Private Tales The Lesser Key of Telemachus, Part II

[Telemachus]

THE COLLEGE OF ELBION
FIRST ORDER MAGE OFFICES

It had been several weeks since Telemachus had returned from a disastrous expedition to the ruined city of Valen. Disastrous mostly in principle - no research had been accomplished and several people had perished. But had at least uncovered the means to allow himself to attend both to scholarly duties and Dwarven sieges simultaneously. Such liberties would allow him to avail himself of the plots of Agron Salim and Eimur Emisol, and so the Sidereal Elf was presently debating whether or not to turn them over to the proper, pro-Elbion authorities.

It lingered in the back of his mind while he carried out his scholar's business.

Sequestered in the lowest reaches of the building that all Mages of the First Order called home, Telemachus' office was cramped. Bookshelves cramped with dusty tomes, bearing titles like "The Liminal Veil and its Properties". These were all meticulously organized, and every so often a space held alchemical regents and scrolls - large amounts of scrolls.

There was a perch behind Telemachus' desk, directly beside his seat. No bird was in sight, but the perch itself was gouged and scratched by something with rather ferocious claws.

One would think this was not a place many traveled to willingly, but the office had seen its fair share of visitors these past months as word of Telemachus' services spread. People wishing to improve their lot in life could bargain with spirits and divinities in order to do so, and all through Telemachus.

It only cost your soul and a few hundred more - give or take depending on what you wanted.

Presently there was no bartering to be done, and so Telemachus busied himself assessing the theses of his students. A scroll was rolled open on his desk, and every so often Telemachus overwrote something the pupil had written: improper grammar, an incorrect statement, a poor understanding of the cosmos.

"Enter," Telemachus said, dreary monotone carrying well past the ancient wooden door, well before Lady Emmeril moved to knock.

 

[Fieravene]

"I am sorry, M'Lady, but your ... guard ... is not permitted within the College grounds."
"Whyever not?"

"The College of Elbion is a secure place, M'Lady. Inside its halls are students of all ages and acumen, their studies broad and highly sacred. We cannot allow the distraction of..." the Maester gave her Komodi guard a slow look over, "savage instruments in the halls of this place of learning."

It was if someone had asked her to walk in horse dung. Emmeril turned a distasteful glance upwards at the Maester who had greeted her at the College entrance gates, feeling her impatience wilt beneath his otherwise congenial gaze.

"Protocol, you see. I assure you that you will be quite safe."
"As you say," the woman relented, glancing to her guard, "we passed a Smithy in the Merchant District. What do you know of it."
"Ah, yes, the best armorsmith in all the lands, Master Gibbson. You'll not find a better quality blade or shield this side of the reach."
"I should like something for my husband. A new dagger to commemorate his latest victory in battle. See to the order."
"A fine choice, M'Lady, shall we begin the tour?"
"Please."

That was three hours ago. As mesmerizing and alluring as the arcane and magic study was, there was really only so much a Lady of the Court with no baring of magical skill in her blood, could truly bear. When Maester Lumin concluded his tour and gave her leave to look about, Emmeril Vaylor Mortaine wasted no time in doing just that. She made a proper exit of the Library, asked after a meek looking student for the rumored Mage Telemachus, and followed the directions to a dreary looking door down an equally dreary hall. Strange considering the grandeur of the College on whole - she supposed this must have been a part of the original foundations.

Lifting a delicate hand to knock, Emmeril found herself interrupted by a voice beckoning her entrance. The woman gave pause, an anxious worry knitting itself into her brow as she reached for the handle and let herself in.

A wary glance was given back out into the hall, concern for a husband who couldn't be bothered to join his wife in exploring the wonders of this lovely city. He was far too busy conducting the King's work with the Merchant Council to care. She closed the door behind her and turned to give the office a wide-eyed look, a fiercely determined gaze of green settling on the blue-skinned elf.

"That was very clever," she admitted gently and, with a quick inhale of breath she collected herself and took a few strides forward, "do you know my name as well or are you simply very good of hearing?"

 

[Telemachus]

"I do not," Telemachus answered, scratching another correction into the scroll. And here he had assumed his own apprentice was the only one struggling to become literate on this campus. Every reviewed thesis seemed to counteract that assumption.

