by Kimbro West
The thin-lipped woman stared at Auren with utter boredom. “That isn’t the most idiotic thing I have ever heard, so I may be able to assume you are not the biggest idiot I have ever talked to … maybe third … fifth perhaps.”
“Are you … being mean?” inquired Auren calmly.
“Oui, I believe I am,” challenged Madam Kheller.
“Now’s our chance, Stanley,” whispered Availia.
Stanley motioned her to the back of the records department. He grabbed Availia’s arm and put her in a small wooden chair that looked like a bad replica of the magic chair at Wegnel’s, except this one was covered in cobwebs and had a thick layer of dust. Availia immediately tried to stand up only to be pushed back into the seat by Stanley. He put his finger over his lips as if to tell her to stay quiet. He then leaned over and stuck his hand inside the face of an old metal helmet. Availia’s chair fell backwards through the wall and dumped her to the other side.
The room was dark; Availia could not see her hand in front of her face. She reached out, felt cobwebs and let out a quick scream. Soon Stanley came through and Availia felt relieved not to be standing alone in the dark.
“Mmmmm, nmmgggu … miracle torch,” stuttered Stanley.
“I didn’t bring it, it’s in my pack,” exclaimed Availia as she held onto Stanley’s arm.
Stanley walked forward several paces and reached to his left. He picked up a large irregular stone and smashed it against the wall. Sparks shot out and gave him a temporary view of the large room. He evidently saw what he needed to see and walked forward, leaving Availia standing by herself.
“Wait a minute, Stanley!” exclaimed Availia as she stood alone, unable to see a thing.
Availia reached out for Stanley, felt more cobwebs and quickly recoiled. But soon enough the room was illuminated by a torch that had been lit midway accross the room. Confusion washed over Availia as she looked around — Stanley continued lighting torches and it was soon bright enough to see the length of the room. The same cubbies lined the wall, with identical crumbling statues on the shelves and another journal desk positioned in the center of the room. This desk, however, had the stub of a candle sitting on it. Availia could tell it had started out much larger, judging by the wax that had dribbled down the side and onto the surface of the desk. On the journal desk lay a book entitled ‘Experimental Alchemy and Derivatives Therein’ that was open to a chapter called ‘Prices Paid for Eternal Life.’ Availia realized that Stanley had spent a significant amount of time here. She paged through the book but was interrupted by Stanley handing her a scroll.
“Is this one of the scrolls that Madam Kheller was having us put away?”
Stanley nodded and then walked over to the cubbies that were labeled with the letter ‘L.’ He pulled out a scroll and handed it to Availia. She studied both scrolls and looked up at Stanley.
“They are the same,” she said, trying to hand them back to Stanley.
“Mmmmm nnnggguuuu … read, nggguuu … again,” he stuttered.
‘“…realizing my mistake, I was able to free myself from the trap and wound the Mitan soldier. I barely escaped the tyranny of such an evil race of people,’” read Availia aloud. She looked at the second scroll and picked up from the same place. “ …realizing my mistake, I was able to free myself from the trap with the aid of a Mitan citizen. This isn’t at all like what I was told in Tirguard. This Mitan was kind and spoke words of kinship, not tyranny, which allowed me to realize my second mistake.”
Availia put both scrolls down on the journal desk and looked up at Stanley. “But, what does this mean? I mean, what is this place, Stanley?”
“Nggguuu, mmmmm … truth telling times to trap troubled … um … mmmm nggguuu … lies …” he stammered.
“I don’t understand. Do you mean that this room reveals the truth of whatever is placed in the records room?” asked Availia.
“Yes,” nodded Stanley, now smiling.
“This could be an extremely helpful room, Stanley, but it doesn’t solve our werewolf issue. I wonder how much longer Auren will last with Madam Kheller. Have you seen anything about werewolves in here?”
Stanley shook his head.
