Ymiden 27, Arc 724
He was sitting in the backroom of the Domum Kassaili, his feet on the armrest rather than on the floor. In the past, when he had still been a king and a bit of a brat, he had sometimes allowed himself such a breach of etiquette in public, because nobody had dared to openly criticize his behaviour anyway. He’d changed his mind since then, about a lot of things, but here, nobody was watching him. Taking your shoes off and settling into a chair like that was surprisingly comfortable. He felt almost normal, as if he weren’t still broken.
On his lap was a thick leather-bound book, and a pen was in his right hand. Sage Castemont, his employer, more or less, had told him to check the ledger and make sure that all the sales and acquisitions were listed. She had already done most of the work herself, but she wanted a second pair of eyes, she had said. He didn’t mind. In the past, when he had been a child with too much responsibility and too much power, he would likely have considered it dull.
There was a lot of possibly important information to be gained though.
Sage had not only listed which items she had sold or acquired, and when, she had sometimes also noted down the name of the buyer or seller. Some of those people, he had realized, were worth learning more about. There was a woman, one Elisabeth Mahone, that had brought a couple of portraits of the Seven, for example. Saved during the fall of Rynmere.
They had recently been sold.
He checked if the sale had been marked correctly, before he turned to the next page, idly playing with the body chain that he wore on top of his black shirt. It was made of cobalt, with tiny garnets, rather than onyx, gold and silver, and diamonds, but it was … better than what he had had during those long arcs in the hospital when the only shiny things had been the healer’s instruments. They hadn’t allowed him to have any weapons either.
They’d been afraid he’d hurt himself.
Furrowing his brow, he abruptly turned the page, in an attempt to distract himself from the memories of a time that sometimes seemed like a confusing nightmare to him, of madness and a fire that burned within his body and his soul and threatened to consume him.
Fire …
He abruptly went back a few dozen pages. He still wondered who Sage had gotten the dragon figurine he had bought from her from on occasion. What she had said about it had made him wonder if there was more about it than she let on. He knew when Rynmere had fallen – he had been there, after all – so it was only a matter of checking the pages after that date.
And there it was.
Zi’da 723.
The name of the seller had been blacked out.
He frowned – and abruptly sat up straight, slipping into his boots as he did so when he heard the sound of the front door being opened. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door to the backroom, and Sage Castemont herself entered, a curious expression on her face.
She walked up to him and sat down on the edge of the desk, adjusting her skirt as she did so, before she cast a glance at the book. He had forgotten to leaf back to the current date again.
He looked at her.
She looked at him as well, smiling ever so slightly before she tapped a slender finger on the page he had just been looking at, as if she knew.
She probably did.
“I see, Cassander of Rynmere”, she said in that soft voice of hers. “It took you long enough to discover it. I’d already begun to wonder whether you’d lost interest, and I’d been wrong about you. I’d already begun to wonder if you have no desire to look deeper, after all”, she continued. Her voice was still ever so soft, but there was something beneath the softness now, a slight change in tone that he couldn’t quite define.
“Why did you black the name out?” he interrupted her. Had there been something about the man? He remembered that she had mentioned that the seller had been a man, a refugee from Rynmere who’d needed the money. Had he been a lover, or an enemy, someone that she didn’t want to remember? Or did the black colour simply mean that he had passed away?
She stood and abruptly moved to his side of the desk. She glanced at the ledger again before she turned to him. “Tell me, Cassander of Rynmere, wouldn’t you rather have a mystery and slowly peel away all the layers until you have found the core? What is left of the initial appeal when the information is simply presented to you?” she asked.
“Do you think an item is less interesting and worth less if you know too much about it?” he retorted, trying to match her tone of voice, in an attempt to deepen their connection.
“Sometimes it is”, she said and moved away from him again. “Sometimes, the mystery is all that counts, and sometimes, you want to know as much as possible, but hold the information close to your heart”, she continued and looked into his eyes for a moment, as if she were hinting at something, something more, before she glanced at the chain that he was wearing.
“Is that an invitation to research?” he wanted to know.
She inclined her head ever so slightly before she abruptly asked, “Why garnet of all the stones on Idalos, Cassander of Rynmere? Why not moonstone, citrine, malachite or lapis lazuli?”
