The Present

Burgorod was cold and quiet. When Vero arrived it was only mid-afternoon, but it was already dark in the cramped streets that ran between the over bearing blocks of buildings. The structures were lined up wall to wall tight and a fire would tear through all of them in an instant. If one could be started in the damp mixture of snow and mud, that is.

She was alone again. Ramiro no longer needed her to watch over him. Earlier that morning she had mounted Papillon and easily outpaced him.

Her first stop was the market, where she sold the highwaymen’s things. The merchants spoke enough old Imperial for trade, and she took her time to haggle carefully. In the end, she received what she believed was a very good price for them.

From there she followed the sound of raised voices. She could not understand the language, but an open doorway and the sounds of eating and joviality suggested an inn to her. Vero stabled Papillion, and then stepped inside to inquire about a room before she was rousted by the local watch for violating the curfew.

The locals she saw were all very quiet and circumspect, even the market had been nearly as silent as a mausoleum. However, the travelers in the common room did not seem subject to the same somber mood.

After trying in vain to attract the attention of the master of the house by shouting, Vero eventually grabbed the arm of a passing wench. The barmaid led her up to a private room after Vero communicated her wishes through gestures, and showed some of her new wealth. The wench immediately retreated, to be replaced by the master of the house with examples of the food, drink, and companionship the establishment had to offer.

Vero accepted the first two and settled in for the evening. Although the owner could hardly believe she was paying the price of an entire room to sleep in alone.

She opened Pentarch’s mysterious tome to continue her study.

Presently, her dinner was brought up by the wench. Venison cooked with carrots and onions, and served with a very dark beer, which was sweeter and pleasanter tasting then she had expected. Before she left, the wench said something which Vero could not understand. By the woman’s demeanor, Vero took it for a reiteration of the house’s offer for companionship, which she once again declined.

After dinner Vero began to read again.

As his book entered its final pages, the friar’s mental state began to degrade. Whereas previously he had frequently been dull, he had never been unclear or confused in his descriptions. Now his thoughts became vague. He began to make references to obscure proper nouns, names of people or places she had never heard before, but of which he spoke with increasing dread.

Vero’s novice grasp of letters certainly was not helping, but Theobald’s grammar and spelling were also failing him with increasing regularity. His melancholy progressed as he encountered dead-end after dead-end in his investigation. His narrative wandered into strange diversions; describing the nightmares which plagued him so badly that he could no longer sleep for more than an hour at a time.

The burghermaister invited the friar to his home for dinner, a sprawling manor near the market. Vero had asked about the manor house when she sold her looted gear at market. The man she questioned made a superstitious sign of warding, then told her that it had been pulled down. His tone dissuaded her from asking for more information.

It was during this dinner that the friar was told that the local landgrave, Von Richlau, had several slayer artifacts in his possession. He was seeking men of learning to examine them.

Friar Theobald could hardly believe his luck and was determined to meet this landgrave, with the burghermaister’s enthusiastic encouragement. The friar prepared for his meeting with a sense of renewed vigor and purpose, and then the book ended.

The final entry was written with an unsteady hand, and resembled previous entries in which he had documented his half-remembered nightmares.

The friar was forced to stay the night with the burghermaister due to the strict nightly curfew. Vero could presume that it might have been describing his dreams while there, although she had no proof that it was not written sometime after.

It read as follows:

Hurts. Claws in the dark. So cold. W-nt down th- long tunnel. No light end. A great w-rm beneath the earth. Head h-rts. The dark figure. Shadow man with eyes skin like coal. Mouth is black, a void. It tends the egg. Claws in the dark.

-dark. A co-ncil of men conspire immortal. My fl-sh rent asunder. ----- -hearts fear. Claws in the dark. A grave worm consumes the rott-n corpse of the world. Desire weaved w-th terror. I n-me you here-

(A long string of proper nouns of names and places Vero did not know, and which she believed it would inauspicious for her to speak aloud, followed here. She passed over them quickly, and omitted their study with purpose.)

Hurts ev-rywere. Claws in the dark. A drag-ns daught-r shal- offer h-m the kiss of death. Claws in the dark. No escape. Claws in the dark.

There was no indication of what had happened to the friar, or if he had ever made it to his destination.

For the journal to end in such a place was ominous, but it could easily be explained by something as mundane as the beginning of a second volume which she did not possess. It was by no means certain that the friar had met an ill fate, and Vero still hoped that he had come away from his journey hale and healthy.