He decided not to inform the guest that humans were simply very noisy. Those sorts of racially charged observations were best left to the Elbionese, who sunk further and further beneath him as time wore on. Once copies of the tomes he needed were made, he would begone of this place and its prejudices.

For now, though.

Telemachus dabbed his quill into an inkwell and spared a glance to the Lady Emmeril. Not the typical clientele he received, but certainly not atypical enough to warrant surprise. She looked like she had money to spend, and so long as that remained true, she would be welcome in this office.

"What can I do for you?"

 

[Fieravene]

"Good," came her reply following a second cursory glance about the abode. It was tidy and well-ordered, just as much as she would expect from an Elf and, especially, a scholar. Proper learners, Elves, and astute in their efforts of teaching. She wondered what it was he taught here that such a healthy pile of scrolls covered his desk.

"I understand you are in the business of ... helping people who find themselves in difficult situations," the discomfort of this conversation was clear in the strain of her brow and the nervous motions of her hands. The ring upon her finger, bearing enough diamonds and precious gemstones to feed an army for the duration of a siege, slowly twisted and turned under the insistence of the opposite hand.

"People who otherwise ... do not have the ability to help themselves. Is this true?"

 

[Telemachus]

Having noted her jewelry, Telemachus found it rather difficult to believe that any situation she found herself in could truly be considered difficult. His brow furrowed, though whether that was because of her strange and lingering questions (she made it sound like he was some sort of middling guidance counselor) or the fact that he had found a contraction where there should have been a possessive.

Disgusting on both accounts.

"I have not heard it described in quite as abstract a manner," Telemachus inquired, etching something into the scroll once more. When finished, he deposited the quill in the inkwell and began to roll the scroll back up.

These consultations earned him more money than his rate as an instructor, so of course it would take precedence. Telemachus inserted it back into a special container and closed the lid, returning it to some hidden alcove carved into his desk.

"Are you here to seek help?"

 

[Fieravene]

The woman's lips formed a thin line, were it not for the paint upon them they would've turned white. Emmeril took another breath and laced her fingers together, gaze tipping askance at the elf's reply. It had seemed appropriate to speak delicately on the rumored subject given the ... laws of the College. To use plain words might have drawn trouble, or so she thought. Perhaps she was wrong, but still.

A little less trouble in her life was the ultimate goal here. Emmeril cleared her throat and gave the Mage a nod in return.

"I am," it was becoming difficult to ignore the pounding of her heart. She'd never been a courageous woman - the Courts of Harth and Balta rarely called for such things from its women - but she had come too far to turn back now.

"I seek a means to free myself from the oppression and abuse of my husband."

"I want...control of my own life and the power to keep it."

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus raised an eyebrow. An abusive husband? How novel. Most would have just hired an assassin, but this one must have recognized that this was a temporary solution. There would be other men lined up for her. More abusive or less, why risk it?

"I see." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk, offering her the seat. "You are aware, I hope, of the price this power carries."

Telemachus mostly meant the metaphysical price: one's soul. Some people would rather take their chances assassinating spouses rather than compromise their afterlife. But she was so young. Death would seem too far away for that to be a real consideration for her. Not exactly his problem, though, was it?

"Barkas, the ledger, please."

Atop the shelves, there was a loud rustling as something diminutive shuffled about. Books and glassware bumping into each other, until all at once a crimson blur suddenly shot out. Leathery wings spread to slow its descent, and it landed nimbly on the perch beside Telemachus' seat.

Beady, eyes the color of a stoke flame, a small set of curved horns. It was humanoid in build, save for the long tail that ended in what looked like a scorpion's stinger. It had pointed, sinister features and bare, razor sharp teeth.

An imp. It was about the size of a Racoon. A ledger was pressed to its chest, which it demurely handed off to Telemachus. It never stopped looking at Lady Emmeril .

"Thank you," Telemachus said, but the Imp's only response was to whuff and clack its teeth together.

Unsightly little thing. It occasionally stretched its wings or wrung its hands while studying the young woman. A large lock on the front of the tome came undone at the mere approach of his hand, and the Sidereal Elf retrieved a special quill stored in the front pocket before starting to leaf through the pages.

