Dark Age Year 871
Twenty Third day of the Third month
As Cenric looked around the now well-lit cellar, he started to recognise it as a mage’s study. It reminded him of Eilis’ study but was more cluttered. In comparison, this one was more orderly and neat. A large wooden desk near the staircase that led up to the homesteads covered with glass bottles, vials, and interconnected glass tubes. Some of them were filled with brightly coloured liquids akin to a rainbow. In the centre of the room sat a substantially large black cauldron that was the size of a bathtub, taking the place of the usual wine bottles and beer kegs. The shelves were lined with ancient books, scrolls, and glass vials instead of alcohol.
Tharos would be thrilled to see this place.
Whenever they encountered bandits, freebooters, or mercenaries who didn’t want to play nice, Tharos would often go through their belongings, not just for extra coin or provisions, but mainly to find books or scrolls. He was so eager for information that sometimes he would spare some individuals to question later, much to Rayner’s disappointment.
As Cenric explored the cellar, he quickly noticed how clean everything looked. Running his fingers along one of the smaller desks, he found no dust. Another thing that struck Cenric as odd was the fact that the mage’s study was left undisturbed. The people living in the frontier were known for their superstitious nature, especially towards magic and mages. The Invicti people, in particular, harboured a deep distrust of magic, except for divine miracles from their gods.
Cenric, however, perhaps ignorantly, viewed magic simply as a tool, indifferent to its source. While his recent encounter with undead creatures hadn’t given him the most positive impression of magic, he acknowledged, maybe foolishly, that not all magic users were malevolent people. Despite his past as a slave to a mage, he couldn’t bring himself to despise them in his heart of hearts.
But there lies the greater question: who does this workshop belong to, and why is all this magic stuff still here? Surely the villagers would have destroyed this workshop. While he didn’t know much about mages or magic in general, only bits and pieces here and there, and what Tharos was promising to teach him about the arcane arts. But if he knew one thing for certain, it was this: no mage would leave their stuff behind unless they had to. So either this was here originally and the villagers didn’t know or care about it, or an even more frightening possibility that this is all new and this homestead is not as abandoned as he first thought.
While exploring the cellar, Cenric found a partially open drawer in the desk and decided to investigate further. Inside, he discovered a collection of papers, most of which were illegible to him. Among them, he found a glass vial containing a silvery-blue liquid. Curious, he cautiously unscrewed the vial and took a quick sniff. The pungent odour almost overwhelmed him, causing him to recoil and nearly drop the vial. He managed to steady himself and prevent any spillage, but the unsettling scent lingered in the air, stirring a sense of unease within him. “Gods, that smells bad,” he said aloud, wrinkling his nose at the putrid stench that filled the air. It reeked of raw sewage left to fester and bake under the scorching sun, even worse than the odour of the decaying corpses he had recently buried. Taking a moment to recover from the assault on his senses, Cenric sat down on a nearby stool, eyeing the vial in his hand. “Maybe Tharos knows what this is,” he uttered carefully, placing the vial and papers into his satchel before heading upstairs.
Ascending the stairs and pushing open the door, Cenric was met with an unexpected sight. Stepping out of the cellar into what appeared to be the living room and kitchen area of the homestead, he was struck by how clean and tidy everything was, much like the cellar he had just walked out of. As Cenric explored the house and entered the kitchen, he noticed an icebox in the corner, along with several cupboards and shelves made of oak. Most of the furniture in the house seemed to be of high quality, crafted from oak or mahogany. Ozias seems to be doing well for himself if he can afford all this nice stuff, Cenric thought as he ran his hand over the shiny metal surface of the icebox. Iceboxes were a luxury not commonly found in villages; they were more common in towns or cities. They were typically large metal rectangular boxes with shelves and drawers used to keep things cold, it was useful especially for preserving meat. Cenric was unfamiliar with how it worked, but he suspected some form of magic was involved.
It might be worth checking inside, perhaps there was stuff stored in the icebox. Upon opening it, he found a selection of fruits and vegetables, along with a jug of water. Everything looked fresh. He picked up a firm, red apple, noting its sweet scent as he gave it a sniff. He wasn’t hungry enough to take a bite as last night’s events didn’t leave him with much of an appetite. But he thought it was odd that this food was fresh. From what he heard, an icebox could preserve all sorts of food for a span of a few days to a week.
Closing the icebox door, Cenric decided to check the cupboards. “Ow,” he exclaimed as he pulled his hand back, spilling grain on the floor along with scuttling earwigs. Biting his finger, he muttered, “Earwigs!” After a quick glance around to ensure no one heard him, Cenric hastily picked up the grain, returning as much as possible to the sack and placing it back where he found it. Maybe there isn’t anyone else here. Cenric pondered, though he remained unsure. After exploring the kitchen, dining room, and other ground floor rooms, he found little evidence of life. The house seemed empty and abandoned. I could leave now, but… Cenric hesitated, his eyes drifting to the staircase leading to the second floor. Tharos trusts me, and I can’t disappoint him. Taking a deep breath, Cenric climbed the stairs slowly and started exploring the second floor. He found little of interest in most of the rooms as they were empty aside from a bed and more furniture until he reached two adjacent rooms. One room, a small bedroom, appeared to be in the midst of being painted. In the centre, there was a half-finished baby crib surrounded by a box of handcrafted toys.
