It was another four days before Lacet managed to catch his first glimpse of the silent guardians dotted across the City of Light. There had simply been so many things he needed to do. Unpack, review his research notes, look up an obscure study in one of the papers he had managed to smuggle with him on this trip to Valessei, and while he was busy with everything else Lacet had also given himself the unenviable task of trying to make friends with Riveltiel and Lorent. The last objective on his 'to-do' list, however, had proven much more difficult than he had anticipated.
Bogged down by all the things he had hoped to accomplish by the end of the week to impress Marus and the Duchess in his report to them, and feeling stymied by his lacklustre results, Lacet had decided some time away from work would be a good way to clear his head.
And what better way to do that than to walk the streets of the dead city?
No matter the hour, the streets of Luxenthras glittered with their own light. Even after all this time, Lacet could not believe his luck. Here he was, standing in the cradle of civilisation.
To think millennia ago, Luxenthras would have been bustling with people.
As he walked the streets, he had tried imagining what those calling the city home might have looked like and what their lives might have been like. Would there have been a bustling bazaar in the empty square he passed? What kind of clothing had those come before wore? Was the populace, like their own, split into a hierarchy of nobles and commoners or was it similar to the Valessei Alliance's 'democratic' proceedings?
Lacet found he had so many questions, and though he was no historian, the weight of the history within the walls of the City of Light clung to him. They begged to be solved; their mysteries unravelled.
He could see why Augustine was so passionate about his research.
As Lacet neared the temple of Luxenthras sat at the heart of the city, he passed by the looming stone sentinels.
Silent. Unmoving. They towered over the other buildings in Luxenthras, their faces obscured by shadow. The golem he had faced at Wyndhaven was tiny by comparison.
What would it have been like if he had faced these giants?
Would his spell have even worked against those he saw before him now?
While he had managed to bespell the golem that had attacked the palace back into its dormant state – a feature of many modern iterations of golems uncovered in the last century or so – the ones here in Luxenthras remained larger than life. It begged the question if they could be shrunk or not.
Unbidden, Lacet placed a hand on the foot of the closest golem. It was cool to the touch, carved from hard marble or something akin to the material.
Whoever had made these had been meticulous. Each and every one of the stone sentinels looked different from the next, their designs intricate and the craftwork beyond belief. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought them mere statues. Impressive, still, but not ones that could come alive.
"Marvellous, are they not?" asked a voice behind him. Reluctantly, Lacet pulled his hand away from the golems and turned to face the Lady Riveltiel. The dark-skinned noblewoman was dressed in a pale blue shirt and dark pair of trousers. Her long tresses had been pulled into a messy bun. A practical outfit that would probably still have an exorbitant price attached, no doubt.
"Good morning, Lady Riveltiel," Lacet said in greeting, bowing low to show his respects. "I did not think you would be awake at this hour."
"Oh, come now, Lacet, there is no need for titles. Not here at least," she said, though it was clear from her tone she took great pleasure in having her status recognised. "We are all equals here after all. Work colleagues in the pursuit of a common cause as Regis would say."
"I suppose."
Hestia Riveltiel flashed what felt like a predatory smile that sent shivers down Lacet's back. He had never felt comfortable in her presence. There was a certain air around her Lacet had found impenetrable. Would it be better to leave now before he made a social faux pas that would snake its way back to Kastasol and make him a laughing stock?
How best could he extricate himself from the unsavoury position he found himself in?
An easy enough affair, thought Lacet, if he provided some trivial excuse.
But where would it leave him? Lacet was here for a reason. And mayhap this was his chance to befriend the difficult woman. He was, after all, still curious about why she had been selected to join the expedition. Her knowledge and field of research at the Academy seemed far removed from golems or the history of Luxenthras.
Clearly, he was missing something important.
"So," said Lacet, gesturing to the silent statues behind him, "what brought you here to Luxenthras? Professor Augustine mentioned something about reanimation magic. To be honest, I didn't study that back in the Academy. It was one of the more advanced magics and I was a fairly average student. Could...could you perhaps tell me what it entails and how it brought you here to Luxenthras when it seems your talents would be better served in a laboratory?"
