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One Night at the Historical Society
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S.Y. 310.9 (December
4, 2001) It was early evening at the Historical Society, the smell of brewed herbs drifted from the second story window. Lord Steward Engval paced thoughtfully around the small chamber, his cup of tea sitting untouched. His thoughts momentarily distracted by the quiet giggling of Rhyssa the Librarian, no doubt the result of the Sgt. at Arm's ribald song. Smiling slightly at that touch of reality he turns his thoughts back to the impending danger. Hesitantly he moves to the armoire and from within pulls out a small wooden chest. It has been many years since he had opened this chest, not since his dealings with Lady Death did he contemplate having to use what was within. With great care Engval turned the key within the aged lock and withdrew a silken wrapped package. His hand resting for a moment upon the smooth fabric he once again had doubts about this path. No, his doubts were not about path itself, but whether he was prepared to tread upon it. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he unties the binding cord and reveals a handsomely bound leather book, the sheen of the leather reveals its antiquity more so than the well preserved pages within. Before opening the book Engval traces with his finger the ornate lettering "L I T U R G Y O F T R U T H". It was an old copy given to him by an old friend many years ago as he travelled upon his path of enlightenment. Turning past page after page of beautifully lettered supplications his hand finally rests upon the one supplication which had eluded his translation. It wasn't until writings from Ilshenar became known that the lettering was recognized as gargish. Still despite his studies Engval could not make out but a few of the words. These few words gave him hope. Hope that Richard could still be defeated. He knew he must find the translation, for the world depended upon it. "Teboug! Come up here please." yelled the Lord Steward. The sound of the lute faded and was replaced by the creak of the ladder as the Sgt. at Arms climbed to the second story. "Teboug, I need you to take word to Chancellor Jackalblade that I shall need an escort to the gargoyle city." "But, mi'lord tis late in the evening. Surely it can wait till the morrow?" complained Teboug. "No Sergeant it cannot wait, for it will take some preparation before we depart. So now go and tell the Chancellor that I expect to depart four days hence." replied the Lord Steward. Grumbling and muttering the Sergeant climbed down the the ladder. His muted voice was heard, followed by a giggle from Rhyssa before the door slammed shut into the night. May we all stir with the spoon of Skara Brae. |