"In the Three Hundred and Forty-Seventh Cycle Since Founding

Friends, Companions in the eyes of Soertheras:

It was by the 7th Verse that our mission was to go out into the world, and grant the gift of knowledge to the grand peoples of Hristomver. Many esteemed members of our libraries and church have thus, taken upon themselves to leave our great island and to bring the fruits of our labour beyond. However, in these scattered attempts and lonely endeavours, we have seen many failures, more so than successes.

(*excluded here are the ecclesiastical arguments and justifications for the policies set forth*)

Therefore, a framework for the deployment of our scholars shall be set:

- Each official deployment will consist of a Household, and be headed by a Patriarch.

- A Household can only have Librarians that are of Diacon and above - Aspirants are forbidden to partake until they have become Diacon. These Librarians shall act as the Libary-in-Presence - as representatives, and a foreign office of Uiatach in wherever they shall work.

- A Household must bring along its own Codex, and maintain it separately and vigorously by an Ijazah.

- Each Household will have its own military support. A Watch-Primate must be commander of a contingent, which can be decided by the Church and in relative size to the size of the Household.

- The nature of these expeditions shall be decided and their fates divined by the High Quadrant.

(*additional clarifications and notes have been excluded here as well for brevity’s sake*)

By Soetheras’s Eye and the Right of Founding -

- (personal seal of Exarch Victor Chazerenga, styled ‘the Educator’)

- (personal seal of Warden-Cardinal Xelos II)"

- Directive 201st of the Watch Libary of Uiatach, “With Regards to the Overseas Assignment of the Patriarchy to Foreign Polities”

“Roland, you know, maybe give me some space?”

The trio was reunited again, a table at one of the working areas of the university. Roland, Vernon and Ishraaq were gathered around a table, working on their individual projects, with the quiet hum of cars driving on the road adjacent in the background.

“Like seriously,” Vernon pointed at Roland’s side of the table, which was covered in books and study material, not to mention his large laptop, while his friends sitting opposite him used less space each. “You take up more space than a hippo!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Following Vernon’s protest, Roland hastily dumped a few of the things on the table on the bench beside him, allowing Vernon to shift some of his things onto the table as well.

“Like, that’s a bad habit! Once you are done with what you are doing, you should at least pack it up or something!” Vernon continued to nag, all too much like a concerned parent.

“OK, OK…I will make sure, next time-”

“Don’t ‘ok,ok’ me.”

Snickering, Ishraaq - whose table footprint was limited to his relatively small laptop - peered over his laptop screen. “Wait, what are you even doing, Roland?”

“Translating some...stuff.” Roland’s eyes darted between the foolscap paper he was writing on, and his own laptop screen, which at each of his keystrokes, changed between displaying the pages of a physics textbook, an encyclopedia’s page on electromagnetism, and other student resources. “Like, I need to bring some...materials for research over to...you-know-what-I-mean, and it’s not like I can use an online translator, right?”

“But why - oooooh.” realising mid-sentence, Ishraaq nodded in understanding. “Must be hard being the only one in the world who knows that specific language.”

“Oh trust me, you haven’t even grasped it.” Roland looked down and the foolscap paper - four to five pages worth of a hasty introduction to electromagnetism and quantum particles, written in clumsy Strovian and with the legibility of a student rushing his homework. “Like…” pausing to try to rub the fatigue out of his face, “...trying to write technically in this language, translating all the calculus, especially one I’ve only learnt about a year ago…in the past I could just describe things, but here it won’t cut it.”

“...Sometimes I have to wonder, just what you are getting out of all this effort,” Vernon said, furiously crossing out a mistake on his own work.

“...I can call you rude things and you won’t get it?” Roland followed up with a strangled vulgarity in Strovian, smiling cheekily.

“What I don’t know means nothing to me.” Vernon deadpanned, as he tore off the sheet of foolscap and started writing on a fresh page.

“I...uh, can cast magic?”

“Like, what, ‘real’ magic or just some magic trick?” Ishraaq lowered his screen, joining the discussion in full.

“‘Real’ magic.” Gently, Roland reached under his collar, fingering a metal chain hidden beneath his shirt. Hooking the metal, he dragged the necklace out, revealing a polished shard of an azure aetherial crystal attached to it. “Like, I even have this.”

