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Chapter 76
His sickles were broken and erased from existence, leaving Malthael with a certain lightness in his soul.
Unfortunately, with that lightness also came a lack of direction. Suddenly he was no longer certain about his role in Creation and it was a frankly terrifying experience for a being of order. He knew it would be so after finally weeding out his former corrupted conviction, but he could have never imagined how it would actually feel. Of course Malthael hadn't lost sight of his two goals – find his way back to Wisdom and get his people back inside the Silver City – but he could no longer say without a hint of hesitation "yes, that is my role, I can do it well". He still had no plan how he would manage either of those goals and he had high doubts the Archivists would accept him. He could not even imagine what Wisdom would look like under him, what philosophy he would use to cultivate it further, should he regain it somehow. All this flying blind made him anxious in his own silent way, he often found himself staring at a spot while his mind desperately tried to form plans or at least predictions for the future, only to discard each and every half-formed thought instantly. Nothing stuck, focus was a thing of the past and Malthael had to wonder if this was what madness felt like.
Even as he, Abd al-Hazir and Lyndon slowly walked down a corridor leading to the trial chamber, Malthael caught himself tucking on the bandage on his right hand while pointlessly trying to imagine how his siblings would react to him being alive again, instead of preparing mentally for the hearing.
- It's okay, we got this! – Lyndon suddenly spoke up, as if trying to persuade himself.
- We will do our best! – Abd added.
- You ready, Mal?
- No.
- Come on, man, get it together! – Lyndon glared at him.
- I am trying! – Malthael bit back, frustrated by the pushy nature of the humans.
- Lyn, it is alright! Let him prepare his own way – Abd shushed them.
They stood before the large two-winged doors. Well, at least large by human standards, probably. They were just high enough for Malthael to pass through without having to duck like he usually needed to in this library.
- Let us get this over with – Malthael sighed exasperatedly.
He had no plan and he hated everything about it. But he had no more time to try, much like on that faithful day back in the Pandemonium Fortress.
By Anu, he wished he didn't recall that day just now.
Losing patience with his unruly thoughts, Malthael simply shoved the doors in, harsher than he would have liked, admittedly. An oval-shaped room greeted them which was highly unusual after the rectangular spaces of the library. There were no windows, only one circular opening at the very top of the dome above allowed light in. The walls were lined by wide flat dark green half columns, each of them had a plate on them, filled to the brim with golden writings. The floor was made of a green polished stone that reflected the otherwise yellowish light and gave a strange hue to the entire room. An admirable effort at appearing mystical, certainly.
Granted, the occupants of the room, the leadership of the entire Archivist order did not need the lighting to leave an impression.
The six Fellows, three men and three women all sat cross-legged on large and thick scrolls that hovered in mid-air. They wore the pine-colored tunics of the order with the usual shrunk books hanging from their clothes, but the fringes were adorned with silver in the shape of a simple vine-pattern. They formed a half-circle and among them in the half-way point sat the High Curator himself, Herodotos. Malthael had only ever seen the man once, when he and Abd were first dragged before him for the crime of bringing the archangel to the Library. Back then Malthael was far too occupied with the horror of the discovery of his people's fate to pay much attention, but he suspected the High Curator had to be a nephalem, or being just on the brink of becoming one.
Herodotos' tunic had golden fringes where the vine-like intricate patterns were far more intricate than that of the Fellows and they seemed to form letters in places. A long scroll hovered mid-air around and behind his neck like a decorative scarf, its two ends twisted around his forearms. Instead of hanging from his tunic, the small books orbited his lower body. He was a pale man of almost marble-white skin and well-kept trimmed silver hair and beard. His strikingly light blue eyes shone with a hidden power, they appeared to see through everything. He wore no jewelry or other symbol of power, not that he needed them. He sat in mid-air on a flying quill that looked like it was once a primary feather of a titanic bird but now it vaguely took on the shape of a throne almost. Random ghostly words of multiple languages drifted in and out of existence around him with softly glowing letters, surrounding him like parts of a larger spell almost.
Of course none of the seven men were actually in the room, Malthael could tell that much immediately. These were life-like apparitions, Archivist magic woven around simple paper figures. These body doubles were to accurately mirror the actions and reactions of their puppeteers, however. The angel was ever so slightly impressed by the forethought and caution.
Dared he say, it was even wise.
- Angel Malthael, Savant al-Hazir, esteemed guest Lyndon! – High Curator Herodotos spoke after he seized up the trio before him.
On Malthael's right, Lyndon bowed with his entire upper body without a word. On his left, Abd al-Hazir did the same but he crossed his arms before his chest, with his open palms turned to the ceiling. Malthael bowed his head slightly.
- On this day, we shall debate the request of Angel Malthael, whether he is to be accepted among the ranks of the Archivist order – Herodotos went on. – We have asked for your insight in this matter, Savant al-Hazir and esteemed guest Lyndon, for we suspect you have much to offer us. I am High Curator Herodotos, and these are our six Fellows, Tacin, Polab, Arasto, Itaka, Benezia and Marianne. All accomplished keepers of knowledge. All present to discuss and decide.
