Book Keeping

((Dalen Archives, 2 YSTR))

A cheeky smirk took form on Lorcans lips "Well, much like wizard, an alchemist never fully reveals his tricks, Master Enanth." He received the book Enanth had just found and added it to the pile he was carrying around. "But don't worry, I would never dream of using it for sinister purposes," he said and padded the elderly man on his back.

Enanth began to lead his way back to the restricted section. He knew those words far too well but agreed at his word. Since the war, Lorcan had done much to help the Archive, donating plenty of literature to the shelves and a few saved from the chaos of the great war. Some of those were irreplaceable, the last of their kind from a bygone age. As such for services rendered, Lorcan was granted a boon. And much to some of the Circle's ire, he chose to use the boon not to further his own financial status but to check books in and out to use himself.

To Enanth and the rest of the Circle, Lorcan was a beacon of upstanding citizenry. The privilege had been earned to look upon the knowledge that was kept here.

He had just reached the door when Lorcan produced a vial. "Here, take this. I am sure you'll find this... most invigorating," he smiled as he handed the vial to Enanth "And please let me know if you ever want more of it then I'll gladly send you some, for free naturally."

Enanth took the vial and looked upon it. It was a yellowish green in color, looking thick and cloudy yet splashed about in the vial as water. Enanth knew what it was by look, a potion of strength. It was indeed invigorating at least, brazen inducing at best from the strength it imbued. Though the potion itself was dangerous, as many people were not used to the effects or gained far too much confidence from it.

"I am sure it shall be useful," he said, pocketing the vial. The mage turned to the door, silently calling forth the Weave. He parted the strings of the Weave in the motion of reaching for the handle. The dweomers allowed access as he turned back to Lorcan. "I shall return with the tome, please wait here."

With a quick and sure series of steps, he made his way to the spot whereupon he collected the tome. Not so much as magical traps lay within the pages to warrant it in the restricted section but the complexity and danger of many of these alchemical makings being improperly brewed ensured none but trusted alchemists and master wizards would use it. Once or twice, students and mages thought they could brew a potion from these pages and failed to severe or deadly consequences.

He came back out, book in hand. "There we are, Master Lorcan." He paused in his handing over the book. "Of course, the Archive will need a way to ensure this book returns. Please follow me, I believe you know of the ritual."

Enanth turned and lead him to the far northern part of the library. Here, lead-lined half walls and arcane sigils covered the area. A magic circle was inlaid at the center of all this, silver and electrum rings shining in thin circular bands in the daylight. "Fulmen," he evoked, torch scones lighting with fire. The wizard turned to Lorcan. "And now a part of you, Master Lorcan," he said.

Blood, hair, a bit of dry skin from the lip, it mattered only that it came from him to bind the ritual. The ritual itself was equal parts tracking if the book needed to be returned and a unique mark that could be used to keep track of the dangerous material.