“Well, I think we are at a loss for now — we will have to come back later,” said Availia, but just as she was about to grab the scroll meant for the records room she noticed a peculiar scrap of parchment sitting on the journal desk. ‘“Airship is launched by experimental alchemy class,’” she read aloud. ‘“Red Thomas, head Professor of the Tirguard experimental alchemy flight division, accompanied by Stanley VonHaven, designed, built, and piloted Tirguard’s very first airship. The airship was considered a success; however, with the eventual closing of the alchemy academy, all alchemy items were banned and put into storage, including the airship, which has not been seen since,”‘ she read.
Availia looked over at Stanley, who seemed to be rather self-conscious about the subject and was avoiding eye contact.
“Stanley VonHaven?” asked Availia.
Stanley nodded.
“So … you built an airship?”
“Nggghhu … yes,” he answered.
“That’s fantastic, Stanley … I would very much like to see it someday.”
Stanley nodded. He then shrugged his shoulders and picked up the scroll that he had just shown to Availia and put it back in the ‘L’ section. He began putting out the torches.
Availia browsed a bookshelf on her way to the chair, hoping to catch a glimpse of something werewolf-related. She cleared away cobwebs and brushed dust from old books. She noticed an old statue of a man holding a snake in one hand and a sword in the other — a small black band with silver engraving that read ‘Mortuus Manus’ was clasped around the statue’s waist. It looked rather odd, so she leaned forward to get a better look when Stanley extinguished the last torch. Startled and now unable to see, she turned and felt her way towards the chair. Stanley reached through the face of the helmet and Availia again fell backward through the wall.
Back in the records department, she could once again hear Auren and Madam Kheller bickering back and forth. Soon after, Stanley fell through the wall. He and Availia scrambled to the small remaining pile of scrolls and placed them in their proper cubbies.
“I have it, mind you, that Lippy’s Lickable Dragon Eggs are not real dragon eggs, and furthermore, the scrolls here were not, and never have been, peeled from the scales of an actual dragon!” shouted Madam Kheller. “Now then, I have been annoyed enough for one evening. Au revoir!”
On the way out Availia looked for the statue of the man holding a snake in one hand and a sword in the other. The remains lay in a crumbled mess on the bookshelf, and the ‘Mortuus Manus’ band was not to be seen. Availia guessed it had sunk into the dust and crumbles of what was left of the statue. She reached toward the mess but was shoved out by Madam Kheller along with the other two, leaving them with no information regarding the Stonewolf.
Chapter 19
Magnificent Stonework
The Whitehaven morning was brisk and Ghislain was irritated by everything around him.
“Your security is annoying, Basileus — bet I could take most of them with one hand tied behind my back,” grumbled Ghislain.
“Glad you could join us, Ghislain,” sighed King Basileus. “I add extra men to account for the Stonewolf and you still complain about my security? Do you mind if we continue on about the planned protection of our Orobori?”
“Orobori? You’ll have to refresh me on your terms, Basileus, we haven’t discussed these matters for some time,” said Ghislain as he found a chair in the great Hall.
“An Orobori is one chosen by the Oroborus,” said King Basileus.
“And…?” prompted Ghislain with a shrug.
“He means Ethan,” explained Odin softly.
“Of course he does … why doesn’t he just say Ethan then, why does everything have to be so difficult?” murmured Ghislain under his breath.
“Continuing o
n then,” said the King bluntly. “I have spoken to my advisors and they seem to think the Castellan in Tirguard is well-handed to ensure Ethan’s safety. And in further discussion …”
“What about the other three? Auren, Availia, and … Stanley?” asked Odin promptly.
“I didn’t ask about them. Although I am positive their safety is implied — but you bring up a good point, considering they are all studying under Edison. I will forward the message immediately,” replied the King as he jotted down a message on a piece of parchment. He rolled it up, used wax to seal it, and stamped over top with his ring. An ever-present messenger took the scroll and headed out the door.
“Shouldn’t have to worry about Auren, I think he can handle himself — but you know … just to be safe. Probly a good idea,” added Ghislain.
The great Hall’s door swung open and in walked an old man wearing a purple and black robe. He walked with a cane, slowly making his way to the table. He did not announce himself; rather, he simply sat down.
