~Adrian~

Darkness was ever present in the strange city of Newport. Adrian had almost grown accustomed to that. Enormous buildings blocked the sun most of the time, while the blue sky hid beyond a dark veil of haze hanging over the entirety of this overgrown settlement - poisonous, if April was to be believed, the same thing she said about the air below. The air here was admittedly too thick and heavy, rife with strangest smells that often made his throat burn. Though he never understood how nobody collapsed in the street if toxic air was all they had to breath.

But on rare occasions the Sun peered through the buildings as it neared the horizon, just like now, when he was slowly approaching the doors of the Cathedral armored in scaffolding. The temple was still more seemly than any other building around it. Golden sunrays bursting between the ruinous remains of the Hope Street's tall stone blocks, projecting elongated shapes on the pavement, illuminating the gloomy surroundings and glittering with dust particles made a majestic sight, making his deliberate stroll all the more pleasant. He had to admit there was a certain unique charm to this place, a fascination he'd started discovering after getting over his fears and bewilderment.

Iron hinges whined when he pushed the heavy door open. There were quite a few people inside, some praying, some simply sitting on the benches, lost in their own thoughts. Nobody paid mind to his careful footsteps. The priest was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he's in the confessionals, he thought. Unbidden, came a very vivid memory of his last visit to the confessionals centuries ago, in a small wooden church that probably had ceased to exist a long time ago. The priest there had seemed so Godly and kind – the perfect image of a model Christian, as far as appearances were concerned. Young Adrian, not knowing any better, had blurted out things he should've kept to himself. And how disastrously that had worked out for him. He shook the memory away. None of it matters anymore. They're all dead and forgotten.

He walked slowly to a freshly installed crucifix. It looked too new and unmarred to belong here, but it was a masterful piece of craft. Christ's marble face was all pain and sorrow, looking down at him with hooded eyes just like He had from many other such statues. It was strange to think that symbols of one of the religions he used to hide from were the most familiar things for him left in this world, yet that was how he felt every time he laid his eyes upon the crowned Savior.

"I hope I haven't made you wait too long", came father Raul's familiar voice, ending his ruminations. Adrian turned to regard him.

"No, not at all, I have only just returned. Have you found anything?"

"There's always something to be found in a library", the priest shrugged, "and yes, I think the books I've found will serve you well. Come."

He led the way beyond the rows of benches, through a short sequence of passages and all the way to a small chamber, where, true to his word, he had a sizable pile of books waiting on his desk. "Are you hungry by chance? I'll be happy to fetch dinner for you."

Adrian shook his head, "No, thank you. I have a grand feast waiting for me in Word."

"Oh?" Father Raul turned to him, "Any special occasion? I'm sure I haven't forgotten any Balance related celebration."

"No, it's… work related."

Raul's brows rose subtly at the sourness of his tone, which must have been more noticeable than Adrian had intended it to be, but he let it slide unnoted. "Alright then, here you go", he said in a strained voice as he took the volumes bound together and handed them to Adrian. "Please tell April, that these are the best I could find for her, and that if she'd come here herself, the search would've been a lot more efficient."

He sounded only slightly reproachful. Adrian smirked. He would tell her, of course, just like he'd told her all those other times. But he damn well knew, it would be pointless. "I'll tell her", he promised anyway. Next came a mandatory question, one that he asked every time to honor his promise and friendship, but the answer to which had remained unchanged for a long time now. "Father", he started tentatively, "April wanted me to ask you again, has…"

"Cortez has not returned, nor have we heard of Jacob MacAllen." The priest shook his head, sighing deeply. "There have been some developments in the Church of Voltec, if that interests her."

"Oh?" Adrian said with unease, "What sort of development?"

"Honestly, I'm not quite sure. I've heard talk of new leadership, and rumors about the Church dividing. I haven't had much opportunity to inquire. Our own church has been keeping me busier than ever. We've had quite an influx lately, so many came flocking back after the 'Collapse', as they've been calling it lately."

The Collapse, Adrian considered the term, he hadn't heard it before, but he didn't need Raul to explain it, it does sound fitting to what I was witnessing, he thought, feeling chills down his spine, even after all the time that had passed since the event. "That's understandable", he said out loud, "I'll tell her what you've told me. Thank you for all your help, father, for both of us."

"I'm at your service", the man smiled kindly, "please, don't forget my other request from earlier."

The other request gave Adrian a pause. "I won't", he said, a little less sure than he'd wanted to, "should I mention Minstrum Gilen's name to her though?" he added tentatively.