“What the…” Vernon stared at it confused. “The fuck is that thing on you for?”

“It’s an aetherial crystal.” Letting it drop onto the front of his shirt, Roland continued to explain. “You could think of it as some sort of magic battery. It acts as an additional reservoir to draw aetherial power from, and since our world doesn’t have the aether to draw power from, this is the only source of it here.”

“And why on earth would you bring it to university?”

“Well uh, that’s because drawing power from aetherial crystals without getting used to it has some side effects. So I’m basically wearing this around and just using random spells here and there to slowly get used to it.”

“...so...someone told you to go hang some magical object on you, and you just did it.” Ishraaq drawled, semi-jokingly. “You reaaaaally put too much trust in that woman.”

Roland opened his mouth, before closing it, nary a comeback to be found.

“I mean, that explanation does sound reasonable, but you know, just saying,” Ishraaq said, a concerned look on his face. “Who knows what she plans to do with whatever you provide. Besides, maybe she’s charmed you, and you are doing all this just to impress a woman.”

“Oh, shush.” Roland turned away with a snort. “If...its… it’s a...scholarly exchange, alright? Think of it...like a guest professor, ok? There’s nothing more to it, and you know, I’m not that sort of person.”

“Uh-huh.” Ishraaq’s concerned expression didn’t fade, remaining unconvinced.

“That looks pretty small, anyways,” Vernon said as he leaned in to get a better look at the crystal. “What can you even do with it?”

Wordlessly, Roland raised his left hand and snapped his fingers. As the crystal glowed briefly, a spark popped above his fingers, and a flame appeared on the tip of his outstretched index finger.

Ishraaq nodded but didn’t look impressed. “So...you are a walking lighter now?”

“I mean, were you expecting me to throw a fireball or something?”

“I rather you don’t burn down the university, but yeah, obviously people expect a bit more when you say you can use magic.” Ishraaq continued. “What about...conjuring swords? Summoning demons? Creating explosions?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Roland shook his head. “Arcanum is kind of...complicated, to the point I don’t think I’ve learnt any of the combat techniques. Of course, I could ask...but it haven’t actually come to my mind to learn any of those.”

“So that’s it?” Vernon sounded a little disappointed. “You are just a glorified lighter, then?”

“Well, nooo.” Roland paused for a second, before picking up one of his pens - a simple ballpoint with blue gel ink. Focusing on it, he began the mentally weave the beginnings of a spell. As the crystal hanging from his neck glew again, around the pen, a circle of glyphs began to bind around it.

His two friends watched silently, as the spell completed, the glyphs flashing for an instant before disappearing. The glow from the crystal faded, only to pulse momentarily, as Roland relaxed on the bench, relaxing from the mental effort.

“So...what did you just do to your pen?” Vernon finally said, after a few moments of silence

Roland took a deep breath before speaking. “Well, I put...what you might call a tracking spell on it.” He picked it up, waving it from the left side of his body to the right side of his body - and feeling the weak aetherial pull of the spell in relation to his body. “I can feel something like its general direction and distance relative to me, and strengthens and weakens according to said distance.” Roland began juggling the pen, clicking his tongue. “There’s also a way to utilise this spell to track things according to a map...but I don’t know that spell, and besides, I’m not that familiar with Hristomver’s coordinates…”

Both of Roland’s friends nodded, impressed - until Ishraaq, grinning evilly, said, “So does that work on humans?”

“I mean, I dunno, I have to check, but it will probably work on someone’s clothing.”

“So does that mean you will use that to track your future girlfriend?”

“W-what?” Roland turned white, utterly mortified. “No! Why - why would you say th-”

Both Vernon and Ishraaq burst into loud snickering, attracting the attention of those walking by the benches. Vernon, cackling madly, raised a hand shaped like a phone to his ear. “Hallo, police?” He mimicked, savouring the look on Roland’s face.

The pen flew high, and bounced off Ishraaq’s forehead, but only seemed to increase the volume of his chortling.

Watching his friends, Roland snorted, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you two,” he said, yet enjoying the solace of their laughter.