Didn’t he live alone? From what he heard, Ozais lived alone; no one mentioned he had a wife or a child on the way. And then it hit him. Could that mage workshop have belonged to the mage that Tharos mentioned, Faustina? If that was the case, did they know each other? Then did her disappearance have something to do with Ozais’ murder, or perhaps the other way around? Cenric didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but so far it was the only thing that was starting to make sense to him. He thought as he entered the room slowly, kneeling in the centre to inspect the crib. He ran his fingers along the wooden frame, feeling the smooth, unfinished surface. The crib and wooden toys were skilfully made. A future family torn apart. Even though he didn’t know them, he started to feel sad for both of them and their child. Being in this room reminded him of his own circumstances. He never knew his father; all he knew was that he was a blacksmith by trade and a good warrior who died in battle a few months before his birth. His mother was one of the village’s healers before she passed away shortly after giving birth to him, leaving him in the care of the village elder and his family. While they cared for him like kin, it couldn’t replace the love of his real parents. It seemed like this child would have what Cenric could never have. With these thoughts in mind, Cenric left the room and headed towards the larger of the rooms.
“This is my last chance. If I find nothing here, this investigation will be a bust,” he thought to himself as he slowly opened the door and entered another bedroom with a large bed. Along the sides were dressers and shelves, one of which had a massive mirror, brushes, and vials of perfume. The room had a faint, pleasant smell of berries. Like the other rooms he had explored, this one was immaculate. It didn’t appear untouched for years; in fact, it seemed as if no one had lived there recently, except for the belongings left behind. Cenric then started to search the room for clues. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet until he fully searched the place.
He didn’t find much of interest until he discovered two things: a locked chest hidden in a nearby closet under a small blanket. After further searching, he found the key hidden beneath some linen under the bed. Upon opening the chest, he found a collection of intriguing items. Among them were various robes and garments in bright colours, some made of thin, transparent fabric, others made out of leather. There was a small brown bag filled with dried and crushed plants that, after giving them a quick sniff, made him feel a bit light-headed and dizzy. He also found some rope, chains, handcuffs, and a small whip. Additionally, he found a few phallic-shaped objects made out of stone, roughly the size of carrots. One of them, which was maybe the size of a cucumber, was tied and connected to a leather belt. Pondering the purpose of these items, he thought, “They were expecting a child; perhaps these are charms to ward off evil spirits.” He had come across such things when he and Estrid would sometimes sneak into people’s houses and look through their belongings. With a shrug, he closed the chest and put the key back where he found it.
The second item he found was a few sheets of paper he found in one of the drawers. One of the pieces of paper had a detailed sketch of a young man and woman sitting next to each other, holding hands. The young man looked like a farmer with his simple clothing, while the woman was dressed in what looked like a fancy robe, with glass vials intertwined into it. The next piece of paper was a letter dated to about a month ago, It was written in the Aria trade language.
The letter read: “Dear Faustina, I cannot express how happy I am to hear the news of your pregnancy with all my heart. However, I regret to inform you that I am unable to come to you right now as I am currently engaged in a job protecting an archaeological dig up north. This job has led me into conflict with our old friend, the purple-eyed vampire, as well as other unsavoury characters. I fear it may take some time before these issues are resolved. Rest assured, as soon as I am able to, I will make haste like the wind to be by your side. In the meantime, I will pray to the heavens and earth, that you and Ozias are blessed with a happy and healthy child. With warm regards, from your dear friend Azure”
Cenric wasn’t sure if any of this information would be useful in dealing with the necromancer terrorising the village, but it did confirm that Ozias’ murder and Faustina’s disappearance were suspicious. He hoped that Tharos and Rayner would find the information helpful and that they might uncover some answers. Finding nothing else of interest, he carefully stowed the papers in his satchel and quietly descended the stairs. Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from the cellar. The sound of footsteps approaching the stairs made him quickly retreat back up the stairs and hide behind a nearby wall. His heart raced, and sweat formed on his brow as he silently urged himself to stay calm. As the cellar door creaked open and the clanking of armoured boots grew louder, Cenric held his breath.
Please don’t let it be what I think it is. he thought as he peeked cautiously from behind the wall at the top of the stairs. He saw a skeletal warrior emerging from the cellar. Unlike the ones he had faced the previous night, this one was distinct. Its armour was in better condition, less rusted, and it wielded a massive halberd in its bony hands. The skeletal warrior scanned the room with its glowing red sockets for eyes, giving Cenric pause. While he had managed to defeat a few of them last night by himself, he wasn’t sure he could take this one down alone, and he wasn’t sure if there were more of them nearby. He heard the warrior walking though the living room and kitchen, its rusted metal boots creating a loud thud with each step. If it was searching for him, it wouldn’t be long before it reached the upper floor and trapped him.
Looking around, Cenric noticed a large window behind him that appeared wide enough for him to pass through, unlike the one in the front. He didn’t know if there were more undead outside waiting for him or if it was just the one, but he knew one thing: he needed to get out of there. Slowly creeping towards the window, he kept his ears focused on the noises downstairs. Opening the window gently, he peeked outside, but there was nothing there. He didn’t want to stick around to find out. Opening the window wider, Cenric climbed out onto the roof of the front porch, making sure to close the shutter quickly behind him. Looking down, he estimated a few feet drop. Climbing down and hanging on the edge, Cenric let go, dropping to the ground with a small thud. He felt a sharp pain in his legs.
“Ow,” he muttered under his breath as he regained his bearings. He quickly sprinted towards the nearest tree line, stealing a glance behind him before ducking into the cover of the trees. Peering out, he spotted more skeletal warriors emerging from behind the house, their eerie red glowing orbs scanning the farm. Taking it as a cue to depart, Cedric crouched low and stealthily snuck through the bushes and trees, heading back towards the village. Checking his satchel as he left the farm, he thought, “I hope Tharos finds this useful,” he thought as the farm faded from sight.