Now the questions could begin. "Have you or a family member (to your knowledge) consulted with extraplanar entities in the past?"

 

[Fieravene]

"I am."

She thought she was, anyway. Gold, for certain, and plenty had been stashed away for just this very endeavor. As for the ethereal, intangible cost? Well, for someone so very unfamiliar with magic and its balancing act in this world, Emmeril could only imagine.

Her imagination wasn't especially grand, however.

How does one imagine the soul? What did she even know about the soul? Its tie to the Gods and religion, of course, but Emmeril had spent plenty a sleepless night praying to every God she knew of and every God she did not for some respite from her personal hell. No one had ever answered and no one had ever helped. If the Gods controlled the fates of the lands, well, then that meant they also controlled the passing of lives from one realm to the next. Was it their will to take the life of her mother on the day she was born? Was it their will to impose hatred and spite on that life for all of her days? Had they willed the breaking of hearts and the union that brought peace to many but war to herself?

Was it their will to take her unborn children from her womb before they were ready for the world?

So far as Emmeril Vaylor was concerned, if the Gods were real then they were cruel. She had no need for a soul if it was already theirs to claim.

The woman quietly took the proffered seat, all manner of inner turmoil easily recognized by the paling of her face and the creasing lines of her expression. One that shifted to mild alarm at the sudden appearance of the Imp. She watched it closely, noting the sharp teeth and the beady gaze - like a little demon if the paintings in the scriptures were anything to go by. Did this man readily consort with the other side?

Her eyes followed the book and the curiously graceful movements of the elf, conducting the artifact like the Maestro to an Orchestra of pages and records.

"No," her brows furrowed, "my family has never. Why would that matter?"

 

[Telemachus]

He licked a finger, to help with the turning of the pages. All the ones he turned past were filled top to bottom. They were organized as if they were customs forms of some sort, but the text was written in the ornate script of the Sidereal Elves. Elaborate glyphs, flowing effortlessly into themselves... Like they were falling into their own future.

Emmeril was one of the few who bothered to ask about the family clause, so Telemachus deigned to answer as he continued through the ledger. "Many of the Gods-from-Stars derive pleasure from making deals within the same family line. You may be eligible for benefits if your forerunners were dabblers themselves."

Some of the Stellar Divinities did enjoy their chosen dynasties. His brother, Telegonus, had already pledged himself to the Lantern Court. As their father did, and his father before him.

In other cases, of course, it turned out that the soul of a child or grandchild may have been offered as collateral instead of a parent or grandparent's. Emmeril was clearly already nerve-wracked to be here, however, and Telemachus did not wish to scare her off with that little piece of information.

Not that such information coming to life tended to impede the pact-making process. Though it did tend to change who those children and grandchildren first exercised their newfound powers on.

Telemachus droned on, the pages of the ledger crinkling audibly as he went through. "Please state, as descriptively as possible, the exact nature of the power or boon that you seek to acquire through this contract."

 

[Fieravene]

"There is nothing," she replied carefully, "none of my ancestors were practitioners of the arcane."

Magic in Harth was often revered from a distance. It wasn't a city ripe with Mages and Sorcerers - not that magic was outlawed, but there seemed to be very little draw of their kind. His kind. Her gaze traveled to the pages of the book, or what she could see of them from her seat. Unrecognizable, scrolling symbols littered the parchment in lines as neat and orderly as the office they were likely drafted in. It reminded her of the treasury ledger at Balta, something her husband didn't have direct oversight of but had pulled into his study during their lunch hour on numerous occasions.

Searching for any spare coin he could find to put to the war efforts.

"I'm afraid I am not very affluent with terms or theory of Magic..." why did she have the feeling she was being lured into a trap? "Is what I asked for not definitive enough?"

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus continued to sort through the pages, eventually coming upon a blank one. He smoothed out the parchment on both pages, silently bewildered at the question. He had dealt with the uninitiated before on countless occasions, but even they knew what they were asking for. This one was younger and clearly not from a culture with extensive, or established, magical practice.

He resolved to just be patient and elucidate her. Uninitiated or not, money was money.

