Questions At The Golden Oak

((The Golden Oak, Osilan))

The three emerged from a rear door in the common room. A few heads turned to look at the trio as they appeared quite unexpectedly and sat down at an empty table. A confused serving wench approached them and Reise ordered a mug of ale for himself, a glass of sweet mead for Orla and a platter of food they could share between them. Severos simply ordered a glass of water.

After the woman had departed, Reise said, “We'd have dropped in on you a lot sooner, but we got held up at this old fort in the mountains.”

“And there were some other complications,” Orla added, studying Severos closely across the table.

Reise leaned back in his bar chair and said in a tired, frustrated voice, “It's like we're all in a play, but every actor is running in different directions and expecting to drag the others with them, but they're running just as hard and none of us can get anywhere. But that ends now. Now for the good of this world we share, we're going to all get on the same page for once.”

Orla smiled at his pithy remark, nodding in agreement. “'T'would be good to have a clear direction again, and some plan on how we're going to get there.”

“Recovering the book has to be our top priority,” Reise said, looking to Severos. “What else can you tell us about the man who stole it? And what is going on with you? You're clearly not yourself. If I sound hard on you... it's only because I care...”

Severos leaned back a bit, his head cleared. "I have a mind of what has happened. As of late, I have found myself being tempted by the... Book... I think Kelmoran was trying to possess me once more. I know not to read the book, it his will that is truly terrifying. I never want to feel it again."

He sipped a bit of water. "I honestly don't know. It could be that or it could be that Phronesis weakened the dweomers that keep him in. To which, I have studied to a great extent in the time I had. But it all points to... Him... He may be growing stronger. Maybe in proximity to me or his own soul is trying to naturally reconstruct itself. Either or, the bonds that tie him are loosening."

He looked at Reise and frowned, holding back his next part. He glanced between the two.

"You studied the wards?" Orla asked.

"Yes," Severos stated, trying to smile at Orla. But the serious matter at hand and the recent events left him drained. "The strangest thing is that I have managed to identify the origin of the spellcraft. It is not old Dalen, neither is any eastern craft... It is Verdish."

Everyone knew full well that Verden eschewed magic, actively criminalizing magic because of the very lich he lost. The Verden Inquisition was a collection of mage and demon hunters, skilled martially and prepared to do what needed to be done to destroy spellcasters. It was this very anti-magic group that had defeated Galathus Kelmoran in the legends of yore.

The confusing part was the magical seals that kept the soul inside of the Mortith. They were most definitely in the same cryptographically exact runes that the Inquisition used. But how did they cast this magic without actual mages?

Severos shook his head. "Verden has not used magic in a hundred years or more. And I do not have enough research to determine how to fix the wards."

"Still haven't told us what happened," Reise remarked.

Severos frowned a bit more and raised his hand slightly. His fingers flexed three times before he twirled the air in motions. Even as he did so, he focused the thief's image in his head in as much detail as he could. "Create imago," he breathed. A small but accurate to the best of his mind's representation of the old man came into existence.

As the two beheld his image, Severos looked at Orla and asked, "Where is Horo?"