“But really,” Ishraaq changed tune rapidly, expression turning serious again. “You know what they say? ‘Knowledge is power’? I’m not saying that your friend there is out to get you - like come on, you’ve been doing this for a while now, I’m sure that Madeline has your interests at heart - but we know how you are like, and you have this habit of taking things…at face value very quickly.”

“Yah.” Vernon piped in. “Remember that time you got cheated into guard duty?”

“Not just one time, multiple times, even.” Ishraaq said. “Just looking out for you, bro.”

Roland sighed. “I understand, I understand. But I still need to finish this quickly anyway.”

“Just don’t forget.”

==|==

“Welcome back, Roland.”

“Good afternoon - or is it the evening?”

“The latter. Findriel is descending soon.”

As Roland stepped through the portal, Madeline was already waiting to greet him - this time with a large book hanging from a chain slung over her shoulder.. After the two of them bowed to each other, the runic device wound down, and returned to its dormant state.

“So...have you...found the Plimsveri Scroll?” Roland asked, face reddening as he made the embarrassing request.

“An investigation into the codex found it there, yes.” Madeline nodded, seeing the matter as some simple administration mishap. “It was brought down there by the Diacon Horac, the same one that you met yesterday. Don’t worry, I will have it brought up once we are done divining on your arcanum ketras.”

“That’s a relief. Phew.” Roland visibly relaxed. “If it had been lost…”

Madeline said nothing, merely putting a hand to the doors of the room to unlock it. As she did, Roland watched her, while his thoughts went wandering.

Am I that infatuated with her?

A mental image of his partner appeared in his mind, with her features appearing vividly in his imagine. Too vividly, perhaps, as Roland flushed with embarrassment as he desperately tried to drive those images from his mind.

I mean, yeah, she’s pretty and...good looking, but she’s basically my boss! And probably older if you actually think about it! What the hell am I thinking.

As he tried to shake his mind of those thoughts, a strangled grunt escaped his lips, audible enough for the Grand Magister to hear, causing her to turn around. “What is it?”

“Ah, ah, shiit-” Not expecting her to take notice, Roland panicked. “No, um, well, it’s just, considering what we did the last time I was around, I do have something for you-”

Roland started reaching into his bag, only to stop short at the last second.

“You have this habit of taking things…at face value very quickly.”

“Hmmm? What is it?” Seeing Roland pause suddenly, and remaining silent for a few moments, Madeline poked in. Remembering Ishraaq’s words, Roland removed his hand from his bag.

“Nevermind, I’ll discuss it after we finish...the uh, divination.”

“Alright.”

“Actually, wait.” Before she turned back, Roland stopped her with another question. “Do you have...family?”

“Why would you ask that?” Madeline focused on the door, and with the brief flash of the glyph, the great locks began unlocking themselves.

“It’s more...even though we’ve been working together for a while...some parts of you still feel like a mystery to me.” Making a nervous laugh, Roland rubbed the back of his head. “Like, sometimes I feel that I know more about Masaru than you...but we are...colleagues, or employer and employee, so it would be nice to know more of each other? I mean, I’ve told you about my family before...”

“Well, Masaru does take pride in the Empire, even if he wishes to leave it behind him. And wouldn’t men understand men more easily?” Madeline made a wry smile at her last remark. “Still...on Uiatach, there is not much room for family, at least for those who do not support its harvests. I daresay Masaru is the closest to family, but he has merely been an apprentice and a servant to his own needs.”

“What about...outside Uiatach?”

“Ah….” As a troubled look - a rare occasion - descended upon Madeline’s face, her fingers moving her neck. As she adjusted the clasp that held her robes, Roland noticed a dark purple choker, a gem attached to either side of it, wrapped cleanly around her neck. “That’s a long story, Roland…perhaps another time.”

Before Roland could ask another question the doors to the Portal Room swung open, revealing a distressed Masaru - and a platoon of Magus-Curiassers behind him.

“Speak of the dev-” Roland stopped in shock. “Wait, what’s going on?”

“Matriarch,” Masaru said, ignoring Roland, “There’s been an attack.”

“Where?” The Grand Magister’s voice turned high and cold.