"There are many paths to power," Telemachus droned. "Some bargain for great physical strength or an empowered intellect. Others ask for magic."

The non-magical bargains were some of the simplest. The Gods-from-Stars were of inscrutable power, so channeling that power to make a mortal faster, stronger, or smarter constituted less exertion than it took Telemachus to blink. People offered up their soul for these things and it was accepted - no further considerations or addendums, usually.

These people lived as they would with their new boon, some with their lot improved and others not. But when they died, their soul went to the Stellar Divinity they had bargained with rather than whatever afterlife they were previously destined for. From there... Well, from what Telemachus understood the soul was obliterated. Gone. Incorporated into the Stellar Divinity and increasing their personal standing among the other Gods-from-Stars.

Sensing there were to be more questions before he got to write anything down, Telemachus set down his fancy quill and folded his hands over the ledger.

"Would you ask for magic, or something else?"

 

[Fieravene]

"...I see..."

So there were choices to make. Strength would do her no good, nor quickness. The means to surmounting her oppressor was beyond the physical realm insomuch as she was concerned. Magic was the resource she had hoped to tap, but the seemingly fathomless realm was much beyond her knowledge. What to ask for?

"It would seem Magic would be the most appropriate ... but what good is it to me without the knowledge and skill to use it? I would be no better armed with magic than I would with a longsword against those who oppress me."

Brows pressing together in thought, the Lady's eyes gravitated towards the gleaming fangs of the imp with a wary glance.

"Are there not... things, entities, that are wisened to the nature and use of magic that could ... guide me?"

 

[Telemachus]

"You must then ask for knowledge - expertise - in addition to capability," Telemachus explained. "All things can be granted freely from the Gods-from-Stars. They will not shepherd you as a tutor might. You will simply awaken with the knowledge you need."

It was rarely a question of possibility with the Gods-from-Stars. It was more a question of mortal capacity to pay the prices offered. So long as it was a feasible request, anyway. No one who ever asked for a titanic dragon or some other gargantuan monstrosity ever walked away with anything but disappointment.

He continued, "There are many forms of magic. You might conjure your servants from Planes that exist parallel to this one, or raise the dead to do your bidding, or perhaps command the minds of the living instead. Or you can seek... More direct expressions of power: the ability to call on the elements to batter your foes into submission, for instance."

Rarely did Telemachus have to explain the different schools of magic to people, but here he was.

"I would suggest renting several entry-level texts from the library if you are truly ignorant of the expressions of magic."

Sure, he wanted her money, but informed buyers were more likely to get what they wanted - and not show up with super powers and attempt to kill him over a deal they grew to dislike.

 

[Fieravene]

This was turning out to be far more difficult than she initially wagered. Emmeril frowned, eyes casting down to her hands in her lap to stare at the ring that signified the union of herself to her husband. Peace between Balta and Harth. The lives of hundreds and thousands saved from another century of war over something they could not even recall for all the years past of the very first slight.

"Perhaps you are right," the woman nodded after several moments, "I had not realized my lack of preparation in this ... endeavor. I-" her brow furrowed, there was no assurance of how much time she would have to learn more about her choices. Today her husband, Prince Devyn of Balta, met with the Merchant Council. Tomorrow? Who was to say.

"I will give this more thought. Forgive me for wasting your time, Maester."

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus raised an eyebrow at the Lady Emmeril - like an instructor coming to terms with the ignorance of a student for the first time. "Very well."

In one swift motion, the ledger was shut, the special quill returned to its sheath, the lock affixed once more. Barkas let out an animalistic huff. Was that disappointment? Imps were rarely so forthcoming. He took the ledger from Telemachus without protest and began his sad flight back up to the bookshelves.

Barkas was gone quickly, but Telemachus was speaking again before the Imp had scrambled back into the

"You may return when ready," He intoned, already reaching for the scroll case he had previously set aside.

 

[Fieravene]

The Lady gave an uncertain nod, rose from the seat and excused herself and headed straight to the library.

"Excuse me, Maester?"
"Mmr? Oh, I'm not a Maester, just a humble Scribe."

