The man with dark brown hair and large unfitting glasses greeted Emilio at the door. Emilio has read about this man before, though only in books and print. Federico Corvio is known best for his studies on The Rime Hart and his creations. Much of his work relies on the clerical arts, channeling their power to support his research.

“Ah! You must be Emilio!” He reached out his arm for Emilio to shake. Emilio noticed that the man had black gloves on, an obvious cautionary measure against his cryonic skin. Emilio used his uninfected hand and shook it. 

“Remarkable! Oh, you’re quite remarkable, please come in.” He said rather excitedly. Emilio entered, looking around in amazement.

The Arcanium was just as ethereal on the inside, the place lightened by electric sconces all around. Emilio felt as if everything had answers. Pure black wood covered the floors, as well as the spiraling stairs. The first floor was decorated with ornate furniture, dusty bookshelves draped in cobwebs, and ancient curiosities displayed all around. Each object seemed to emit arcane power, their auras dancing all around the Acranium. 

“I’m sure you know who I am?” The Arcanist asked, and Emilio nodded in response.

“Ah! Wonderful, and you’re familiar with my work as well?”

“I read some of your work at the Sanatorium, sir.”

“Good to know not all Coldfells are illiterate and empty-minded!” Federico said bluntly. They continued through the building, Emilio casting a silent gaze on every bit of detail he could take in.

“I am quite delighted to have met you upfront. My apprentice was originally going to handle your arrival but– ah, I needn’t tell you the details.”

“I appreciate it, sir.” Emilio responded, “And for your hospitality.”

“Young coldfell, there’s no need to be all formal– those nuns at the Sanatorium are all too deferential.” Federico chuckled, “Not to worry, we’ll shake off those habits right away.”

Emilio remained defensive. A part of him was taken aback by the Arcanist’s welcoming tone. He’s never been treated like this before and certainly was better than how only a few moments in the city treated him. Everyone detested Coldfells, yet Federico didn’t seem to be phased by him. 

Emilio passed by the plethora of statues, one of them catching his eye. Another bust of the heavenly patron that he saw many times at the Sanatorium: the Sainte. 

Emilio’s brain itched when he looked at the idol, putting his fingers to his temple. A voice called to him, though he couldn’t understand it. It scratched like a phonograph, with only some words audible. He tried to shake out the discomfort, but the sound persisted.

“Save me… szz… It trapped me… find the… scrr… find the Rime Hart… save me.”

Emilio snapped out of it, the voice was gone. All that was left was the silver statuette quietly on display. 

“Did you hear that?” Emilio asked.

“Hear what?”

“That voice, from the statue…” 

“Er, no.” There was an awkward pause before Federico spoke again, “Well, you seem quite tired. A pity, I have so many questions to ask you. No matter, it can wait. I've got so much mail to answer to.”

He clapped his hands, calling for an elegantly dressed man who darted to them. He gave a slight bow to Federico.

“Can you please show the Coldfell to his room?”

“Of course, as you wish.”

Federico clasped his hands together again, “Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Emilio. Rest assured that once you’re back to your… less-exhausted self we can begin talking about what I ask of you.”

Emilio and the butler took their leave, passing through the spiral staircase up to the second floor. Lights lit up as they walked up as if it was magically detecting their presence. There were several doors on both sides, and the butler halted on the left.

“Here you are,” The butler said, “Everything should be in order, but please let us know if there are any issues.”

“Thank you,” Emilio said, and the butler promptly bowed his head and closed the door behind him. Emilio was now alone with his thoughts. It had been an overwhelming week, so much had changed in such a short period. It was all unpleasant, and though he felt more relaxed with Federico– he was just a bird off from one cage to another, he was still confined.

No matter how much he wanted to rest, the thought of the statue’s voice lingered in his mind. There was something off about it, and all the answers he could have here may as well be replaced with more questions. But one thing was for certain, one thing that was most clear in his mind. It was that The Rime Hart was looking for him.