The three men and women respectively each bowed their heads at the mention of their names. The one called Itaka had smaller scrolls coiling around her feet loosely like serpents. She seemed to disapprove of Malthael already. That is, if the angel read her expression right. Although he had had opportunity with the ever-expressive Abd to study human mannerisms, it was still far too broad of a topic and he couldn't be sure of the validity of his observations quite yet. The unpredictability and variability of humans were ironically the only reliably constant trait across the entire species, which frustrated Malthael to no end.
- We are grateful that you are willing to hear us out, protectors of our knowledge and wisdom! – Abd said, quickly straightening.
- Thank you for letting me speak as an outsider – Lyndon added.
- Yes. Thank you – Malthael pressed the words out of himself, forcing his wandering thoughts back on track.
Some of the Fellows seemed almost surprised to hear him talk, but the High Curator held his neutral expression well.
- Speak and we shall listen – he gestured at the trio.
Formalities. Something that had great importance within the High Heavens, but Malthael had to wonder what purpose it could possibly serve on this chaotic muddy—
Focus, damn you! he snapped himself away from that line of thought.
- I… wish to join the rank of the Archivist Order, High Curator, Fellows – he finally said.
Silence. Lyndon glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
-… And we are just expected to grant that wish to the Butcher of Humanity, I take it? – Fellow Itaka asked with no small amounts of venom, a wave ran across her scrolls.
- I understand your misgivings of my request. I can offer no excuses of my actions – Malthael said slowly.
He was trying to maintain eye-contact with the High Curator, but he found his eyes wandering onto the half columns, partly because of his inability to focus, partly because the human's eyes were definitely magical and piercing. What exactly they could see, that remained a mystery.
- And? – Herodotos pushed after a pause.
-… And I wish to leave behind my former philosophy.
What was there not to understand about this? Malthael thought he had been rather clear of his intentions so far. Certainly, he did not go into details, but why would he? His people weren't the concern of these humans, Malthael did not wish to waste breath upon explaining everything. He certainly never needed to do so in the High Heavens.
- Maaaalll… – he could hear Lyndon hiss from the right but he did not turn to him.
What was the hellspawn's problem?! Malthael said what he needed to!
-… So are we finished here? –Itaka asked in a dry, clearly unimpressed voice.
- I was hoping for a bit more robust of an argument – Fellow Arasto commented, sounding confused, flipping through a large and thick book as if looking for something.
Personally, Malthael believed him being an archangel was a rather robust case on its own.
- I'm not saying no to an easy case – Fellow Tacin shrugged, quills flew around him lazily.
- The angel might have more to say? – Fellow Benezia offered half-heartedly. She was holding one giant ink bottle on her lap, that had an occasional bubble of black ink escape it, only to morph into a half-finished word before disappearing without a trace.
- Clearly not! – Tacin glared at her.
- Give him a chance to explain, friend – Fellow Polab quickly said.
- I have told you everything you need to hear – Malthael spoke up, getting frustrated at the aimless chatter, and his voice reflected that. – My goals are not your concern. I wish to join to learn, not to be ruled over.
The silence settling in was not very promising.
- Oh no – Abd whimpered next to him, tucking his head between his shoulders.
-… I do believe your "goals" are indeed our concern. The concern of all of humanity, in fact – Itaka almost growled with anger.
Herodotos held the angel's gaze for a moment longer, before sighing:
- Well, in that case—
- Ohhohoho wait wait wait!
Lyndon, true to his chaotic nature, threw himself in front of Malthael, almost falling over in his own feet in his hurry. His outburst caused the Fellows to raise their quills and scrolls in alarm to attack or defend, while Malthael and Abd flinched back slightly. Anu help him, this crazed hellspawn would be the death of him one day! Lyndon spun around, glaring daggers at him.
- You are supposed to be Wisdom, Mal, how are you this bad?! – he shouted, before whipping his attention back to the leadership. – I-I apologize in his name, High Curator, Fellows! Malthael's a—Please let me clarify things before you make your decision!
- Oh? Because he regaled you with knowledge of his goals? – Tacin snorted.
- He—he did, actually, yeah. Me and Abd, we both know – Lyndon temporarily turned to Abd who nodded uncertainly. – It is nothing nefarious, I assure you!
- His comment sounded rather nefarious to me. Especially since he clearly has a problem with the hierarchy of the order – Arasto pointed out.
- What I wish to accomplish will not affect you in any way. Be at peace with that knowledge – Malthael insisted, his voice deepening with frustration.
He tried to keep in mind his situation, but he couldn't fight off the notion that right now he was talking to sentient specs of dust who believed themselves to be relevant. They were invisible seams in the tapestry of Creation, Malthael was an Archangel! He had every damn right to decide who gets what information, he was one of the very foundations, he was Wisdom, he—
…
Oh no.
Malthael froze. His hands started to shake as a thought crept up on him insidiously like a shadow. A thought he had very specifically ignored in the past, meticulously locked it away in his mind. It had been irrelevant. He would wipe out all evil, he would bring the final victory to the High Heavens, and all would be well and normal again.
As if nothing had happened. That's what he had told his people and himself.
"You are no angel." – The memory of the Crystal Arch's final judgement slammed into his mind with the force of a tidal wave, and he finally understood its true meaning.
