Concern within House Avarus grew as Sabina paced around the halls, grumbling to herself. She spent the past week in an irritable state, almost entirely closed off to even her closest allies. When she finally settled down some, she resumed her usual courtly duties, and maintained her usual calm demeanor. She called both of her sons to her chamber to discuss her plans.
Rufus and Pontius knelt before their mother out of a habit of formality. “You called for us?”
She nodded. “Titus meddling in my affairs was not something I accounted for in our fight against Lucullus and his friends. That captain has made himself an enemy of House Avarus, and he will pay in due time. But for now, we must turn our attention toward our immediate obstacles. Lucullus is still dangerous, and now may potentially be loose, as I’m sure that pathetic king is incapable of keeping a corpse from leaving its tomb.”
“But mother,” Pontius spoke up, “with Lucullus now in the king’s dungeon, he is no threat. His grand plan has been stopped, and his allies are scattered.”
“You speak as a fool, Pontius. Yes, Lucullus was stopped on that one occasion. But have you forgotten that he is stubborn like a mule. If the greatest prison in all of Lucium couldn’t contain him, what makes you think that so-called dungeon will do any better? I don’t think he’ll be on the offensive for the next few months, but I know his allies are out there. The Insidiators are impossible to find, but I won’t concern myself with common criminals. They are not as special as they think they are.”
“What of the Dracones, or of the Duri Family?”
“An excellent point, Rufus.” Sabina cracked a sinister smile. “The Dracones and Duri Family are major problems. It was especially because of those filthy traitorous sorcerers that Lucullus was able to cause as much trouble as he did.”
“What should we do?”
“Pontius will find the Dracones, and destroy them. They were an unfortunate stain on the world, and they must be dealt with before they corrupt Lucium any further.
“It shall be done, mother.”
She walked over to Rufus. “Pontius, you are dismissed, then. If House Bratus gives you any trouble, let me know, and I will change the duke’s mind.”
Pontius bowed, and left.
“Now then… I understand you have some letters of interest.”
Rufus pulled the letters from his pocket. “I do. At first, I thought taking these would be a challenge without being caught… But somehow, it seemed Tatiana was never in her chamber. It was all rather strange.”
Sabina took the letters, and opened one. “Peculiar. What do you mean she was ‘never in her chamber’?”
“There were several occasions where I would’ve rightly been caught if she were nearby, yet I was never caught. But more than that, I waited for many hours on some days for her to exit her chamber, believing that she was in there, and I never saw her leave nor enter. I started to get suspicious, and after some searching, I can only assume that she is no longer in Castle Avarus.”
“Are you saying that she’s gone into hiding?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible. If she was trying to get away, I suspect she’d probably have gone to one of the other provinces.”
Sabina exhaled sharply. “So she knows, then… Clever and tricky as ever, little Tatiana…”
“Shall I put out a search party?”
“No. That won’t be necessary, Rufus. If she is gone, as you have explained, then trying to find her will be a fool’s errand. She’s far above some common criminal type. As disloyal and treacherous as she is, I admit that she is very clever and cunning; no doubt she inherited it from me. What a shame she didn’t inherit anything else. I will send some agents to track letters, her favorite method of treason. These letters you have procured will be of great help in my agents.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
“That will be all, son. I will call you again when I need you. But for now, you may continue with your regular duties.”
Lucullus jolted awake. He pulled his sword, and pointed it outward, looking around. Seeing that he was under no threat, he put it back in its sheath. The fire he started the previous night was nothing more than a few smoldering embers in the midst of a pile of ashes. It must’ve been a dream, then. The thought was a relief, but an unfortunate reminder of memories he tried to keep suppressed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was alone with his thoughts. He may have been alone in his many prison cells, but this was him truly alone. No longer could he talk to Tiberius or Cato on his travels to pass the time. These thoughts settled into his mind, and left him dreadful of the quiet moments if they were as bad as his dreams.
Dawn was nearly upon him; the sky was beginning to show hints of oranges, reds, and yellows. He packed his camp, mounted his horse, and continued his trek. With the help of riding horseback, he covered nearly all of his travels through Lucium in a week’s time while following the main roads. His eventual crossing of the Lucium-Emporikos border went without issue. A simple flash of the royal seal, and the seal on Cicero’s letter did more than enough to convince the border patrol.
At the first opportunity, he stopped by an inn along the roadside. Someone, who Lucullus assumed to be a worker at the inn, upon seeing him dismount his horse, led it to a stable, and motioned for him to go inside. As he entered the inn, almost everyone turned to look at him. He, in turn, gave everyone a cold stare as he looked around. He checked the funds in his coin purse, hoping he would have enough to make it to the college, and approached the bar.
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The innkeeper turned around, still scrubbing a mug. He seemed to be surprised to see someone like Lucullus at his inn.
Lucullus cleared his throat. “I need… a room and… ale.”
The innkeeper raised a brow at him. After some time spent processing the strange new patron, he obliged, and handed Lucullus a key while pointing to which room it belonged to, and poured him a mug of ale while speaking in Dasosan.
Lucullus tossed eight silver pieces onto the bar.
The man gave him back three of them.
Lucullus nodded as he downed his ale. Right… This southern dialect is so strange. How do the Dasos keep their country together when their southern brethren are so hard to understand?
