Episode 14: the Red Scholars
20th of Molioris, 4:91 East
Michael and Jeanne explored the clearing, the wife taking special care to protect her baby from the cold, tainted air. Her family's research notes suggested children his age, when exposed to the miasmic reach of a demon, could be around it and not experience any of the negative effects like insanity or exponential magical growth, but nothing was conclusive. Furthermore, since most of the Belpois family's time was devoted to either their work with the Red Scholars or Jeremie, it was getting increasingly more difficult to acquire gold. Jeremie reached up for his mother's face, and she lovingly cooed at him, shaking an elven rattle at him. He grabbed it and began to gnaw on it.
"Jeanne! Come quickly! There's someone here… I think he's still alive!" Michael called. His wife ran to his side, preparing her elvhen wrist device, which she had called the Tainted Arcane Scanner—as it was used to detect what was tainted by dark magic or curses, and in minor cases could reverse or even remove the taint—and looked upon the body of the man that her husband had found. He was bruised, beaten to within an inch of his life, and most of his clothes had been burned, leaving the stitching scarred on his flesh. Michael removed his cloak as Jeanne scanned the elf, taking note of his singed hair and vallaslin. She flinched as the results caused the screen on the TAS to flicker and showed them to her husband. "These results are unlike anything I've ever seen before. We should be extra careful with both him and that mirror." Michael said, motioning towards the intimidatingly serene elvhen mirror looming about a hundred meters away. The spring grass that surrounded it had died, and the glass showed no reflection. "This man looks like one of the wilder elves. How did he get here? Do the clans frequent this part of Lyoko, I mean, at all?"
Jeanne shrugged. "Not this time of year, I don't think. Most of the nomadic clans have turned back to go to Arlathan for the Arlathvhen—you know, that festival Shriuque was going on about." She said as her husband conjured a small blue light to cleanse the man of the taint. "We're in the southeastern sector of Lyoko. I doubt that the clans would have left him here, and he certainly didn't come all this way by himself—look at his fingers. He's a scholar, not a warrior. He never would have made it past the slavers at either Bastium or Arak-Muna."
"Do you think that the mirror carried him all this way?" Michael asked, obviously confused.
She shrugged again. "Judging by the calculations on the TAS, I can only guess that we're dealing with an Archdemon. I don't doubt that it could've carried him all this way."
Her husband took a sharp breath in as he began to heal the burns. "It's a good thing we were in the area. He probably would've died had the TAS not detected the mirror."
Jeanne agreed passively as she dug through her bag. She pulled out a roll of bandages and assisted her husband in bandaging the elf's healing wounds—the taint was still present and white magic like healing would take longer to work. Suddenly the elf's eyes flew open, and he flailed his arms as he scurried away from the humans. The Belpois family screamed and flinched as ice flew at them. Michael created a fiery wall to protect them, much to their relief. Jeremie started to cry fearfully, and Jeanne rocked him, shushing him quietly. "Ga rahn! Ga rahn, shemlen!" The elf shouted before looking at his hands and shuddering as his pain hit him.
"Easy, friend. We don't want to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact." Michael said, inching closer. Jeanne huffed when she realized that there would be grass stains for her to wash out later.
"Nae!" He hissed, shuddering again. "Hurting people is all your kind ever does!"
Jeanne looked unamused, but Michael shrugged. "I know that it may be hard for you to do. I don't know what you've gone through. But you've been tainted by a cursed mirror, and if you don't get help, you'll die. You're going to have to take a leap of faith and trust me."
The elf narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and he caught sight of Jeanne—or more likely, he caught sight of what Jeanne held, a small child who cried. "Anthea," He whispered, and he forced himself to stand. "ANTHEA?!" He shouted, looking around. "MA SA'LATH! ANTHEA NA MARA SAN!"
"Who is Anthea?" Jeanne asked, standing. The elf noted that the husband and wife wore identical outfits, excepting that her tunic was longer to act as a dress and she also wore a white coat.
"My wife… she… was with me when the Eluvian…" He struggled to complete thoughts. How could he have been so careless? As his worry and depression grew, so did his magic, freezing the baby grass and causing moss to grow upon the trunks of nearby trees. "Have you found anyone else nearby? An elvhen woman with long pink hair, heavy with child?"