Raul scoffed, "Most probably not. I'm guessing she still hasn't forgiven them?" it was only half a question.

"I know she would have, if they'd asked sincerely", Adrian assured him, "but they'd need to get to her first. Is that even a possibility?" The priest merely threw his hand up in surrender, shaking his head.

Adrian walked out of the Cathedral with his arms laden. Finding a sufficiently hidden dark corner was easy to do in this neighborhood, and in a minute he was back in Kamareil, standing in a hidden nook similar to the one in Newport, though the similarities did not extend beyond the level of secrecy. There was nothing in the quaint little town of Kamareil that could possibly be compared to the imposing mass of Newport, whether in size or style. This was a settlement the likes of which he'd seen multiple times during his travels over a thousand years ago, albeit still unique in its own way. The architecture could seem a little eccentric to someone of the world he'd been born to, but when he gave April her first tour through it's cobblestone streets, she immediately started naming similar styles in contemporary Stark, as well as the famous masters of them. They both agreed that they liked it though. Houses were of rounded and irregular shapes, almost all the doors and windows had thick, well defined, ornamental frames cut as waves and swirls. Even the trees were bent in strange directions, stunted in growth, complimenting the townscape perfectly.

He headed to Word, navigating through narrow streets, kicking away the last of dry, brown leaves and mentally noting frozen edges of small puddles. The chilly air was sweet and easy to breath, practically pouring itself in his lungs without any effort on his part. This, in Adrian's eyes was the chief virtue of the place, stomping even the sea-side city of Marcuria, which was fed moist air from its shores, scented with salt water. Kamareil enjoyed coolness of surrounding forests that barred gusts of hot air from the south, a view on magnificent blue mountains shielding it from the worst of bone chilling freezing winds that blew from the North, and direct, well maintained roads connecting it to Marcuria and Corasan. The town had walls to protect the populace from packs of wild beasts, and a few trained Artists that spun magic into defensive spells to ward off bands of robbers and even small armies, if needed. The population wasn't nearly as numerous as other, more famous places, but they were cultured. Overall Kamareil was a small gem hidden away in the North-East of Ayrede. Though it was, perhaps, a touch too small, Adrian thought. Even now, as he walked through familiar streets and looked this way and that, he could see the walls in every direction, almost far enough for comfort, but still a bit too close. A smidge too low to be truly imposing, a bit too unmanned to stop a truly considerable threat, and he felt like this about everything in this place. Whatever met the eye was a little lacking for him, falling only a bit short of being just right.

There was one exception, and that was Sage's Word – the emerging champion among book houses (or a publishing palace as its denizens preferred to call it) in the region, perhaps in all of Ayrede. A home to a growing number of scholars and researchers and writers of all fields in the world of written word. It had been built as a classic castle only a couple centuries ago, with towers and a wide courtyard, and while not overly grand as far as castles go, it loomed over all the other buildings near and far. Its parapets were visible from anywhere in town and as he approached it, its entire mass was visible over low roofs strewn around it.

Word didn't have proper castle gates, and they were thrown open at almost any time of the day. The guards did stand still as statues on both sides of the entrance, but Adrian had yet to see them stop anyone from going in or out. As always, they acknowledged him with a nod as he passed them, and he answered likewise. The courtyard was livelier than usual, despite the chill and rising wind throwing snow at people, what with all the fuss about the upcoming feast. Errand boys had the worst of it, and for the past week or so it seemed as if every single person that provided any service around here, save for the scribes and artists, had an errand boy of his or her own. As soon as the news about their future guests broke out, everyone found there was too much to do and too many messages to deliver, much to the town boys' delight. Half a dozen young faces he'd never seen before ran past him before he could reach the doors. One scrawny, brown haired, wide eyed boy slipped on a half frozen puddle in his hurry and almost knocked Adrian and his older, dark blond peer that had come a bit too close off their feet. The latter pulled off quite a demonstration of agility, jumping right over the boy and still holding onto his papers. Adrian simply stumbled back a few steps and was lucky he'd been just far enough to avoid them.

"Be careful there!", he admonished, barely managing to prevent the books slipping out of his grasp. He'd received many warnings from Father Raul about the niggardly ways with which libraries parted with tangible copies of books – the only kind actually of use to Adrian in the world of magic - and incredulous penalties they had for mistreating them. He couldn't risk so much as a spot on a cover.

