After a couple minutes of walking down twisting, claustrophobic paths, with nothing but a small flame and my ragged breath accompanying me, I found myself coming to a doorway. On the scroll, the assassin noted that the door itself would be unlocked. In fact, the entire First Sanctum was left unguarded. No hexes, no wards, no zombified guards to keep would-be trespassers away from all of his secrets and treasures.

And so, I reached out, turned the rusty iron doorknob, and pushed my way into the First Sanctum.

“Holy shit,” I muttered breathlessly.

For a man who kept his quarters rather plain in the Seventh Sanctum, there were a lot of things, for a lack of better term. Covered in layers of frost and ice that drifted in from the holes in the roof of the cave, undisturbed for years, sat enough pieces of furniture of a familiar Coronian style to furnish an apartment. There were other tables scattered about, each covered with tarps and linens. Off in another part of the cave, also covered with a thin layer of ice, was a full-fledged alchemy laboratory that would've put my own to shame. There was also a desk brimming with notebooks, folders stuffed with torn pages, and writing utensils

Normally, I wasn't one to poke around other people's belongings, but curiosity burned deep within my chest. I knew of this mythical time when Ulroke was a decent human being, but what sort of mementos did he keep from that time?

I took a step closer, my briar-knit hand hesitating for a moment before tightly gripping the linen sheet covering one of the tables and tearing it away.