"No, we haven't. You're the only person we found nearby." Michael said.
The elf collapsed, and he started crying into his hands. Jeanne and Michael exchanged sad looks, and they tried their best to console the man. When he had calmed down some, they introduced themselves. When asked what his name was, he hesitated, as if he didn't understand what they were asking. "My name is Franz Hopper." He said firmly, as if trying to convince himself more than them.
20th of Pluitanis, 5:09 Guardian
Aelita was the last of the dreamers to awaken, and when she did so, she found the others to be shuddering from wounds received after their individual awakenings. She looked at the Eluvian and gasped, seeing that it had fallen. The Outcast scurried to their sides, helping them as best she could. Laura managed to heal her own wounds, and then proceeded to heal the others. Yumi, meanwhile, noticed the absence of Ulrich and frantically began to carve at the slowly melting wall of ice that separated the room they were in from the lift. "Ulrich?" She shouted through the ice.
"He should have escaped the Beyond." Aelita answered in his place, while still watching as Laura healed Jeremie. "Hopefully he climbed up the shaft; I'm pretty sure there was a latter along the side." She looked with concern to the others. "What happened? You shouldn't have come out of the sleeping with wounds."
Odd stood shakily. "There was a damned possessed corpse in here. He was waiting to see if Mehormanda would possess you, and when she didn't, he stood. We tried our best to stop him, but he defeated us and destroyed the Eluvian."
"Can you help me clear this ice?" Yumi requested worriedly. Aelita nodded and moved to help.
When Jeremie's wounds had healed, Laura moved to the lift and used her fire magic to clear away the remaining ice. After that she moved aside and Jeremie went to the lift and tried his best to repair the lever, and the others joined him. They waited in silence as the lift pulled them towards the main level. The Wise Man took Aelita's hand gently, rubbing it. She smiled faintly and took a step closer to him.
When the lift reached the top, they found Franz Hopper, Aren and Ulrich Stern, Michael and Patrick Belpois and Shriuque Dendar waiting for them. Franz rolled up his sleeve and looked at his taint scanner, which Jeanne had called the TAS though Franz called Scipio. "Michael, Shriuque, they've been exposed to Mehormanda's taint. Help them."
"Yes, Archivist." They said in unison, summoning twin blue lights. They waved them over the teenagers, cleansing them. Jeremie looked at his father and whispered that he'd never mentioned he was a mage, and Michael simply laughed nervously before rejoining the others.
"Well, children, I guess you already know that this isn't your everyday office meeting." Franz said with a smile. "I guess the only thing I can say is… welcome to the Factory."
13th of Matrinalis, 5:01 Guardian
Jeanne was in Carthage on business, or more accurately, she had returned to see if everything was running smoothly within the walls of the Factory. As the Archivist, it was her duty to see that everything was in order—that the priests were cleansing the cursed objects, that the mages and the scholars were pouring over books and grimoires to find more effective ways to cleanse cursed relics, and the fighters were preparing to take on any threat that may come from so much darkness in one place.
Gently, she entered the room that Franz had in the Factory. As a wilder elf, few people would work with him or rent him property, and he refused staying with the Belpois family on account of potential rumors that may have spread that would tarnish their good name. He struggled with one of the dwarven books. Jeanne knew very little about Franz's past. She knew he was born a slave and he'd married a wilder elf, who died after Mehormanda's Eluvian spread her miasma. He'd been taught to read and write in the Common tongue, which was very peculiar. The laws had been abolished before Jeremie was born, but an elf of Franz's age shouldn't have been permitted near written words. Jeanne knew why the laws existed but they'd never felt right to her, and she tried to preach equality to the people she met who supported the law.
Other than that, the only other thing that she knew about him was that he had a sister who was taken away and sold to another group of slavers at a young age. This was told in confidence to her alone and she'd promised not to tell anyone. Jeanne always said a woman was only as good as her word. "Franz?" Jeanne said.
He looked up, pushing his spectacles up his nose, as they had fallen. "Yes, Archivist?" He asked as he stood, clumsily hitting a table.
