Brian Kittrell - The Consuls of the Vicariate

Laedron leaned over the desk. “Symbols?”

“Yes,” Demetrius said, handing over the ring and his lens. “If you’ll look closely at the edges, you should see small runic characters scribed along the perimeter.”

“I see them.” Laedron squinted through the lens, awestruck by the meticulous precision of the foreign lettering, then returned the seeing glass and pocketed the ring.

“I’ve never seen anything like them.” Demetrius took another puff from his pipe. “Far too small and precise to be made with any set of tools I know or any jeweler I know for that matter. Do you know who is purportedly trapped within this stone?”

“We have suspicion that it’s Daris the Second.”

“Daris the Grand Vicar?” The man’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

“One and the same,” Laedron replied. “If we’re to free him or learn more of this, we must find an Uxidin. That is, unless you know of someone else.”

“No, unfortunately. The trapping of souls in gems is a thing of legend, an evil practice performed by the Necromancers of old.”

“Then, do you know where we can find an Uxidin?”

Demetrius scratched his chin with the mouthpiece of his pipe. “No, but I know someone who might. If he cannot, there are few who could.”

“Who?”

“His name is Cedric Tamden, but I can’t say how much help he might be,” Demetrius said. “He has studied the Uxidin and Zyvdredi cultures for longer than I’ve known him, and he even possesses a few of their texts.”

“Where can we find him?”

Demetrius grimaced. “At the center of the university grounds is our ancient library. Deep in the lower levels, Cedric hoards his texts and artifacts, and few ever go down to visit him.”

“He doesn’t teach classes?” Valyrie asked.

“No, and you shall require my permission to reach the lower levels.” Demetrius took a quill and began scrawling on a scroll. “Be careful down there, by the way.”

Laedron raised an eyebrow. “Is it dangerous?”

“The library is the oldest structure in the city besides some of the shrines in the Ancient Quarter. When the city planners constructed the Heraldan Channel, this area became a swampland, and the library tower sank into the ground. It continued sinking for years, and eventually, the first floor became the lowest level in a series of flooded basements.

“The consulship had little concern over the issue in the early years of the church, but we Arcanists convinced them when we got tired of waiting. We threatened to halt all transportation to Azuroth, and that got their attention. It took quite some time to get the water out, but now, the lower levels are dry as a bone. Of course, the structure is damaged from years of neglect, so tread carefully.”

“Thank you,” Laedron said, taking the scroll. “When would be the best time to go?”

“He rises early and works long hours, constantly in pursuit of the location of something he calls The Bloodmyr Tome, a record of the times before Azura, before most written records. You should be able to find him there now.” Demetrius relit his pipe and puffed it a few times. “Best of luck.”

Laedron led the way out, across the street, and onto the university grounds. He easily picked out the library building. It had an archaic design which differed significantly from the other university buildings. The walls were built of smooth stone, which had darkened over the centuries, and dimples and cracks indicated many years of weathering. Nearing the tower, he could see moss clinging to it, and he noticed that the door set into the front of the structure seemed much newer than the rest of it.

The marble faces of the other buildings appeared younger and more modern, and he attributed the presence of high-quality stone to the rise of the Arcanist guild over the centuries. They began with this simple limestone tower, improved upon it, and added buildings as they grew in wealth and power . He eyed the magnificent structure beyond the library. That is probably the latest addition, the richest of them all.

“A brand new door on a place like this?” Marac asked, apparently noticing the same thing Laedron had.

“Likely to replace one several stories beneath the ground.” Laedron glanced at him. “Demetrius did say that the building has sunk over time. The first door is well beneath our feet.” Laedron opened the door, and Brice closed it behind them.

A man looked up from a tome and asked, “Might I help you?”

“Yes,” Laedron replied, approaching him with the scroll in hand. “Master Hale has sent us to speak with Cedric Tamden.”

“What?” The librarian snatched the paper from Laedron’s hand. “Truly?”

“Yes, we need his help.”

“Good luck with that. He said he’s not to be disturbed… ah, he always says he’s not to be disturbed. Grumpy old codger, that Tamden.”

“Can we see him?”

The librarian shrugged. “If you want, I care not. You have permission, so go right ahead. The door in the back.” He pointed over his shoulder.

After giving the man a nod, Laedron went to the door and opened it. The door heaved a sigh, and Laedron looked back at the librarian.

“Oh, worry not. It does that if it’s been closed long enough.”

Entering the passage, Laedron led the descent down a set of stairs. “Hale said the final level, didn’t he?”

Valyrie nodded.

He followed the stone steps, spiraling downward until he reached a dark landing and could proceed no further. The only exit was a solid oaken door, and presumably behind it he would find Cedric Tamden. With the creak of wood, the door opened at Laedron’s push.

Inside, he saw the back of a man crouched in the middle of the room, his tunic deep red and adorned with designs identical to the one that Demetrius Hale had been wearing. Strands of gray hair draped over his tunic in the back, and the man whispered quietly to himself.

“Cedr-”

“I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed!” the man snarled without turning. “I can’t abide these constant interruptions.”

“Master Tamden.” Laedron stepped into the room. “We’ve come to ask some questions. Master Hale sent us.”

“Hale? He’s too busy with his school and the guild to worry about my research.” Cedric looked over his shoulder. “Why would he send you?”

“We seek answers, and he thought you might be able to help.”

“Me? Ridiculous,” Cedric replied, turning away again. “No one cares about my research. No one.”

“I need your help. Something terrible has happened.”

“Terrible? Perhaps you should speak plainly, young man.”

Laedron crept forward and pulled the onyx ring out of his pocket. “We believe we carry the essence of Daris the Second, his soul trapped within this ring.”

Cedric stood and turned to face him. “Daris? Then, the stories are true, and it may yet exist.”

“What may yet exist?” Laedron asked.

“The Bloodmyr Tome.”

“A book?”

“ The book. The ancient book of knowledge held secret by the Uxidin, an artifact and quite possibly a holy text. Some say it is a historical record, but I have come upon information that speaks to the contrary.”

“What do you think it is?”

“A book of miracles. An ancient spellbook, young man, a tome of magic to rival any others seen before or since. Most importantly, an outline of the ancient rituals of the Uxidin, the history behind their direct link to the Creator, and much, much more.”

“You would want such a book?” Valyrie asked. “The Arcanists don’t deal in magic.”

Cedric scoffed. “I only wish to possess it for its significance. Such a piece would be a prized addition to the guild’s assortment of rare and wondrous artifacts.”