Emmeril blinked at the older man standing before her. Equipped in what appeared to be brown mage robes clasped by a belt upon which a myriad satchels hung full of archival tools and baubles, she could hardly wonder at just what a Scribe spent his days doing here in Elbion. Not what the Scribes back in Balta did, for certain.

"Of course, can you help me? I'm looking for tomes on the subject of the various schools of magic."
"Come to learn have you? Congratulations on your acceptance into the College, such a noble and-"
"No," she interrupted, "I am a visiting dignitary."
"Curious and curious of the magics we teach?"
"Very. No one in my family has been ... blessed with the talent for magic. I know so very little and it seemed only appropriate to take advantage of my time here."
"Oh, yes, well you'll want to peruse the introductory texts. It would take years to learn of every source and type of magic, Lord Elbion be willing - there's a school of magic for every God the miscreants of Arethil conjure up."
"Are you saying the Gods employ their own powers into their followers?"
"Depending on who you speak to, some claim the Gods to be the source of all magic."
"Where could I read about the Gods?"
"Oh we have many volumes on the various Gods of the southern reaches and others of the Orican variety..."

~~~

Ethemu - the horned God of the Mohican valley. Vessel of rains and bringer of crops...

No.

Varimet - Orc God of the Hunt, purveyor of blood rituals and-

No.

Vok - Kivren Goddess of seafoam-

No.

Emmeril pressed a large hank of pages to the side and flipped across several more before coming to a stop on a page bearing a drawing of the Sun, Moon, and countless stars.

Gods-of-Stars.

Hm, wasn't that what the elf had spoken of? Perhaps these were the Gods his magic derived from. It would make sense to familiarize herself with them. She thumbed through the various proceeding pages, green eyes scanning images of demonic creatures and things of nightmares. A beast the size of a planet made entirely of organs, whose pustules were the seeds of Gods-to-Be. Another a vaporous mass among the stars who rejected all forms of communication but was said to create the void from which Shades originate. Here a demonic entity who could reincarnate itself within human bodies if the stars were right, its followers paid homage at an eyeless, grotesque statue of the virgin who's sacrifice was said to open the lock to its inter-dimensional plane of existence.

Then...

Liremel (The Divinity)

Daughter of Kallamat. Liremel appears as a slight, blurry female entity of supernatural beauty. She dwells within her obsidian Palace within the realm of Heshtopf, living in a hall composed of mirrors that distort her appearance, which is that of a tentacled dark abyss bearing a necklace of bright green and glowing eyes. Revered as a she-vampire of Lust, Liremel grants her followers the power of persuasion and seduction. She is said to interfere with the realm of mortals through her children of Succubi and Incubi. Her sigil is that of a wide-open eye containing a handprint for a pupil.
​

Emmeril copied this passage in hurried, scrolling letters to a sheath of parchment, closed the book, and went in search of more books written specifically on the Gods-of-Stars.

 

[Telemachus]

As it happened, the Gods-from-Stars of the Sidereal Elves were not the Gods-of-Stars of the humans. Telemachus did not care for limited human perceptions, who saw monsters and demons in the spaces they could not comprehend. The Sidereal Elves had mapped the stars and their many inhabitants. The way they saw the universe, dealt their pact magic, and practiced the arts of Conjuration could not be further from the wide-eyed horror of the humans.

A tome, labeled Cultural & Magical Practices of the Antikathri, would be of some elucidation.

Spoiler

The Sidereal Elves believe their magic to derive from a set of culturally important constellations - their zodiac. These celestial signs closely align to the zodiacs of other species, though their interpretations of these signs seem somewhat different. Chief among these differences is that the Sidereal Elves believe the stars of these constellations contain parallel realities, the domains of a plethora of deities.

They call these deities the Gods-from-Stars, though oftentimes abbreviate it to Stellar Divinities. They consider these deities separate and different from deities such as Kiva, Therg, or Astra and her Celestial Pantheon. The primordial deities that existed long before Arethil (Astra and all but one of the Dark Ones, for example), they term the Gods-from-Nowhere or the Void Divinities. Kiva and Therg, meanwhile, who rose solely in relation to Arethil are known as Gods-from-Dirt, or the Fragile Divinities.