"I have your new assignment." She said, handing him a file with a description of the cursed relic and a letter from a nobleman named Hans Klotz.
He looked up at her in confusion. "Is there a reason why you couldn't mail me this target?"
"You will be evaluated for a higher ranking position within the Red Scholars." Jeanne said, smiling weakly. "I'm considering you for my First."
Franz recoiled slightly, surprised. "What about Michael? Isn't he your First?" He asked, running his hand through his hair.
"To a young Archivist, the First symbolizes the future of the Scholars in the event that something were to happen to him or her." Jeanne said, shifting uncomfortably. "Michael has resigned from his position as my First, because in the event something happens to me, he will be needed to watch over Jeremie. Likewise, if something were, gods forbid, to happen to him, I would have to step down from my position to care for our son."
"But why me and not one of my seniors?" He asked, motioning out to the other initiates.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Franz, but you're really the only qualified person in the Factory who could drop everything to take on the duties of Archivist." She said gently. "You don't have a job outside of this, and the others respect you. You've grown a lot in these past few years but things are getting more dangerous." She shifted again. "Why? Don't you want to be my First?"
He panicked. "No! I mean yes, I want to!" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Yes, if you find me worthy, I will be more than happy to be your First." He admitted more softly, "I just don't like the idea of taking over… well, everything that goes on here if you were to die."
Jeanne laughed, bending over to hold her knees. "Oh, please, Franz!" She laughed, looking up at him. "I plan on sticking around long enough to identify your corpse after you drag me and my husband into another of your crazy schemes!" They laughed together.
20th of Pluitanis, 5:09 Guardian
Three years. He could barely believe it had been three, almost four, years since Jeanne had died in an orc raid. Franz lived with her death on his shoulders like he did with the deaths of Anthea and his unborn child. The orcs, who were hostile to begin with, were after a relic they'd cursed in a time before time. Franz had taken a ship back to Carthage with it exactly twelve hours before the orcs raided.
Michael didn't blame Franz. He'd said simply in his letter that Jeanne had died doing what she had always wanted to do—protect family and friends from threats both arcane and mundane. But he couldn't help but feel in his heart that if he'd been there, things would have turned out differently.
Jeremie looked so much like his mother. Aspects of his father's face were there, but the eyes and hair, even the way he pushed his spectacles all reminded Franz of his best friend. He didn't even want to think about who Aelita—or was her name Maya? The Beyond always left him confused—reminded him of.
He explained the history of the Red Scholars as he led them to the Laboratory, or more plainly the large office where Franz worked to locate cursed relics in remote areas, investigate private requests and perhaps drawing up the occasional forged document to make it seem like the less legal pursuits of the Scholars were ignored by the law.
The Red Scholars were founded in the late years of the Origin Age, when cursed elvhen items began to wreak havoc upon the human population, and even the assimilated elves. They converted an old dwarven building into their outpost, and they began to accept non-human members in 3:95 Codex. Many of the items they cleansed were put in temples, museums and in more recent years—starting with Jeanne's father, the Archivist before her—the elvhen and dwarven relics were returned to them through economic or social channels.
"What you came across in the Archives was Mehormanda's Eluvian. She is a demon that plagued the elvhen city of Halamshiral. She killed many people, I assume." He said weakly. He turned to face them when they reached the Laboratory. "Her signature is giving small children, preferably babies, great magic without the skill to correctly wield it. Many fall to lesser spirits, but the stronger ones she protects and causes their magic to grow. Then she takes back the magic, and the soul with it."
"Why would Mehormanda kill her pet? Don't demons prefer living vessels?" Laura asked.
Franz scoffed. "Who said anything about killing the host? Mehormanda takes the soul, not the life. When she does this, what is left behind… it doesn't happen very often in human society, so I don't know if you have a name for it. The elvhen call them the Wight. It's a very drastic form of the Blind."
Ulrich folded his arms. "What's the difference between the Wight and the Blind?"
"Quite a bit. The similarities between the Wight and the Blind are few. They are preternaturally cut off from the Beyond, and they cannot dream or use magic. However, while the Blind can spend a limited amount of time there and possess a spiritual avatar there, the Wight can never enter the Beyond." Franz explained. "This presents other problems. They are capable of basic functions, such as sleeping, eating, speaking, but everything they do is without emotion."
