“So… back into the Undercroft I go.” Coney said as they went down about as deep as he’d been before, more than a whole story underground.

“Yes and no. Technically, any underground portion is known as an undercroft, as long as it’s under a religiously significant building. Also technically, all the undercrofts were connected at some point in the past.” The man said. “However, the Archives are disconnected from what we call the Undercroft. The true Undercroft is a massive series of tunnels, labyrinthine, and filled with unknown dangers.”

“I thought you said that’s what happened down here?” Coney asked, looking at the walls as they slowly opened into a much larger space. The archives were deep underground, and he could see that they went deeper. It looked as if dungeons or catacombs had been converted into these archives, as the walls were clearly rough cut stone far older than the building above.

“It is, however, here I can assure you where the dangerous parts are. The forbidden section is forbidden for a reason, not because of dangerous ideas but because it is literally dangerous.” He waved a hand at one pillar in the center of the large room. At the bottom there was what looked like a cell, locked behind bars. “We are not a peaceful church, and we come against many villains in our works. In there are locked grimoires of dark mysteries, and the ‘holy’ texts written by cults driven mad by their elder gods.”

“Okay so… don’t go in there. Got it.” Coney said, biting his lip. Of course, that was now exactly what he wanted to do. He may not have been a big fan of Lovecraft the person, but he had popularized a genre Coney did love. And that place just screamed Eldritch.

“Correct. I can not allow you to go inside there unless you prove yourself to me. You’d better hope what you’re looking for isn’t in there.” The man turned and handed Coney the lantern he’d been using to light the way. “Here you go. Be careful. If you burn a book I’ll know. Come back safe.” He turned to leave.

“Wait… You’re leaving me down here? Alone?”

“I have to stay up there to help those brats.” The man said. “Besides, if you aren't ready to do this job, maybe you should just come back later.

“No no, I can do it.” Coney said with a voice of confidence that he didn’t feel. “But before you go… Can I get your name?”

“It’s Master Jerome.” The man said, walking back up the stairs and leaving Coney to himself.

Coney began to walk down the stairs to the main archives. The first section should be safe at least, right?

As he looked around he realized that he wasn’t even sure if there was an organizational system. This place could just be storage for all he knew. Leaning down he saw that the bookshelves did have numbers on them. “Okay, so see those numbers? Those could probably either be dates or organization. I’ll figure out if I find the numbers closer to one.”

Walking down the winding staircase, even though he could see the archives, was crazy. As he walked down he closed his eyes, trying to make sure he could count his steps back to the place. Opening them, he looked at each of the numbers, checking to see if they were sequential, based in location, or what. Finally he reached the bottom of the stairs, there he found himself surrounded by the bookshelves. Sure, from above he’d seen that the archives went deeper, but he was finally within the books. No longer was he just looking from above. Looking at the books the majority of them looked like the simple library binding that he’d seen above, but a few of them were not.

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“Okay, so there are three numbers on each of these. The first number is three digits long, and fairly simple as far as I can tell, sequentially getting lower the farther it goes in that direction.” Coney pointed with a paw deeper into the archives. “The second number is harder for me to parse, but as far as I can tell each bookshelf with the same number has similar looking documents. See, this one that has 57 and this one that has 57 are both entirely made out of these hardcover bound books. Looking at their spines it says that they are ledgers, which means they all hold the same function. Over here this shelf labeled 54 has loosely bundled notes, like correspondence?”

He frowned, trying to figure out the third number. “If the second number is based on what type of document is in it, then the third number is… which shelf of an order it is?” He asked, looking at the shelves. “See, these two shelves are labeled 23. However this one is 23-1, and this one is 23-2. That would mean they are tied based on that.”

Following the lead of the numbers, he started to go deeper into the archives. “I can’t be sure, because I haven't read up on exactly how all this works, but I think the first number is like the year or something. I mean, that would make sense why they are all clustered together. Though, I’m surprised this place has so many things to mark in a single year. This is at least twenty whole shelves dedicated to this year alone. Unless this is last year?”

Tapping his paw against his chin, Coney was stumped. “Okay, I guess I can’t really figure that out that easily. But the next time I see Jerome I’ll ask him directly.” Breathing in deeply, Coney was in a bit of a conundrum. “So, if I’m going to be making those assumptions based on what I just said I guess my best bet is to go deeper into the archive until I hit the types of notes I want…” He frowned. “Didn’t Franca say that the church was the oldest part of the entire abbey compound? This may be more difficult than I first assumed.”

Walking deeper into the archives was easy, what was less easy was the creeping feeling he got as he walked past all of the shelves. Sure, most of them were pretty simple, he wasn’t even surprised that there was so much correspondence. His fellow novices must love to write letters, or something. Perhaps there were notes here about more important things, but he wasn’t really ready to look. Still, some of the shelves were more ominous. When he got past a few years he found a shelf he’d not seen before, one labeled 13. That number wasn’t one he’d seen marked down so far.

On the thirteen shelf was a set of three documents. It was a scroll bound up in a wax seal, a book made of some black leather, and a very small postcard. Picking up the postcard he looked at it. On one side was something very similar to the christmas cards he’d seen his older relatives collect. It was a simple print of a pair of red cardinals nuzzling each other. On the other side however was an odd note.

Dear Milan,

Enclosed I have granted you a sample of my current recipe for an Alchemical Zombie.

* 5 Grams Bone Meal

* 2 Grams Henbane Flower

* 10 Fluid Ounces Mandrake Juice

* 1 Gram Marine Toad Skin

Mix the dry ingredients in a sanctified pounding bowl. Slowly add the Mandrake Juice Until a thick batter. Let set overnight. Cook over an alchemical stove under direct moonlight. Can be used as a Biscuit or dissolved in a standard potion base.

“Wow, okay, so that’s… that’s not great.” Coney noticed a blood stain on the card. “There really are dangerous things here.”