… Anu have mercy upon his lost soul now.
What have I done?
- … and he saved our lives! Hells, mine, multiple times! He'd had every goddamn opportunity under the sun to let us die or just straight up kill us himself.
- Yes, yes! He wants to mend his ways, we swear, truly! He's just… he's just bad at expressing his plight. He means no harm!
Malthael partially resurfaced from his newly found personal hell, to find Lyndon and Abd in the middle of desperately explaining what had happened at that damned human fortress up north, and how Malthael had fought by their side the whole time, even risking corruption. They were either interrupting each other, or repeating each other's points, the whole retelling was a rushed, barely coherent mess. The Fellows and the High Curator were staring at the scene before them, occasionally sharing glances with each other. Benezia's ink bottle was bubbling with greater intensity for some unexplained reason, spitting out unintelligible words one after another. Arasto had his massive book open on his lap, a quill writing furiously in it without his assistance. Itaka's scrolls slightly coiled around her, as if the paper figure masquerading as her needed protection.
-… And… and yeah, that is why Abd asked specifically me to help out with the trial. Because I have seen Malthael at his worst and in his current state. I vouch for him – Lyndon finished the rant awkwardly, slowly retreating to his original place.
- Well… this was certainly a turn of events – Arasto commented mostly to himself, looking down at his book.
- Savant al-Hazir, I would expect a much more sophisticated rhetorical ability than what you have showed right now – Herodotos frowned at the scholar who ducked his head in shame:
- I apologize, High Curator. I just wanted to clear up the misunderstandings before it could take hold.
- You most certainly have not lost your faith in the angel since the first day you brought him here.
- Never, sir! – Abd straightened out, his hands grabbing his satchel's strap. – I am standing by everything I have told you about Malthael and his intentions.
It was Malthael's turn to slightly duck his head. The human's unexplainable loyalty and friendship left him speechless… and with an intense feeling of his own unworthiness of them.
- So… I take it since that… fiasco at Sescheron, there were no more events worthy of concern? – Herodotos pronounced his words slowly, as if deep in thought.
- Uhm – Abd looked away, he appeared uncomfortable.
- No, sir – the ease with which Lyndon just said that lie made Malthael flinch.
Humans were indeed half-demons.
But the archangel allowed no time for himself to dwell on that notion. He stepped forward.
- Untrue. There was… one – he finally spoke up after staying silent for so long.
He could feel Lyndon's glance on him, but he ignored it. He looked at the High Curator and he knew he had to speak up.
- Two days ago I witnessed Abd al-Hazir being once again harassed by your order members over my presence in your library.
- O-only verbally! – Abd quickly added then sighed. – But yes… they are frequent.
- Your scholars do not wish to talk to me, they take out their anger on their fellow human instead. It infuriated me that day… and I subconsciously called upon my former weapons, two sickleswords – Malthael said, staring at the leadership head on. – I did not use them, nor did I want to use them. We hid within the archives and I asked the scoundrel Lyndon for help through telepathy in order to get rid of the sickles. He brought others along, including a former brother of mine, a wingless angel. He made me realize my mistake, and I have managed to destroy the weapons myself. They are gone… and so is my intention of ever returning to my former flawed philosophy.
Silence. The High Curator's eyes gleamed with a strange light.
-… But you already knew all of that, High Curator – Malthael stated his suspicion.
- Perhaps – Herodotos simply nodded.
Tacin snorted angrily.
- I told you he would be open about that – Fellow Marianne smiled at him.
- But the outsider lies as easily as a river flows – Benezia pointed out.
- Madam, wouldn't you cover for your friend over a mistake that thankfully did not affect anybody else? – Lyndon asked in a slightly irritated tone.
- I wouldn't, if the trustworthiness of my words was an important factor in a situation like this – Benezia frowned at him. – How can we now be sure there aren't any partial or perhaps even full lies in your story of you facing the Angel of Death himself? Or the fight in the northern keep?
Lyndon slightly gritted his teeth, but remained silent.
- He did face me, along with a group of three other warriors – Malthael spoke up. – That is the very reason why I had followed him around initially after our second meeting. I was hoping he would send me back to the High Heavens, given that exact shared history – he uncharacteristically messed with his sleeves, finally ducking his head. – But he did not… and now I know it would not have worked either way.
There was no redemption for him, he knew. He had committed the highest form of treason imaginable, even bigger than Inarius' blasphemy. The Crystal Arch's judgement was pertinent.
- And-and I will take our most sacred oath if you wish me to, that everything we have told about Sescheron is true to its last word, truly! – Abd quickly added, sounding just as convinced as he did when he was defending Malthael. – Shush me right where I stand if I lie!
- Shush? – Malthael and Lyndon glanced at him in confusion.
- Heavens, no! – Marianne gasped anxiously.
- No one is getting Shushed today, Savant Abd al-Hazir – Herodotos waved the exclamation away before returning his piercing gaze to the group. – Your loyalty to stand up for your friends is most commendable. And, although terribly ill-advised in such a situation, I can see esteemed guest Lyndon's reasoning behind his lie. I do appreciate your openness in this matter at least, angel Malthael.