Riveltiel cocked her head to one side, as if she was studying him like she would a specimen pinned to her table. "When people think of reanimation – at least in the sense of Voltan – they equate it to the restoration of a person on the brink of death. As you well know, such a feat is incredibly dangerous. Energy is finite and all that," Riveltiel said after a moment's pause. She smiled again, flashing her too white teeth. "I had the brilliant idea of adapting his theorem to inanimate objects."
"How do you mean?"
The woman looked down at her cuticles. "Why, just look around you, dear Lacet. What do you think brings these golems to life?"
"But that's not reanimation magic," protested Lacet. "All of the ones currently being used were found dormant, needing only an infusion of magic and the right key word to be woken."
"That's correct. From a conventional standpoint," said Riveltiel. "My studies, however, have proven otherwise. To be fair, I haven't had as much success with something as complex as golems. But, if you want to have a look at the results of my research, I can show you back at camp."
"Wait. Are you saying you've brought objects to life?" Lacet tried to wrap his head around the implications in that one simple revelation.
"Simple things. Dolls. Mechanical creations," she said, ticking them off on her hand as she leaned into his space. "All in a controlled environment, you must understand."
Despite her attempts to downplay her achievements and put on an air of humility, there was a smugness in the way she carried herself told Lacet she was pleased she had found a way to surprise him.
She was a woman who knew what her discovery could mean for the field of magic and science given the chance. "If you have some time later today, I would gladly like to share the fruits of my current project with you. I'm sure it will be very enlightening."
The promise made, she leaned back and waited a few moments before flashing another coy smile and sauntering away. Lacet watched as she was swallowed up by the city. Had she been...?
Lacet dared not allow his thoughts to go so far. There was a time and place to dissect what had transpired in that particular social interaction. After all, given the years he had not lived in the city, there was every possibility he was misreading the entire situation.
He huffed a sigh and turned his attention back to the golems. Unlike many he had encountered previously, the silent guardians of the City of Light were very human-like sculptures. These were not scraps of metal haphazardly joined together in an amalgamation of a humanoid shape.
How did they work? Where was their power source stored? Lacet had so many questions. If only he had infinite time to explore at his leisure.
Krags, he should have brought his notebook with him. If only so he could make a quick sketch of these statues.
Still, at the very least he could take in the golems and take his time appreciating the majesty of the creatures before him.
~
The underground nature of Luxenthras made it difficult to keep track of the time. By the time Lacet returned to camp, it was already late afternoon according to his timepiece. Stomach grumbling, and hoping for a bite to eat, he was waylaid just outside the main tent by Augustine. The history professor looked somewhat frazzled; his glasses were askew and his clothes scuffed with dirt.
"Lacet old boy, there you are! I was afraid we might have had to send out a search party if you had not come back by dinner time. The City of Light can be a dangerous place and you were gone for quite a long time."
"Professor, with all due respect, I am a man grown," said Lacet. "A chaperone is unnecessary. Especially when there is no danger here." It was strange to have someone act so concerned for his wellbeing. He was nearing forty, not a young and naïve child, and could take care of himself. Beyond that, he was a mage with access to powerful magics should the need arise. There was simply no need for Augustine to be so worried.
"My dear boy, there are risks everywhere," said Augustine. "Places like this can be a haven for bandits or deadly beasts. Why, when our party first arrived, we were beset by a nightmarish creature. Riveltiel managed to hold it off but these old streets are not safer. Especially after dark. Then, of course, there have been the occasional treasure hunters. They claim to be here for an educational archaeological dig but all they seek are important artefacts to take home with them. Ones they hope to sell. Most of the time, they're accompanied by hardened mercenaries who attack first and ask questions later."
"Well, if it eases your mind, Augustine, I was left unmolested although I did encounter Riveltiel earlier in the day."
Augustine frowned. "Be that as it may, I just wanted to warn you, old boy, there are things out there your power cannot protect you from. You might think my concern paternalistic or misplaced, but I have seen many a stubborn fool that have allowed pride be their downfall. And I don't want that to happen to you, Lacet. For some inexplicable reason, I quite like you and think you're an excellent addition to the team."
