. I'll make it up to you in the morning.

-Hieron

A little huff of breath, and the old librarian laid the parchment back in its place, and turned back to sleep.
Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

The next day came swiftly, moreso than Erren would have preferred. Spending the night sleeping in his own bed was certainly a pleasant change of pace, but it didn't make saying goodbye to his son the next day any easier. At least he was able to assure the boy they would not be apart for months at a time. For all the boons Pangloss had granted him, he'd made Elbion his real home once more, if only for a while.

That wasn't what weighed most heavily on Serris' mind, however. No, that was the notice posted on every news board in the College that Veliata Erundalis was retiring from her tenured position within the Foard, effective immediately. For such a senior and respected member of the College's leadership to leave so suddenly, without any notice was unheard of, and the halls were rife with whispers regarding the sudden departure of the acclaimed Witch.

Erren knew what had truly happened. How could he not put it together? Veliata had only returned from her latest outing several days ago, and had spent her entire day conversing at length with Erren about her thoughts on the Prism. He'd found it strange that she'd not attended the meeting yesterday, and now it made sense. Somebody had seen her talking to him and used that as leverage to dispose of her.

Dispose... he prayed she'd only been fired. Erren had seen them do worse. That she avoided the fate of his brother Leon was likely only thanks to her incredible prowess. At least... he hoped.

Regardless of her fate, Erren sat hunched over one of the tables in Hieron's laboratory, a cocktail of focus and frustration painting his face as he pored over the single page of information they had on the Prism. Yesterday had bought them time, but they would need to produce some measure of results if that was to last. Unfortunately, they had little to go off of.

"It's still gobbledygook." Erren glowered, drumming his fingers on the parchment. They'd gone over it a thousand times, and while the theories presented on the page were interesting and captivating, they were also just that: theories. "Even if we intend to dupe them, we have virtually nothing to go off of. Even attempting to replicate this... thing, is out of the question. We can't just make a fake, either. The Foard are a thick-headed lot, but they're in their position for a reason."

Serris felt his teeth clench, his anger bubbling once more.

"Damn them! They knew Erundalis was going to help me! She took one look at the damned thing and gave me more information than either of us have been able to glean combined!"

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

A string of shimmering ink traced across the air, Hieron's eyes fixed on it as his lips pursed, and his mind stormed with thought. The string gathered up before him, suspended. It fattened as it gathered upon itself. Spread thin once more as it formed symbols. Seals. Elven letters that looked so much like art, strung together in flowing sequence.

Ponderances on the soul. To split. To travel. To cycle.

With each thought, the flow of magicked ink shift and changed, glittered across the air of the laboratory. Like so many infinitesimal stars linked by the ley of the mind's imagination.

"Our copy made mention of the soul, its energy being channeled and amplified," he waved his hand, and the shimmering ink slipped away to pour into an uncorked vial where it swirled and settled in its glass confines. "We need not replicate the prism itself, but the prism we eluded to in the forgery," it was a gambit, of course, with little certainty. "Bread crumbs," he mimed sprinkling bits of cookie across the air.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Erren looked up from his section of the page and took a beat to process what Hieron had just told him. The old man was, as usual, exactly correct. Serris was thinking down the incorrect path, and had gotten himself so worked up over Veliata that he failed to catch himself.

Of course, he wasn't about to admit that out loud. Pangloss wasn't a braggart, per se, but there was this subtle satisfaction he wore on his face when he knew he was right about something that brought Erren right back to being a student in his class. Infuriating, if not somewhat nostalgic. Instead, he swivels in his chair to face his mentor and stands. "Even that will be a tall task. We didn't exactly inject sanity into our faux design."

Their creation didn't need to work, obviously. The entire point was to get The Foard to give up on their pursuit of the Prism, not to realize an accurate recreation that would function as intended. Such a thing was well beyond Erren's capabilities, and likely even Hieron's.

"It will need to have some function," Erren mumbled, looking over Hieron's shoulder as he swirled about the ink, a hand coming to run along the stubble on his chin as he thought. "A completely inert end-product will only lessen their patience or arouse their suspicion. Any thoughts?"

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Hieron's lips curled with a playful pleasure. Like an old cat, come see a new bit of bright wire, left as scrap to bat around.

"Sanity," he said in a tone that seemed to measure the word. "A word rarely used to describe the depths explored by our ilk," his mind continued to ruminate on the idea. "No, it cannot be inert," he mused. "But it need not be a perfect function," his eyes narrowed, and his lips were still quirked.

"We need only give them a good showing," his fingers steepled together, as he leaned into his seat. "We are not tasked with inventing a thing, but making a thing look as if it may lead to something more," he put the thought to air. "It is clear, Lonaris has a vested interest in this endeavor," he smiled. "Lucky for us, the man has lost most shred of academic integrity his brittle spine may have ever held,"

Erren Serris