When he woke up, Anker grabbed the pitcher of water on the nightstand and drank greedily, then ran to the toilet and threw up again. He had a splitting headache. That first day of bibliographic research in Meridania had certainly not started well.

However, things got better as the hours passed. Viryl offered Anker a concoction of his own invention for hangovers: it was damn bitter but it worked properly. Seeing that Anker was a little better, they went to have breakfast. While having coffee and pastries, they were ready to touch on the topic that the night before they were too drunk to address while returning to their room.

Viryl mentioned the perfume that Anker had on him when they left the brothel: it reminded him a lot of Darlah's. He could hardly forget it after all these years, it was truly unique. Had Anker slept with her? Yet the owner had been very clear. Darlah wasn't there.

Anker told him the little he remembered. He was certainly not in a condition to sleep with anyone. However, he had imprinted on his retinas the image of the black fairy who had saved him from the injurious act of throwing up in the hall of a brothel thanks to a symbol traced on his forehead.

It must have been Darlah, Viryl was sure of it. She was very good at divination with tarot cards. Perhaps she had foreseen his arrival and wanted to hide from him, but she had come out into the open with Anker to prevent him from vomiting in the waiting room.

Anker proposed to go back and look for her again that evening, preferably sober, and Viryl nodded absentmindedly. If Darlah didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be found, whether they were sober or not.

*****

After breakfast they began their research on the cult of Velthan. The library of the Society of Ethnographic Studies of Meridania was living proof of what happens to a research institution when it has no practical or prestigious purposes, and therefore the public administration, after putting some money into its foundation, stops funding it.

It was a two-story room that was accessed from the corner between the two facades of a building. The fixtures and shelves were all of the same faded brown plywood, and tomes, magazines, and publication folders were all carelessly piled up in the available slots, and covered in dust and cobwebs. The smell that permeated the structure was stale but welcoming, that of the glue of the old bindings and of the wormy wood.

On the ground floor, there was a small table on which a plump, curly-haired custodian was dozing, while on the first floor, which opened onto a mezzanine on the ground floor with a balustrade that seemed to be made of the same wood as the shelves, there were three round tables used for reading and consultation by visitors.

Viryl and Anker explained to the librarian the purpose of their visit, and she simply replied: «Okay,» completely disinterested. While Viryl went in search of some treatise that could serve as a starting point for the study, Anker stopped by her to try to ask her for some advice: if she had ever heard of Velthan, if she was aware of any work on ancient pagan religions.

«How am I supposed to know anything about this stuff, excuse me?» was the custodian's gruff reply. Anker would have liked to reply that, well, there's no point in a library having a custodian if the custodian doesn't even have a list of the books they're guarding. But he let it go. Evidently, she had never read them and was too stupid to understand what their subject was from the title. Or maybe she simply had no interest in helping a couple of shady foreigners.

Even without the help of the librarian, the research proceeded fairly quickly. There were roughly a thousand volumes in the library, and about thirty folders containing the major publications in the last century by academics specializing in ethnography and anthropology from almost all the faculties of sociology and history of the League of Free Communes. Anker and Viryl began rummaging through the shelves separately and, at the end of a first screening that lasted a couple of hours, they found themselves with about fifty volumes, sixteen scientific articles, and four magazines that seemed promising.

On one of those magazines, there was a watercolor of a winged black statue on the cover, and the title of the main insert was: "Goddesses of dream and hunt: the winged deities of the Yuthic people". Viryl began to leaf through that magazine.

Anker had to start with a much more demanding publication: an essay by a certain Voltebio from Meridania, entitled "What is left of our ancestors? Dissertation on the traditions of the Merida region from pre-Classian roots".

Viryl and Anker remained engrossed in reading until 5:20 PM. In theory, the library closed at half past five, but the librarian evicted them rudely about ten minutes early because, she said, she had to tidy up before closing.

In any case, from that first day of research, they had concluded something.

First of all, they had discovered that Velthan belonged to a lineage of winged goddesses with overlapping characteristics and similar names who were venerated over the entire territory that once belonged to the Yuthi: these goddesses were venerated all the way from the south of Gregheria up to the center of the Velitasian peninsula.

They were protective deities of hunters and hunting, being associated in many regions with birds of prey. However, near the Varanachi, along their entire length, these goddesses were considered to be the ladies not only of hunting but also of the night and of dream production.

There was an obscure link between these two concepts, which scholars had not been able to fully explain. Perhaps it simply depended on the fact that on the Varanachi much of the large fauna had nocturnal habits, or perhaps on the contrary, it depended on the fact that the local tribes had developed a hunting technique that allowed them to take advantage of the prey's sleep.