Lacet flushed red, suitably chastised. There was much truth to Augustine's words. "I..." he began and then thought better for it. "Your concern is duly noted, Augustine. I'll be more careful in the future."
"Good," said Augustine, nodding before a smile blossomed over his lips. "So, I just heard tell you went out to have a look at the golems. Beautiful, are they not? And very notable they are all stationed to the lead-up to the temple dedicated to the Gods, don't you think?"
They chatted until dinner.
Caught up in the discussion of the symbolism behind the golems, all thoughts of a quick bite were forgotten. The flow of conversation was briefly interrupted when Lacet got up to grab his journal. As they bandied around different hypotheses, Lacet sketched out the statues from memory onto the page. Something Augustine seemed impressed by as he expressed his awe vocally and enthusiastically.
And though he was a historian first, Augustine also proved knowledgeable when it came to the mechanics behind golemetry. In fact, it had been something he had a keen interest of ever since he had been a young child. Something Augustine credited his grandfather for nurturing and supporting.
When Lacet broached the topic of the golem attack on the capital, Augustine had pulled his chair up close. The two of them had poured over Lacet's notes and the sketch he had made of the golem at the centre of it all.
"And, where is it now?" asked Augustine.
"Safely locked up and out of the public's eye. That's all I know," said Lacet, the half-truth sitting uneasily on his lips. He had come to like the old man but he had made a promise to King Delion.
"Well, I can tell just from your descriptions it is nothing like the ones here at Luxenthras."
Lacet closed his notebook. "True. But the ones we see here are precursors, right? Logically, the two would be the same at a fundamental level and yet why are the golems here so large? Why don't they follow the rules of the golems that came after?"
"That's why we're here, Lacet, old boy. And I'm sure a brilliant mind like yours will solve the mystery without issue. Already, you've proven yourself pivotal to our expedition."
"Thank you for your vote of confidence," said Lacet. He swallowed. The next step was a gamble. Depending on Augustine's answer, Lacet might be able to reliably cross him off the list of suspects. "But, you know, I've had to wonder why we're here. Before all this, I never knew the kingdom had a vested interest in golemetry. I mean, I love the fact that I'm here and all—"
Augustine reached over and grabbed hold of Lacet's arm. His grip was tight. "Stop. Those are dangerous waters to traverse, old boy, but you're wrong. We are on the precipice of history here. True, the Duchess and her cronies might have ulterior motives to fund this expedition – potentially for further militaristic expansion in the future, but we are here because of our desire to progress science in a way that's not been done before. With such skilled and talented individuals such as Lorent and Riveltiel, there is no telling what we might be able to do. Listen—"
Before he was able to finish, Riveltiel stomped past on her way to her private tent. She had changed again, sporting casual evening wear any noble might have worn on a night out in the capital. Why she had packed something of that nature remained a mystery to Lacet.
Upon seeing them, she stopped.
"I should have known the two of you were here," said Riveltiel. "Why did you not come to see me, Lacet? Too enthralled in your little talks with the professor, then?"
"S-sorry," stammered Lacet. "The time got away from me. Maybe later this evening?"
"Fine. But don't keep me waiting." Riveltiel turned towards Augustine. "Oh, and before I forget, Lorent wanted to ask you something."
Augustine rose to his feet. "Must be another artefact he found. Lacet, I'm terribly sorry to leave you now, but if you'd kindly excuse me? We can continue this later."
Lacet nodded and watched the historian leave, somehow bereft and already missing the historian's presence.
"Well, then, since you seem unoccupied, Lacet, might I suggest getting started on dinner? Let me know when it's done."
"Aren't you going to help out?"
The noblewoman sniffed disdainfully. "I'm afraid not. My time is valuable and better spent elsewhere." She started to head back to her tent before looking back over her shoulder. "Oh, and before I forget, I thank you for your service. Now, if you could be a little quick about it, I'm completely and utterly famished."
Riveltiel disappeared into her tent, leaving Lacet all alone.
Moments passed before Lacet rose to his feet. Given how hungry he was, he didn't mind being allocated on dinner duty. Of course, he'd need to check what supplies they had. It wouldn't be a banquet but Lacet was certain he could whip something up that would be both delicious and fill the stomach.