Sidereal Elves do not worship any of these divinities, but barter with them. The Stellar Divinities, they say, are the ones most willing to trade. There is no taboo in seeking out an exchange with the Fragile Divinities, but the Void Divinities are especially loathed. It was their tampering and meddling that brought untold destruction to Arethil in ages past. Stellar Divinities are limited in their capacity to influence Arethil in ways the Void and Fragile Divinities are not: they are kept separated by the Liminal Veil.

The Liminal Veil prevents Stellar Divinities from simply manifesting on Arethil and doing as they please, as Void Divinities and Fragile Divinities can. Only mortals on this side of the Liminal Veil may create the means to bypass it. And it is by this means that servants of Stellar Divinities can be summoned to Arethil to do the bidding of conjurers, or Stellar Divinities may impart traces of their power into others.

​

Yes, that was all very interesting, but what was really important here is to find out what magicks and powers and gifts these so called Stellar Divinities trafficked in. What could they give Lady Emmeril ?

Anything she wanted, it turns out.

Spoiler

The Antikathri Zodiac is comprised of 12 signs: 3 Sovereign Signs and 9 Subjugant Signs. The Sovereign Signs represent broad magical practice, while the Subjugant Signs represent more specified magical disciplines. Stellar Divinities are said to reside by the dozen within each star of a given constellation. And the demeanor and gifts of each Stellar Divinity change depending on the sign they reside in.

The signs are as follows.

The first Sovereign Sign is called The Child of Dragons. It represents the most raw and potent expressions of magic; the bare acts of expressing one's will through arcane means. In my conversations with the Sidereal Elders, they liken it to a brute: a simple man resorting to his fists and strength, for he needs nothing else.

The Subjugant Signs of The Child of Dragons are Pelasia, the Orator, who represents magic we know as Evocation. Kydon, the Shield-Bearer represents Abjuration, while Chitos, the Drummer, is most closely aligned with the art of Enchantment.

The second Sovereign Sign is known as The Artisan. It represents refined and deliberate practices of magic. These are more complicated and sometimes ritualistic arts that, like the Dragon-Child, are expressions of power. Unlike the Dragon-Child, they are more careful and ornate. The Artisan was likened to a fencer in comparison to the brute.

The Subjugant Signs of the Artisan are Eteo, the Familiar, who represents the arts of conjuration the Sidereal Elves are so fond of. Thaeas, the Seamstress embodies the school of Transmutation. Dyus, the Serpent, is a peculiar constellation who holds sway over both the arts of Necromancy and Restoration. One might suppose the Sidereal Elves view matters of manipulating life as one, indistinguishable art rather than dividing the healing and necrotic aspects as we do.

The final Sovereign Sign is The Revelator. The Revelator does not dabble in the physical expressions of the Dragon-Child or the Artisan. It is aloof, intangible, and ephemeral. Its magic is indirect, contained solely in the minds of those who use and experience it.

The first Subjugant Sign of the Revelator is Akhaia, the Eye, who embodies the discipline of Divination. Praesos, the Shroud, represents acts of Illusion Magic. Derenon, the Hand, is by far the most mysterious of these signs. Its domain cannot be expressed in the common tongue, I am told, and so its ultimate place in both our schools of magic and the zodiac of the Sidereal Elves remains unknown to me.

The magical abilities granted through pact magic often depend on which constellation the Stellar Divinity resides in. However, it has been expressed to me that things such as strength, longevity, skill mastery, and so on can be given by any of the Stellar Divinities as they see fit...

​

Indeed, it seemed the only limits to what Emmerli wanted were what her imagination could describe.

Perhaps Liremel had a place somewhere in this stellar pantheon.

 

[Fieravene]

The next day she arrived in the early afternoon. Harkened to enter as she had been the day prior, Lady Emmeril stepped into his office with a heavy quiet in accompaniment. An evening with a husband hellbent on an heir by any manner of perversion that suited him, even if the evidence was plain to see the next day.

Would have been easier to say that he was a drunk. Emmeril found herself wishing it so - then at the very least she could find a source for his transgressions. Instead she was left with a man thinking clearly and with purpose, no hint of regret for the things that he did. What had she done to deserve this fate?

"Thank you for seeing me once again, Lord Mage."