There were then more abstract hypotheses, linked to the cult itself and its rituals. As Tolomer had anticipated, Velthan was a goddess with enormous esoteric potential. Among the ancients, it was rumored that human sacrifices of sleeping victims were held in her honor, and that rites of passage were organized in which, in order to become adults, during sleep, one had to be bathed in the blood of bears, wolves or human beings already subjected to the ritual, in order to obtain superhuman powers.

But how much of those rituals remained in the Zephyrian era? As the essay quickly skimmed by Anker attested, speaking generally of pagan customs, a lot. However, little remained explicitly linked to Velthan in the Merida region. Perhaps their research was slightly off target, and they needed to look a little further. The next day they would widen the field.

*****

That evening they returned to the brothel where Darlah was supposed to be working. This time they were sober, so they were able to notice the name of the place: on the door was a sign illuminated by red crystals on which was written in an elegant cursive "Greedy Temptations Club". In any case, once again, the owner repeated to Viryl and Anker that Darlah did not work there.

This time Anker was able to observe the owner free from the mephitic influence of absinthe, and felt a bit of repulsion bringing to mind the nonsense he had planned to do with her the night before. Besides the fact that she was older than his mother, her neck was flabby and dangling and in the two rows of yellow teeth she had in her mouth, a couple were missing. Even her breasts, which had seemed so delicious, now revealed stretch marks in their hollows, predicting a flaccidity equal to that of a scamorza fried in a pan.

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Even Viryl wanted to refrain from a second round with the blonde from the previous evening, so they politely said goodbye and turned on their heels.

On the way back, to distract themselves from the cold, they stopped at a roasted chestnut kiosk on the edge of the red light district and took a portion each.

Finally, they arrived at the hotel, and Anker was able to enjoy his much-desired eight hours of sleep in a warm and comfortable bed.

*****

It took another two days of research before they reached satisfactory conclusions. These days were similar to the first,except that Viryl and Anker were able to maximize the time spent in the library, showing up just after opening, going to bed early, and avoiding further night visits to the red light district.

In those two days they discovered that, in fact, some traces of the cult of Velthan had remained in a small area on the edge of the territory under the jurisdiction of the Free Commune of Belladia, about twenty miles from Meridania. As foreshadowed by the verses quoted in Dioryl's sonnet, it was a marshy and malarial area, in a basin where the Oiran River stagnated.

In fact, it was not possible to find direct traces of the presence of a sect devoted to Velthan, but scattered and fragmentary clues suggested that if a sect really existed, it must have been formed in one of the villages located on the edge of that swamp. Clay statues of crows had been found there, almond and honey sweets called "Velthan feathers" were produced there, and, again there, on the night of the fifteenth day of the month of Funereo, the festival of the Last Nightmare was celebrated, consisting of processions in beaked masks covered with black feathers, at the end of which the effigy of a large anthropomorphic bird was burned.

Local news events that occurred between forty and fifteen years before spoke of the disappearance of livestock and the discovery of makeshift altars and fetishes hanging on the branches of the undergrowth that surrounded the village of Veltagia.

A bizarre and anachronistic village, Veltagia, whose surly and superstitious residents lived in isolation, did not pay taxes, did not trade, and had not even had a new parish priest for almost three centuries. Considering these oddities, Viryl and Anker designated it as the epicenter of their research.

When the picture of the situation was clear, it was too late to immediately set off for Veltagia, so the knight and the fallen decided to postpone the expedition until the following day.

However, since the research had been fruitful, they contacted Dioryl on his Speculum to offer him a dinner as a thank you for the tip he had given them. Dioryl instead insisted on inviting the two compatriots to his apartment so that they would be his guests. He was insistent to the point that he won.

Dioryl's apartment turned out to be sober and tidy, although really small in size. He made a point of specifying that this was not his main residence, but rather a pied-à-terre that he used during periods when he had to give lectures or carry out other errands at the university.

The living room sofas were covered in leather and there was oriental-style tapestry on the floor. The chandeliers emanated warm light and a sympathionic gramophone softly played chamber music. The meal was served on a round walnut table in a corner of that same living room.

Dioryl offered them a platter of local cheeses, pasta with walnuts and gorgonzola, hunter-style chicken, and a portion of tiramisu.

