"Anything in particular I should prioritize?" I remembered asking Spencer months prior. He was the one who tends to be more tetchy on certain tasks. Especially when that tasks concern the arrangement of their place of conduct.

"A succinct organization of our athenaeum is in order. You already know of our preferences. Return nothing to the Librarians, no matter how hard they press. Remember that last one, boy. I will hold you to that," he jabbed the air with his meaty finger.

I gave him a mock salute like the ones Atruskan sailors do. I was helping them pack up their research materials and journals for their return to the Upland territories. It won't be a straightforward a journey as they'll be visiting likeminded scholars and personages of various institutions and cities. They've brought with them sketches and findings after their time in misty old Sorez. I cast a glance at at an item bound in a metallic black cloth lain on Spencer's bed. If I had been the owner of the inn and had an inkling of what lay inside, I would have burned the bed furnishings and condemned the room. That box contained to be one of, if not, the most important discoveries of the expedition. A voice echoed in my mind, a memory resurfacing. Treasures from the tides.

The phantom of the Old Call slithered up my spine. Then a thought came into my mind and I turned towards Spencer who was busy forcefully stuffing his bags with dirty laundry.

"This office of yours," I began, "are there any.....artifacts that I should worry about?" At an earlier point in our partnership I have revealed to them the instinct all Sorezii posses, the Old Call. To my surprise upon my revelation, they are already aware of its existence and much to my annoyance, as Saville pointed out, that any level-headed scholar think of it as mere backwater balderdash or over-imaginative folklore. Though the things we have seen in our travails in the Greyveil put a dent into that belief and I am fairly certain they believe it to a minor degree. They just would not speak of it aloud and I do not blame them. The Old Call existence and history is clouded in mystery.

"Hmph? Oh just some knickknacks and bric-à-brac we've collected over the years, nothing to concern yourself about. We'd have known otherwise if they even so much as contained a hint....something." Spencer waved my concerns as he pressed down on the overstrained confines of his luggage. I tapped his shoulder, gestured to the bag and he stepped aside as I took out all the rumpled clothes and refolded them to better accommodate them.

"Oh and before I forget," Saville cut in, "there would be a few remedial classes taking place all around the campus. Try inserting yourself into one of these, the other professors won't mind. Get yourself a bearing of what is to come in the semester. Enjoy the academic atmosphere of one of the finest institutions in the land lad!"

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Spencer merely scoffed. It was my turn to wave off a suggestion.

Now, months later, here in Lonethorn, I stood at the precipice of madness.

Their offices was the epitome of a hoarder's cache of knowledge. Several towering tomes teetered on the edge of collapse, the floor strewn with an entire layer of parchment with notes and scribblings. The walls teeming with corkboards and bulletins interconnected with pins and yarns and cutouts of various trail of thoughts and intercepting lines of references. Most of all was the obtrusive cold slaking of chill running up my spine and into the forefront of my temple. Somewhere in this whirlwind of an office lay concealed various paraphernalia that was better left at whatever endarkened corner of the world. And the both of them were poking and jostling at it for years.

I stood there, unmoving at the cusp of the doorway of the offices of Saville and Spencer. Motionless, like the Faithfull of the dark piers and hidden alcoves of Sorez. After a brief purview of my assigned task, I took a step back and gently closed the door once again, fearing to topple a precariously teetering tower of books that have made my initial entrance difficult. Once the door was closed, I smacked my temple against the door. I did not have the appetite to deal with domain of academic chaos at the present moment. And I needed a place to rest my legs and to put some much needed sustenance within my stomach.

In my time of need, I would come to know that Lonethorn has no shortage of little nooks and crannies for food establishment to cater to the staff and students. I had purchased a steaming handful of miniature pie filled with mutton, gravy, spices and chunks of vegetables that restored a much needed vigor after a hike of a morning. The scope of work of bringing Saville and Spencer's offices were pushed back to the back of my mind for the sake of my sanity. No wonder my admission papers were lost in the fray of bureaucracy! They could hardly keep their office well at hand! I said my thanks to the man manning the miniature bakery and went off my way. I needed to clear my head and reasoned I owe it to myself to do a bit of further exploring the rich grounds of the University.

I made about a block away from the College of History and Antiquity before I took notice of another equally obtrusive structure. I was on the Abbey side of the peake, for the streets and building, it seems that there was a subculture of sorts here in the University. A minor change, really. But it was there. The Abbey housed the Applied Disciplines of learning, such courses as that of Engineering, Medicine, Industry and Commerce fall under its reach. There were hardly any other people save for the occasional passing staff here and a student there lounging about reading a book or talking with a fellow classman. Many buildings, of which I do not know the functions of, lay closed and devoid of life within with the semester break in full swing. It was akin to an empty city in atmosphere and the image was soothing to my soul.

I took stock of the structure before me and the silvered signage on the side of the doorway in flowing script. The College of Industry and Commerce it lay engraved.

Without any further plans for the day and my coping mechanism to stave off the madness-inducing task of cleaning up the professors' office, I decided to take the first step to the halls that would (hopefully) lead me to my grand aspirations in life.