He was sitting in the backroom of the Domum Kassaili, his feet on the armrest rather than on the floor. In the past, when he had still been a king and a bit of a brat, he had sometimes allowed himself such a breach of etiquette in public, because nobody had dared to openly criticize his behaviour anyway. He’d changed his mind since then, about a lot of things, but here, nobody was watching him. Taking your shoes off and settling into a chair like that was surprisingly comfortable. He felt almost normal, as if he weren’t still broken.
On his lap was a thick leather-bound book, and a pen was in his right hand. Sage Castemont, his employer, more or less, had told him to check the ledger and make sure that all the sales and acquisitions were listed. She had already done most of the work herself, but she wanted a second pair of eyes, she had said. He didn’t mind. In the past, when he had been a child with too much responsibility and too much power, he would likely have considered it dull.
There was a lot of possibly important information to be gained though.
Sage had not only listed which items she had sold or acquired, and when, she had sometimes also noted down the name of the buyer or seller. Some of those people, he had realized, were worth learning more about. There was a woman, one Elisabeth Mahone, that had brought a couple of portraits of the Seven, for example. Saved during the fall of Rynmere.
They had recently been sold.
He checked if the sale had been marked correctly, before he turned to the next page, idly playing with the body chain that he wore on top of his black shirt. It was made of cobalt, with tiny garnets, rather than onyx, gold and silver, and diamonds, but it was … better than what he had had during those long arcs in the hospital when the only shiny things had been the healer’s instruments. They hadn’t allowed him to have any weapons either.
They’d been afraid he’d hurt himself.
Furrowing his brow, he abruptly turned the page, in an attempt to distract himself from the memories of a time that sometimes seemed like a confusing nightmare to him, of madness and a fire that burned within his body and his soul and threatened to consume him.
Fire …
He abruptly went back a few dozen pages. He still wondered who Sage had gotten the dragon figurine he had bought from her from on occasion. What she had said about it had made him wonder if there was more about it than she let on. He knew when Rynmere had fallen – he had been there, after all – so it was only a matter of checking the pages after that date.
And there it was.
Zi’da 723.
The name of the seller had been blacked out.
He frowned – and abruptly sat up straight, slipping into his boots as he did so when he heard the sound of the front door being opened. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door to the backroom, and Sage Castemont herself entered, a curious expression on her face.
She walked up to him and sat down on the edge of the desk, adjusting her skirt as she did so, before she cast a glance at the book. He had forgotten to leaf back to the current date again.
He looked at her.
She looked at him as well, smiling ever so slightly before she tapped a slender finger on the page he had just been looking at, as if she knew.
She probably did.
“I see, Cassander of Rynmere”, she said in that soft voice of hers. “It took you long enough to discover it. I’d already begun to wonder whether you’d lost interest, and I’d been wrong about you. I’d already begun to wonder if you have no desire to look deeper, after all”, she continued. Her voice was still ever so soft, but there was something beneath the softness now, a slight change in tone that he couldn’t quite define.
“Why did you black the name out?” he interrupted her. Had there been something about the man? He remembered that she had mentioned that the seller had been a man, a refugee from Rynmere who’d needed the money. Had he been a lover, or an enemy, someone that she didn’t want to remember? Or did the black colour simply mean that he had passed away?
She stood and abruptly moved to his side of the desk. She glanced at the ledger again before she turned to him. “Tell me, Cassander of Rynmere, wouldn’t you rather have a mystery and slowly peel away all the layers until you have found the core? What is left of the initial appeal when the information is simply presented to you?” she asked.
“Do you think an item is less interesting and worth less if you know too much about it?” he retorted, trying to match her tone of voice, in an attempt to deepen their connection.
“Sometimes it is”, she said and moved away from him again. “Sometimes, the mystery is all that counts, and sometimes, you want to know as much as possible, but hold the information close to your heart”, she continued and looked into his eyes for a moment, as if she were hinting at something, something more, before she glanced at the chain that he was wearing.
“Is that an invitation to research?” he wanted to know.
She inclined her head ever so slightly before she abruptly asked, “Why garnet of all the stones on Idalos, Cassander of Rynmere? Why not moonstone, citrine, malachite or lapis lazuli?”
