A few minutes later, in a warded private meeting room, the two sat across from one another. Though Zelsys had offered him several different kinds of liquor, even a medicinal meal straight from Ozmir’s kitchen, he refused all. Since it was now time for her breakfast, she engaged in the conversation while also eating a whole brisket of dragon meat seasoned with herbs from the Leyline Well Meadow and smoked using shavings from an oak tree struck by lightning. It was served with a side of 300-year-old culca leaf salad, which was made sustainable by the fact a culca plant grew continuously and its roots made up the true plant body. Further accelerated by the Leyline Well, the Newman Sect’s outer disciples got culca leaf sides once every week, and could buy more meals at reasonable prices given a disciple’s median income. The cut of meat, of course, came from nowhere near Eisengeist’s chest.
“I see that you’ve truly grown into the role and stature of a sect elder,” Strolvath remarked.
“And I see that you’re still struggling with Victory Echoes. Y’know, Sigmund could likely help you the same way you helped him.”
“I’m afraid that his Tranquility Method would not suit me, especially since I cannot afford to stay here and learn from him… Though my current state is, indeed, the reason I have come to you.”
He brought out several items. The first was a wood-slip book with deep red cover slips, inlaid in gold with flame-like patterns. The second was a wood-slip scroll, charred, worn, and rough. The third was an actual book, shaped like a wedge due to a substantial number of missing pages. Next came a stack of several thinner, paperbound documents, and lastly, a small, bronze box.
“Where to start, where to start…” he sighed, taking a flask out of his coat. He took a swig and put it away, and the smouldering of his being subsided to near nothing. “Well, let’s start here.”
He took the damaged book, and slid it across the table to her. Its cover was illustrated by the image of a white figure with black patterns and surrounded by flames, and all around it, black figures on the ground.
“Official name, Manuscript Fragment Eighteen-C. Colloquial name, the Burning Man Manuscript. It’s one of the recovered documents that led to the development of Victory Wash, at least, the only one we have at the Bureau. Most of the surviving material pertains to alchemical materials, but it’s obvious that the original was likely an in-depth, advanced manual on Ignis-centric cultivation. It’s written in a mix of Ankhezian Merchant Script and archaic Old Ikesian, dated to the final centuries of Ankhezian presence in Ikesia. And these…”
He patted the paperbound documents.
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“...Are an abridged copy of the Victory Wash developmental records. Useless, on their own, unless you have the Fragment to contextualize everything inside. You will see how these relate to the others in a moment. This-”
The red-gold scroll.
“-is the Blazing Fires Secret Record. We know for a fact this was used by adherents of Kama’tok during the Three Kings Era. In the hopes that it might help me gain control over my state, I recovered it from the ruins of the Flameborn Children, deep in the Exclusion Zone. They were a group of mercenary-monks, and several of their members were involved in the development of Victory Wash - hence how I knew the location of their sect grounds, despite not being supposed to. Honestly, this is useless to me. I can’t make heads or tails of anything besides the martial arts diagrams, and I’m not much of a martial artist. Lastly, the Blazing-black Destruction Scripture. It’s a daemonic cultivation method just like Storm-soul Cultivation, and though I don’t have an Ignis daemon, it has helped me get some modicum of control.”
One by one, Strolvath slid all of the documents over to Zel’s side of the table. She was nearly done eating by now. He rested his hand on the box.
“I will place all of these documents into your stewardship on two conditions. Firstly, you make an active effort to complete the Burning Man Manuscript and share the results with me. I’m sure pyromancy will find a broad appeal among your disciples, and you have Scorchlanders among your ranks besides. Secondly, I want you to produce for me a particular pill detailed in the Manuscript. I’ve sourced some of the ingredients myself, but there is one in particular that I can’t find… And that you have an abundance of. The blood of a Dragon Descendant.”
Finishing her meal, Zel licked the blood-like juices off of her plate and leaned back in her seat, regarding the documents for a few moments before meeting Strolvath’s gaze.
“Sure. Just tell me which pill it is and what it does.”
“Really? That’s it?”
“Yeah. I don’t see any reason to be opposed to the proposition, unless it’s something absurdly shady. I assume the pill in question is supposed to stabilize your fucked cultivation base, yes?”
A slow nod.
“Page two-hundred thirty-six. The Dragonheart Bolus.”
She conjured a Thundergod, using one of her braids to bring the manuscript to her. It felt hot to the touch, and as she opened it, a wave of heat spilled out at her. The letters spilled out of the page, unfolding from a compressed state into mid-air. After ascertaining that the written effect was as described, she was satisfied and closed the tome. Even with over half of it missing, it was still an absolute unit of a book, half a meter tall and a good twenty centimeters thick.
“Good! Then we’ve got a deal. Just one question - is this for yourself, or for the Bureau at large? You obviously have copies of these texts.”
“Of course I do. I will also admit that I’ve found the Bureau to be a touch under equipped to carry out our day-to-day operations in occupied regions. It would certainly make disposing of enemy materiel and corpses easier for our agents.”
“By the Dead Ones, I hope I don’t have to one day root out you slippery bastards.”
Strolvath laughed.
“And I hope that I don’t find myself trying to evade you. We have a deal, then?”
Zel took out a bottle of blood mead, proclaiming: “Yes, once we drink to it.”