They had been making their way through a fat roasted pig in the main room, when Callus summoned a familiar journal into his hand. He placed it gently on the table in front of himself and stared at his apprentice until the young man noticed.

"Oh, my book" Murphy managed to say around a mouthful of pork belly.

"Yes, your book" Callus said dryly. "Mind telling me where you got this?"

Murphy gulped down his food. "I got it from a beggar" he said cheerfully.

"Somehow I doubt a beggar just gave you this" he tapped the journal with one finger while he spoke.

"He didn't just give it to me from nowhere. I put a coin in his cup and he gave it to me as thanks."

"So you bought a book. That's a merchant you simpleton".

Murphy groaned. "Why is this so hard for people to understand" he complained. He walked his master through the story. The old man listened keenly until he was finished.

"And you're sure he had runic tattoos?" He asked cautiously.

"I said they glowed, didn't I?"

Callus sat back in his chair in a contemplative silence, running his fingers slowly through his long beard. "Very well" he said eventually, sliding the book to his apprentice. "I suppose you're meant to have it then."

Murphy looked sideways at his master. "That's cryptic" he joked.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Or you just need to start paying more attention" the old man complained. "I need you to swear to me that you will let me know if you ever meet this man again."

"I don't know why, he was very old, probably dead now I reckon."

"You fool" Callus snapped. He pulled his medallion out and held it in front of himself. "On the medallion boy, swear it to me."

Murphy could feel the pressure building in the room, the same way it did every time the old Merlin got serious. He held his medallion out. "I swear it."

"Do it properly. Swear on the medallions honour."

Murphy rolled his eyes. "I swear it on the medallions honour" he said with a sarcastic tone.

Callus grunted, and put his medallion away. "That will have to do" he complained.

"What's so important about an old journal anyway?" The arrogant Warlock scoffed.

Callus picked his still full mug up from the table, and pegged it at the young man's head. It bounced off with a painful clunk, sending foamy ale all over the room.

"That was unnecessary" he moaned, rubbing his forehead.

"No it wasn't" the old man said with a huff. "You'll be killed by just about anything if they find out you have that book. You’re dumb and I hate you" he finalised, before stomping out of the room.

After an awkward silence, Uundah made a chirping noise.

"Probably" Murphy responded with a smirk. "I'd be jealous too if I had such a great wizard as an apprentice."

Uundah scoffed out loud, and left the obnoxious Warlock alone with his dinner. He begrudgingly tidied up everyone's mess, including the sticky ale drenching the furniture.

~~

It wasn’t until he was tucked into his bed, that he started into the journal again. He was laughing to himself at the old man's expense, until one of the plants caught his eye. It was a thistle with the queer aspect of music. He couldn't fathom a practical use for it, but that's not why it stood out to him. He sprung to his feet, and rushed to his library, leaving Uundah fast asleep in his room.

Pulling out the book on The Purge, he flicked through the pages until he saw what he was looking for. The aspect of music had been purged of all of its natural sources. Feeling an excited sweat bead his skin, he put the two books next to each other, and started his search.

Every aspect in the old journal, was listed as something purged, even the more practical ones. It dawned on him then, why the old man was so serious about the whole matter. The book on The Purge made reference at a point to the hoarding of aspect in an attempt to avoid The Purge taking it all. The book detailed the fall out after, and the wars that ensued as an attempt to control the now very limited stores of queer aspect. The journal he had contained many big ticket items, and he shivered thinking about the wealth he had in his hands. Not just a fiscal wealth, but a wealth of knowledge that was surely lost and dead to most of the hollows.

He slowly made his way back to bed, his mind racing with possibilities.