- This trial has gone off the path! – Itaka angrily snarled. – The angel may have been forthcoming in one subject, but he is clearly disrespectful of our order and traditions, and he is hiding something! I say we cut this matter short and deny his request.
- Hey! What about our part, madam?! – Lyndon spoke up angrily. – Have we not brought enough to the table for you to change your mind?!
- A messy story and a provable lie are what you are so proud of, outsider?!
- I vote for denial, as well! – Tacin barked angrily. – This creature is a butcher of our kind, regardless of his latest deeds! He has no place on Sanctuary itself, let alone within our order!
- I-but he's trying to— – Abd desperately tried to say, but he was overlooked.
- Second chances should be a staple of the world, I believe – Polab said.
- Not for a genocidal maniac, who is not even human! – Itaka glared daggers at him. – How do you know he doesn't see you as a mere animal, huh?!
- That's not a negligible point – Arasto sighed.
- Oh dear, I wish I could find a precedence for this problem – Marianne mumbled to herself anxiously, randomly yanking pieces of scrolls out of thin air and skimming through their content in a hurry.
- I-I still say we should hear them out fur-ther – Benezia stammered, nervously trying to get a hold of her giant ink bottle which was close to overflowing with boiling ink.
Malthael could feel his own despair returning, as the emotions rose around him. Granted, he had no idea how this thrice-cursed world was supposed to work, if there was even a method to it or it was all just pure chaos. But this current argument appeared to be a clear sign of his terrible mistake.
- ENOUGH, ALL OF YOU! – Herodotos bellowed with his full might, his voice cracking and rumbling like thunder in the oval room.
Abd pulled his head between his shoulders again (was that a sign of anxiety or shame?), Lyndon's eyes grew wide at the sudden outburst. Everyone else fell silent, blinking at each other as if they just snapped out of a dream.
-… Do you feel as if rationality is leaving Sanctuary? – Malthael spoke up in the silence, staring before himself in utter defeat. – Barely able to recruit people. Harder to convince others with facts – he went on, before turning briefly to Abd on his left. – Even among your own ranks, arguments are about emotions more than anything.
- They are… getting out of hand, truly – Abd uneasily admitted to the High Curator. – All my fellow Savants seem far too heated whenever they confront me about Malthael. I believed it was because of this whole situation, which I understand fully.
- It is not merely that – Malthael shook his head slowly.
- Have you put a curse upon our entire world?! – Tacin demanded, outraged.
Malthael stood straight, staring right at the High Curator whose full attention was on him. The angel's weak wings prickled under the gaze but he ignored it. Instead, he merely stated:
- Wisdom is fading from the tapestry of Creation. All because I have left my calling.
- A curse! I knew it!
- Wait, no—No! It's like with Auriel, right? – Lyndon caught on quickly on his right.
- Yes, unfortunately – Malthael nodded listlessly.
He remembered the feeling of Hope coming close to being snuffed out entirely from Creation. And he absolutely loathed how he didn't leave his lair in the Pandemonium Fortress to try and rush to her aid. She was the Secondborn in the family, for the longest time she and Malthael only had each other to lead the fledgling Angelic Host, well before the Eternal Conflict. And he had thought nothing of losing his closest sibling. Just one more regret to add to the pile.
Lyndon stepped forward with urgency.
- It's not a curse, it happened before! – he insisted.
- You weren't asked, outsider! – Itaka snarled at him, her scrolls rearing up like cobras ready to strike.
- Yet he is a treasure trove of experience and knowledge – the High Curator swiftly silenced his subordinate. – Continue, young man.
- R-right, thanks – Lyndon stammered before regaining his composure. – I am not sure how far the news travelled. But roughly two years ago there was a demonic siege of Bastion's Keep at the base of Arreat Crater, where the Nephalem Johanna and her team, me included, took part in the defense. We'd ultimately won but instead the Prime Evil himself was born and invaded the High Heavens. There was a brief time where I have witnessed some people lose their hope and will to fight. It didn't affect all of us at first, but it was definitely spreading. Turned out the Archangel of Hope, Auriel was being held captive by some rabid shark demon filth. We managed to save her and immediately hope returned to all those affected. I am sure all of Sanctuary experienced the same, although they've probably all forgotten by now.
- Hm… the siege had happened. And the skies had darkened and reddened unnaturally so for a while during that time – Marianne pointed out, running her finger across a freshly summoned long scroll.
- Reports of people ending their lives in large groups, believing the world was ending – Arasto added, checking his records.
- It almost did, yeah – Lyndon blew the air out.
- Are you trying to tell us that a single creature can unravel our very way of life simply by not doing his job?! – Tacin balked, understandably so.
- I, uh… yeah, that sounds insane – Lyndon lost his confidence, thinking over his words.
- But it is also true – Malthael spoke up.
He placed his hand on the scoundrel's shoulder and gently pulled him back, only to take his place on the front. He looked at the High Curator but he was barely seeing the human. He felt sluggish and overburdened, his mind processing the consequences as he explained it all:
- Understand the term "Archangel" is not just a title. We are not chosen, succeeded or crowned. We are born as cornerstones of Anu's Order, remove any of us and it wobbles and might just collapse entirely. I had not—I refused to think about the consequences once I had begun pursuing the path of Death, but without me and my people, Wisdom is slowly but unstoppably fading from Creation and it affects both the High Heavens and Sanctuary, it appears so. It may not be as fast as Hope, but it is the same principle.
