The scent of a cinnamon wick swept through my study. Across the room, shadows swayed in a dance against the light of undrawn drapes. Pressed beneath my thumb, I ruffled the bottom pages of my notebook. The document beside it detained my gaze.
My thoughts weren’t empty, but whatever meandered through my mind scattered when the ticking of my grandfather clock broke free from the background. My tongue clicked. Pinched by plucked strands, I pulled my ponytail free. What does it mean to be free?
Tick. My nails picked at the edge of my seat.
“I’ve been staring at this thing all day. It makes even less sense than the first time I read it.”
I relaxed my fingers and closed my eyes. Tock.
“The first record by the Architects. Albenac’s proclaimed truths. Bleh- it’s a miracle I even found this thing. What was even the point?”
Tick. A roll of thunder rumbled in the distance.
“Ah- I got so wrapped up in trying to figure out this dumb poem. Mm. Guess I’ll miss out on my next adventure.”
I pressed my pen against the page. Tock.
“In a world devoid of meaning, why do we search for a point? It’s pretty absurd, isn’t it? But even so, I still choose to write these words, because-”
The point of my pen screeched a chill across my spine. I lifted the pen to my face and lights like snow fell against the warm glow of candlelight.
Ethereal Inkwell
ᛞ+4 | +2(🜄,ᚺ,ᚾ,ᛇ) | 🜃
🜃 . 2🜄 . 3ᚨ . 4i2(ᛇ,ᚾ,ᚺ,ᛞ) . 12🜄 . 13ᛞ
Eat your heart out, Ralia. Your suboptimal spell design shall henceforth be rendered obsolete within the history books.
“Imagine a lone tree in the middle of a field. Its leaves drip with the morning dew. When you approach, drive a spike into its trunk. Where the spike impacted bleeds a sap that fills your hands. Guide the sap into a bucket by your feet.”
Founded by Dyasus Kinseal
4-7 Early Spring Year 99: Age of Knowledge
When the white light faded my pen remained empty.
“Ah.”
I darted from my desk. Slides and clicks of every cabinet and drawer I owned filled the room. Old, discarded pens. Dry, crusted vials. Anything for a droplet of ink.
On my hands and knees I squished my cheek against the floor. My fingertips grazed dust and dusk beneath a bookcase. Too afraid to reach further, I rose to my feet.
“Ech. Alright. If I head to Monty’s shop now-”
The curtains ballooned and flowed while I thought to myself:
I might be able to make it back home in time.
Scooched by my skirt, a desk drawer clicked closed when I leaned to blow out that cinnamon wick. Its smoke burned a whiff between sniffs and the room fell into darkness. Throughout the foyer, the fragrance of a bouquet bounced off the book covered walls and the sounds of a stream swelled to my ears. The front door clacked in beats.
Sunlight half swallowed by the clouds warmed my skin, but the breeze swept it away. Tree trunks whistled, branches rustled, and specks of golden metal blinked between the leaves. My eyes quivered near closed and I laughed to myself.
“Maybe I overdid it again. But this kinda feels oddly nostalgic.”
⦿
Years ago I strolled through the Merchant’s District. Raised cobble roads wrapped to the foot of triple decker buildings and folded into stairways every so often. Columns of lumber hugged whitestone and planters. A thinly veiled voice overshadowed my earrings' charming jingle.
“Marina Elysera.”
Huh? Me? Where?
Two figures wrapped in white cloaks stood between the storefronts. Their hoods obscured their faces, but their amulets told me half of what I needed to know.
Tsk. Architects.
“Eeh? What do you guys want?”
“Our Praetor seeks an audience with you. He says that-”
“Pass.”
One of them motioned with a tied up sack, its contents clinked with a metallic toll. Caught mid stride, it captured my attention. I shuffled into the alleyway and poked the bottom of the bag. What a beautiful sound it made.
…
“Well-”
“Nah, pass. I don’t wanna deal with some shady cult.”
“We are the premier knowledge seekers of Arcanus. We’re not some-”
The Senior Architect cleared his throat.
