After his bath, a large meal whipped up by Seamus and his junior chefs, and a long night’s rest, Samuel felt like an entirely new person. He suspected that his new bed played a large part in his recovery. He’d landed face-first on the soft feather bed with his arms and legs splayed at awkward angles. Even in this posture, he couldn’t reach the edges of the wide mattress. The fabric of the bed, not to mention the soft silk sheets, allowed him to sink into them without issue, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d fallen asleep before his body finally stopped moving.

The next morning, there was no shaft of sunlight or draft of cold air sneaking in through his bedroom wall to wake him. In fact, with the dark curtains, he had no clue when he had managed to finally rouse himself. All he remembered was opening his eyes to find himself staring up at the dark curtains around his bed. Someone had come in after he’d given into sleep to draw them closed, giving him some privacy.

There were a few other key differences about the room he noticed as he sat up. The first was a jug of water - still cold to the touch - sitting on a table next to the huge bed. Beside it was a folded piece of fabric, dark blue in color. He poured himself a glass of the water, relishing in the refreshing cold liquid as it coated his throat. Something had been added to the water to make it particularly savory, he thought. Looking inside the jug, he saw slices of some yellow fruit. Curious, he bit into one and recoiled at the sour taste.

He finished the glass of water if only to rid his mouth of the taste of that tart fruit, then got off the bed. The carpet covering the floor was warm and soft under his feet, another marked difference from the frigid wooden floor of his home in Harlest. He picked up the garment, realizing that it was a robe. Nearly identical to his own, but with some changes. For one, there were no patches to cover old holes. It was also significantly thicker, as the dark fabric had not yet been worn down. He also saw a fresh tunic and breeches underneath it.

He changed into the new clothes, reveling silently at the quality. Nobody in Harlest owned garments this fine. He felt self-conscious just wearing them, wondering how the staff could have known they would fit him without measuring him. The robe fit perfectly over the tunic, the dark blue showing perfectly against the white tunic just barely exposed underneath. There was something stitched over the heart, shoulders, and back of the robe. It took him a while to realize that it was a hawk, depicted in flight. The sigil of the Bragg house, he assumed.

He splashed some cold water onto his face in a basin located across the room. The water was warm, as was the towel he used to pat his head dry. The source of this, he discovered, were small black stones; obviously heated the previous night and left here this morning to keep everything warm and dry. Yet another tiny thing that was probably accepted as a standard fixture in this house yet seemed like the height of luxury to one who’d grown up in a village far removed from the capital.

As soon as he opened the door to the bedroom, his nose could pick up the scent of roasting meat. His stomach reacted quickly, growling to let him know just how long it had been since he’d eaten. Had he managed somehow to sleep for multiple days? He’d certainly been tired enough. He put the thought of food to the back of his mind for now. He was used to being hungry, and just then, he wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

For the first time since leaving the village of Harlest, Samuel was truly alone. There were no guards, servants, or friends to keep an eye on him. Even in the strange house, he couldn’t help but feel at peace. He might as well take the chance to explore a bit. To the right was the staircase that led down to the entry hall, he knew. So he went left.

This section of the house was a long series of rooms all joined to one long, wide hallway that formed a right angle. Judging by the distance, he assumed that this wing took up roughly one-half of the house’s length. Some of the doors were locked, others opened to show deserted rooms full of furniture covered in thick cloth to protect against dust. He was just about to give up his search of this area of the building when he opened the last door in the hallway and felt his jaw drop in shock.

He was standing at the entrance to a library. But it was more massive than any library he could have conceived. It stretched nearly a hundred feet on all sides and was designed in such a way that it actually spanned all three floors of the building. He took a few steps forward to discover that he was actually on a sort of balcony at the very top. Books on shelves took up every bit of wall space that wasn’t cleared for a door, and a circular staircase stood on either corner to take him down to the second and first floors.

It wasn’t until he’d walked down to the second floor and peered around - noticing yet more books arranged along the walls here - that he caught some sound from below. Peering over the railing, he discovered that he wasn’t alone in the library. The figure sitting at the large desk located in the center clearly wasn’t Arthur. It was a woman with mousy brown hair, clad in a simple tunic and leggings, tucked into soft brown leather boots. Her feet were propped up the desk, and a thick tome was open across her knees, from which she seemed to be reading, totally absorbed by the text.

He made his way down to the first floor, watching the woman curiously. He thought he knew who this must be, but he couldn’t be sure. He was also hesitant to make too much noise. But he finally had to clear his throat to announce his presence, as it was clear the woman had no clue that he was standing there. As soon as he did, her head jerked up, frowning slightly at the interruption. Her eyes fixed on Samuel, and her eyes shot wide. With a squeak, she tried to rise to her feet. Unfortunately, as they were still planted firmly on the desk, she succeeded only in toppling gracelessly from the chair and out of sight.

