∼ The Echoes of Remembrance ∼

Chapter - 024

Sitting atop a shoddy straw bed, Aria sat cross-legged, a large and intricately marked tome splayed across her lap. Her focus so entrenched in it that she had not noticed the red little demon creep up under its hard leather bindings, a pair of beady eyes suddenly popping up over the top, eliciting a surprised yelp. But Aria just sighed when the impling laughed, well - impishly.

It was running around on the bedding in its victory lap when the door to the room opened, entering a worried Eric. "What happened?"

"He just surprised me, that is all..." Aria pointed her finger at the mischievous little thing, rolling in the blankets.

Eric rolled his eyes as he himself had already been victim to the demon's deviltry - multiple times... "Well, the innkeep said the first Caravan to arrive should be on the morrow, heading for Boreas, and there's one being assembled here in town that will leave for Mayne within the week."

Aria closed her tome, hugging it to her chest. "What do you suggest we do..?

"We're running on borrowed time here, and I have an uncle down there by the Spine, a good man who would without a doubt take us in, so Boreas seems like the obvious choice..."

"But?" She easily picked up on his hesitation, sensing the 'but' before it had even been uttered.

"Captain Lewis, the man that had headed the party chasing you down and my late superior, I remember him saying that we needed retrieve an item of great value from you. One that was to be sold to a very wealthy merchant hailing all the way from Boreas."

Aria's hold tightened on her book as if searching for comfort in it.

"If my assumption is not wrong, this merchant, or whoever it is, has to be in on it all. And I can't help but think they're the type of less-than-reputable-type of merchant. If they truly are from Boreas, I do not know if running straight there is the smartest choice. But considering that my uncle is also a baron, with many ties in the nobility and upper-class of Boreas, he should be able to ensure our safety better than anywhere else. Taking to Mayne or anywhere else might just do nothing better than delaying our capture."

Eric sighed deeply, walking over to a cupboard to lean against it.

"Even if the caravan for Mayne is ready in two or three days, I don't think we can afford to await its departure. My father must've sent men and emissaries to the various baronies and towns in the surroundings of Aemsburg. It is only a matter of time before they catch up to us. Sooner much rather than later."

Aria looked pensive, a touch of hesitancy as she came to a decision, her internal debate nearly audible on her features. "I think... this might be what they are after..." From the rucksack, Aria drew a half-ring of dark steel.

It was hard to see, but Eric could make out small rivulets and markings in the blackness of the metal. He had no idea what it was, and he said as much. "What is it?"

"A collar of enthrallment."

He walked a bit closer, reaching out to touch it. "A magical item?"

"Yes, an instrument for enslaving the mind."

"Enslaving?!" He nearly recoiled.

Aria slowed, and her voice became ever quieter. "Yes... it is what my... my father was making,"

"Your father? How did the warlock get his hands on... oh..." Eric trailed off at the end, seeing Aria's downcast expression and finally putting the pieces together.

"But I think I remember the rumors told of you dying during experiments, the reason why one of the mystical warlocks were cast out from the high and mighty Arcanum. Leaving him to end up in small-town Aemsburg."

"That is not entirely true, as you can see..." She did not meet his gaze, hands rubbing her sleeved arms as if in phantom pain.

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Eric was stunned.

Aria was the first to speak, however. "My father was not always a bad person. He was once a very kind man - an earnest man. A rising star of Arcanum, in spite of his common upbringing. A warlock of great skill in the crafts of magical artefacts and demonic imbuement. It was where he met my mother, a pure-blooded elf seeking refuge in Arcanum from the dying war. She herself was a magical prodigy, you see. They had me not long after..."

As she spoke of her tale, Eric could feel the melancholy in her voice. He wanted to say he was sorry, but what good would that do? He had nothing of substance to say, nothing that would alleviate the sorrow that this kind girl was feeling. He only had those deeply buried memories of his own past, of which he was never want to dig up again.