“Odin and Ghislain, I am not sure if I formerly introduced you to my most trusted advisor,” said King Basileus.
“And you still haven’t,” said Ghislain rudely. “Well, does he have a name then?”
“All of my advisors are named Magnus. This is number seven.”
“You can just call me Seven,” said the old man. “I have of course heard of you, Ghislain. Your memory is almost as bad as poor old Thomas Wright,” chuckled Seven. “The Magnus line has been chosen generation after generation as Castellan to ensure the safety of Tirguard. At age sixty, we step down from Castellan and appoint our eldest son as the new Castellan.”
“Then, the retired Castellan returns to Whitehaven to serve as advisor to the King. And because of the time difference, they are about one year apart by the time they get here,” added King Basileus.
“As you can imagine, there is great benefit to this arrangement. The King receives a wealth of knowledge, having the complete history of Tirguard at his very fingertips. I am sixty-eight years old, and my son who served as Castellan, Magnus the Eighth, is sixty-seven — his son, my grandson, would have been sixty-six had he not passed away from a weak liver. Out of sixteen total Castellans to carry the Magnus name, thirteen survive and currently serve the King — two have passed, and one looks over Tirguard. And as the King said, all this is possible because of the time difference.”
“That is very impressive, Seven,” stated Odin. “Tell me, what is advised for the current state of affairs?”
“Well, you cannot advise the path of the Orobori. The only thing you can do is prepare the best chance for success. Although I have great optimism for my line to protect Ethan in Tirguard, ultimately his greatest danger lies in that wretched city. However, since the Curse of Silence has ended, no place is safe for Ethan Wright now, nor will there ever be. Having said that, I think his best chance for success is to become an alchemist.”
“I don’t think I could have said it any better, Seven,” said Odin. “And under Edison Rupert, I have little to fear as long as they stay inside the great stone walls.”
“That brings up a good point. I think I will send a trusted advisor to report on the Orobori when he is not with Edison. If he does leave the walls of Tirguard, I want to know about it,” stated the King.
“Well, we should be cautious, as this could be seen by the Oroborus as interfering with the natural course of things,” replied Seven.
“Of course my advisor wouldn’t interact with Ethan — just report back anything of importance. Tothyll is there now, delivering a stone statue of Magnus the Fifteenth — carved by a sculptor here in Whitehaven. I will send word to have him report back on Ethan and give implicit instruction not to interact …”
“Did you say a Whitehaven sculptor?” interrupted Seven.
“I am certain I did — we may not be the great stone city, but our sculptors here are …”
“They’re dreadful … we need to go to Tirguard immediately! I am afraid your security detail has been compromised,” exclaimed Seven.
“What do you mean, Seven?” asked Odin sternly.
Seven was breathing heavily and seemed rather agitated. He leaned forward and slammed his fist on the table. “For generations we have selected the wife of the Castellan from the line of royal sculptors. This line, though unrelated, carries a secret claim to the Castellan position if no son is produced and the Magnus line is broken.”
“So out with it then, what is the point?” demanded Ghislain.
“By trait they are the royal sculptors, and by law they are to remain in Tirguard to be available to the Magnus line. Their statues are that of legend in the great stone city.” Seven paused to catch his breath and continued. “Fifteen had his statue cast by Milt VonHaven … in the VonHaven estate — the statue was completed four months ago … Tirguard time.”
“So what did your trusted advisor transport that was as large as a Magnus the Fifteenth statue?” asked Odin intently.
The King’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. “The Stonewolf? It can’t be,” muttered the King in disbelief. He slammed his fist onto the table and rose from his seat. “Organize the entire Royal Guard! We leave for Tirguard immediately!”
Chapter 20
A Stone’s Throw
Ethan slowly opened his eyes. The room was foggy and dimly lit. He felt like he had just taken a trip through the Oroborus. He wasn’t sure of his surroundings until he felt the jar of green goop on his right hand. Several days had passed since the incident with the sword. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand and refocused. Suddenly, his heart skipped a beat, as three dark figures in black fastened-up jackets were looming over him. Startled, he sat up quickly, attempting to control his panic.
