by J Jordan
“They would think we’re crazy,” said Tykeso. “Or, worse. Stupid.”
Cora shook her head. This time her glare was tempered by determination.
“We lost pieces of history last night. There is no way to tell the extent of that loss. So, I believe if we have an opportunity to preserve history, we should take it. Even if it’s weird. The world deserves to know.”
“That sounds like a tremendous undertaking,” said Tykeso.
“Not if we have people to help us out.”
Romney was sitting up straight in his chair now. His eyes shimmered with an overwhelming pride. He looked at his two close friends and grinned.
“Well, then, Doctor Queldin. Where do we begin?”
Cora shared an idea she had been saving for a long time. It was a big idea, one that would require lots of money and more people, but the three could get it off the ground with a little effort. Romney and Tykeso both loved the idea. And that idea has something to do with this book.
It was a midmorning in the Underbrew Café when Cora Queldin proposed the idea for the Queldin Institute, but really it had been in the works since she could remember. It would be a place where history could live and grow. People could come to the Queldin Institute to learn about any single part of known history. They would have exhibits and classes, extensive archives open to the public, volunteer events, special trips around the world. And not just Camerran history, or Ontaran history, but world history: Tambridesian, Desridanian, Andaran, even Azerran history. The Queldin Institute would preserve all of it, and share it with anyone, be they passionate or merely curious.
The idea was large, expensive, and a little crazy. But Romney started writing down numbers and researching prices, while Tykeso called up old friends to see if they wanted to return some favors.
They started small, of course. But now? The Queldin Institute is a big deal. The original Lanvale site is now just one of many around the world. We offer classes on a variety of topics and have countless collections on display at our many locations. Just stop by, tell the person at the gate you’re there to learn something, and walk right in. Just don’t put your nose on the glass, please. Be respectful. And don’t be a class clown during our lectures. Nobody likes them. We welcome those who are ready to learn.
And if you’re not ready, come back when you are.
We are the writers, researchers, scholars, and friends of the Queldin Institute, the many men and women who helped make this book a reality. Romney Balvance is an important part of the Modern era, as is Cora Queldin, Tykeso Vandesko, Arindale Kinsey, Victoria Costa, and all the many people who helped us get where we are today. Without their numerous kind and noble deeds, the world would be a lot worse off.
The rest, as they say, is history. And it’s some pretty weird stuff.
Devon Reymus and his New Cell Mate
Before we go, we should mention what happened to Devon Reymus. He was found lying in the street, his nice suit torn and dirty, his face speckled with loose asphalt. Devon was lifted up, handcuffed, and thrown in a black cruiser. It turns out they had the wrong guy all along. Devon Reymus had been funding his sister’s global carnage through secret accounts, on top of all the shady types he was paying to do his bidding. Among the wreckage of his penthouse, they had found the remains of several missing art pieces. A few of these items were recovered, but the rest was completely ruined.
So, on top of funding the largest one-woman terror cell the world had ever known, Devon Reymus was also guilty of destroying priceless artifacts from multiple countries. The name Romney Balvance had all but disappeared from the OIB’s numerous files, and Devon’s name had been highlighted. Mila Rin was under investigation for all the same crimes, though she swears they were all his idea to begin with.
Devon prepared his finest gang of lawyers to protect him from the trials to come. Unfortunately, this didn’t stop him from spending time in a holding cell at Lanvale Correctional. His bunkmate was a tall, burly man called Oddball. The reason for this name was obvious on the first night.
When Devon had settled on his bunk for the evening, he noticed the large man staring down at him from the corner of his bunk. Oddball said nothing the entire time. After a good ten minutes of uncomfortable, watchful silence, the strange man retreated to the safety of his own bunk. Then, five minutes later, Oddball was snoring.
During the day, Oddball was your typical prisoner, all grim bravado and unresolved anger issues. He did little to acknowledge Devon’s presence during the day, which was also typical prison etiquette. But at night, Oddball was a silent, staring creeper. This went on for three nights. The staring, the silence, then the snoring.
