Let Them Sing
EXP: 155,108, Level: 17
Level completed: 18%,
EXP required for next Level: 14,892
Lindenhurst's Lament (closed to Leoric)
“So?” Remy lowered her voice, glancing ever so slightly over her shoulder as she whispered. Her blue eyes returned to the Telgradian, who sat leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his ale. As he gulped, he raised his eyebrows and shrugged in apparent confusion.
The young woman, slender of face and fair of skin, rolled her eyes and leaned forward. “You know, the box? Oh for god’s - do you not listen to anything I say, ever?!” Her frown reflected in her own tin stein rested next to her, still full to the brim with froth and mead. The buzz of chatter rang about their ears as the patrons of the White Stag drank, shuffled, chatted amongst themselves and busied themselves with making merry. Shinsou grabbed the handle of his own cup once more, and shrugged again.
“I heard. I just don’t think it’s worth bothering with.”
“Really? Then why was Arius so interested in it, huh?” The woman, framed with clean caramel hair, squinted at the Telgradian as the afternoon sun poured through the tavern window as she produced a hexagonal wooden box from her bag. It was a beautiful, hollow, ancient thing, crafted from fine oak and varnished perfectly. Twenty six runes had been carefully carved on each of its six sides and its lid seemed to be sealed with some sort of platinum welding, far beyond the capabilities of those who lived at the date of item. “Think about it. You said yourself anything he was interested in was a potential threat, right? A loose end?”
Shinsou met the box with a sullen gaze, and elicited a small sigh as he placed his cup down again.
Arius Mephisto, his nemesis. Ex-nemesis, mind, thanks to Storm Veritas. The name kept coming up now all too often, such was the terrible legacy that he had left behind, but Osiris was getting tired of it. Just before their final encounter, Shinsou had discovered Arius looking for something amongst the gravestones in Tylmerande’s cemetery. The specific headstone he had been searching contained an empty grave, and in the centre a small, hollow box marked with twenty six faded, ancient runes.
The Telgradian had excavated it and studied it intensely for months, with little progress, until eventually he obtained a slither of knowledge. The runes were similar to those used for communication by an ancient tribe, at least according to the very few history books in the deepest parts of Radasanth’s libraries that held any knowledge on the subject. Who they were, where they had lived and what they did (or had done, for that matter,) that interested Arius so much was anyone’s guess. Shinsou, realising he was short on facts and just obsessing, shelved the idea of looking into any of it further after a few more months of fruitless research.
“I originally thought the box might be a codex of some sort. That’s as far as I got before I lost the will to live with the whole thing.” Shinsou explained, shrugging. “Until you fished it out of my room, I was quite happy letting sleeping dogs lie. Arius is dead, nothing has happened since, and frankly I just want to focus on other things now.”
“But, shouldn’t we try and work out what it’s a codex for, and why Arius was after it?” Remy clicked her fingers with growing irritation. “It could be really important. Again, think about it. Why that specific grave? Did he know about it, was it pre-planned?”
“Look, Remy, I have thought about it. A lot. I’m just tired of it, of him, of all of it. And I appreciate what you’re trying to do-”
“No, you don’t.” The sharp but quiet inflection of tone cut through the reverie of the conversation and stopped Shinsou in his tracks. The smile had fallen from her face, and the female Telgradian’s eyes wavered somewhat. “You really don’t, Shinsou.”
Shinsou studied her quietly for a moment, considering his next words carefully. Remy seemed particularly upset, as if he had touched a nerve. Confusion reigned as he tried to do a mental audit on what he could have said to offend her.
“I’m going back to the house.” The scrape of wooden chair leg on floorboards accompanied a downing of the remaining mead as Remy stood, slid alongside the table and grabbed her coat and bag before taking off out of the tavern door.
“What the fuck was all that about?” The Telgradian finally muttered to himself with a characteristically sculpted expression of neutrality on his face.