During dinner, they were not particularly talkative, but Viryl and Anker nevertheless mentioned their research and the fact that they were going to Veltagia the next day. Viryl also tried to ask Dioryl if he had ever met Darlah, since he seemed so attached to the Ferlonian community of Meridania, but when he learned that she was probably a prostitute, Dioryl hiccuped and politely clarified that it was not his habit to frequent certain environments. Since all three of them saw a busy day on the horizon, they didn't linger long before saying goodnight, and Anker and Viryl were in bed by 11:20 PM.

That night it snowed, and upon awakening Anker found the roofs of Meridania whitewashed. It had only been a dusting, so the pair did not give up on their purpose. The sky though continued to loom leaden over their heads and did not seem intent on granting any clearings.

Anker managed to get them to make that expedition on horseback, so they reached one of the stables at the gates of the city and rented two Friesians. They were powerful specimens and certainly not cheap, but they revealed the value of every quartarolo paid when they demonstrated the tenacity with which they kept up the sustained pace imposed on them on the snowy road, paved or unpaved.

Although the weather conditions were not entirely prohibitive, very few travelers and couriers had chosen to set off under the sparse and fluttering white flakes that fell stubbornly. Anker wasn't particularly worried about that desolation because at his side was Viryl, who knew a thing or two about mountains.

They retraced a good stretch of the road they had taken by stagecoach five days earlier to reach Meridania and then, after passing the first line of hills, they turned left, towards the northeast. The new road snaked through the valleys between the foothills of the first rises, intertwining between the gushing bends of the Oiran River. After a good while they had to leave that road and take a secondary path that followed the river towards its source between the peaks of the Varanachi. After a few more miles of steep ascent along dangerous rocky walls, as evidenced by the snow-covered boulders that had accumulated at their base, the knight and the fallen found themselves on the edge of the basin where the swamp extended.

The village of Veltagia was the easternmost one, and the pass from which they had reached the depression was to the south, so it was necessary to proceed counterclockwise along the marshy banks, crossing another settlement before reaching their destination. Viryl thought to stop there for lunch, since they reached it when it was almost noon.

The village, as expected, was rustic and of very small dimensions, all gathered around the main street on which opened the semicircle of an empty square, whose only noteworthy feature was a public fountain erected at its edges.

The villagers, engaged in the fallback activities they were forced to by the snowy day, watched with suspicion the arrival of the foreigners, with certain ugly mugs that foreshadowed the use of torches and pitchforks with unwanted visitors. If the Veltagians were called "surly and superstitious" and the standard was that, sparks were to be expected, Anker thought.

Viryl, however, did not seem at all intimidated by those hostile looks, and after dismounting he ventured to ask a man who was planing a fir trunk under a canopy if there was an inn in the village. The man was rude but pointed to an unmarked door that opened onto the square. Having received the information he was looking for, Viryl thanked him and went towards his destination, bringing the black stallion behind him by the bridle. Anker also dismounted and followed him.

«You sure have guts. That villain looked like he was about to rake you over the coals,» Anker said.

«Yes, and what did you expect? Two armed strangers arrive in an isolated village on a snowy day. Did you want to be welcomed with fireworks, boy?» Viryl replied.

«Of course not, but I don't know if it's appropriate to…»

«Don't do anything strange and nothing will happen,» Viryl cut him short.

The indicated inn looked like a wine cooperative. It was crude and inside there were just three or four angular tables with uncomfortable chairs. On one side, there was a row of oak barrels and the black floor was visibly dirty. The innkeeper, an elderly man with gray hair, did not seem to be in the mood for conversation. He served them polenta and bean soup with pork rinds, with a glass of wine and a pitcher of water.

When it was time to pay, Viryl still wanted to try to get some information from him. He tried to break the ice by saying: «Excuse me, good man. We are headed to the village of Veltagia. It will be enough to continue along the road that crosses your village, right?»

The innkeeper burst into a bitter laugh, and in a hoarse thread of voice warned him: «If you're looking for trouble, you'd better not be seen around here again.»

With all the courtesy he could muster, Viryl tried to appease him: «We are looking for anything but trouble. We are just investigating some events that took place around that village about thirty years ago.»

«I repeat: whatever you're looking for is nothing good and you're not welcome here. Don't be seen again,» the innkeeper said even more abruptly, with a fierce calm.

«Well, anyway, thank you very much for the meal,» Viryl concluded, and after waving his hand, he headed for the exit. Anker simply got up from the chair on which he was waiting for Viryl to pay, and left the inn without any greeting.

A deathly silence fell between Viryl and Anker, and in the last stretch of road, they were only accompanied by the trot of the horses muffled by the snowy mantle.

The path stopped abruptly once it reached a patch of vegetation, so Viryl and Anker dismounted and tied their mounts to a cedar, then entered the marsh thicket.