Malthael finally cast his gaze down for a second, messing with his tunic before looking back up.
- I need to—I want to return to my calling. And I want to help my people do the same, who had all been passed the same judgement as I. They are trapped here on Sanctuary, scattered, aimless and living in fear. I am certain I am banished from the Heavens forever by my Creator, but they can still be accepted back. They had only followed my lead. If we all take up the mantle once more, Wisdom would return to the world. I do not know how to achieve all this but your order and philosophy are perhaps the best chance I have. That is why I request to become a member, High Curator Herodotos. I need help. I need your help.
Silence. The Fellows shared uneasy glances while Herodotos pondered on the words.
- How do we know these three aren't colluding to sell a lie to us? – Itaka asked, sounding far less sure than what she probably hoped for. – All these problems could be an aftermath of this one's reign of terror.
- Do I and Abd look like Reapers to you, lady?! – Lyndon shouted with complete outrage, Abd had to calm him down.
It appeared the scoundrel was nearing the end of his patience. Personally, Malthael struggled with the simple realization that he truly just hadn't cared at all. He'd kept telling himself and his followers that all this would be for the good of the High Heavens: eradicate the demons and their half-blooded spawns, end the Eternal Conflict and all would be well, Anu's Order would be complete and safe. But Anu's Order wasn't complete – he had willingly torn out one of the core pillars himself. Tyrael, even while shedding his wings, had kept serving Justice as he was meant to be. Malthael had left it all behind, and just… hadn't cared to think about what would happen should he have won. All the demons are gone, then what? Would he have returned to Wisdom? Could he have, even? The power and insight of human souls had been addictive, it was undeniable in hindsight. Just the sheer effectiveness of his strategy had made it irresistible. Malthael was no longer sure he could have broken out of that cycle, nor if he'd ever even planned to do so. Would he have stopped? Would the High Heavens have been next somehow?! He realized he couldn't say "no, never" convincingly to the horrible possibility.
- Mal? Mal! – Abd's voice snapped the angel out of his stupor.
He turned to the human slightly dazed, trying to find his way back to reality.
- You are shaking. Are you alright?
- I—No.
- Westmarch has recovered more or less, yet our troubles continue even in our hometown which has always been welcoming to us – the High Curator said slowly, his eyes still closed. – Even here, even now, we allow our emotions to take precedence instead of rationality, and we, of all people, should know better. It is clear that something is not quite right with the world. And it is known the archangels are powerful beings from numerous historical texts. If they had made up this story, the level of elaboration and its matching with what we know already deserve respect on their own. I personally believe they are speaking the truth.
- It would be unwise to put so little faith into one of our own scholars – Polab offered.
- It would be most unwise to let our guard down around a genocidal freak! – Itaka bit back angrily.
- Wisdom's fading, huh – Lyndon mumbled very softly to Malthael and Abd who could only nod in agreement.
- Enough! We shall discuss this matter among ourselves – Herodotos raised his hand, then turned to the group. – Angel Malthael, Savant al-Hazir, esteemed guest Lyndon. We have taken your statements into account and shall make a decision in due time. For now, you may take your leave and walk freely within the Great Library until summoned again.
And with that, the three of them were out the door and on the foreboding corridor yet again.
- Well… that went, uhm… – Abd tried to find the words.
- The big boss believes us, at least – Lyndon offered half-heartedly. – I'm not sure if that's enough for him to accept Mal, though.
- We can only wait, truly. Mal, how are you holding up?
- I will live.
- That's reassuring – Lyndon commented dryly. – So what now, while we wait for the—?
- Meow!
The air froze for a second. Malthael, Abd and Lyndon tilted their heads down in unison. Right next to the feet of the angel, an alarmingly hairy creature was milling about on four legs, its long and equally fluffy tail waving in the air like a flag. It had two triangular ears on the top of its roughly oval-shaped head and two amber-colored almond-shaped eyes with wide slit pupils. Its fur formed an impressive mane around its neck that continued in a thick coat on the rest of the body, sporting a strange swirling-waving pattern of pitch black and almost orange-looking bright brown. Its nose was pink and T-shaped and the corners of its mouth curled up in a strange smile. It returned their stare without fear before once more letting out that strange call. Then it started to growl in a deep continuous manner while rubbing its warm side to Malthael's ankle. The archangel reckoned he was about to get pounced. Although he knew nothing about the fauna of Sanctuary (it had been irrelevant information), based on his previous studies of Pandemonium species, this furry creature appeared to be a predator although not a big one. Still, it probably had sharp teeth, claws hidden in those soft-looking paws and maybe even venom. No doubt this strange rubbing was a warning sign for him to get out of its territory.
- Prima! What are you doing here, girl? – Abd quickly bent down and lifted the creature into his arms.
Strangely, it kept growling in the same manner. Malthael prepared to slap the thing away, should it start mauling the human.