“The Codex. Someone was caught setting a fire in on the shelves and got away, and the aetherial winds speak of other trickery at foot throughout our halls. So I’m ordering the entirety of the Mallebrium to be shut, and the men on patrol-”

Sure enough, the great platform to the surface was already ascending beyond reach, a barrier of opaque light erecting itself under it. Several other Uiatachian soldiers - both the elite guard of the Curiassers, and more simple squires and swordmen - were busy securing the halls, ushering acolytes back to their room or locking rooms with sealing spells.

“Hallas.” Grabbing the grimoire at her side, Madeline spoke a spell, as she opened the large tome. An aetherial pulse radiated forth, blowing past the group and into the hall, the force of its passing strong enough to nudge Roland aside. “I see.” Without any explanation, she shut the book again, letting it drop back with a little clink.

“Your orders, Matriarch?” Masaru asked again.

“Our adversary is skilled in arcanum trickery,” the Grand Magister declared, her voice grave. “But clumsy, and inexperienced. Masaru - bring Roland to my quarters, and ward it with the Suite of Denial. The rest of you, form up on me. We need to hunt this intruder with all haste.”

Without any hesitation, Masaru quickly grabbed Roland’s arm, pulling him aside.

“Wait!” Roland shouted, confused. “Shouldn’t I be sent ba-”

“The leylines are exhausted, and you do not have the proper protections.” The Magister answered with a voice that brooked no argument. “You will be safe in my rooms. Wait there till I return.”

“You have heard her orders, we must leave.” With that proclamation, Masaru carefully tugged Roland on. With nothing else to say, the Outsider followed without another word.

==|==

The most prominent feature that Roland noticed about Madeline’s rooms was the persistent clicking.

As he sat in a cushioned, tall chair, his attention was preoccupied with the large mechanical device sitting on a desk in the middle of the room, with a face that resembled a clock. Part of its workings - a complex mechanic gearing that included a large spring as its source of power - say exposed to the air in its wooden frame, the decorated panels removed to the side and thus allowing the sound to leak out.

Roland grimaced at it, a little distracted by the noise but not willing enough to trespass to cover it up. Instead, he looked around, inspecting his host’s office.

The Grand Magister’s quarters - a circular room with a dome-like canopy, like the rest of the Mallebrium, was situated underground, light provided by a series of aetherial crystals, but ones that glowed a homely yellowish-gold. Decorated along the walls were a series of paintings, but they were mostly of landscapes and fields, although the one behind the table was that of the Crystal Castle itself. Below those paintings, sat various instruments or items of unknown purpose, including a full cabinet that sat behind the table, a flat trunk that looked more like a weapon carrying case that laid next to it, and Madeline’s formal staff of office. Aside from the double doors leading into the room, another door was behind the table - presumably to her private bedroom - and the floor was laid by a rug, decorated with a flowery pattern of red, white and yellow.

Boredom and curiosity had led Roland to ‘inspect’ the place, but most of the things in the room had been locked, as expected. Hence he was back on the chair, head resting on his arms beside the clicking device, a trance electronic piece playing on his phone as he attempted to stave off boredom

There was a knock on the door, causing Roland to stand up. “Madeline?” he asked, switching off the music and dropping his phone back into his bag.

“Um? No, this is…”

An unfamiliar voice, a young boy that sounded a little uncertain, answered instead, causing Roland’s hackles to rise.

“Who’s this, then?” Roland asked, on alert.

“It's…” there was a cough, before the man on the other side answered. “It is Diacon Varlac, one of t-the attendants to the Household’s Codex…”

“And what are you here for?”

“I’ve...I’ve been asked to bring you the scroll that you lost…”

Huh. Wait… Roland frowned, thinking. “Isn’t the Mallebrium under...lockdown?”

“Oh um…” The voice on the other side paused for a few moments. “There’s...there are ways to move about the dungeons safely...and I was told by the Ijazah Moncero to bring this scroll to you, as the codex was being attacked..”

“I...see.” Roland relaxed a little, yet still a little wary.

“M-may I come in?” The Diacon asked, fear in his voice. “Whoever is around might find me…”

“Alright.” Quickly. Roland walked to the door and pulled it back, a loud sigh emanating from it as the wards on the door broke with its opening. Seeing the green hooded, slightly trembling figure in the doorway, he quickly waved him in. “Get in, get in.”

