The next day, they broke camp early and continued their journey. The path narrowed and became more confusing as they moved deeper into the woods. The dense foliage and uneven terrain slowed their progress, and they found themselves taking frequent breaks to catch their breath and assess their surroundings.

As they traveled, Basil couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of unease. The deeper they went, the more the forest seemed to close in around them. The trees blocked out much of the sunlight, casting long shadows, faintly dancing by the movement of the leaves.

By late afternoon, they reached a small clearing and decided to rest. Samuel prepared a meal, and they ate in relative silence. The tension in the air was palpable, and even Samuel’s usually cheerful demeanor was subdued.

"This path isn't commonly taken," Walther remarked as he glanced around the dense forest. "The Auspex’s library is better reached by main roads, but this is the fastest way. Though I’m starting to doubt that wisdom."

Samuel chuckled as he stirred the pot. "When I was a kid, I heard stories about this road. My grandmother used to say it was enchanted, full of spirits and strange happenings." He grinned, his eyes twinkling with the tale he was about to tell. "She said that one night, a farmer took this path and ended up talking to his own reflection, thinking it was a twin brother he never had!"

The others exchanged amused looks. Basil couldn't help but smile at Samuel's stories, which provided a short distraction from the unease they all felt.

As they ate their meal, a faint ringing sound began to emanate from the metal equipment. At first, it was so soft that it was barely noticeable, but it gradually grew louder.

Basil looked around, puzzled. "Do you hear that?"

Before anyone could respond, a blue glow began to emit from their metal equipment and cooking pots. The glow intensified gradually.

The guards instinctively drew their swords, but the metal gave them uneasy shocks, forcing them to drop their weapons. "What is happening?" one of them exclaimed, shaking his hand as if to rid it of the lingering sensation.

The forest sounds died down, and an eerie silence enveloped them. Then, a bizarre wind rushed past, causing no foliage to move but sending a chill through each person. It was as if the wind was brushing against their skin with a soft unearthly touch.

Basil felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. The wind rushed past them, invisible yet present, before dissipating as abruptly as it had appeared.

Once the wind passed, the blue glow faded and the ringing stopped. The forest sounds gradually returned, though they seemed distant and muted, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

The company exchanged uneasy glances. "What just happened?" Samuel asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Walther frowned, deep in thought. "It seems we have encountered some residual magic or an ancient thing... or... I simply don't know. This path might be faster, but it’s not without its dangers."

After a moment's hesitation, he added, "I must admit, I am carrying the D patch. Talya gave it to me for safekeeping, but I believe it would be better if you carried it, Basil. It belongs to your family, and it might not be intended for me to bear it, even if your mother wanted it that way."

Basil looked at the patch that Walther handed him, considering the responsibility it carried. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded and put it away carefully.

"Could it be related to the patchwork?" Basil asked, his mind racing with possibilities.

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"It’s possible," Walther admitted. "But who knows. Ever since Nymous stormed in, I'm feeling inadequate as a historian. None of this can be explained by study alone."

The group remained on high alert, their previous light-heartedness replaced by a growing sense of caution. They knew they needed to press on.

They hastily packed their belongings, the eerie experience still fresh in their minds. Moving on, they tried to quicken their pace, eager to leave the strange occurrences behind.

"How much longer is our journey?" Basil asked, his voice filled with uneasiness.

Walther pointed to a realm-marker along the path, a short post that indicated the distance to the other end of the path. "Normally we should use these to gauge our progress, but they are in dire shape," he said.

Many were too mossy to read clearly. The inscriptions were also worn down by time and nature, making it difficult to tell the exact distances. They were made from local stone types, that had a shale-like flakiness when repeatedly confronted with the elements such as water and freezing.

Samuel, squinting at one particularly moss-covered post, made an educated guess. "I think we’re still a day’s journey away, but it’s hard to be certain with these markers in such a state."

The company continued onward, relying on their best estimates and hoping they wouldn’t encounter any more supernatural disturbances.

As the evening drew near, the forest began to thin, hinting at the possibility of more open terrain ahead. Despite the lingering tension, there was a sense of progress, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that suggested they were getting closer to their destination.

