Museum of Grimoire - 5.4 - Early Access (Patreon)

“You look like you’ve realized something then.” Noire emerged from the tavern with the transcribed sketch in hand, looking curiously at the warlock. “Mind sharing it with me?”

“It’s nothing for the moment,” Florence mumbled, not really believing those words. She knew she was close, but that final step of realization eluded her, frustrating her train of thought. Worse of all was the impression of slight mocking from her bond, her partner apparently amused by the struggle. “Argh. Give me some time, please, it’s on the tip of my tongue-!”

“No need to beat yourself over the head if it’s not coming,” reassured the historian with a gentle pat on the back. “History doesn’t happen in one day, you know.”

“… I know.” Some of that pent-up annoyance escaped with a forceful exhale and Florence shook her head, choosing to cast her mind in another direction for now. “Is that the carving?”

“Yes, have a look. It’s not quite convincing, I know,” Noire admitted, letting out a slight sigh. “But really, the quality isn’t so great. If it was something like a Fifth, perhaps even Fourth Age construct, so much detail has disappointingly been lost. Have a look.”

She held out the drawing and Florence leaned in to have a closer look. It really wasn’t anything impressive, like Noire had warned; so much had likely been worn away that all that was left was just a series of lines and indents that seemingly possessed no intent or reason. It almost was akin to idle doodle the apprentice sometimes did in the margin of her notes when things happened to drone on monotonously in lectures. And even then, such scribbles usually… has a reason...

Through the pact- a slow, satisfied clap.

One that the student of magic paid no heed too as her eyes widened, head snapping back and forth as she looked from drawing to setting. Noire started slightly, taken aback by the sudden jerky movement. “Florence? What’s gotten into you?”

“Miss Noire, look. Don’t you think that nearby intersection over there-” She pointed, then moved her finger down to where where some of the lines crossed on the paper. “Doesn’t it match this?”

To her credit, the archaeologist only needed a moment to process the realization before her own mind crunched the possibility. “It’s… possible. No, wait.” Her own gaze swept across the urban landscape too, brow furrowing in thought. “There is a passing resemblance, yes. But at the same time, an issue: some of these lines, if we were to presume them streets, do not match up with a crossing where other paths meet. If it is a map, it would be an exceedingly incorrect one.”

Florence deflated slightly. But then she realized that the historian wasn’t actually done, continuing to talk about the idea. “However, maps are of course immediately dated the moment they are declared ‘finished.’ Streets and blocks change with the needs of the people, so it isn’t impossible for things to have changed since.” Noire pressed her lips together. “In which case, the next step would probably be to compare it to other navigational charts and see if there is an echo of familiarity among them. Assuming that is what it is.”

“So do you think that I’m right?” she asked and Noire hesitated.

“For the moment, I’m… not yet so convinced,” she confessed with a shake of the head. “I will of course explore that line of inquiry, but at the same time? It just doesn’t have anything that I would expect of a map of those times.” Her fingers lightly tapped against the sketch. “As we’ve seen, the Fourth and Fifth Age were characterized by laborious ornamentation. If it was something like a carved pillar with a map upon it, then I would suspect the edges having small little flairs where the artist would leave at least a mark. But it’s all perfectly smooth, so it’s a bit of a hard sell.”

That did ring true. Florence thought on how the skull broach they unearthed did somehow retain its shape, still a faint echo of what it had once been even after so many generations. This carving on the pillar had none of that, thus making it very unlikely to be one such construct. Notably, the idea wasn’t immediately waved aside- as there was room for possible circumstance to affect the outcome- but the theory was a little weak.

Yet the warlock pushed on all the same, determined. She sought further to provide further context, looking about for inspiration. Then her eyes fell upon the waiting paladin and a question leapt from her lips.

“Sir Photios, how well do you know these streets? Are you aware of how they changed over time?”

“… I am, as there are plenty of ‘shortcuts’ that have since been buried by development over the years,” he confessed, giving a slight nod. “It has become a part of my duties since undertaking my current position to always be aware of how these roads shift and change.”

“Then can you please take a look at this sketch and tell us if anything stands out to you?”