“What my Junior means to say is: the Praetor is aware of your transgressions towards our organization. He promises you that the Architect’s traditions will not apply in this agreement.”
“Why would I trust the word of some faceless cult leader? I’ve got better things to do, but hey - you do you.”
I spun on my heel and kicked toward the street. Giddy with glee, I giggled to myself when one of them sighed in what sounded like defeat. It wasn’t.
“Praetor Brightwater was sure you would still decline-”
“Huh? What? Brightwater?”
“-And he said if you continue to protest then mention his name.”
A bemused smile bridged across my face. I waved it away before returning to the alleyway.
“And where exactly is Alaphan?”
“Please follow us. We will be heading to a tavern near the Heroes Guild.”
The Heroes Guild. One of the largest sponsors of adventurers throughout the world of Arcanus. Headquartered atop the artificial mountain the city of Eyngard was built upon, it shone hope to the people below and lit port to the airships above.
We arrived at a hexagonal junction, the tavern wedged in its north east vertex. Behind us brooded a marvel of engineering, but my priorities gave it the cold shoulder.
“Ah- so, about those coins-”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The Architects took their leave. Inquiry ignored, I pouted and plodded through the saloon-style doors.
Traversing the tavern, my pout fell flat. Its floorboards creaked an old tune and garlic pitched toward my nose. My fingers strummed the spindles of a chair while I marched through a choir of chatter.
Sitting alone at a table for four, a man polished his glasses with his tie; a purple gemstone pressed into the knot. It wasn’t by much, but that was the busiest part of his attire. Brown slacks, a white dress shirt, and a tan sweater vest all pulled over pale skin.
He grinned and fixed his glasses into place. “It’s good to see you again Marina. You haven’t aged a day.”
“Eehee~ Alphahan, yeah. It's been too long. We have so much catching up to do. Wait no, no - there’s more important things right now. The Architects? Really? And you’re their leader? Why?”
Alaphan chuckled while I took a seat across from him. His eyes grazed past me to the tables around us.
“Well, at least you asked why and not how. Thanks for that - it’s actually because of my family. I come from a long lineage of record keepers belonging to the Architects.”
“I mean, I know that, but-”
His eyes fixed on me.
“My family means a lot to me. It makes me proud to follow in their footsteps.”
“That’s sweet of you, but- their whole shtick is just so.. I mean, don’t be upset, but- mm.”
I drew in a shallow breath and recited their mantra in a mocking tone that I tried and failed to dial back.
“We solemnly swear to uphold the sanctity of preservation of these discoveries, texts, and accounts in our interpretations of the world of Arcanus. The truth of our reality is not always so black and white, so please heed caution and keep an inquisitive mind when exploring this library.”
“But for the most part that sanctity is for their eyes only.”
Alaphan slid a menu back and forth in tiny shakes.
“You’re not wrong. I don’t know about the sanctity part being only for us, but we are selective in what we publish.”
“Yeah, I kinda just said the word that stuck in my mind, but like- the whole truth.”
I thought it made sense.
“That’s fair. The Architects have always been very protective of some of the more - sensitive truths of this world-”
I leaned into the table. My legs locked when I resisted the urge to spring to a stand.
“But it’s not right. All the history, culture, stories - food, stuff like that should be shared with everyone.”
Alaphan laughed and shook his head.
Eeh. Laughing isn’t the reaction I expected.
“I wish it was that simple. But- I sympathize with your ideals. That’s why I want to make some changes any way I can.”
“You’re the Praetor aren’t you? Can’t you just, you know, set the knowledge free to the world somehow?”
I relaxed my back against the chair’s skinny spindles and wiggled around until my spine was comfortable.
“I wish that was also a simple task, but I’m not the only Praetor. Atlus, Arcanus, Zaralus, Vitalus, Ceruleus, Requius. Each world has its own branch of Architects and our histories and politics don’t exactly exist in a vacuum. Not to mention there are those who oversee even us.”
Bleh. I can’t exactly fault him for looking out for himself.
My toes tapped the leg of the empty chair beside us.
“The founder?”