"But things did not last. My father was a warlock, and as such, he was wielding a very dangerous class. Demonic energy is what warlocks and demons use instead of pure mana to form magic, an archetype of mana itself. Its nature is to bend that of the mind to the sins of the Seven Lords. With magi, we control our magic through the mind, unlike monsters who do so through cores. It is the medium and gateway for the energy we conjure. That is why subjecting a mortal mind to the harrowing effects of demonic energy is such a risky endeavor - especially if one does not have full control over oneself." Aria was near a whisper now.

"When it was found out that my mother not only was a magical prodigy... but a prodigy of healing, upon receiving her class, Arcanum was no longer enough for her, and she left with the Red Cloaks. My father... could not handle the abandonment - the betrayal. The demonic energy corrupted his sour mind, and I became the outlet. The face of his beloved, remaining to mock him even after she had left."

She finally met Eric's eyes, a couple of tears spilling down her freckled cheeks.

"Did he hold you captive all this time?" Eric asked finally.

"Yes, I was ten. It has been six years since then. And in recent years, his mind had only digressed further into hate and anger." She paused the pain of remembrance, a physical one. "When he realized I had inherited my mother's gifts... he knew I was the perfect subject... he would- h-he would-" She was shaking, as pulled up the sleeves of her robe, going from fair skin to badly scarred tissue - and even... black-ish red scales that looked to have fused with her very flesh. "He t-turned me into a-"

She was nearly on the verge of breaking down now, and Eric understood this was the time to step in. He crossed the short distance, and laid his hand atop hers, stopping it from going any further and revealing any more of her torment, her small hand white-knuckled as it clutched the hem of her sleeve tight. "It's okay... you don't have to,"

Aria looked through watery eyes at Eric, lip trembling.

Sitting himself on the bed beside her, he managed to unfold her hand from her robes, letting him hold her small hand in his. Even the impling, the demon that had been impassionately watching the spectacle up until now was curled up beside her, drowsing away, but offering a soothing warmth. It was a while before Aria calmed down, her sniffling stopping.

She was again the first to break the silence. "I can barely remember her face anymore." She said in a quiet voice, letting her fingers trail down the intricate patterning of the book's face in her lap. "The only things that remain of my mother, what she left me, is this tome, her grimoire; and my real family name - el'Ehalanor."

Resting his back against the headboard of the small bed, Eric listened intently. "What's a grimoire?"

"I-it is a magical book, usually made to help conjure and store certain spells through magic; Words of Power, different from spells given to us magi by class. This book also is like my bag, a magical artefact capable of storing many things - but in this case, it stores information - archiving."

"Wait... your rucksack is a magical item?" Eric blinked.

"Oh... yes..." She blushed a little, her deep sadness and melancholy slowly fading from her beautiful face. "It is a bag of holding - it can store items of greater quantity than that an ordinary bag would be able to, it also reduces the weight of said items to an extent.

"So that's why..." Eric shook his head, having thought the girl must've been stronger than she had let on; since, after all, she had lugged around that rucksack and all its contents from Aemsburg to Tarren's Field without snapping two.

At that, the conversation died slowly again, before Eric spoke up, having mulled over the things she had said previously. "My father, and yours; they were conspiring together to create magical slave collars. But what would he want with slaves? - Slaves are forbidden in Moravia."

"It is of demonic make, it fully enslaves the mind of their victims, and anyone else would be none the wiser. Even the collars themselves will sink into the skin, hiding their presence. Only other powerful warlocks or the most devout of the Blessed Virtue will be able to recognize someone under the influence of one."

Eric had to sit down. He could not believe his father had fallen this low as he thought that old prick had long hit rock-bottom. What possibly could he want by mongering such foul items? Money? Was that truly enough for him nowadays?

"How many are there?"

"Just this one, but that is all one needs. It is the master collar, and it can be used repeatedly by simply placing it on a victim and removing it after enthralling the mind. It only needs a constant fuel of energy to power it, the more enslaved, and those of greater power, increases this consumption."

"How do you power this? With demonic energy?"

"Not exactly... it is itself demonic, so it preys on the very same things as demonic magic does. Life. Some of the cost can be offset by making the enslaved pay with their own lifeforce, but sacrifices are needed."

Eric could only sit there, wide-eyed. "My old man has lost it." He thought.