While Corvus purveyed the old cellar, holding out a candle-light lantern ahead of him, he avoided the small collections of water that puddled in the center of the floor and as the priest followed him, he made sure to stay just at the foot of the stairs. Corvus furrowed his brows in the dim lighting as he tread onward.
"How old is this place, Father?"
"Pratchett," the man on the stairs said, causing Corvus to look back at him.
"Father Pratchett.
"Approximately 800 years. Although...our collection of texts has diminished over the years. So the ones we do keep, are locked away in... HEY! Do not touch that!"
What the father had protested to was Corvus breaking the lock on a trunk that was elevated over a set of casks. And when he opened it there were a set of books and folios. The smelled a little of mildew and age and he set the lantern down on the lip of the lid. He was quiet as he rifled through them, knowing the priest would do nothing to stop him. He didn't know for sure if what he was looking for would be here, but copies of the text were so few and far between, placing it in a place like this.
And something as ordinary and unobscured as the folio at the very bottom, he knew he'd found it. The Illuminations, Confessori de Magi as told by Sigurd Delverio he read and found it was a lot thicker than he thought it would be, bound together by sinew and written on a thickened vellum. He rolled it up and shoved it into his coat and raised the lamp to find a loosened grate beneath casks in the cellar floor.
"Father Pratchett, get the others! I know where the water is going," he said loudly.