“You’ve heard of him? As it stands he has final say over everything we do and is the only one permitted access to documents stamped with the ‘ZK’ classification.”
Eehee~ So we were right that something more secret than YK class documents exist.
I closed my eyes and swished my hand to mask the excitement.
“From what I’ve heard he’s supposedly some two thousand year old mastermind that pulls at the strings of the universe from behind closed doors. What’s more likely is they’re just a long line of dudes who larp as gods.”
“Larp?”
“It’s kinda like-. It means Live Action Role Play. Like playing pretend. I picked it up from one of my friends who thinks the former rather than the latter about the founder.”
It sounds so embarrassing to say the actual words and not just larp. Eck.
“It sounds like you’ve been hearing things about us from some - interesting people.”
“They’re good people- sort of. I mean- they mean well.”
Clinks, cheers, and chit-chat from around the room drowned out Alaphan’s snicker that snorted out his nose.
“I’m sure they do, I’m sure they do. Some of the more eccentric ideas I’ve caught wind of are actually quite helpful in maintaining the secrecy of our organization.”
…
“I don’t mean to be pushy, but I’ve gotten a little hungry. Do you mind if we order something?”
“Oh, um, sure.”
The length of the previous night weighed down on my eyes. The words on the menu stretched and blurred like a fleeting dream that slips further away the more you try to remember it. A waitress with short, braided black hair approached our table. Stitched into her frilly red dress were two blurry, golden horse heads that a moment later weaved into one. Her step sprang with her voice in a slight twang.
“Afternoon folks, my name is Ryla and I will be taking care of you two today. Is there anything I can get to start you off?”
“Um, can I have the brainless bread?”
Eeeeh-. She said start off with, not-
“Brainless? Do you mean the braided bread?”
Through a scrunched forehead and chair that creaked, I read the menu again.
Braided. It says braided. Man, how embarrassing.
“I think you heard me.”
“Pardon?”
“I would like the brainless bread.”
“But, why would-”
“W-why would I want that? Do you only serve bread with brains in it? I guess if that is the case I will take it anyway.”
“No, but - none of our bread has brains baked into it.”
“Wonderful, I will have one of your brainless bread then.”
“Ah. Alrighty. And for you?”
“I will also have some of your brainless bread. Oh and if we could have two of today’s special brews that would be great.”
When the waitress scampered away in rightful discontent, Alaphan’s tone turned with a shift toward sincerity.
“Marina. I know you don’t approve of the Architect’s secrecy, but we do provide a vital role in keeping the peace. That being said, I have a proposition for you. Become our consultant.”
Pass.
“Officially you will be listed as one of our librarians.”
Hard pass.
“You will travel the world and we will fund your expeditions. Ah, within reason. We will merely offer suggestions concerning areas of interest we become enlightened to. You are more than welcome to submit your own ideas you believe will be mutually beneficial.”
..Pass..
“And anything new you discover can be publicly published.”
Pa- wait what?
“We only ask that any mention of the Architects be kept a secret. Any historical record you wish to publish can be submitted to the various libraries we have established around the world of Arcanus.”
…
“I’ll consider it.”
“Well, if you do decide, I’ll be at the Library of Alindra in the Gardens.”
“That thing is a total eyesore with how it just looms over the treetops anytime I walk by that district.”
“Have you ever been inside?”
“Well, no, but can’t you guys just do what the Merchant’s District does with its shops?”
“The first editions yes, but being the largest library in the nation we have a lot of texts. We also keep multiple copies on hand. It’s kind of necessary.”
I cracked a flimsy smile.
“Show-offs.”
We both chuckled as a silk of toasted garlic stretched around us. Brainless bread doled out, we sloshed together our frothy brews in a show of cheers. During what was more like our snack than our meal, we reminisced about the past and how our lives had changed after all those years.
Before we went our separate ways Alaphan dealt the offer to me one last time, but the only things still on the table were a few ends of hardened bread and maybe a few too many empty mugs. While I did say I would consider it, my mind was already made up. I would become a consultant to the Architects of Arcanus as their librarian.