Her handmaidens had done well to paint the bruises that were not covered by cloth. She approached the desk and gave him what time he needed to free himself of his work before speaking again.

"I have taken time to read upon the various magics and Gods ... would that I could spend years coming to understand their many intricacies, but I'm afraid time is not something I have a great deal of. Not if I am to accomplish anything of my own desire."

"I wish ... to invoke the powers of Liremel, if such a thing is possible."

 

[Telemachus]

Liremel. Not a Stellar Divinity Telemachus was intimately familiar with. Possibly one of the lesser entities. He cocked an eyebrow, having wisely delayed calling down Barkas for this reason. Lady Emmeril clearly had no idea how this was supposed to go. Time for another round of elucidation.

"I am afraid that is not quite how it works," began Telemachus, gently as his monotonous intonations could allow. He tented his hands on the desk. "Once the proper paperwork is filed, your offer is circulated among the Stellar Divinities currently searching for pacts. Proposals will then be dispatched to me, at which point you can assess-"

A loud pop interrupted Telemachus. Tomes and glassware rattled on their shelves. There was the sound of some sort of after-effect, a hissing in the air. Sizzling? It came from the top of the bookshelves, where Barkas usually remained when unneeded. The faint odor of sulfur wafted down.

Barkas was not far behind it. The red imp looked to have been singed and covered in soot. Rather than his usual rapid descent, he climbed down the towering shelves like an overly-cautious mountaineer. In one clawed hand, he gripped what appeared to be a letter. Without dismounting the shelf, he handed the letter to Telemachus and began to climb back up.

The expression Telemachus wore during this process was a sure sign this was not expected or usual. He took the letter and cracked the wax seal, unfolding the parchment inside. His eyes narrowed as he scanned through the words, then directed his suspicious gaze onto the Lady Emmeril.

"It appears you have been pre-approved."

 

[Fieravene]

She hadn't taken the seat but instead stood a pace away, behind it, hands lightly clasped at her front. Her expression shone an anxious, disquieted hope that verily wilted as the elf brought what small amount of assurance she had in herself to a grinding halt.

Not how it worked? The woman's lips parted faintly in a silent and disheartened oh. That green gaze dropped to silently search the shadows of the floor as he enlightened her to the protocol of these dealings. Circulated? Proposals? So she couldn't simply request the aid of her chosen entity? What if none of them elected to propose anything? What if-

Pop ! - sssssssskkkkkkccchhht.

A wild blink turned her eyes back up to the shelf where that hideous little beast crawled out from. Emmeril watched, for a second time, as its demonic little body climbed down like some demented, premie infant. She visibly grimaced in disgusted fright of it, opting to force her attention on the letter now in the Mage's hand.

And then there was confusion.

"Pre-approved?" Emmeril only wished she was more aware, more informed of this entire process. What in the nine hells was going on? Why did he look like someone had just informed him his skin was, in fact, green all this time and not blue? She stepped forward to stand at the back of the chair, hands moving to clasp the top of the backrest uneasily, as if she'd suddenly become seasick in this ocean of weirdness.

"Then it...she...I..." the Lady's face visibly paled, "ahm...may I sit?"

 

[Telemachus]

Telemachus glanced up, perhaps noticing for the first time that she hadn't seated herself already. "Yes," he said, apparently answering both questions at once. Perfect economy of words, as usual. He folded the parchment back into its container.

"It appears the entity you sought has been seeking you as well. Liremel is already prepared to accept your offer, with the following terms."

The Sidereal Elf presented the letter to the Lady Emmeril . It was rather rare that a Stellar Divinity would actively seek out a mortal. Bound as they were by the Liminal Veil, getting their missives to potential champions was difficult. Conjurers were not the same as mortal couriers.

They would not seek out someone on behalf of a Stellar Divinity without material compensation - something that was a great deal harder for them to come by without the proper rituals. And even then, it was hardly worth it. In this case, it seemed the circumstances had aligned perfectly to bring this young woman to Liremel...

"Such arrangements are most unusual. As your counsel, I am obligated to urge caution. Pacts with divinities such as Liremel may carry unforeseen consequences."