Others around Lucullus still observed him, seemingly impressed that he knew enough of their language to order a room and a drink, and even more curious as to who he was. Some of the more bold patrons went up to him, and tried to question him, but it seemed many of their attempts fell on deaf ears. The truth was that Lucullus could barely understand every other word when just one person spoke, much less a whole group all at once. As soon as he finished his mug, he slammed it down on the bar, and retreated to his room.
Thank goodness, he thought. If Cicero hadn’t given him those letters, he was unsure that he would even be able to communicate with the people of the college. If he couldn’t understand every other word of the innkeeper, then speaking with those sophisticated scholars at the college would surely be well beyond his abilities. To pass the time for the rest of the evening, he recited his two prayers; he repeated the one Cicero gave him far more, but he gave plenty of time to the prayer from the spirit, mostly in the form of meditation upon its words.
He was weary from travel; despite being on horseback, he hardly felt any less tired than on foot. Perhaps it was simply the shame of his past bearing down so heavily on him. Whatever it was, he tried to ignore it. It seemed almost like a dream when he finally saw the college, which was situated atop a grand and imposing mountain; its campus stretched across a great section of the mountain range, with each section being joined to the other by an impressive stone bridge. Nothing from Lucium could even compare to it, as much as it hurt him to admit. For a moment, he admired and studied the great architectural wonder from a distance. Once he had recomposed himself, and refocused on his mission, he ascended the winding path up the mountains. It was a wide path, and well-maintained; the fact of it being a prestigious college demanded such a path. The closer he drew to the college, the more out of his element he felt. He was unsure if he would even be able to communicate with them; if his interactions at the inn were any indication, then it was an exercise in futility. But even with all the negativity that swirled in his head, and all the uneasy feelings in his stomach, he pressed on, determined to earn the king’s trust.
He dismounted his horse as he approached the front gate. His nerves were rattled further with each step he took. With the lead on his horse in his right hand, he gave the gate a few forceful knocks with the other. He waited for a few minutes before anyone appeared at the gate.
The man at the gate grumbled something to himself.
Lucullus pulled Cicero’s letter out, and presented it to the man.
The man took the letter, noticing the seal, and opened it. He carefully read over it, and looked back at Lucullus. “I’m guessing you probably don’t know much Dasosan. Curious that Cicero would send over such a person to Emporikos. I would think Titus’s court would surely have someone more qualified…”
What a relief; He speaks the Altum tongue. “Cicero trusts me, as does Titus. They know that I am aware of the Chaodites, and that I’ll know what to look for.”
“Interesting. So you have learned of those vile vermin. Why is it that Cicero could not come?”
“His obligations in Lucium prevent him from traveling much. If he were to take leave, the Chaodites would make their move in his absence. Besides, the Chaodites of Lucium and their allies are ready to strike at me the moment I return to Lucium. Me being here is good for Cicero as well as myself.”
The man nodded along. “So I see. For Cicero’s sake, I will allow you to peruse the archives; lucky for you, Cicero is such a high-ranking member.” After motioning toward some people just beyond where Lucullus could see, he stepped back, and the gate drew open. “Follow me.”
Lucullus shuffled along, and darted his gaze all around, taking in the many new faces and sights.
“I am Mystic Fylakas. Might I ask what your name is?”
“I’m Lucullus.”
“Well, Lucullus,” he pointed at the various buildings, “I’m sure you’re a little overwhelmed by all of this.”
He nodded.
“As are most who come here. This campus is a rather large one. In fact, I dare say that it dwarfs even the most imposing castles in Emporikos. Each of our different wings is separated by a bridge that stretches over the valley below.”
“What’s in each wing?”
He chuckled. “Well, it can be anything from administrative functions to student lodging, or even garden space.”
“Garden space?”
“A large part of what helps our students succeed is in having peace of mind. It’s hard to achieve such a state when you’re surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hundreds of students passing by. And while the students’ rooms are sometimes good for meditation, that aspect vanishes the second your roommate barges in for whatever reason. That is why we have the garden spaces; their dense foliage helps to block out most noise, and the serene setting of a well-kept garden is good for any mind.”
“So, which wing is the library at?”
He smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll be arriving there shortly. Just over the next bridge to the left is where you’ll find the archives. In there, I’ll show you to the head librarian. He’ll probably be too busy to help you himself, but he should have an assistant or two who, no doubt, will be eager to assist you. And don’t worry about any language barrier like what you have encountered during your time in Emporikos; it is because of our love for knowledge that we speak as many languages as we do.”
“Do you know any languages from the far east?”
“Goodness, no. We’ve never gone that far east. Some of our more exceptional students are sometimes allowed to make a pilgrimage to a place of their choosing in order to bring back some useful new knowledge, but none have ever dared travel that far. As much as we would love to see what there is out there, we can’t send students off to lands like that. Only mystics are allowed to make such pilgrimages. Cicero could have gone as far east as he would like, come back with maps and the like, but he chose to return to his homeland, and I don’t fault him for that. Most of the other mystics have no interest in the east.”
Lucullus marveled at the ornate building which housed the archives. Its courtyard was lined with many marble arches, and the ground was a mosaic of white and red stones arranged into a floral pattern. “What about Maleun?”
“What?”
“Do you know any of their languages?”
He sighed. “No. That is a desolate continent, which we have no interest in… But we do have records of that place, if that’s what you mean.”
Lucullus nodded. “Good.”