Installment 37 [https://squirrel.dogphilosophy.net/Installment037.png]
The insistent call of a rooster tore the metaphorical blanket of sleep rudely from Al's mind, much the same way that Wikwocket almost immediately tore his actual blanket from his body.
"Oh, good! You're awake! Get up! Get up! I'm going to open up the treasure!" she said with a completely unfair amount of early-morning enthusiasm.
Al groaned and sat up. The golden light of the newly-risen sun shone through the open window of the room they'd slept in, and the scent of cooking eggs and meat was in the air.
"You should be proud of her," Bote said in her defense, "she got up before the dawn to work on the lock, and has resisted opening the chest despite getting the poison-tipped needle disarmed and getting the lock opened at least an hour ago."
"Food?" Gruntle asked from where he rested, curled atop a wide pile of blankets and pillows nearby.
Al yawned. "Maybe we should eat first," he said. "After the strain we've all been through we should make sure we nourish our bodies."
He put a hand over his heart the way he'd seen Wikwocket do for dramatic purposes before, though the effect was slightly marred by his bleary facial expression. "After all, of what value is treasure before the health and well-being of our priceless companions?"
Gruntle gave a loose-muzzled smile over the fact that Al agreed about the food.
Bote gave a nod of agreement. "Such wisdom is worth more than any amount of gold," they said.
Wikwocket gave a frustrated noise that dropped down into an actual growl, though it was a bit high-pitched coming from a gnome. Al was reminded of those tiny dogs some of the self-indulgent nobility liked to keep. He snorted in laughter for a moment but suppressed it as he remembered that even tiny dogs have teeth.
"Won't starve if we look first," Gruntle grumbled.
"Okay, fine, give me a moment, I just don't like being rushed when I wake up."
He yawned and stretched and Wikwocket fidgeted impatiently while everyone gathered around.
"Watch your step!" she said cheerfully, pointing to a sharp steel needle lying on the floor next to the chest. "There's something sticky on it that I'm sure is some sort of terrible poison. Okay, everyone ready? Behold!..."
Wikwocket gestured dramatically with one hand while reaching to flip the lid of the chest open with the other. The lid barely moved, and Wikwocket lost her grip on it.
"Whoa, that's heavier than I expected. Let me try this again," she said, glaring angrily at the chest.
"Behold," she grunted with effort, shoving the lid open with both hands. The lid barely made it up far enough to fall open, stopping with a heavy thud at the end.
The inside of the chest was completely lined by a dull grey metal riveted to it. Al thought it was probably lead. Contained within were three leather bags, and an impressive thin-bladed sword. It resembled a rapier more than anything else, but the expertise and artistry of its crafting was exquisite. It was made from a slightly greenish steel, with a hand-guard made from wire arranged like a spider's web. The blade itself had silvery lines engraved all along its length, continuing the spider-web motif. At the base of the blade, there was a stylized symbol of a spider.
"It is clear that blade has significance beyond its purpose as a weapon," Bote commented.
Slack-jawed and bug-eyed, Wikwocket made covetous grasping motions with her hands.
"Wait!" Al warned her. "Hidden in something like this, there could be some sort of dangerous influence on it."
"You mean it might be magic?" Wikwocket exclaimed. "I must have it!" She slowly reached out...
Given the experiences of the previous night, Al was very concerned for the moment it took to realize she was play-acting.
"You know, if some sort of spider-demon has possessed you, we'll have no choice but to lock you in that box until we can figure out how to deal with it," Al said, and sighed. "Give me a few minutes to prepare and I'll see if there is any magical influence involved."
"I shall see about the nourishment while you do this," said Bote. "Gruntle, would you like to help with the food?"
The gnoll grunted and stood, slightly drooling. The two of them left, and somewhere out in the main room someone gave a startled shout. A few others laughed and then things were quiet again, so Al went to his pack to dig out his arcane notes.
"What about you, not hungry?" he asked Wikwocket, who had sat down on the floor next to the chest.
"I am, but I want to see how you do this," she said.
"Well, okay, but it's not very exciting."
He turned to the page with the magic-sensing procedure he'd worked out and began a quiet chant, drawing slow patterns in the air with his fingers. This went on for a while. The ritual wound down as Bote and Gruntle returned with spoons, and bowls heaped with eggs and sausage. Al blinked a few times and looked around the room. He went to the chest and looked inside.
"You won't believe what I see in there," he teased.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
"What? Tell me!" Wikwocket urged.
"Absolutely nothing. Just ordinary, un-magical objects. Sorry."
"That's just mean!"
"On the bright side, that means probably nothing's magically cursed in there, either, so it's probably safe to touch."
Wikwocket didn't hesitate to pick up the spider-marked blade. The handle was long, but thin, and the blade was almost as long as Wikwocket was tall. Al expected her to have trouble with it, but she held it straight out as though it hardly weighed anything at all.
"Whoa!" Wikwocket exclaimed, "How is this so light? Are you sure it's not magic?"
"I don't see any magical influence on it at all. Maybe there's some sort of metallurgical alchemy involved."