The Diacon scurried inside, holding a familiar tube in his hands. Quickly, his heart racing a little, Roland pushed the heavy door shut, the wards on it reactivating with a glow and a soft tinkle. Putting his ear against the door for a few moments, he listened for a few more seconds, before taking a sigh of relief as he heard nothing else.

Exhaling hard, Roland turned to the visitor, who had pulled off his own hood and was breathing heavily, stopping when he read the acolyte’s features.

“Wait...haven’t I seen you before?” Roland asked, frowning.

“Er…” The young boy - probably only fifteen to seventeen years of age - stared up at the Outsider with fearful eyes. “...perhaps you have met my brother, Horac? He and I are Diacons tending to the Codex -”

“Ah, yes.” Roland snapped his left fingers, pacing about. “He was bringing the scrolls that we were using yesterday - and he probably brought my scroll down by accident.” Roland chuckled a little. “Still, my thanks for his help.”

“My brother works really hard… so hearing that would mean much to him, Mate Outsider.”

“Mmmm.” Roland nodded in approval, before returning to his seat. “I guess we will have to wait for Masaru to finish clearing out the threat then…”

As Roland relaxed in the chair, Varlac simply stood, watching him with unblinking eyes.

“...Mate Outsider…” the Diacon asked his voice nearly a whisper. “...aren’t you...going to take this scroll?”

“Oh, right.” stretching out his left hand, Roland plucked the tube out of the Diacon’s gingering hands. “...hey, what are you so scared of?” Seeing the boy’s nervous character, Roland could not help but suppress a nervous laugh.

“You…you are the Outsider.” Varlac simply replied.

Roland snorted, looking away for a moment. “Yes...but...I’m just an outsider. Fraziel. That’s it. Nothing more.”

“I...but they say you know so much, you know more than the Exarch of the Middle Seat.” Varlac’s voice came out as barely a squeak “...and...and you are close to the Matriarch, and the Warden-Primate…”

Do they really think of me that way?

Roland laughed again, reaching out and patting the boy’s shoulder - who was more than a head shorter than him, and hence was looking at him at eye-level. “Look, I’m...I’m not somebody who you need to fear, alright?” Roland spoke, trying to sound as gentle as he could. “Besides, I daresay that our relationship isn’t anywhere close…”

Turning away from the young acolyte, Roland shifted the chair around, placing the scroll on the table, before drumming it impatiently with his fingers.

“Anyways...what is a boy of your age so…” Roland scratched his head, looking again at Varlc. “Where are you from, exactly?”

“Vorstadt.”

“Ah.” Wait, didn’t Madeline say there was some...trouble, in Vorstadt? “Sorry, forgive me for asking...but aren’t there...problems in your homeland right now?”

The young acolyte shivered, head drooping downwards, as if embarrassed. “I....Mate Outsider, I’m not too sure. But from what my brother says...the King has ordered many things to be torn down, and others to be built up in its place. He says...he says that Vorstadt will be ‘made anew’ by the King’s orders...and I have not heard from Father or Mother in three findrielpulz…”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Roland replied, clasping his hands and weaving his fingers together. “I hope, for your sake, that they are safe.”

“M-may...may Findriel protect them…”

As Varlac sniffed, Roland muttered a quick prayer under his breath. “Anyways, why don’t you just...take a seat. I mean, its Made- I mean, the Magister’s office, but...well, just avoid touching anything here, otherwise I might get yelled at.”

The young acolyte nodded, before sitting in another of the chairs in the room. The minutes ticked by in absolute silence. Soon, the monotony returned.

How long are they going to take to close the threat? Roland wondered to himself, as he drummed his fingers on the ornate table. Opening his bag, he surreptitiously stole a peek at his phone, noting that it had been around an Earth-hour or so since his arrival. It might get late...

Ah, might as well start reading the scroll. Roland reached for the tube with some annoyance. Make the most out of the scenario.

Putting his finger to the Wristan Seal, he tried to create a pulse of aetherial energy to unlock it. After an uncomfortable period of mental exertion, a weak pulse of energy materialized at his fingertip - and the aetherial feycurrents inscribed on the tube began to glow, the energized. With a soft sigh, and what sounded like the rustling of paper, a clean breach in the tube formed one-eighths of the way from its left end, cutting a glyph in twain.

