Museum of Grimoire - 5.3 - Early Access (Patreon)

Noire arrived not too long after word was passed along. Given her slightly disheveled and flustered state, it was clear she had probably dropped whatever she’d been then to immediately respond to Florence’s request. More than likely, she’d been documenting something interesting.

However, it was clear from those very excited eyes that the unknown mystery took precedence over what could be simply returned to later. Her words all but confirmed it. “You found something new? I must have a look,” she quickly expressed, descending into the basement with hurried steps. “Something undiscovered in the old capital could, of course, be nothing. It could also very well be something quite groundbreaking.”

“Whatever it is, get it over quickly!” barked the establishment’s owner, not very pleased at this disruption to their business. “We’re still open, but without the lower level, how am I to serve everybody?”

“You simply do,” Photios plainly remarked, his words causing them to stiffen at the reminder of his presence. “You hardly new ample cause to hide a select few away, do you?”

“Well… um…”

Florence was quite glad that the paladin knew his duty, making sure that the experts worked without pressure or harassment. It allowed her to follow the historian downstairs alongside, wanting to be the one to point out her discovery. Soon, the two women gathered around the suspect pillar, inspecting it closely.

“It’s dark,” Noire muttered and ignited a magical light with a snap of the fingers. “Much better. Let’s see. My, oh my.”

“Is it something good?”

“For the moment, it’s a bit too soon to tell. But I can tell you that it is at least a find, which is a most important first step.” Her hands reached out and gently rubbed against the worn surface, taking care never to apply too much pressure. “Ah, that’s about where the bad news starts. Because it’s not what I’d call in good quality.”

The warlock winced and cast a look about the dingy setting. “Definitely not ideal conditions for preservation, huh?”

“Yes, though quite ironically, I believe that this environment is still better than just sitting outside all day. Without regular care and maintenance, the elements would have eroded far more over time.” Noire paused. “Though I suppose in this case, the splash of alcohol upon the surface could still be quite damaging, alongside whatever rough treatment it has had to endure over the years.

“Regardless, a moment if you would.” Noire quickly checked the other support beams in the tavern, humming thoughtfully. “No other markings, all of them appear quite smooth. This one is the standout variant. How intriguing.”

“Really?” Florence asked, casting a look herself on them. But she was sure that her patron had only pointed out a singular case, instead of a nudge at them all. “Wait. I’m guessing that tells us something.”

Noire nodded encouragingly. “Go on, I’d like to hear your idea.”

The younger of the two summoned her staff and used the bottom of it to tap against where the pillar met the hard floor. It took a bit of wiggling before her efforts yielded results, revealing the slight difference in color. A subtle detail that only could truly be realized when comparing how the two surfaces met one another. “These pillars aren’t natural formations,” Florence declared. “You could think so from how they look like the common stone used in the old capital, but these were actually added after the area had been dug out.”

“A very interesting theory, one that is supported by how this district does see considerable renovations. I would be very surprised if the tavern above was not the first to sit on this hidden treasure.” Noire rubbed her chin, thinking about the idea. “Should we suppose that all these support pillars came from elsewhere in the city, then that greatly expands the range of dates we’ll be working with.”

“So you think it’s something as early as the Fifth Age?”

“It would make sense, given that was when a lot of construction was going around in the old capital.” Yet Noire hesitated, not so sure on the matter. “But I think… hmm. It’s times like these where you really would want to ask for more time to consult things like records to cross reference. But I doubt that a bar like this would keep anything so detailed about its history, let alone whatever came before.”

“Maybe expenditures and profits,” Florence noted, then blinked. “Wait, no. This place would absolutely have such detail to it.”

“Hmm?”

Quickly, she explained the entire rationale that had led to her picking this place to spend some time at. By the tale’s end, Noire was deep in thought, thinking things through. “The fable of the ‘Drunken Hero’ is something that I do wish to investigate, but can wait for later. The business is surely not going anywhere soon, but this disruption to their operations cannot last so long. Let’s make haste in seeking what the owner knows.”

A trip back upstairs culminated in a lengthy discussion with the irate barkeeper, who at first still was quite reluctant to talk about anything. That was, until the mention of that tall tale about an ogre bar crawl across the continent which loosened their lips. Now with the ease and confidence of having told this same story before, they finally revealed some curious things.

They weren’t exactly the same owner as when the ‘Drunken Hero’ had supposedly blown through the place, which did make sense. There had definitely been another time, another journey. But the one who had been in charge back then had been supposedly awestruck, enough to pass down all they knew of the establishment they had built. They knew how the story would market their drinks, and sell it did.