Al let her swing the blade around and stab at the air while he went back to his pack and took out the two books they'd taken from the keep. There was no outright magical effect visible on either, but the journal had that faint shimmer that Al had come to associate with writings that were made use of during the active working of magic.
Well, I know what I'm going to be reading this morning he thought to himself.
"How about we plan on going up to visit the keep this afternoon. That will give us some time to get ready, and I can take a better look at this journal we found before we go, in case it has any useful clues for us."
Bote nodded and Gruntle grunted agreement as they ate. Wikwocket shouted "Yes!" She was leaning into the chest. She looked up. "Oh, yeah, that would be fine," she answered. Then she leaned back down into the chest, reaching. "YES!!" she shouted even louder. "Gold!"
----------------------------------------
Wikwocket counted out the coins from the three leather bags while Al ate with one hand and turned pages with the other.
The beginning of the journal might have been interesting to an accountant, but the fastidiously-annotated ledger of income and expenses seemed unremarkable as far as Al could tell. Entries dated a bit more than two years previous started including pieces of alchemical equipment and supplies among the expenses. Taxes paid on the production of "strong drink" began to appear shortly thereafter, and sales of "spirits" occasionally supplemented the income. Pages of the journal at that point began to include basic diagrams of alchemical apparatus and what seemed to be recipes made up of alchemical symbols. Expenses labeled simply "Tutoring" began to appear alongside the purchase of books, and some of the income entries in the ledger began to be denoted entirely in alchemical symbols.
Alchemy wasn't a subject Al knew very much about, but the tradition of wizardry he'd learned from had borrowed some of its sigils from alchemical symbology. Al was able to recognize some of the recurring symbols as variations of "vital fluids", "vitality", "spirit", and "transmittance". Al remembered seeing some of them engraved on the odd magical torches at the keep.
"That's weird," Wikwocket exclaimed, sitting in the middle of three piles of coins. "One hundred and seventy-three. In each of these bags, there were exactly 173 gold coins. We could pay back Notamimic Manor right now!"
"Don't forget, they are owed a 15% share of everything else for the next two years, minus the last three days of course," Bote reminded her.
"Yeah, but 15% of the rest is better than 50% of the rest!"
"Wait...," Al said, flipping back through the journal, then forward to the end. "I don't see any entries in the ledger for exactly 173 or 519 gold coins. I wonder what they're for?"
"They were divided up and hidden in the chest with the blade. The number clearly has a hidden importance," Bote offered. "The lining of lead is meant to interfere with magic, is it not?"
"Hmm?" Al looked up from the journal. "Yes, there's apparently some alchemical attribute of it that dampens magical senses in particular. I imagine they were trying to hide the sword, but why the money?"
He found himself distracted from the conversation by the journal - he'd reached the entry again describing the alchemical accident. The symbols were difficult to follow but judging by the entries in the ledger, it had been a difficult and expensive attempt. Too much [alchemical symbols]. Fatal explosion. Do not repeat. was written below the procedural notes. Al noted that there followed a list of additional expenses which included what he guessed referred to a wound-healing preparation and preservative substances. He felt slightly sickened to realize that My Julia was listed as the final "expense". She is my Julia. Mine. We are one flesh. I will have her back. was written in the bottom margin of the page.
The next entry was two weeks later. It included more alchemical supplies and one of the wizardry references they'd found in the keep's library. My Julia. Mine. was scrawled in lower margin of the page, and the bottom of each of the next several pages of ledger entries before the first "narrative" entry by the author.
The kind gentleman offered his services. I believed he wanted my political influence in return. I misunderstood the price, but I don't regret agreeing to it. When I have my Julia back, we will make a new name for ourselves. The kind gentleman has helped me procure the correct research and his guidance has brought understanding.
The ledger that followed included more books and alchemical supplies. Some of the lines were written in the odd, unsettling script that Gruntle understood. Subsequent pages began to include elements of actual wizardry. Al found the spell that was used to create the magical torches. Several more spell-formulae were included and Al resisted the urge to study them immediately. He forced himself to continue. The personal entries consistently praised the kind gentleman for his wisdom and assistance...and for an introduction to someone or something that the author referred to with a phrase or name in that presumably-infernal script.
Al found a page with a familiar-looking diagram of a pentagram enclosed in an arcane circle and a stylized human figure arranged within.
The following page had no date, and the writing was in larger, shaky letters, as though written by a clumsier hand.
Remember
Agreed to price. Any price to have my Julia. Mine.
Did not know what [infernal symbols] would take from me.
Do not care. Will give all that I am to have her back.
Takes of me in the dark. Gives for sacrifice.
Keeps its word.
Only a few more now.
Would not back out if I could.
Flesh for flesh.
Remember
The page after this was worse. The large, sloppy letters barely fit on the page and were almost illegible.
LITTLE LEFT ME
STILL HERE
TWO MORE
SOON
JULIA
ONE FLESH
The final page of markings was a few large meaningless strokes of ink, and a fist-sized ink splotch. The bottom of the page and the empty ones after were torn as if by claws, and creased from lying open on the floor where Al had found it.
Al shuddered and closed the journal. Then he sighed, and reached for his coinpurse.
Wikwocket caught the gold coin before it bounced off of her forehead.