Eleven in the evening. The clouds were congealing, the moon was high and cold and a gust swept through the reading room. The time for winding down arrived and for the first time in months, the high lord of Darken Vei had not decided to sleep in a ditch or with the hounds that night. Not such lordly behavior Mrs. Dou would snap at him. Housekeepers had a knack for not minding their own business when he was away. Despite that however, he respected her opinions and gave them a thoughtful nod and let her go on about her business. As long as they didn't interfere with each other's daily routines, neither had any real objections about what the other did. Dou was good at her job and that's what he'd hired her to do.
Neodoryx had a steaming cup of tea in one hand and lounged in the largest, puffiest chair in the reading room. It was low-backed enough that he could lean his head back on the top of it, his long hair thrown over the other side and he reclined negligently, holding the cup stably with his right hand. He sighed and closed his eyes, his bare feet propped up on top of a footrest. Though he didn't open his eyes, he could feel the presence of someone enter the room. "Are you leaving soon Mrs. Dou?"
"Very, your lordship. Is there something I can get for you before I depart?"
"Yes," he said. He sat up and placed the tea in front of him and turned to look at her directly. "Please bring me one of the biographies on King Joplis from the lands of the west."
"Which one, my lord?"
He tapped his lower lip in thought. "In the Emperor's Shadow, if you please."
"Sir."
Dou's bones cracked as she bowed and headed off toward the main library. Neodoryx leaned down to grab the tea and brought it up to his lips to sip accordingly. He jumped up in surprised when Dou returned so quickly with the book in hand, handing it to him as she did so. "Good gods, woman, a little less stealth would do wonders for a woman your age, Mrs. Dou. Please don't sneak up on me like that again."
"I do apologize, my lord."
He set the tea down and let his fingers grace the cover of the book gently. It was covered in dust and something he was sure he hadn't read in years. It certainly had been years since he'd sat down and actually enjoyed reading a book that wasn't written in lost languages. Still, any accurate depiction of something that happened in a land far away was bound to be recorded in a language uncommon to here, which was well enough. "How did you get it so fast—"
"Sorry again, my lord, but I just remembered now you received a message earlier today, an invitation to a ball hosted by the matron of the Morans of Atlas Verde. A minor house I think it is."
"All the way from there? Why would she host a ball here? That's quite a curious thing to have done. In any case, thank you, Mrs. Dou. You may leave now. Leave the invitation on the table on your way out." Neodoryx nodded to her while she spun on her heel and departed, leaving the note on the table at his feet. "Have a good evening!" he shouted after her, remembering some part of his manners, as she rounded the corner and closed the door behind her.
He turned his attention to the copy of the book in his hands. With the grand collection of dust on it, he could barely read the gold-embossed letters on the cover and he traced his fingers along them, rubbing the dust away. He blew at it, a cloud forming, and opened the book delicately. Surely it hadn't been that long since he touched this book. But it already was falling apart and the binding was brittle, leaving several pages loose. Apparently the angle he'd been sitting at made gravity yank several of the looser pages from the middle of the text and they scattered across the ground. "Damn the devils," he cursed and kept the book open as he leaned down to collect them. They were rather out of order, using strange symbols for page placeholders and when he had them all in hand, trying to sort them out, he inspected each one until one page in particular did not fit with the others.
It was clearly a parchment page of different make, and not printed upon with a sort of typeface. It looked to be journal entry and it was torn out from the way one elongated edge of the page was rippled along and the sheet was creased as if from being gripped. And it was written in a scratching hand in a language that was clearly Common. Neodoryx read it to himself, pulling the journal page closer with increasing interest.
"... must admit, I was rather intrigued. My desire for knowledge comprises more than just magic. I am still vastly interested in what traditional medicine has to offer. So I inquired further after the new technique (Dr Hennes mentioned it was called trepanation), but as all physicians do, he thought it important to recount the history of the patient. He told me the patient's name was Leigh Pratt, and that he was insane. Apparently, he had been reported to draw his sword in overcrowded streets and stab down any number of people around him, while hysterically shouting "why won't they die?!". Of course, none of his victims survived, but there were enough eyewitnesses to confirm the events. When he was arrested and taken to the insane asylum, he was reported to talk in his sleep, going on and on about "shadow people" and immortals. Frankly, at the time the good doctor told me this, it hardly interested me. I was anticipating his description of the new technique, and not at all patient enough to listen to the adventures of his subject. I have to say, when he finally did come to that part, it struck me so much that even in here I must mention it, though it is not my scientific journal. The patient must first be sedated and restrained. Then one takes the new device (which was shaped like a metal tube, with a sort of nail coming out the end, protruding approximately half an inch), and places it on first over the frontal lobe, and next over the right and left lobe of the skull. Then the physician takes a small hammer, and taps so that the device sinks into the skull, thus destroying the stones of madness. I was still thinking it over when Dr Hennes left me on my own, pondering before the fireplace. And when I had gone over the technique almost endlessly, there was room again for the conversation prior to it, including this patient's history. Something about what the doctor said about him suddenly got me thinking. Something in the things he said and about his behaviour rang a bell. It was a tiny one, in the very back of my mind, nagging at me. It took me the rest of the night to figure out what it was, but once more, I was obliged to my memory. There were resemblances to a story I once knew, a children's story at that. I almost started doubting my own sanity when I came up with this answer, but the image in my head was unmistakable. A remnant from my past. Excitedly, I went through the lower shelves of books in my study, and eventually found the book that used to be my very favourite in childhood: EDGAR & RENESSE'S TRADITIONAL TALES OF BYGONE TIMES. It is a collection of many tales with a strong morale, but the one that I was looking for is actually one of the more obscure ones. I thank my brain for recalling the name of the ..."
That was it. No name of the entry-bearer, only something called Edgar & Renesse's Traditional Tales of Bygone Times whatever in the world that was. Neodoryx sat back in his chair trying to remember the place the name took in his head. He couldn't have possibly read the book as a youngster, he was too busy studying to place his head within folk tales. But the name surely struck a curiosity in him and he sipped his tea in thought. Perhaps he could find this book, and maybe better understand what the writer, whoever they were, was talking about. For now, he tucked the entry away in his robe pocket and reached for the invitation of the ball. It was to be held in the city of Caliburn, at the center of the city a fortnight from today, was it? Just what he needed, a moment to hang around the stuffy nobility that he could only be apathetic about. But he was the high lord after all and it was necessary for him to keep up appearances at the very least. He had a responsibility to his people and his nation, even if it did mean he didn't get to enjoy himself. For once, maybe that would change.