On the third night, Devon had finally had enough of it. He didn’t care how big Oddball was, or how violent he may become when provoked. He stared back at the oaf.
“Can I help you?”
Oddball said nothing. He quickly retreated back to his bunk. But Devon would have none of it. He got up and glared at the large man. There was something strange about Oddball’s posture. He seemed to be pressed against the wall. His eyes watered with fear.
“What is your deal, buddy?”
Oddball’s lips gaped like a fish out of water, but then he began to find the words.
“Is . . . is it true what they say? Are you really one of the last?”
“Of all the cells in this place,” said Devon. “I get stuck with a mumbling psycho.”
Oddball seemed to twist something around in his head. The result came out in pieces.
“You see,” he started, “Low Jack was saying they saw that big one flying around downtown Lanvale, right where they found you. Nobody is supposed to talk about it, but when the lights stopped, they found you where the big one was flying around. So, that got Low Jack to thinking. And he started talking to Ol’ Hiram. They’re saying you’re the real deal.”
Devon waited for the stream of stupidity to settle before he spoke again.
“All right, let’s try this again. What do you want?”
Oddball pursed his lips. He peered carefully out through the bars and watched for signs of movement. Then he motioned for Devon to come in closer. He spoke low, careful not to be heard by anyone.
“Are you really a dragon?”
Devon frowned at this. He didn’t think of his answer, because it seemed natural to him now. It was nothing to be ashamed of.
“Of course I am. Yeah, that was me flying around the city.”
Oddball hushed Devon before he got carried away.
“We have to keep our voices down. There are enemies in these walls.”
Devon gave him a sideways look, reserved for the weirder people in his long life. Oddball had quickly jumped through the ranks in a mere conversation.
“We want to help you,” said Oddball.
Devon recoiled at this.
“What are you talking about?”
Oddball lifted the sleeve of his jumpsuit, revealing an elaborate tattoo on his arm. Devon took in its many details, then smiled at it. The scaly head and the long neck. The pointed maw reaching skyward. There was no mistaking the crest of Atterrus, the dragon who burned the world. Oddball nodded along with Devon, relieved to see he approved of it.
“The dawn approaches, milord.”
Devon’s smile widened. He was going to like prison after all.
Acknowledgements
The Queldin Institute would like to acknowledge the following people for their hard work and their dedication to this cause. Romney’s story was a strange one, and it required a tremendous amount of research to complete. The details of his story were difficult to find, and even more difficult to contend with, but the writers, researchers, scholars, historians, and friends banded together to bring this story to life.
Researchers, Scholars & Historians
Cora Queldin – Principal Historian and Curator, Queldin Institute
Tykeso Vandesko – Historian and Professor of Military History, Queldin Institute
Ro
mney Balvance – Historian and Chief Financial Officer, Queldin Institute
Victoria Costa – Historian and Professor of Andaran History, Queldin Institute
Kiva Larana – Researcher and Professor of Camerran History, Queldin Institute
Mara Balvance – Researcher and Associate Professor of Ontaran History, Queldin Institute
Richard Oakhammer – Researcher and Professor of Ontaran History, Lanvale Prime
Dalia Goldarrow – Researcher and Assistant to Professor Oakhammer, Lanvale Prime
Edmund Brave – Researcher, Queldin Institute
Khyber Orren III – Researcher, Camerran Historical Society
Seymour Smoak – Researcher, Queldin Institute
Editors and Writers
Anthony Rizzo – Editor and Professor of Computer Science, Lanvale Prime
Brian Crosby – Editor and Professor of Archaeology, Lanvale Prime
Tashi Saheb-Ettaba – Editor and Professor of Ontaran Literature, Lanvale Prime
Lauren Wise – Editor, Midnight Publishing
Valerie Brooks – Editor, The Write Edit
Kristina Patrick – Professor of Art History, Chair of the Preservation Society, Lanvale Prime
Jess Jordan - Writer and Editor, Queldin Institute
The Queldin Institute would like to extend special thanks to the following people:
Mitch, Sandy, Jill, and James
Thank you for your support!