Even if he would still have been long since dead before she was ever born in any event.

If the burghermaister had given him definite directions, the friar did not record them in this work. Except to say that the Von Richlau manse was located deep in the forest. Nearly everything was deep in the forest at this latitude, so she would need more precise instructions to find it.

After a troubled night’s sleep, Vero spoke with some of the traveling merchants over breakfast. None of them knew the Von Richlau family. Perhaps they had died out. However, in that case, another landgrave must have taken their place.

There was no university in the city so far as she knew, but Vero expected to find some street of scholars or a free scribes’ guild she could consult with. Unfortunately, it seemed all the learned men in residence were kept closely under the thumb of the bishop in the cathedral district. A school there was operated by the priestesses of Art and Reason.

After spending all morning looking for an alternative, Vero returned to the inn for dinner and prepared to try and infiltrate the church. She could not think of a way to keep chain armor or a hand-and-a-half sword hidden, try as she might. So, she left them in a locked chest in her room with the rest of her valuables, but kept her dagger with her.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The cathedral was very large, almost monstrously so. It was of new construction, so new that it was still unfinished in many places. It featured raised arches and spires, rather than the older style of domed temple more common in the south. Besides the church itself, the cathedral was surrounded by a whole complex of buildings which dominated most of the district.

The library was a stone building located immediately behind the cathedral, but entrance was restricted. It was tended by monks of the Sun God from the local monastery. Near the monastery there was also a convent of the moon on the cathedral campus. Vero watched, out of sight, until she spotted a line where the nuns hung their clothes and left them to dry in the faint sun.

She could not find anything that fit very well, and most of the items were still damp and dreadfully cold besides, but Vero made do as best she could. She made certain that her dagger was completely hidden under her disguise, and returned to the library.

An older monk was seated near the entrance and greeted her as she came inside. “Welcome, sister.”

He made an upwards semi-circle with his hand, mimicking the sun’s journey across the sky. Vero made the reverse half, showing the moon’s journey and completing the circle.

“Hello, brother.” He had spoken to her in old Imperial, and she replied in the same.

The old monk rose to his feet with an alacrity Vero would not have suspected for his age. “I’m Fra Sigismund; how may I assist you?”

Vero let her voice tremble with emotion. “My name is Sora Veronique. I’m terribly sorry to trouble you, brother. But the abbess is very cross with me at the moment. We were recording new births… and I spilled ink all over the register!” She turned away and tried to hide her face.

Fra Sigismund put a hand on her shoulder. “There, there. It can’t be as bad as all that.”

Vero looked back at him with more urgency in her tone. “But it is, brother! If I don’t fix the pages I ruined, I’ll be excommunicated at vespers!”

The monk continued his attempts to soothe her. “Now that hardly seems likely. Lady Luna sees all and knows how often we fail her. But she always forgives us, as a mother forgives her children for their transgressions. I’m sure the abbess will do the same.” He pondered for a moment. “Even so, perhaps we can put right the worst of the damage. The library keeps genealogies of all the most important families. So, at least we can put some of the names right. And those are the only names you’ll be asked to recount anyway.”

“Oh thank-you brother! You have no notion of what a relief this is to me.” Vero gave the monk a light hug, which caused him to blush.

She held his arm to help him walk, and he led her further into the library.

The monk continued to speak with her as they went. “Your accent is rather strange, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Is it? It sounds normal to me.”

The monk laughed softly, as appropriate to a library. “Well, I suppose it would now wouldn’t it. I suppose to you, it’s all of us that sound strange. Are you Velian, little sister?”

“Yes. From the south, near the Whitewood.”

“Ah, no wonder it sounded strange to my ears. You’ve come a long way, Sora!”

“My mother was an acolyte before she left to marry my father. She sent me to the sisters when I came of age.”

“That must have been a difficult parting.”

Vero was relieved when they came to the family records section, which removed any need for her to respond.

“Here we are. Now, there’s desks with quill, ink, and parchment in every section.” He indicated one nearby. “It all belongs to the church, so use it as you like. Where shall we begin?”

“Oh, thank-you so very much for your assistance. But I really can’t impose on you any longer, Fra.”

“It’s no imposition at all.”

“Please fra, I- this will perhaps sound very strange to you…” She tried to look as demure as she could manage. “But it was my mistake, and I feel I really must do this on my own.”

The elderly monk lifted up her chin, smiling like a grandfather. “Such a dutiful child! Very well, little sister. But if you do need help, I shall be right back where you first found me.”