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“Are you okay?” He asked, hurriedly moving forward to check on her. That had sounded like a nasty fall. But he saw that head of mousy hair peek up over the desk, revealing no more than a pair of vibrant hazel eyes, and he stopped in his tracks. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her brows came down once more into a frown, and she pushed herself up a little higher. She seemed just as confused as he felt for a moment before her face cleared, and she flushed a brilliant red. “Oh! You must be Samuel! I’m so sorry, I thought you were-”

She cut herself off mid-sentence, but he could surmise what she’d been about to say. “You thought I was a ghost of my father, didn’t you?”

Mutely, she nodded, her face still bright red in embarrassment. He couldn’t suppress the snort of laughter that escaped him at the awkwardness of the moment. Pushing past it, he took one more step forward, holding a hand out. “I’m guessing you’re Mari. I’m Samuel. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you.”

After a moment of hesitation, she accepted the handshake. “Yes, I’m Mari. Mari… err, Bragg.”

That came as a surprise to him. Arthur had said that Mari had been taken in as a ward, but he hadn’t mentioned the girl getting George’s name. “I guess that makes us family.”

“Oh, hardly,” she said breathily, looking mildly alarmed at the idea. “I only have the name because of my school. Outside of the College, I don’t have a surname. Lord Bragg never formally adopted me, and I never saw him as a father.”

“But you clearly knew him well,” Samuel guessed, taking another glance around the room. “You look very much at home in this room. I assume this was his study?”

She nodded. “He liked to sit in here when he did his paperwork. He didn’t care much about the books, but he let me transform the rest of the study into a library to help with my studies.”

Somehow, Samuel found that he was pleased to learn that his father wasn’t much of a reader. He was itching to read all the books he could get his hands on in this room already. That difference flared in his chest like a badge of honor. Smiling up at the many shelves around and above him, he took in a deep breath, simply smelling the parchment and leather bindings.

“Well, I think I’ll like this room,” he said. “I love reading, even if it’s not for school.”

“Me too!” She said enthusiastically. In an instant, all her assumed awkwardness was washed away, and he could recognize the energetic gleam in her eyes. It was the same overpowering curiosity that drove him in life. “Have you seen the maps here? Arthur just updated them last night.”

She led Samuel over to one wall bereft of bookshelves. Instead, there were several glass display cases, and frames hanging on the wall. Samuel was taken aback at the maps on display here. Not because they were of high quality - because they were - but because he recognized them. They were copied directly from his own charts of the area around Milagre.

“How did he have time to copy my maps?” Samuel asked blankly, staring up at the larger versions of charts he’d created for his business. “These must have taken hours.”

“You made these? They’re amazing! I’ve never seen charts with this much quality. Even the College maps can’t compare to this.”

Her praise made him flush slightly, but he pushed past it, seeing another piece of parchment enclosed in one of the display tables. What caught his eye was the state of the scrap, for it was a scrap. Badly burned around the edges, but what sections weren’t burned were covered in tiny scrawling lines of text. Mari noticed his attention shift and made her way over.

“This was taken from the journal of Archmage Peran,” she said. “I don’t think it’s worth much, but I saved it anyway. I don’t even think he knows I have it. Probably best that he doesn’t.”

He wasn’t sure what about the parchment that drew his attention, at least until he bent over to read it. His pulse quickened as he took in the words. This was about Arcana! It had to be, there was no other possible explanation.

I feel as if every ounce of my sanity is being pulled away from me. I can hear the scorn of my colleagues, and even some of my pupils. They call me a madman, but I know I hear him. He calls to me in my sleep, just as he did then, in that cave. He calls to me to find him, but I do not know how. The librarians of the College have been useless in helping me find out more. They suggest that Arcana is nothing but an illusion, but I know he is real. Nobody can remember him, and there is no mention of his name in the history books. Perhaps if I--

“This Archmage,” Samuel said, suddenly short of breath. “Is there anything else he’s written about Arcana? Any books I can read that mention it?”

She looked at him in surprise and perhaps a little concern. He was sure his eyes looked a little crazed just then, but he didn’t care. This was the first real hint he’d gotten since meeting Arcana in the dream. If there was even a slight chance that more of his written works would contain a clue, he’d read the man’s entire collection. Anything to aid him in his search.

“Archmage Peran gave up his search for the spirit named Arcana long ago,” Mari said slowly. “He doesn’t even mention the name nowadays.”

“He’s still alive?” Samuel asked, whirling around to stare at her excitedly. “This Archmage Peran?”

“Of course,” she agreed. “He’s the Archmage of Knowledge at the College.”