- Damn, largest cat I've ever seen. And a purr to match the size too – Lyndon looked at it without worry.
- Is it preparing to attack? – Malthael asked, his whole attention on the creature.
- What? No! She's purring, Mal. That means she feels safe and happy – the scoundrel waved at him dismissively.
- She's Prima, one of the library cats. She's been around for a really long time supposedly – Abd scratched the creature's head behind one ear, which only increased the volume of the strange growl called "purring". – Many Archivists see her as a sort of good luck charm for the order as a whole.
- Did she eat every other cat in Westmarch to grow this big? – Lyndon asked uncertainly.
- Oh no no! She's always been this size. And her fur is always well-kept. I'm not sure who keeps taking such great care of her, nobody seems to know.
- Big boss's cat?
- Maybe?
Malthael allowed himself to lower his guard. He was on edge, he realized so he did his best to forcibly let go of the tension in his body.
- Come on! We can try to relax in our dorm room while we wait – Abd smiled at him.
Apparently, the "cat" was coming with them. It—she was overly interested in Malthael for some reason. She kept reaching out with one paw, swatting at the air and meowing. She was probably trying to hit him, although her movements generally lacked urgency or even aggression.
Malthael was almost happy to be back at their quarters, even if it was rather dull in design, especially compared to his former office. It was the usual rectangular room, although Abd assured him it was quite spacious for living quarters. The archangel still found it small, but at least it was peaceful and quiet. The order members and disciples did not barge into each other's private spaces, unless there was a great emergency. Two pointed windows with glass in them occupied most of the façade wall, with traceries in their upper end that could almost be called elegant. Heavy curtains framed them, now tossed aside to allow the afternoon light inside. There were too beds in the two far ends of the room, both designed for normal human height, unfortunately. Not that Malthael needed his often, he spent most nights trying to make sense of his frankly hopeless situation. There were two desks of heavy dark wood by the windows, some smaller bookcases by the opposite wall, filled with either borrowed books from the Main Reading Hall, or writing supplies in general like quills, inks, candles, scrolls, and special smaller codexes named "notebooks" that were a staple of the Archivist order – a portable yet spacious way of notekeeping on the road, instead of the cumbersome scrolls and stacks of paper. An object Malthael actually liked and Abd absolutely loved.
The scholar placed Prima onto the heavily carpeted floor and the creature immediately climbed atop Malthael's bed and made herself comfortable right in the middle of it. Lyndon, ever the unruly hellspawn he was, jumped and sat onto the wide jamb of the closest window, dangling his feet from it. Abd sat down to one of the desks and let out a long sigh. Malthael followed his example as he leaned against a bookcase. He preferred not to sit on undersized furniture if he could help it.
Comfortable silence settled in for a moment.
-… Okay, I just need to know! What the hell is Shush? – of course Lyndon had to ruin it.
The hellspawn had his priorities straight, clearly.
- Oh! It's a—well, I have never seen it in action, but it is a very powerful offensive magic in the Archivist arsenal – Abd readjusted his posture on the chair. – Supposedly it, uhm… it explodes the head of all the caster recognizes as an enemy in a large radius. Only the High Curator and the Fellows are allowed to learn the spell, and it had only been used five times during the entire history of the order.
- Damn. Sounds like a proper counter of smaller armies.
- It had been used a couple times as such, yes.
- How come you guys have so much combat magic? Is documenting stuff really that dangerous a profession? – Lyndon absentmindedly ran his fingers along the curtain next to him.
- Oh, you wouldn't believe how dangerous it can be! – Abd laughed. – But the Archivists actually originate from Rakkis' Crusade to the west! Rakkis had brought a lot of Zakarum texts with himself, naturally, and there was a special squadron within the army to protect them. Those people were not only trained warriors but educated scholars as well. They were often the chroniclers and even diplomats of the campaign, but they were ferocious soldiers who created their own brand of magic during those trying times.
- Is that why this library looks like a fortress?
- Yes, indeed! The Zakarum texts and all the collected knowledge from the trail still needed great protection once Westmarch had been established, so Rakkis personally authorized the creation of a fortress within the city walls for that very purpose. He also had a great respect for the keepers of sacred knowledge so he allowed certain autonomies for the squadron, which quickly led to the establishment of the order itself. And the rest is history, truly.
- Heh, no wonder they could repel the Reaper invasion! – Lyndon smiled widely.
- They would have fallen eventually… but it is fortunate that did not come to pass – Malthael said softly. – Or my entire plan.
- Damn, Mal, you are looking rough – Lyndon grimaced at him. – I get Wisdom is fading, but surely it can't be that bad yet! I mean, we still have scholars here and all that.
- It is… more complicated than that.
- Like how?
- Please tell me Wisdom can truly be fixed! – Abd pleaded with him.
- In theory, yes. If I had a plan for it, that is…
- We can worry about that plan later, thankfully! – Abd let out a sigh of relief.
- So what is the issue? – Lyndon pressed.
Malthael hated how prying the scoundrel was. Even more how precisely he tended to pick up on the plights of others. It had to be a damnable nephalem ability, probably a demonic heritage.