The inside of The Word was somewhat safer. Most people must've headed to their own chambers, or, for those who were residents of Kamareil, their own homes to get themselves in proper order for the occasion. He'd be doing the same very soon, but he needed to make his delivery first, so he marched along the proud tall walls (on a freshly replaced carpet, he noted) to the main study, where he was used to seeing April being the last person still at her desk, sketching furiously.

She wasn't there this time. But she had left a pile of sketches on her desk. Adrian peeked curiously. To him they looked elaborate and intricate. He'd have applauded her for good work, but from the way the sheets were strewn around carelessly, he knew she was not satisfied. His job was to listen to her complain about her alleged lack of talent and skill and offer whatever help he could provide. With a sigh he went to his own desk and put the books down. There was a note there. It said "'Those who must not be named' are here. I'm going to meet them at the feast, gotta get ready. If you don't show up on time, Nassie will strangle you in your sleep tonight." It was unmistakably April's handwriting, and her manner of expressing herself. Moreover, no one else would call Narsireq 'Nassie' other than her. Their employer was as proud as he was pompous, and most people would avoid referring to him by diminutive names where he could easily hear, or in this case read it. April seemed to find this habit incredibly difficult to let go. He went to the window. The western horizon was blood red, remaining light throwing long shadows pointing east. He ran fingers through his hair, pulling the bangs off his forehead. Have I been there this long? The feast had been marked down for the evening, when the sun dial showed six. He looked around dubiously. The study was deserted, but he knew if he left the books out here in the open April would be paranoid. For a good reason too. He sighed again and grabbed his bundle once more. Taking them straight to her room will be safer. Before he could reach the exit however, a familiar face turned up in the doorway.

"I thought I heard someone in here", the black haired female said sweetly.

Adrian suppressed the urge to grimace at the sight. "Hello, Thalya", he said, as polite as ever.

"What's that?" She pointed with her chin at the load.

"Books." He said innocently.

Thalya chuckled. "I can see that. Anything interesting?"

"Not for you", he cut short, voice cold and sharp. Her smile didn't so much as falter.

"You're taking a leaf out of April's book."

I have no time for this. "It was nice to see you". He walked out in a rush, her stare burning his back, headed to the dormitories, clutching his books even more firmly now, as if the woman would snatch them right out of his hands, but he felt one could never be too careful around her.

Having been a couple years in service at Word and bestowed with aptness for espionage and covering her tracks, Thalya was a force to reckon with, if one cared for their one's reputation and longevity of one's career. It was one of the hardest lessons he'd learnt from this job and he wasn't forgetting it anytime soon.

He marched along the empty windows warding off the howling wind that had risen outside. His arms were getting sore. Back in his old life he'd have to do a lot of hard, manual labor to get by, but now he was provided everything that used to require such efforts. It forced him sit in front of his desk the whole day, which he discovered to be a surprisingly draining pursuit. At the end of the day he always had to drag himself up, as if he were laden with metal. It was one of the reasons he always volunteered to go on a trip to Stark.

By the time he reached April's door at the far end of the fourth floor, he was panting. With great effort he managed to rap the door with his knuckles, while simultaneously holding onto the heavy stash. The sound was ever so soft, but April heard it.

"Who is it?" she called out.

"It's me!"

The door opened almost at once and he stepped in gratefully.

"What took you so long?" April demanded, just a bit frantic, "Nassie was going crazy. He's been running back and forth for hours asking about you". Then her eyes moved to the books he was holding. "Woah, you haven't returned empty handed."

"Father Raul sends his best regards", Adrian said, finally putting his burden down on her bedside table, save for one unassuming small book he'd had picked for himself, and noted a long pale blue dress she'd laid out on her bed. He'd noticed her hair looked different too, she'd somehow made it fall in wide elegant curls on one shoulder. She had probably been preparing for hours already.

"Well", April smiled despite herself, "thank him for me next time you see him." And she stood on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"About that…" He started, rubbing his arms to relieve the strain.

"Don't even try!"

"Father Raul asked me to tell you that the search would've been a lot more efficient with you there," he spilled the words quickly, before she could interrupt him.

She sighed. "Maybe, but I'm plenty busy here. Nassie's on my back all the time. And yours too, by the way. You'd better go change and do something about your hair. He wants everything impeccable this evening."

Adrian chuckled at her rather precise imitation of Narsireq's overly grandiose manner and glanced at the mirror on the wall above her bedside table. Sure enough, it was disheveled. He frowned at his reflection, "I thought you liked men with unruly hair," he said innocently.