He grunted and stepped closer to have a better look. “I would ask for further clarification, but I also am aware of what you seek already.” The holy knight had been in earshot the whole time, simply holding his tongue. “Hmm. Interesting.”

“What is it?” Noire asked, a little eagerly. “Do you notice something?”

“The district we are in has only recently undergone significant renovation.” His eyes trailed across the parchment and studied the layouts. “… There is a pattern. Those most recent streets are wholly absent indeed, which could be considered accurate were this an antique map. Meanwhile, the lines depicted, they happen to share a quite relevant trait.”

“Which is?” Florence asked, holding her breath slightly.

“That they happen to be the city’s most antique roads, those pathways that first shaped and defined how the old capital would eventually be like,” he mentioned casually, like it were idle gossip at a meal. “It of course could just be an interesting coincidence. But I believe those roads not depicted, the one over here.” He gestured with a wave. “They were around as far back as the Fourth Age, according to some illustrations of ceremonies. So it is entirely possible that this depiction perhaps… predates our faith.”

It took a few seconds for that to sink in, and a little bit more before the two humans realized something. The held sketch was shaking, its holder’s arms quivering. Noire was… shaking, somehow remaining in place while her form seemed to tremble, possibly even distorting just a bit.

“By the primordials,” she whispered, her face akin to a zealot receiving divine decree, “Do you two realize it? What you found?”

“It’s… it’s older than Fourth Age, right?” Florence confirmed, the impact of her discovery beginning to really seize her. “Which means- Third Age?!”

“Third Age possibly, indeed!” gasped Noire, almost ripping apart her sketch in excitement as she wrapped an arm around the apprentice in a very uncharacteristic hug. “Third Age! Do you know how many Third Age relics are out there? Not very many! Of course it isn’t as scant as the rumored First and Second- but this is when recorded history truly began!

“The era where the dragons razed the world- then built it all over again! Which is what the old capital is, one of the oldest cities in Akasha!” She was shouting now, drawing bemused looks from passerby pedestrians, unaware of the magnitude of the quite random discovery. “No wonder why there didn’t seem to be any sort of decoration! The Third Age was reportedly a time of simplicity, with very little given to additional aesthetics. Only closer to the end, with the dawn of the Fourth Age in sight, did it start to begin to truly become extravagant.

“In which case, there wasn’t much detail that actually had been lost over the years! We weren’t supposed to find any!” Noire laughed gleefully, spinning about and looking ready to sprint back. “What a find, what a discovery! To imagine that this piece of ancient history was sitting in some basement all this time, drunks imbibing a supposed drink of folklore tale when they were actually sitting next to something over twice as old in comparison-!”

She was gone then, rushing back into the tavern to undoubtedly begin working on a full archival effort of the pillar. It left Florence and Photios standing there, both staring at how the historian had discarded all sorts of niceties to indulge in her fascination. “She… really gets into it, huh,” Florence finally commented with a slight chuckle. “I don’t think I’ll even try to get her drunk. I’ll just give her another ancient find instead.”

“I see. In that regard, I suppose we both are troubled by who we serve.”

“Hey!” There was the tavern keeper again, shouting. “What’s going on? What do you mean you might have to rip up my nice floor!”

“Ah.” Florence winced. “Right, so Miss Noire absolutely will want to try and preserve the pillar. But it’s a structural support now, isn’t it? Which complicates things.”

“That it does.” But even with that admittance, Photios moved with a confident, dutiful pace to meet intercept the owner. “However, for such circumstances, I have been tasked by her holiness to see to it that arrangements are made for your benefit. This, in a sense, is a mere trial of what I will come to expect as a common occurrence.”

Oh, that was right; The reason why the old capital was chosen as their next stop was to seek favor with the Followers of the Divine for unearthing these possibly contested artifacts. Now that they had it, what better time to first exercise it than in the city itself? “Thank you, we’ll be counting on the saint’s favor for such.”

“The saint’s favor is the will of the spirits. Nothing else to it.”

This time, Florence didn’t even need to feel through her connection how smug her patron was.