Or a Serenity angel, they are meant to be healers of the soul, his own mind reminded him frustratingly.
- I… never considered the fate of Wisdom once I have decided to alter my path. I did not want to consider it, rather. It is an alarming revelation – Malthael admitted slowly.
A part of him desperately wished he could once again spend his life in solitude, not being constantly pried at by curious bystanders. Once upon a time he had delivered solutions for problems, accurate predictions for the future and thus, stability for the Angelic Host. He was not accustomed to sharing his feelings or half-baked thoughts with anyone, other than Auriel on rare occasions. Feelings did not solve issues, they were irrelevant. Malthael wasn't supposed to stumble around in the dark in fear and confusion or willfully ignore the obvious facts, he was supposed to have all the answers.
But he didn't have them now… and one could argue, he hadn't had the right answers for centuries at this point.
- I have… failed in every conceivable way – Malthael let his head hang low, he himself had no idea why he admitted this now.
- Oh Mal – Abd mumbled. – I'm sorry.
Lyndon blew the air out, slumping forward slightly. He then jumped off of his perch and walked up to Mal.
- A'ight. Let me be honest for a second – he began, crossing his arms and looking sternly over Malthael.
The archangel wouldn't have been surprised if he received a punch in the face. But it was yet to come.
- I guess you know I genuinely loathed you as the Angel of Death. Hells, I loathed you even when we first met in Corvus. You were an absolute piece of shit – the scoundrel said.
- Lyn, come on – Abd tried to stop him, but Lyndon waved his attempt away.
- You really did a number on my world, your shitty minions were a bitch to deal with, and you were so goddamn misguided in your goal you couldn't have found the Silver Spire with that plan if you were three meters away from it. And of course later you just wouldn't get the hell out of my head and annoyed me to no end. So believe you me, we started from really damn low.
Lyndon shifted his posture, his hands moving to rest on his hips and his head tilted down. When he looked back up, instead of the frown he held a half-smile.
- I also know for a fact that former version of you or even the one in Corvus would have never ever admitted out loud anything even remotely close to failure or messing up this colossally bad. Something like that takes massive guts. So I have every reason to believe you are on the right path already. Whether or not the Archivists accept you, these were some good first few steps. All you need to do is keep it up and figure out just the next step always.
- You've just got to keep trying, truly – Abd added, clearly relieved.
He was smiling, leaning on the back-rest of the chair with his elbow. It felt… strange, seeing these humans take his side so vehemently. Malthael most certainly did not expect they would be accepting of him and his failure, especially not Lyndon. Malthael couldn't quite decide what to do with this emotion. But he leaned away from the bookcase finally, he stood taller a bit and clasped his hands in front of him, letting them hang.
- Right. Thank you – he said softly.
- You know what? Any time – Lyndon snorted with humor and he actually patted Malthael's shoulder with one hand before turning around to return to his seat on the window jamb.
That was when a flying piece of paper slipped through under the door and fluttered to Malthael who caught it instinctively and skimmed through it. Abd immediately stood up, rushing there with worry.
- Big boss sent for us? That was fast – Lyndon turned back to them as well.
- Yes. He expects us in the Main Hall – Malthael placed the message on the top of the bookshelf.
The quick decision could have only meant they rejected his request. He should have started thinking up a Plan B, but he felt too tired and listless. Might as well hear the rejection in person first, then get to work on it.
- A public execution then, awesome – Lyndon apparently had a similar opinion.
- Let's not assume the worst! – Abd said quickly, very obviously assuming the worst silently.
Malthael took a deep breath before turning to the two humans.
- Should the decision be unfavorable, just know that I… I do appreciate your aid and support – he admitted. – I know I am unworthy of it. But I am grateful.
- Anything to get you back on the track of common sense – Lyndon grinned.
- No matter what, we will continue to be friends! – Abd swore. – I will figure something out to help, truly!
With that, the three of them left the dorm room, not realizing Prima was marching right behind them with her tail held high. Malthael was silently hoping that despite the location, few would witness yet another one of his failures.
Clearly, no one was listening to his prayers (why would they?), because the Main Hall was packed full of Archivists. They stood around, staring at the group as they walked past the crowd. Some younger members were sitting on top of the bookcases for better view, swatting away candles that drifted into view and were careful not to kick or otherwise hit the book and scroll collections. Some people appeared disapproving of the trio, but most just looked confused. Malthael had never had any trouble with large crowds but he silently wished he could be anywhere else right about now. The masses formed a wide corridor toward the far end of the hall where the six Fellows and the High Curator stood in the same half circle formation as before. Only this time they were actually there in person, not through magical body doubles, Malthael could tell. He shook his head and forced himself to walk tall and betray no emotion. If he were to be rejected, he was going to be so with some dignity, he thought determined.
He, Abd and Lyndon stopped a few meters away from the leadership and bowed similarly to how they had done so in the oval room. Only Malthael this time around made a bigger effort to bow his upper body more. Frankly, he was not accustomed to such gestures.
- You summoned us, High Curator – he said after straightening.
- Indeed – Herodotos slightly nodded before raising his voice for all to hear. – Angel Malthael, Savant al-Hazir, esteemed guest Lyndon! You have requested Malthael to join our order and you have partaken in the trial where you have given us great insight. We have debated and decided, and we wish for all to hear our word.