The firepit was a pitiful sight. A pot of water was strung up on a primitive stand. But there was no wood to heat it up. Despite the collective intelligence of the people in the expedition, none had the foresight to light the fire.
Heaving a deep sigh, Lacet collected some wood, checked what food they had and went about making dinner for their expedition of four.
~
Minerva returned from her daily hunt just as Lacet was spooning up the last of the chicken and mushroom soup. She landed on his shoulder and then swallowed the dead rat she had caught. Still hungry, she pecked at his fingers for a scrap of something she could feed on. A treat perhaps, or some meat.
Food was scarce in the desert and in the city in general. His familiar was much better suited to the forests of Lastrune where she could snag a scurrying mouse on whisper quiet wings. Here, she was out of her element.
"Sorry, Minerva. I'm fresh out," Lacet told the owl. "I just finished off the last of my chicken."
"Oh, she can have some of mine," piped up Augustine from his seat. "I must say, that was a delightful meal and I am pleasantly stuffed. Much like a turkey during Harvest. Lacet, old boy, I'm surprised you were able to create something like this in so little time."
Lacet ignored the flush to his cheeks. The history professor had a way with words and wasn't shy to show his appreciation. Growing up on the streets, Lacet was not used to the easy way Augustine heaped praise on him for the simplest of things.
It made him feel...
"Are you sure, Augustine?" asked Lacet, not wishing to impose.
"It's no bother, old boy. Besides, do you not have an engagement with the Lady Riveltiel? It is impolite to keep a woman waiting," said Augustine. "Now, be off with you." To the familiar, he beckoned to her with the last remaining choice meats from his unfinished meal.
Minerva, ever loyal to her stomach, fluttered over onto the shoulders of the professor and eagerly accepted the food he offered.
For a second or two, Lacet watched as Minerva plucked the chicken meat from Augustine's hand. A part of him felt outrage Minerva had abandoned him so quickly for someone else. But a second, larger part was thankful for Augustine's foresight.
Still, as he set aside his empty bowl and headed towards Riveltiel's gauche looking tent, he threw a pointed look at the owl. One that expressed all of his mock outrage. But, as always, Minerva ignored him, too intent on the free scraps she was getting with little effort on her part.
Shaking his head at how fickle his very own familiar could be, Lacet pushed past the flap to Riveltie's tent.
Hunched over a desk, busy with something, sat Riveltiel. She had not heard him enter. Lacet awkwardly cleared his throat. Once. Twice. And then finally a third time.
She spun around. "Oh, there you are. Come around, Lacet. I need your help with this last piece. And then I'll be ready to show you exactly what I meant earlier today." In her hands, she held the arm of a wooden toy. It had been carefully and meticulously crafted, the joint ready to be inserted into a shoulder socket. "The honour is all yours," she said, handing the arm over to him and motioned to her desk.
Atop her desk was a moveable doll-like figurine which could be manipulated into different types of poses. This one was of the size any child could play with. It had a shock of straw-coloured hair and it was clothed in the traditional vestment of the Valessei – a deep blue tunic with gold trimmings and stars carefully stitched into the material. Shoes of soft leather adorned her feet, decorated with colourful beads.
The only thing missing from the doll was its arm.
Lacet picked it up, curious, and looked it over properly. As he turned to the back, he found a hole had been cut into it – small enough to fit a small gem. "What is this?"
Riveltiel seemed to sense his bemusement. "This is Paelilia. She's a popular toy often found in Valessei. I'd bought her days ago, thinking she would be an amusing distraction. After noting your interest in reanimation magic, however, I thought she would be perfect for today's experiment."
"So, you'll be bringing her to life?" asked Lacet as he carefully inserted the arm into the missing slot on the right side of the figurine's torso. The arm clicked into place.
"Reanimate," corrected Riveltiel. "Remember: this is simply a different application of Voltan's theorem. I'm sure even a mage of your calibre would be able to do it. Although, to be fair, Paelilia is a lot more complicated than I had anticipated. A lot of moving joints."
"Show me. Please."
Flashing Lacet a predatory smile under hooded eyes, Riveltiel did just that.