It also gave some helpful clues for the two studying the underground.

The tavern, as suspected, was definitely newer than the basement. The building had actually been built over what at the time was believed to be some sort of cellar at the time. Before that, details were scarce- something about a residential block, perhaps.

Surprisingly, it was Photios who then added onto that revelation. “This district did used to be a residential region, like majority of the old capital. It in some parts still is,” the paladin mentioned. “But compared to like the temple or market districts, it has shifted more recently.”

“Residential, hmm,” murmured Noire as she crossed her arms, pondering the detail. “Interesting. Let’s go back down and have a look, Florence.”

“Of course, Miss Noire.” Once again ignoring the grumblings of the owner, they returned back to the pillar and studied the faint blemishes again. “So do you think it has something to do with how this place used to be where people lived?”

“You caught on quickly.” She glanced at the warlock with a pointed look. “In fact, there is something that does lend credence to the idea. Where people would have spent their lives, they may have possibly also perished in.”

Florence caught on quickly. “Which would be relevant enough for a spirit of death to take notice.” Through her connection, something like a flicker of amusement echoed from her partner. Like she’d finally caught onto some jest.

“That is my current hypothetical. But still, how does it all tie together then?” Noire was clearly racking her head, trying to think of an approach. Her companion did the same, studying the carving with an intense gaze. Perhaps too much so, as Florence didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until her lungs ached.

She let go and tried intake some air, only to cough violently in the dusty basement. Her head jerked away to make sure she didn’t accidentally spoil the find over such a silly mistake. “Arck, sorry!”

“It’s a bit musty, isn’t it?” Noire mused, not at all bothered. Not when breathing was already optional to her. “Maybe some fresh air would do you some good.”

“Y-yes, I think that’s a good idea. Do you wish to come along with?”

“A tempting offer, as a fresh perspective could be what is needed.” Even as she said it though, Noire was rummaging in her bag. “I wish to try something first however. Go on ahead, this might take a bit.”

Florence nodded and turned away, catching a glimpse of what the archaeologist was doing in the process. She had taken out a sheaf of paper and pressed it against the surface of the pillar with one hand. The other brandished a charcoal stick that she very delicately rubbed against the surface, making sure to apply only the gentlest of pressure onto the surface. A method of recording the suspected carving, perhaps?

Not a terrible idea, but it did leave the question of where to take it afterwards.

That part, the apprentice wondered as she exited the tavern proper and stretched. It hadn’t exactly been how she expected her day of relaxation to go, but honestly? There was something just so engrossing about uncovering the past in this very hands on manner. Florence had never thought she’d be so interested in history, given how ordinarily tedious reading those texts quickly got.

But there was also something so… different about being in the moment of those pages now. Here she was, in the old capital, standing between the lines of what she could only faintly imagine to see one day. Here she was, getting her hands directly on parts of antiquity- and loving every moment of it.

So even though her rest might be spoiled, Florence found herself simply already looking forward to the next excavation effort. After solving the puzzle of this one, of course.

Her thoughts were briefly interrupted by somebody emerging from the tavern, grunting loudly. It wasn’t Noire but Photios, who seemed emotionless as always. But there was also the slightest of quirks to his lips, a brief upturn in what could perhaps be satisfaction. “The tavern keeper wishes to once again express displeasure regarding this interruption to their day. They’re saying they might as well not have opened at all.”

“Surely an exaggeration.”

“Of course,” smoothly commented the paladin, glancing briefly about. “One could even argue that their regulars would be interested in investigating the commotion later. So the drinks sold later will make up for the lack of drinks sold now.”

“You still seemed all giddy about it,” Florence said with a slight chuckle. “I guess in a way, the spirits heard your plea.”

“Indeed they have- and I recognize their gift.” He briefly clasped his arm across his chest in a respectful manner. “My faith to them has been proven once more. So I shall endure as they will it.”

At least he was happy about something. The mention of regulars had Florence looking about too, soaking in the ambiance of the old capital as twilight began to descend. She watched how the people moved, shifting from their daily busywork to a more relaxed gait. Though some still hurried about, engaged with business all the same, the average commonfolk now looked to unwind and return to their homes. For as venerable and holy as the old capital was, it still was a place that many lived, breathed, and died in.

Hold on. Something about that… it felt familiar.

A breakthrough? But on what?