But as for the consequences Lady Emmeril could foresee...

Spoiler

• Liremel the Black Heart, Daughter of Kallamat
  • Whose portfolio includes Lust, Deception, and Greed
  • Whose domain is the Obsidian Shore of Heshtopf, the Subjugate Sphere of CHITOS the Drummer.
• Price: 1500 Souls
• Methods of Service:
  • Kill people through life drain OR ritual sacrifice.
  • Offer gold, silver, gems, or other valuables. (Souls added depending on perceived value)
  • Erect monuments of Liremel. (Souls added depending on perceived value)
  • Found cult. (Souls added for every current member of the cult)
• Reward:
  • The ability to hypnotize (charming or stunning), at will, others through sustained eye contact.
  • The ability to drain life, at will, through sustained physical contact.
• Potential Boons:
  • After 50 souls, you may be eligible to receive an Imp as a familiar.
  • After 150 souls, your ability to drain life is improved, and imparts longer-lasting benefits.
  • After 300 souls, your Imp will be replaced by a Child of Liremel.
  • After 600 souls, your hypnotic ability is improved, and lasts longer on those it effects.
  • After 800 souls, your voice is empowered through magic, and carries the same effects as hypnosis to those who hear it.
  • After 1000 souls, you may permanently enthrall individuals to your will through your hypnosis.
  • After 1500 souls, you will no longer suffer from the hardships of old age, and you may appear as youthful and beautiful as you desire.

 

[Fieravene]

Emmeril sat.

It didn't make her feel any better. It probably made her feel less better, in all actuality. Having the chairback at her spine and the contract settled before her suddenly made her feel a bit ... trapped. It didn't help to remind herself that she'd walked herself right into it and that, essentially, this is exactly what she wanted. Be that as it may, knowing that divine entities usually beggared souls for payment and seeing it written in the essence of the arcane was rather profound.

This wasn't a dream. It was happening, and 1500 souls would have to suffer in order for her to see an end to her own suffering.

"Does...the contract deem unusual to your knowledge?" the woman asked her counsel after reading it over, "Or just the manner within which it has emerged?"

Would not any pact carry its threat of unforeseen consequences and not simply just those that arrived post-haste?

 

[Telemachus]

"The manner in which it has emerged."

Nothing in the contract itself presented any issue. Stellar Divinities that intended treachery rarely had the audacity to put it in writing. Normally Telemachus would weed out treachery and poisonous deals as part of his rituals. This one had not been scrutinized. If there were any reason for Liremel to wish to circumvent the usual process, that would be Telemachus' first guess.

The Sidereal Elf steepled his hands on the desk. "You may take as much time as required to consider Liremel's offer, or if you prefer, I may endeavor to find you others."

The final choice of Lady Emmeril was, ultimately, irrelevant to Telemachus. So long as he had his money, it hardly mattered. But if she did leap for Liremel, so to speak, it would save him a bit of paperwork.

 

[Fieravene]

"I see..."

She gave the contract a comprehensive reading once over, then again for good measure. Like as she wanted to feel assured about any choice that be made, it really was if she were reading something written in a foreign language. The words, though familiar, yet forming ideas she struggled to wrap her mind around. But Emmeril endeavored to leave this room today with a new purpose and a means to fulfill it.

Perhaps it was brash to simply take the contract for what it was, consequences be damned, but she was fairly convinced there was little else she might regret more than not helping herself.

With a slow but deep breath, the woman sat up and nodded. Mostly to herself.

"Have you a quill?"

 

[Telemachus]

When Telemachus offered people to take their time in consideration, they generally took several days. Lady Emmeril had instead taken several moments. Apparently time really was of the essence. If Telemachus at all had a heart to spare, it might have gone out to her. Sadly he did not... But he did have a quill.

"Of course." He plucked a mundane quill from its inkwell and passed it off to Emmeril.

Naturally Liremel's emissary had left ample space for Lady Emmeril to sign. Telemachus would have to send this back immediately, not to mention make the preparations for the ritual tonight. Then explain the trance-inducing process, and of course store away the massive sacks of money she was to dispense upon him.

So many things to see to at once. Normally he could spread them out. Perhaps this was the real reason Telemachus despised pre-approvals.