Basil walked alongside Walther, the weight of the patch in his pocket a constant reminder of the burden he now carried. "We’ll find the answers we need," he said, more to himself than anyone else.

Walther heard him mumbling and responded, though only half-heartedly, "Yes, we will." There was a hint of doubt in his voice, as if the weight of their quest was starting to wear on him as well.

Seeing Basil's concern, Walther decided to share more about the history of the D patchworks, hoping to provide some clarity and perhaps ease the young man's worries. "The D-class patchworks," he began, "are some of the most enigmatic and challenging to manage. They are not like the more straightforward A-class patchworks, which deal with tangible elements like nature and weather. The D-class deals with meta-processes around magic and life, often with effects that are subtle. Many are actually not that relevant. The most obsolete patchworks are the higher number range of the D-classes."

He continued, "But, each D-class patchwork has a specific role that, while obscure, is sometimes crucial to the fabric of our realm. For example, the D II PAT—Preservation of Arcane Truths—ensures that magical knowledge remains uncorrupted over time. It requires basically no active action to keep magical truths stable. Families burdened with this patchwork often found themselves in roles of simple guardianship over libraries and mage academies, their lives dedicated to the preservation of knowledge."

Basil listened intently, the flickering light of their lanterns casting shifting shadows on Walther's face. "And the D III EOF—Ebb and Flow," Walther continued, "is responsible for regulating the natural cycles of life and death. Those who manage it must use the associated marble tablet to program the ruleset to ensure the smooth transition of souls from the living world to the afterlife and back again. If neglected, it could cause disruptions in the natural order, leading to untimely deaths or, conversely, the unnatural prolonging of life. In fact, misuse of D III EOF is probably one of the causes of corrupted deities."

"The D V SPM—Spatial Manipulation," Walther said, "is the first D-class where we have a sharp drop off in knowledge. The most recent text on it dates more than three millennia back. It's an indirect text, about a trial that was held to sanction a family that abused it and got caught doing it."

Basil's mind was still conflicted with the possibilities and the weight of the responsibilities these families bore. "But what about our patch, the D VI OOS—Office of the Singularity?" he asked, the question hanging in the air.

Walther hesitated, his confidence wavering. "The Office of the Singularity," he said slowly, "is... unknown. The thing is, in the few texts on it that I ever read, it's not supposed to exist. It's a theoretical patchwork that was never worked out. We have old obsolete or abandoned ones, but this one simple was never created. Many patchworks are theorized at the inception of a realm, but not all of them are actually practical, and thus not created."

Basil thought about this, his brow furrowed. "So, we are carrying something that is not supposed to exist. Also, it might, or might not, kill us at any time? It might also be super significant, or completely defunct?"

Walther nodded. "Precisely. That’s why reaching the Auspex’s library is so crucial. We need to find any scraps of information that can guide us."

Basil took a deep breath. "And if we don't find anything?"

Walther looked at him. "We do what we can with what we know. Sometimes, knowledge is not about having all the answers but knowing the right questions to ask."

Basil pondered this. "So, what’s the right question to ask about the Office of the Singularity?" he asked, hoping for a straightforward answer.

Walther chuckled softly, the sound almost lost in the dusk. "That, my dear Basil, is a question I wish I had the answer to."

Basil couldn’t help but smile at the irony. Even the wise could be stumped by the complexities of their world. The conversation left him with more questions than answers, but at least it gave him a sense of purpose.

As the dusk deepened, they found a suitable spot to set up camp. The group worked together efficiently, erecting their tents and preparing for the night. The earlier unease lingered, but they had somewhat found the routine of setting up camp now each night, which felt as a welcome reference of normalcy.

Samuel, quickly got a fire going and began to prepare a simple yet hearty meal, the last one he could make with some of the fresher ingredients he packed. The scent of cooking food brought a sense of calm to the group.

After the meal, they settled into their beds. The forest around them was alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, but the earlier eerie silence and strange wind still haunted their thoughts. Basil lay in his bedroll, staring up at the canopy of trees, his mind racing with the day’s events and the uncertain future.

Eventually, the fatigue of the journey overcame him, and he drifted into a restless sleep.