Is…that how the sealing mechanism works? Raising the seal to the light, he looked at the immaculate construction of the safekeeping device. Wow…

At that moment, Roland felt a presence closing in. Quickly, he spun around -

- and saw the young Diacon standing behind him, frozen to the spot.

“Y-yes?” Roland asked nervously, putting the scroll down. “Why...are you so close-”

“I - can -” The young acolyte stuttered, his hood pulled over his head to cover his face. “- may I know what is i-inside that scroll, Mate Outsider...”

“I - well,” Roland replied, feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second by the acolyte’s close proximity. “Listen. Whatever is inside here, is not something I can show you. I have my other work and...materials, if you want to see it but-”

“P-please give me everything, Mate Outsider…” As he stuttered under his breath, the Diacon shuffled closer.

“What?” Eyes widening, Roland’s mouth turned dry.

“I...I must save my family, my bro-”

Before the young acolyte could finish, Roland spotted the acolyte gripping...something in his left hand, revealed by the robe sleeving off a nervous arm

“Oh fuck off!”

Instincts kicking in, Roland pushed himself as far from the boy as possible - only to slam his back into the edge of the table.

Winded, Roland only could watch as the Acolyte darted forward, with a flash of silver as he held the weapon aloft.

“Aaagacck”

A strangled cry escaped the Outsider’s lips as something pieced him right below his left shoulder. His legs kicked out, sending a knee straight into his assailant’s stomach and causing the acolyte to stumble back.

Hyperventilating, Roland staggered to his feet, and looked down at the large needle-like object protruding from his chest.

Shit shit shit shit fuck shit aaaahh-

A trembling hand reached out for the weapon, only to stop short of pulling it out. Fear gripped Roland, as a host of questions raced through his mind in barely a millisecond. Am I supposed to pull it out? Won’t I bleed to death? Or is it poisoned?

HolycrapamIgoingtodiehere-

As he stood paralyzed, a shadow stumbled across his vision. Varlac was limping past him, heading towards the table.

“GET BACK HERE.”

With the fury of a wounded animal, Roland reached out, grabbing and yanking viciously at the acolyte’s robe. Gasping, the boy struggled, but age decided the result, the older man winning the tug of war and pulling his assailant close.Roland began to force Varlac into a lock, but at that moment, his opponent pulled out a short staff.

“H-h-haris!”

A force, like the hand of a giant, grabbed Roland and threw him up, forcing him to release his grip. Before he could react, Roland fell, and landed left- side first back on the floor with a loud slam.

Pain jackhammered his body, and the edges of his vision began to blacken. Raw anger fuelling him, Roland forced himself up, staring down the trembling acolyte.

“Why...are you doing this?” he asked.

A single tear slipped down Varlac’s face, even as he held his magical weapon up with two trembling hands. “My father...my brother....the King told me that we must bring...must bring information to him, to redeem my family, to keep them...safe!”

Roland said nothing, instead checking himself. He patted his side, only to realize his bag wasn’t there - and his pockets were empty, leaving him devoid of anything to defend himself. Meanwhile, Roland’s heart pumped ever faster, as a hotness that brought with it numbness spread across his veins.

Shit, may-maybe it really is poison.

Roland faced the boy opposite him again, fumbling through his empty pockets for something he could use. Meanwhile, the crystal that had been hanging off his neck slapped onto him again.

Oh right…

He tried to raise his left hand, but Varlac saw it first. Before Roland could even use anything, the scepter glowed, and-

“Yaaaah-”

Seeing no recourse, Roland dived at the acolyte. A pulse of something hit him, causing him to stumble, yet inertia carried him forth.

Slamming into the boy, they both fell, Roland landing atop him with a thump. Scrabbling for the scepter, Roland yanked it out of the boy’s hands, before throwing it unceremoniously aside. With no weapon, Varlac slammed his fists against Roland’s chest.

“Stop.” Roland finally said, forcing down the younger boy’s hands with his greater weight. “You don’t need…”

Varlac stared up at Roland, eyes full of terror,

“...to die trying…”

As the doors to the room slammed open, Roland’s consciousness finally failed, and he succumbed to the poison’s effect, with the room fading into darkness.