He turned and walked away, while Vero went right to work.

She searched and searched, but there was no chronicle of the Von Richlau family. She could find reference to their daughters through marriages to other families during the time the friar must have visited the city, but nothing regarding the main line. There was one shelf locked behind a sliding door, and it was behind this she presumed she would find what she needed.

The barrier was only made of thin wooden slates that retracted up into the top of the niche. Vero felt that she could smash them easily enough, but she noticed the thin tracing of warding runes around the lock and restrained herself.

The original working was very complex, and likely contained further runes on the interior side which she could not see. Dispelling it would require a lengthy and expensive ritual, and the monks would almost certainly raise some objection to it, no matter how persuasive she was.

“What are you doing there?” A stern-faced theology student had approached silently, while she was bent forwards examining the lock.

Vero did not jump or give any other sign of surprise. “I was studying the designs of the lock. It’s a ward, isn’t it? I think it’s very pretty.” She turned to look at him only for a moment before turning back to the lock.

“My father is the Landgrave of Coburg.” The student did not look pleased.

Vero had no notion of where Coburg was, but his demeanor suggested he thought she ought to. She stood up and then bowed.

“I’m terribly sorry, my Lord. I didn’t know.”

“That shelf is restricted, and what’s a nun doing here in the first place?”

“I’m here on an errand for the abbess, my lord. Fra Sigismund allowed me-”

The student took her roughly by the arm and dragged her back to the entrance.

There he curtly declared. “Fra, this woman claims you allowed her into the library.”

The monk was startled awake from a light doze in his chair. “Yes, yes…” He took a moment to find them. “Yes! Hello again, Sora Veronique.”

Vero thought the elderly monk was probably her best chance at escape and gave him a friendly smile. “Hello again, Fra.”

The student gave her arm a tug. “I caught her trying to break into restricted records.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s not the whole story; is it, little sister?” Sigismund asked.

“No, brother! I was only on my task, and I found that some of the family records were locked behind a funny sort of door. I was only looking at it when Ser found me and was given the wrong impression.”

The student spoke at once, very triumphantly. “Ah! You see! Now she admits she wanted something from inside a restricted section. Who sent you?”

“Oh, she’s here for the convent, impetuous young man. Some birth records were damaged and she came to repair them. How is the poor girl to know that one of the families has been moved to the restricted section?” Sigismund limply tried to pull Vero out of the student’s grasp, and he reluctantly acquiesced to the old monk’s prompting.

“I’m going to bring Father Holtz and let him decide the matter.” So saying, the student left in a dark temper.

“Presumptuous little lordling.” Sigismund turned back to her. “Don’t worry, that scoundrel won’t cause any real trouble. Still, perhaps you had best return to the convent while I explain the matter.”

“I think that would be best too. Thank-you for your help, brother.”

“It’s no trouble at all, my dear.”

Vero proceeded calmly, but quickly, towards the convent until she was out of sight. Then she pulled off her nun’s garb and redirected herself back to her rented room. She hoped that the monk’s kindness towards her would not bring him any trouble.

The sun had already passed the horizon while she was in the library, and she was stopped several times to explain that she was rushing back to her room for the curfew.

She was nearly there, when she noticed the figure following her. Vero took out her dagger and ducked off the main street into a side alley. She took some guano and grain dust into her other hand from a pouch on her belt, which contained a mixture of the reagents.

After a few moments the figure showed himself. He was dressed like a traveler and appeared very fit. Vero could not see any mist coming from his mouth.

In his hands were the nun’s clothes she had discarded. “A man disguising himself as a nun? Sacrilegious.”

“You only know half the matter.” Vero drew blood with the dagger.

The man smelled it at once. He jerked his head and tried to restrain himself.

Then a moment later, the monster launched itself towards her.

Vero met him with a simple and brutal application of an elementalist working to release a gout of flames. The arcane fire lasted only for a flash, but the thing’s clothes had already ignited and the vampyre began to scream. It threw itself into the snowmelt and mud to smother the blaze, while Vero ran back to the main street.

A pair of watchmen ran towards her, and she pointed them back the way she had come. “A vampyre! A vampyre!”

That immediately turned their attention off her, and Vero moved out of sight.

She hid for a long time, and made very sure that she was not still being followed before returning to the inn. She pushed the heavy chest in front of the door to her room before she went to sleep, and kept her sword in bed next to her.