“Sorry we’re late,” said Availia calmly.
“Yeah, if it weren’t for us running into Marcus we would’ve been here sooner,” complained Auren, brushing off the sleeves of his alchemy jacket.
“But if we hadn’t run into him, we may not have gotten this,” added Availia as she held out her palm.
Ethan leaned forward and saw a symbol carved into her skin. It was hard to tell exactly what the symbol was because of the rough, scale-like appearance. He reached out instinctively with his right hand to feel the skin on her palm, only to hear a light clinking noise made by the glass container covering his hand. He reached up with his left hand and felt stone protruding through the skin of her palm.
“That is so weird, does it hurt?”
“No, not at all — just a bit itchy,” replied Availia.
“And your jackets,” exclaimed Ethan. “They’re fastened shut!”
“Yeah, check this out!” bragged Auren as he unfastened the top clasp of his jacket. The rest opened one by one, starting at the top. He pulled his arm out of his sleeve, revealing stone skin that crept half-way up his forearm.
“Marcus got himself a new sword and decided to test it out on Stanley. And … well, Auren jumped in. He and Marcus scuffled, until Marcus took Auren’s stone and threw it,” said Availia, clenching her teeth.
“And then Availia got angry — it must’ve activated her alchemy stone, because her hand went all gross and turned to stone! So, she used it to break Marcus’ brand new sword in half!” hooted Auren as he clapped his hands together. He grimaced in agony as his stone hand slapped into his other hand. He collapsed on the floor as his face turned bright red.
Availia pulled up the sleeve on her jacket to reveal the stone skin ending just past her wrist. “And after we found Auren’s stone, his skin changed too — Edison said it’s only temporary,” she added as she sat down in a chair next to Ethan’s bed. “But enough about us, how are you feeling?”
“Good,” replied Ethan. “A bit behind you two though. I haven’t been able to keep my stone in my hand for very long because I don’t have a free hand to pick anything else up,” he complained.
“Here,” said Availia as she took a glove out of her pocket and slid it onto Ethan’s le
ft hand. “Now we just slide the stone inside, and you can still use your fingers.”
“Perfect, Availia — thanks,” said Ethan gratefully. “So did you learn anything in the records department?”
“Nothing really,” replied Availia. “Only that …”
“Only that there is an identical secret room that tells the truth of any document that is placed in records, and — the records lady is mean!” spouted Auren.
Availia shot Auren a dirty look and continued. “Stanley was a great help in showing us around, but we didn’t find anything on the Stonewolf.”
“Well, at least until now you didn’t,” replied Ethan.
“What do you mean?”
“Your stone skin,” continued Ethan. “It’s like a temporary version of the Stonewolf’s armor. I wonder if that could mean that the Stonewolf was once an alchemist right here in Tirguard.”
“A werewolf alchemist?” asked Auren, shaking his head. “That’s scary. I wonder if Wegnel knows anything about that.”
“Wegnel … er … MacArthur rather — is still in prison. We’ll need a bit of luck getting in there to ask him,” said Ethan.
“You want to get into the prison?” asked Availia. “How? They don’t simply allow visitors do they?”
“I don’t think so — at least not with Heinrich running it. But tomorrow is the Stadion games, and I imagine that most everyone will be there. I think it’s our best shot at sneaking in.”
A look of immense disgust came over Auren’s face. “Wait a minute … I really want to go to the games. Do we have to visit Wegnel then?”
“Yes!” chorused Ethan, Availia, and Stanley.
***
That night Ethan was feeling much better. Nurse Helga had said he would be ready to leave the next morning. And with the new glove holding his stone in place, he was ready to examine his map more closely.
When he leaned down to grab the map from his pack, he realized his sword was resting on top. Surprised to see the sword, he stared at the handle and felt as if the sharp burning sensation had momentarily returned. He reached past the handle and dug in the pack, pulling out the map. He quickly glanced at the map, but focused his attention on the material it was made from. He took the corner and stuck it in his mouth. He grasped it with his teeth and tried to tear the corner of the map. It would not tear.