Odd seemed very confused. "I don't understand. How can someone exist without emotion?"
"The elvhen say that everything unseen in the Garden comes from Bellanaris, including emotions. While the Blind cannot be present physically there, they still possess a soul, and so they have emotions." Franz explicated. "The Wight have lost their soul, likely by having it taken from them in their dream. Mehormanda believes this makes her stronger." He ran his fingers through his hair. "It rarely happens, but sometimes the magistrates will make a mage Wight if they believe he or she is too powerful for their skill. I've seen it happen once, to a young boy."
He remembered it, though he'd blocked out some of the memories. The boy had a lover, and when they met for the next to last time after the Altering, it had been painful. The words reverberated in his mind; the lover had thought that the mage had amnesia and was trying to cure it, and the Wight mage said flatly, "Your name is Jon Montagne. We were engaging in sexual relations. Please, if you do not have an appointment with the Knight Templar, I must ask you to leave."
The lover, Jon, had been floored. "W—what? I'm not leaving! I love you!"
"I once knew myself to be in love with you. I feel no such thing now. I belong to the Knight-Commander." The Wight had replied, "He is the only one who can command me."
Franz looked back up at the Heroes. "His lover killed the Wight and himself, rather than watch him be… soulless." He said.
Laura pulled her hands in. "I haven't heard of this." She whispered. "It sounds terrible."
Yumi rubbed her arms. "It happens frequently in Nippon, since many people are afraid of magic. Though the Wight, as you say, aren't typically allowed outside of Ishiroin, where the Assembly is held. We call them Muhyojona."
"I have heard of the Assembly. It seems terribly… wasteful to me to lock up mages where they can't do any good." Franz said, and he remembered wishing to speak to Initiate Takeho's daughter. He motioned for her to enter the Laboratory. "You had something to tell me?"
"Yes, and it's important. Aelita, will you come with me?" Yumi said. The Outcast looked at the Wise Man, who thought for a moment before he nodded.
About an hour passed, and the Heroes were trying their best to get used to the idea that many of their friends and family members were involved in a secret society, albeit one dedicated to protecting mortals. Takeho Ishiyama, Mari and Aren Stern, Robert, Marguerite and Louise Della-Robbia, Shriuque and James Dendar, Michael Belpois as well as many others they didn't know. They perhaps totaled twenty-two in all.
For the teenagers, it was hard to imagine their parents, most of who had once appeared to have very civil, perhaps even boring, pasts, to be fighters, mages and guardians. It was even harder for Jeremie, whose father was doting and appeared to be a completely normal person, to have hidden a secret like magic for so long. He'd never once mentioned it.
Michael then asked the teens to enter the conference room, where they were to wait with him until Franz arrived. Yet, as they couldn't help but expect, Jeremie's father and Franz's First would not explain why they were waiting.
Yumi and Aelita entered about fifteen minutes later, the Colonist having to help the elvhen girl to walk. Jeremie jumped up and helped Aelita into the seat next to him. He caught sight of a slight smile on his father's face, but it was gone before he could question it. "Are you alright? What happened?" He asked, concerned.
Aelita could say nothing, simply looking wide-eyed at the floor. She shook violently, and Jeremie tried his best to calm her down. In the meantime, Yumi proclaimed to the group, "Franz Hopper is Waldo Sarethari."
"No way! Waldo Sarethari was vaporized by Mehormanda's Eluvian!" Ulrich argued.
"People don't just vanish, Ulrich! There was no body, no mirror—and Franz himself confirmed it!" Yumi shouted.
Jeremie looked to Aelita. "Your father is alive?" He asked. She nodded. At first there was nothing but concern on both of their faces, but then they both smiled and embraced. "Your father is alive! That's wonderful news!"
The door opened and a tall elven woman ran in, her mousy brown hair cropped short and her eyes black as night. She was thin, almost fragile-looking, and she seemed awfully nervous. "Mister Belpois, my brother asked me to give this to you. He didn't say why." She said.
