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

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

"A fair assessment," Hieron added with have small knock of a laugh. "Especially after our little stint with the Foard," it was not the first time he had angered those old codgers. Nor would it be the last. "But, all the less likely, given your gifts, hmm?" he assured with a wink and a smile.

Though the smile was soured quick by the stale air of the Repository. The place where so many dreams and possibilities had come to die. Stashed away in a horde, out of the want for more power. Control. Obfuscation of progress as a whole. But such was the way of things.

Those who had, wanted more. Those who had not, well, they could claw and dagger, and try to get what they could find.

For most, they would be written off as unimportant, and stashed away. Any number of possibilities, doomed to gather dust.

Hieron gave a nod, come out of his thoughts as Erren grumbled and ushered them forward, into the fire painted halls.

"No telling what tresures have been lost to this monument of shortsightedness," the old wizard thought aloud. "Was a time, my own work was deemed, outdated," he laughed. "Unimportant, and a waste of resources," he stroked his beared, and peered about. "I can't help but wonder," he said as he scanned about the defunct relics that sat in disorganized piles, and were laced by cobwebs. "If old Sirena is still down here, somewhere,"

Step by step, they roamed through the old halls.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

Whereas the entryway to the Repository at least attempted some illusion of organization, the further back one walked into the dusty and labyrinthine bowels of the College's lowest level, the less care was placed in pretending to have any respect for the forgotten treasures that lay there. As they neared Veliata's door, they weaved between hastily built wooden shelving, with objects as mundane as a crudely enchanted sundial placed beside items so rare as a pair of pixie wings suspended in amber within a jar.

It had no vision, no focus. Elbion College prided itself on all of its success and accomplishments. Their reputation was that of an institution with few failures because any such failures did not see the light of day, nor the public eye: They ended up here, piled on shelves to be dismissed and looked down upon for their missed potential.

"Sirena?" Erren looked back at Hieron with a quizzical lift to his voice. The name was vaguely familiar, but what Pangloss spoke of escaped him. "Something of yours that got thrown down here? They rarely toss anything out, so chances are you could find it, if you could stomach to sift through all of this for days on end." Come to think of it, there were likely a few old trinkets of his he wouldn't mind having back, if only he'd the time.

Eventually the seemingly endless rows of would-be garbage came to an end, and Erren stopped at the very back, a solid stone brick wall marking the Repository's end. The dust on the walls and floor lay thick here, almost entirely obscuring what it covered, and matters were not aided by the dimming torchlight this far in, where the flames were few and far between.

Erren waved a hand in front of his face to further disperse the dust, muttering a curse under his breath. "Guess we know they haven't been here yet." He sputtered, shaking his head. He reached into his coat and withdrew a small, perfectly round disc crafted from solid silver and bordered by a thin band of pure gold, engraved with curiously angular patterns of interlocking runes that collectively formed a labyrinthine pattern around the disc.

A pattern that looked markedly similar to that of bricks on a stone wall ...

"Let's just pray I remember how to do this."

Hieronymus Pangloss

 

[Hieronymus Pangloss]

Hieron squint at the prospect of sifting through all of the misremembered arcana. Relics and artifacts so carelessly tossed away.

That all of them were even stable. Well. That was a question he would rather not find the answer to himself, if he could help it.

"Perhaps an aspiring young scholar could be convinced to help with this task," he thought aloud. Laughed at the simplicity of the idea. "Why I hadn't thought to post a reward for such work is beyond me," he muttered on as they came to the end of the Repository. Nod at Erren's deduction.

A thumb went to a leather pouch strapped across his chest like a sash. Pushed upon the button with a metallic click, and old spidery fingers reached into the pocket to pull free a corked glass vial, that shimmered with silvery blue ink.

"Careful kid," Herold, Hieron's hat, croaked form atop the old wizard's head.

A pop of the cork set the shimmering ink free. A wave of his off hand set the liquid to motion.

If there was any harmful magic set to play by the lock, well, Erren might lose a finger or two, but Hieron was sure he could keep them both mostly intact.

Erren Serris

 

[Erren Serris]

"Funny you should say that." Erren smirked back at his friend as he lightly tapped the disc with the metal-capped tip on one of his fingers, letting out a crystalline ringing that echoed through the dusty old hall with brilliant clarity. "Maester Ghabin was instructed to tidy this place up some time ago, but he has been assigning his students to do it for him, often as a punishment." A second time he tapped it, and as the chime sounded, a faint blue light began to gleam along the runes set into the disc, illuminating the darkness with a faint, unearthly glow.

When Erren struck it thrice, a heavy knell many octaves below the ringing of that tiny disc answered. Tightening his lips and focusing, Serris held the tiny device by the golden band, resting it carefully between the tips of his fingers as he held it up to the wall before them, and both the ringing and gonging continued on, though now at a steady rhythm.

"Obviously it's not a task for just anybody, so not much progress has been made." Erren pretended not to hear Hieron's warning; junior though he was, he was far too old to be considered a 'kid' by any means. Serris knew only vaguely what he was doing, but the odds were in his favor, owing to the silent charm that left his fingers the moment he'd begun. There was no other option-- He needed what the old Elf had hidden away behind this vault door. "But I did meet a strange young woman down here a few months ago. A bit ditzy, but... she has potential, I think."

The silver disc began to rotate within its golden ring, along the wall in front of them, matching the motion one for one. Nary a sound beyond the tolling rings but a faint grinding of polished stone against itself was audible as the dust-covered wall slowly spun into the ground, with bricks polished clean by their long immersion circling up to take the wall's place. Where once there had been but dusty stone bricks ahead, there now was now a silver door, with a depression exactly the size of the disc Erren held in it's center

Clicking the disc into place, the passageway at last swung open.

"I'd wager there are golden hoards under less obtuse protections..." Erren shook his head, stepping forward through the door. "Come. I've no clue how long this thing stays open."

Hieronymus Pangloss