April rewarded him with a mischievous smile. "Oh, I adore it," she purred, taking a jewelry box from a shelf of her wardrobe, "but if you show up like this for the party," she went on, pulling a pretty necklace out and laying it on top of the dress she'd prepared, appraising the style with a critical eye, "Nassie will cut it off, braid it into a rope and hang you on it."

He had no choice but to agree.

"One more thing," he started hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Raul… wanted me to ask you your Gene ID Number."

The effect of his words was quite remarkable, as he'd expected. Her eyes shot up to him, wide in confusion. "What? Why?"

Adrian felt more uncomfortable than he could explain, the echo of her alarm tingling in the back of his head. "He said he needed to know for some research," he managed.

"Research?" she repeated, growing more suspicious by the minute, "About me? What kind of research?"

"It's some sort of Stark business," he said, making his frustration with the whole affair plain and unconcealed, "you know I'm not good at any of that. I hardly understand what I've already relayed to you." This was true, as it happened. He hoped against hope that, along with her lingering respect for Father Raul, it was just enough honesty to get him out of this.

"Hah." She paused, thoughtful.

He could tell she remained suspicious, despite his efforts. Why did I expect it to be any other way? This is a strange inquiry. April was not a very trusty woman in general, and even without accounting for the bond they shared, she had come to know him quite well. More than well enough to tell when he was hiding something.

"Remind me next time you go," she said casually, "I'll see if I find that request less weird then."

"Thank you." He was relieved. Whether she believed him or not, she spared him questioning. "I'll be going then, to get ready." He turned to the door, while April busied herself with posing in front of the mirror, with the dress and her selection of jewelry. He hesitated. She should know. "Thalya was snooping around the study again," he told her. April turned to him sharply.

"When?" she demanded, stern and alert.

"Just now. She was curious about my books too."

April scoffed, "I bet she was. You didn't show her anything though, did you?"

"Who do you take me for?"

His feigned offence was for naught, "The sweet fool who trusted her the first time," she said pointedly.

Adrian laughed, "you're never letting that go, are you?"

"No, I'll keep this grudge forever."

"I never so much as let her glance at the covers," he reassured her.

"Good," she nodded her approval, "I'll make sure it stays that way."

Then she noticed it. Of course she did. The little book he hadn't put down with the rest, with a little girl on the cover wearing a red cloak. "What's that?" she asked, curiously.

He shrugged. "Just a little something for me to read."

"In modern American English?"

"Yes. I've decided if I'm to make trips there all the time, I'd better learn a little", he waved the book, acting casual, wondering if she caught his bluff. If she did, she gave no sign.

"I guess that makes sense", she conceded after a few moments. "Now I gotta change and you'd better do the same".

Adrian closed the door behind him and marched to the next floor. He eyed the thin book again, wondering what April had actually been thinking. He hated to lie to her, but he'd assured himself that it was a necessary lie. Not even a lie, in fact, but omitting the whole truth was as good as one. I can't think about that now, he told himself firmly as he reached his own chamber. No sooner was his hand on his door handle than he saw Narsireq stomping his way, absolutely frantic.

"Where in this whole wide world have you been!?" he nearly shouted and promptly brought his voice down, though force with which he pulled every word out of his mouth never decreased. "I've been running around from one ignorant fool to another asking if anyone had seen you and they all claim there's been no sign of you the whole morning. Even your precious blue eyes tells me she has no clue where you are and why you're so late. Do you know what time it is?"

Adrian tried a careful smile, "just early enough to get dressed?" he suggested.

Narsireq's eyes blazed, but he reigned himself in. "Well, yes," he spat, "you'd better look presentable when I introduce you. I promised them I'd bring you to them when they arrived and now they're strolling around all affronted by your absence."

"You should not have promised them that", Adrian argued, "when you didn't know whether or not you could arrange the meeting. And in any case, April could have presented them our work for both of us."

"That's not the point. I told them they would meet both of you in person and I don't intend to cheapen my word. Now we need to make up for the discourtesy. Be there on time and look good. This isn't an everyday occurrence. The last time anyone saw even a single Eshinir traveling all the way here was century and a half ago. Make sure not to spoil it. And tell your special friend to hold her tongue and keep her smartass remarks to herself for once."

Adrian smirked despite himself, "I'll... give her a version of that request."

"Of course you will." Narsireq scoffed and marched off. "Don't ruin my plans. That is all I'm asking," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.

Adrian stood thoughtful for a while. Plans, he'd said. He wasn't sure how far into the future Narsireq's plans for him stretched. Well, he mumbled, lifting the children's storybook he'd borrowed, I might ruin them just a little bit.