Medurio knocked on the door of his recently recalled peer with a volume that questioned his inconspicuousness. He waited, stressfully pondering what he would do if there was no response. The faint screeching of the doorknob drove those thoughts away. The door's place was taken by an ardent fellow with a thin face and fitting stache. He stared at Medurio with narrowed, thinking eyes for a fraction of a second before a warm smile appeared on his face. “Ah, Medurio. As unexpected as one could expect.”

Medurio nodded, he tried to recall the man’s name but could not. “And I’ve come to speak to you of an unexpected thing if you have time to listen.”

The man sighed. “I would be inclined, but this is my hour of study. I fear that I can hardly make time for things besides it.” He went silent for a moment. “Should you not be doing the same?”

He shrugged. “The shoulds and wants of my mind are favored unequally. And as of now my mind has chosen what it always has.”

The man raised a brow. “Well I am somewhat intrigued by your prudence on this impromptu interest of yours. But why have you come to me?”

Medurio's mind quickly began to formulate what he would have to say. It would need to balance truth with lies. But tell too many truths and the man could have sufficient reason to get him hanged. “I need to translate Pepris,” he said with masterfully concealed emotion. “You are one of the only people I know that could do such a thing.”

The man scratched his chin for a few moments before answering. “But why ask me? You reside in the nest of the world's greatest scholars! Surely you can find a man who has a grasp of the language magnitudes greater than I. I can understand Pepris, yes. But my skill truthfully amounts little when compared to them.”

Medurio internally groaned, he did not care how little the man thought of himself. He wanted a translation from him, even if it was butchered to pieces. “I was just thinking of how much more convenient it would be to come to you instead.”

The man shook his head. “Sensible, if you care so little about such things then I am willing to help. Only if it won’t take long of course. I have much work to do, much work.” Medurio wondered what those words meant to someone who spent their entire life working.

“Good! Let's take a seat. I’ll need to write this down.”

The two men sat themselves in front of the room’s singular plain desk. Since there was only a single proper chair, Medurio used a bench that was only tall enough for a child. The man handed him a writing pad and pushed a quill and glass jar of ink towards him. “Ready?”

“Yes yes, go ahead.” Medurio answered quickly. He was beginning to regret coming to this man in the first place. It was grating having to repeat himself and he had gained a slight headache from trying to remember the man’s name, what was it again?

“I’ll read slowly, so you can transcribe it accurately.” The man took a deep breath, and began to read the document from start to finish.

Medurio felt that he would be fine with being beheaded. The man really did read slowly, and was just as awful as he admitted. “I ha- hald? Have. I have for-mu-lat-ed-.” Thankfully for him, his mind had quickly filtered the man’s words so that they would not drive him to madness.

“I have formulated a concoction that has given me abilities above mortal men. After testing it on myself and my assistant I have concluded that it has magically enhanced my vitality, strength, and dexterity. I am writing this document to keep a record for further testing. The ingredients are as follows.”

Stolen story; please report.

“A glass of water, using more would mean increasing the other ingredients in proportion.

A spoonful of wine, stir when adding.

A dash of sugar. I need to test if varying this amount has any effects.

Swiftweed beans, ground with a pestle. A small amount should do.”

Medurio thought to himself as the man finished reading, “A concoction that heightens one's abilities without the blessing of a god? How exactly is that possible? And that writing. This was most definitely taken from a diary of some sort of alchemist. How many people even know about this formula?” Medurio’s worry was stuck in his mind. He had expected the concoction to contain some strangeness beforehand. But trying to recreate the gods' power? This could easily be heretical. What was it doing in an academy? Why did he have to touch it?

The man turned to Medurio after giving the text a second reading. “Medurio…” He said in a disturbed whisper. “Where exactly did you find this?”

Medurio’s skin crawled. Another worry added to his seemingly endless pile that had grown today. That was not a question he wanted to hear, answer, or ponder. “I must go!” His body shot upwards and swiveled towards the door. He took one step and-

“Wait!” Scrulo said with desperation.

His head regrettably came to face him. He wiped the sweat off of his brow. “What?” Was all he could stutter as his mind and body frantically sought an escape.

“The great philosopher Quintinus, grace of the gods upon him, once said that one’s problems should not be dropped on another like a donkey’s baggage but inste-”

Medurio grunted impatiently, “I have no time for your philosophy! No time at all!” He hurriedly went for the door before the man came to block him, both arms outstretched.

“You are a fool Medurio!” The man said as he pointed at Medurio’s chest in an exaggerated manner. “Do not allow others to dwell within your worries. That is what Quintinus says, and that’s what you and your rude self are doing to me.” Medurio attempted to scuttle around the man, but he would not budge. “Are you not aware of what could happen to those who take a scripture without permission?” He made a cutting motion at his neck. “The inquisition takes their head, that’s what!”

“You think I am not aware of that? Let me go! My business with you is over, over I say!” Medurio was out of luck, he tried to shove past the man but he would not let him. A most despairing situation. He dared not push, assault would make him guiltier.

“Medurio, I do not mean to turn you in.” That was a relief, but he still did not wish to be kept in this room, face hot with frustration. “Just tell me where you found this document, we can surely clear you of your misdeeds if it is learned that it was not purposeful.”

“In the library!” Medurio lied aggressively.

The man sighed. “Medurio, the holy texts are not kept in the library. They are sealed in the archives, where students are forbidden.”

“Someone must have misplaced it then, that must be why I found it!”

“Medurio…” The man exhaled in frustration. “Quintinus, may his heart stay in heaven, says that lies lead on a short path to one’s own destruction.”

Medurio was now pacing around the room, perhaps throwing the man was a rational choice. “I do not lie, I have not lied. You are blocking me! Impeding my freedom!” He no longer attempted to hide his anger.

“Fine, it seems that proding further will only cause you distress.”

“Of course it does you fool.” Medurio commented sarcastically as attempted to walk through the man.

“But!” The man held out both arms in an attempt to stop him. Medurio stopped, but eyed him with intensity. “I’ll let you leave, but only if you allow me to assist you.”

The man no longer spoke of philosophy, confusing Medurio, “Wah?”

“This thing you are doing is the most idiotic thing that I have ever seen any man perform. But Quintinus once said a man who cannot help purge others of their foul minds has himself a mind most foul. That is why I, Scrulo Brucus, will do my best to aid you in your hour of greatest need.” He ended his sentence with a deep bow.

Most of the words were lost to Medurio, but he unconsciously knew that he could leave now. “Fine, do as you wish, I do not care.”

“You’re forgetting something.” Scrulo said as he scurried up to him with the holy text. Medurio took it without another glance.

“Thank you Scrulo. Scrulo, correct?” Medurio muttered as a long forgotten memory returned.

“What?”