Aelita looked away from her friends to look at the woman. Her eyes widened. "Thank you, Mirianye," Michael said politely, "You're quite useful to have around, you know that?"
She laughed. "That's what they tell me!"
Aelita stood shakily. "Mamae Asha?" She whispered.
Mirianye looked over at her, and her jaw dropped. "Gods above, Aelita!" For a moment, neither could move, and no one else dared to. Jeremie clawed at his thigh, trying hard to keep his mouth shut. At that moment, all of his frustration about Aelita's past was directed precisely at Mirianye—and in his mind it was justified, as she'd told Aelita that she would never be free, that she would have to be submissive in order to survive—and it took everything he had not to lash out at her. "What are you doing here?"
"My friends and I found a secret passage and came to investigate." Aelita said simply. "What are you doing here?"
Mirianye shifted awkwardly, uncomfortable in her uniform. "Franz, the Archivist—he's my older brother. We were separated a long time ago, and even though we've both changed a lot since then, it's good to be near family again."
"Franz is my father." Aelita whispered.
Mirianye was stunned. "I knew that he was married but I'd never met her. I was under the impression that she—and you—were dead." Quietly, she admitted, "I thought… you were dead, sweet thing. The Gypsy…"
Laura looked at Mirianye strangely. "How would you have known about what happened at the Gypsy?"
"The owner came himself and demanded to know who taught Aelita and Emily. After we heard why, they were ready to kill me. Luckily, Franz had tracked me down and bought me before they could." Mirianye explained. She moved around the table as if to get closer to Aelita, though Jeremie then stood and subconsciously blocked Aelita from moving closer to her former mentor. Mamae Asha stared at him for a moment, and his girlfriend silently and gently pushed away his arm. The two elves embraced, Mirianye stroking her rose hair. Jokingly, she whispered, "I don't think the blond one likes me."
He narrowed his eyes. "I don't like you!" He said loudly.
"Jeremie!" Michael said in shock as Aelita and Mirianye looked at him.
"Aelita, don't you remember what she told you! Why on Mediterra would you be happy to see her?" He demanded. She nodded as she approached him. When he tried to speak again, she placed a hand on his lips.
"She kept me alive. She kept me safe. I would not have survived without her." She said. "Mamae Asha didn't make me a slave, Jeremie. The slavers did that. Without her, I would've died, either at the hands of slavers or my own." Jeremie didn't seem very convinced, but she smiled sweetly and placed her hand on his cheek. "Her methods may have been wrong, but I still owe her a lot. You don't have to like her, but my past is not her fault, ma vhenan."
He returned her smile, but it vanished when Mirianye pulled her away from her love. She brushed off Aelita, as if she were covered in dirt or dust, and when inquired about what she was doing, she explained simply, "Aelita can do so much better."
Aelita's face turned a shade of pink darker than her hair, and Jeremie furrowed his brows, as did his father. Michael stood. "What, are you saying that my son isn't good enough?" He demanded.
Mirianye seemed confused. "Oh, no. I'm sure he's good enough for someone. It's just that Aelita was trained to catch the eye of noblemen, and let's be honest, Michael, your son is hardly noble." Jeremie turned his glare from Mamae Asha to Aelita, who shot him an embarrassed and lopsided grin.
"Mamae Asha, not that I don't love and appreciate you," Aelita began, "but right now I would much rather have sharp rocks in my eyes than have you and Hahren Belpois argue about my love life."
"Love life?" Franz asked with barely concealed parental anger. The arguing groups turned, as no one had heard him enter the room.
Aelita squeaked as her cheeks managed to find a darker shade. Mirianye simply looked between the two adults and the two teens before fixing her attention back on Aelita. "Think sweet thing. A man of noble birth will be able to give you so much more than this boy and all your training is wasted on—"
"Don't." Aelita begged.
"An inexperienced boy like him," She finished.
"Training!?" Franz interjected, not liking what the tone of voice and sneer directed at Jeremie was suggesting about the training to which his sister was referring. "Was there more than just dancing and singing and playing musical instruments involved?"
"Of course." Mirianye, replied unabashedly. Ignoring the look of distress on Aelita's face and the fact that Jeremie's fists were balled so tightly his knuckles were bright white she continued, "all the girls were taught how to perform in bed. Aelita though, her virginity was protected to preserve her value."
