“Let’s just… contact Hagen, yea?”
Jarl removes his heavy red jacket, finding it shockingly warm inside the Super room. He spies a radiator beside the table and chairs, beneath the large windows, and realizes it’s probably on as a courtesy.
Whether it’s always on or not is debatable but he’d settle for no as it wasn’t that warm before.
(And it’d be pretty insane, bill wise, to warm unoccupied rooms.)
(It could also just be that heat rises; there’s probably a vent.)
Manus sighs and nods at the priest before quickly prying the Lay Tablet from his bag. The wooden board gleams strangely in the dark room’s dim lighting, whether from powers unknown or Áesta’s recent cleaning Jarl doesn’t know, as the mage rests it gently on the small table before the large windows.
He then sits in one of the chairs.
Followed by Áesta.
~
“There’s extra chairs in the closet!”
Manus grins like the Cheshire Cat as he points to the door by the entrance. Jarl rolls his eyes at him, the hog, and the giggling daemonic house cat he’s managed to acquire while he marches off to get himself a chair.
The two magically inclined of the group just scoot theirs closer together.
With the mural of leather falls behind them, the two gather the required herbs and clay nubs together and begin packing them in as Jarl brings his chair over. For ease, he settles the seat beside Manus (Áesta pouts but it really isn’t Jarl’s fault the Spaniard picked the one farthest from the corner) so the mage’s in the middle while the daemon’s closer to the wall and window.
Shockingly, Manus doesn’t tease them about it.
Instead, he simply pulls out the required potions and blue gem stone, having finished putting in the herbs and clay, and pours in whatever’s needed into the slots below (Jarl still doesn’t understand how any of it works).
~
Jarl honestly suspects the blue gemstone is a lapis lazuli.
Liam Mac Cárthaig, the Shantown priest before him, used the royal blue stones for his rosary beads.
He’d told him, when he asked why, that the gemstone was known since ancient times to be for healing, wisdom, strength, courage, and truth.
“It helps one see—everything.”
~
“Is Z’at a picture made of leaz’er?”
Jarl smiles warmly as Hagen peers beyond them to the mosaic behind them. Manus, however, rolls his eyes, “Last you saw me I was practically dead on a bench; is that REALLY your first question when seeing me???”
“Ich vas more concerned viz’ z’e oz’er two not getting along.”
The magician makes an offended noise but they all know he’s just playing. It’s Jarl’s turn, now, to roll his eyes and move the chatter along, “We didn’t, for a while, but we did manage to sort things out.”
“AFTER ‘e tried ta make me sleep in a bad priest’s house.”
“Wha—ÁESTA!!!”
~
“Kurios… vhat makes a bad priest… bad?”
Manus’ laughing fit and Jarl’s embarrassed (or is it ashamed?) anger simmers down quickly at Hagen’s ask. The mage looks amused—smug, even—at the apothecary’s question and grins like the Cheshire Cat again.
He must know the answer…
He must think their reactions will be amusing. Frowning, Jarl turns his gaze to the nonchalant daemon—easier now that Manus has leaned back in his seat, haughtily, as though getting comfortable for a play—and watches (waits) for his answer.
It’s… surprising, to say the least.
“hWat makes anyone bad: disloyalty, goin’ back on t’e deal, twistin’ it ta only fit THEM.”
~
“In other words…” Manus smiles, the edges of his lips eerily (protectively) sharp, “Don’t joder Áesta OVER.”
“Ceart,” the daemon nods; “Jus’ focáil me.”
Jarl blushes from nape to nostril.
Hagen, however, seriously nods.
~
“So, vhat happened?”
Hagen’s question launches Manus into a fairly lengthy (and somewhat overly extravagant…) explanation. Everything is covered: from Mariti to Maria (“Jarl almost CHOCKED—‽” “He was an ars—!!! He was bad. Very… VERY bad.”); Cael to Castlegodry (“You z’ree… rode a BOAT… in z’e middle of WINTER???” “Yup!”); Graves to Gina (“Ich heard of her during mein travels…” “She’s very powerful and knowledgeable!” “Hm…” “Ah’ll intraduce ya hone day. She’s a v’ry good person fer an apot’ecary ta know.” “Ich vould love z’at…!”; sickness to sheep (“… SHEEP?” “Áesta loves them.” “He just… hopped the fence and ran right to them… and they LET him.” “‘Ey! Don’ sound so shocked!! Sheep LOVE meh!!!” “… Astounding…”)
The apothecary smiles at the (first part of the) last bit: “Ich am glad you are better.”
Their group’s mage smiles back softly, “I am, too.”
~
The smile is gone rather quickly, though.
“I did some digging while I was sick.” It’s a strange statement, to be sure, but a true one none-the-less.
Hagen raises a skeptical eyebrow; but, as usual, the medical half of Witch Doctor understands the mage well (better than Jarl normally does, anyway): “You went to the Nexus?”
The Spaniard breathes heavily through his nose while running a hand through his slightly unkept bangs. Then, he nods, “Yes. I had to. Back in Bailemore, we realized the real reason we couldn’t just ‘port to Bailecastle wasn’t due to the kidnapper putting up wards or the like: it was because the Elders BLACKLISTED it.”
Pale blonde brows furrow in confusion behind thin framed glasses, “… Vhy?”
Manus frowns deeply.
~
“Magic… is not a fantasy.
“It is a knowledge set. One that you need not be BORN KNOWING.
“Some people, through out history, have actually used it before without any formal training.
“These people, despite having used magic, are still known as non-magic users because of the lack of training. That training, while it probably seems silly to many of you, is what gives us users a Signature.
“A Magic Signature is literally our name in the eyes of the universe.
“It’s how It understands US. RECOGNIZES us.
“It’s WHY we HAVE Formal Training.
“And… it’s why the Elders freaked out when some unknown signature used magic to summon a daemon.”
~
“… So… you are saying… some non-magician… hired a daemon to kidnap Jasey…?”
“Yes,” Jarl confirms for Manus, showing—in a way—support for both Manus, himself, and his information. Not that Hagen wouldn’t accept it, anyway; he trusts the mage more than Jarl [does]. Probably.
Jarl’s trust in the old witch IS increasing each day his devotion to Jasey is shown unconditionally.
“And…” Jarl swallows, throat suddenly tight, as he can see the
files and vials on the shelves behind Hagen, inignorable reminders of all the parishioners
waiting for him back home—all the people that he loved, TRUSTED, and are now again
suspects in Who Took Jasey?
He can’t say it.
So, Manus says it for him: “And… they’re from Shantown.”
~
Hagen doesn’t seem to know what to say to that.
He stares at them in silent shock, seeming as unable to comprehend the betrayal as much as they were.
Still are.
Eventually, he removes his glasses—something he hardly ever does unless it’s to clean them of fog/dirt—and sighs as he rubs at his tired eyes; “…How… VHY…?”
(But none of them know. Either answer.)
~
“I… DO… have SOME good news…?”
Jarl swallows thickly as everyone turns to him. Hagen looks surprised while Áesta looks curious.
Manus looks downright thrown.
Jarl doesn’t really blame any of their reactions. Manus’ is especially understandable as, as far as he and Áesta know, there’s nothing else the three of them have discussed beforehand: they should all be caught up now.
So, why aren’t they?
“I… I talked to Oak about the kidnapper—about Red—while I was with her… I’m sorry I didn’t say this sooner; I was just… shooken… I asked her if she knew him, gave a description, and she said yes; she KNOWS him; she’s been carrying him—AND Jasey—and… she even knows his NAME: it’s… it’s Kane…”
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