Jeremie lunged, stopped only by Aelita screaming his name while at the same time jumping between him and Mamae Asha. Franz looked murderous, though he managed to restrain himself. His sister jumped back and then moved away from Michael upon seeing that even he was furious. "You!" Franz screamed, pointing a shaking a finger at his sister. "How could you?!"
"I did the best I could." She yelled back. "I didn't—couldn't—know that she was family. So I did the only thing I could, I taught her to survive and to use the only skills she'd ever be allowed to have to entice and keep someone who would give her a life that was better than the hell of a slave port or a common sex slave."
Aelita looked up from the floor, seeing the tense standoff between family and feeling guilty. Worse than that, she felt powerless. That defeated tone seemed to cut through the tension as fire might cut though snow. "Stop, please. Franz, Harhen, she did the best she could for me under the circumstances. Mamae Asha, I'm free and that means I get to follow my heart wherever it takes me." She looked to Jeremie, "Ma vhenan, do you trust me?
Jeremie's anger seemed to ease as he looked at Aelita, "Of course."
"Mamae Asha," She paused momentarily, "Mirianye, only wants what she feels will give me the best life. It's not my vision for the future." She paused again to gently shake her head to clear the uncertainty she felt over how deserving she was of a nice future and then continued, "but she means well."
Jeremie nodded stiffly, not quite convinced but willing to trust her. Aelita turned her attention back to her father, "What I experienced could have been far worse." She shuddered at memories best left repressed, "Please trust that your sister protected me as best she could." Finally she turned to Mirianye. "My freedom came at great cost, and not just to myself. Please don't belittle all of that by asking that I become some nobleman's plaything, either because it would make my life easier or because you think I'm wasting all you taught me."
Michael Belpois smiled as he took in the sight of a somewhat broken sounding Aelita defending all sides of the fight. There was more to the former slave girl than anyone, even he himself, had apparently been willing to give her credit for.
Yumi, Takeho and Aelita escorted Franz to the Ishiyama residence, and Aelita took her birth father to the Eluvian. He waited out of sight, not wanting to frighten his wife. The Outcast started the connection, and waited. A few moments later, Anthea smiled at her daughter warmly, concern hidden in her eyes. "Aneth era, da'len. You haven't contacted me for many days. I was worried about you."
She looked away nervously. "I had… things to do. Things that I'm still dealing with." She said, not wishing to worry her mother more by speaking of Marsy, nor did she wish to disclose those things to her father yet. "But there is something… someone that I thought you ought to meet."
Anthea tilted her head, confused. Aelita motioned for her father to move closer. "Aneth era, Anthea, ma sa'lath." Franz said, his voice cracking.
Anthea couldn't believe it to be true. At first she thought she was dreaming, but she was Blind and therefore could not. "Waldo?" She whispered.
"As swift stars burn the unbalanced night, a beacon you've become in my dark hour." He recited a poem that Aelita recognized as part of the marriage rite for the elves. "After this the Garden may be taken by blight, yet to us the world will never turn sour."
Anthea covered her mouth, and together they finished the poem. "Forever may be eternity or tomorrow, this I shan't wonder. Together we shall stay, to find the sun through rain and thunder."
Through her tears, Anthea gave instructions to Aelita. Her daughter followed them to the letter, and Anthea took a few steps back. Then, she ran towards the glass, phasing through it to reach her husband. "Oh, ma sa'lath! I thought you were dead!" She cried. "Is this where you've been?"
"I thought you were dead as well. I've been everywhere." He whispered, stroking her hair. "I thought that I'd killed you."
Anthea started sobbing uncontrollably, her knees giving out under her. Franz—Waldo—sank to the ground with her, and he simply held the wife he'd missed. He offered his arm to Aelita, and nervously, she approached him. She stayed at what she felt was a respectable distance until he pulled her in closer. She could hear her mother's muffled sobs of joy, and the shakiness of her father's breath.
At first she couldn't believe it was true—she had a family, a real family. Then happy tears streamed down her face, and she snuggled closer to her parents.