Next to Herodotos, the Fellows all carefully guarded their expressions, at least to a level where Malthael had no hope of reading them with his current understanding of human gestures. The archangel's small wings bristled with nervousness but he remained motionless.
- Angel Malthael. We welcome you among our ranks!
…
Malthael needed a genuine moment to process what he had just heard. Next to him, Abd audibly caught his breath and Lyndon mumbled a "Hotdamn!". Around and behind them, the crowd broke out in anxious murmuring that was quickly climbing in volume until Tacin bellowed a rather annoyed-sounding "SILENCE!".
- M-me? – Malthael found his voice.
- You shall be the disciple of Savant Abd al-Hazir – Herodotos went on, and the archangel could have sworn he saw a faint smile as he turned to Abd. – My fellow scholar! Guide your new student well, teach him the right way to pursue, safeguard and share knowledge. You are responsible for him, just as much as he is responsible for his own actions.
- Yes—yes, I will, absolutely! I will teach him well, I swear by the Shimmering Quill! – Abd could barely stop himself from jumping in place from excitement, before bowing deep. – Thank you, High Curator!
- Most esteemed guest, Lyndon – Herodotos turned to the scoundrel. – We are grateful for the invaluable information you have shared with us. We wish to record your experiences and further knowledge of the worlds beyond ours oneday, should you agree to it.
- You are most welcome, big—High Curator! – the scoundrel smiled with relief. – I thank you for listening to what I had to say. Abd has some of those stories covered already, but sure! I wouldn't mind sitting down to talk sometime.
Herodotos nodded, before reaching out in front of him with both hands, palms turned up. The air shimmered and blinked with an unknown light for a second before a shining quill appeared and gently settled on the High Curator's palms. It was almost the length of the human's entire arm, its hollow shaft and rachis shone with a strong yellow light, and its vane and afterfeather appeared to be out of marble, yet still as soft and flexible as normal feathers. Malthael stared at the relic.
The Quill of Isaael. His former apprentice, thought to have died in the Eternal Conflict right around the time of Inarius' betrayal. Malthael had taught him to be his personal assistant and the young Wisdom angel had shown great promise, to the point where the Archangel himself had fashioned this quill out of the waters in the Pools of Wisdom to reward him for his efforts. To see it again after millennia…
It was a strange shock, suddenly realizing his closest student had been a Renegade, more than likely. Too many surprises bombarded him today, and Malthael failed to make order in himself.
- Behold, the Shimmering Quill! Passed down from generation to generation among scholars and protectors of knowledge, it beckons us to the right way even in uncertain times. Disciple Malthael! Give me your hand and let the Shimmering Quill mark you as one of ours today – Herodotos held the quill up with both hand.
After a moment of hesitation, Malthael reached forward with both of his arms. His right palm was still thickly bandaged, the sickles had left a long-lasting cut in his being as their parting gift. Herodotos held the quill above his left palm instead and gently touched the point to the pale skin. Immediately the vane flared out and flashed up with light.
-… Yours? – Herodotos asked in a low voice, looking up at the archangel.
- A long gone apprentice's. I created it for him.
Herodotos looked back down with a warm smile. He drew a twisty, almost A-like shape. The quill left a warm shining mark that quickly faded away. Well… it wasn't meant to write on the body, afterall. Malthael pulled his hands away and bowed slightly without a word.
Herodotos then offered the vane to Abd who took it with the greatest reverence and spoke the oath to be a good teacher to Malthael. The archangel decided not to point out that the Quill couldn't actually hold anyone to their word over anything, it wasn't that powerful. All it could do was permanent writing – whatever scroll, codex or other surface (outside of living things) was touched by it, that would withstand erosion along with the ink itself. Clearly the humans revered it, which was… strange to witness. Malthael wasn't sure half-demons could even respect anything to such a degree, but he was clearly wrong.
… Were there humans descended from Isaael?
Malthael quickly banished this borderline blasphemous thought. It wouldn't matter either way. And he was more occupied with the sudden turn of events.
Fellow Polab presented him with a new satchel, larger than his previous one. The leatherwork held small vine-like decorations around the edges, simpler than what Abd was carrying around. It had a dark iron clasp on its long strap.
- May this satchel serve you well on your journey of knowledge, disciple – he said with slight awkwardness, having to tilt his head up quite a bit to look Malthael in his hood.
- I will take good care of it. Thank you – the archangel accepted the gift.
- Meow!
By the Arch, this thing was still around?!
Malthael turned around to glare at the cat who was once again busy rubbing her side to his ankle and purring loudly.
- Oh my! – Benezia chuckled at the sight. – Prima's never so trusting with strangers.
- She wants to be held by you – Marianne added.
Malthael nervously bent down and carefully lifted up the cat by her torso. He wasn't quite sure how to hold the furry creature but she twisted and turned around in his arms until she found a preferable position. If that what it took to silence her…
Herodotos witnessed the act, smiled, then walked past the group. Malthael, Abd and Lyndon turned after him as he addressed the crowd:
- I understand it is a great shock to you all! – the High Curator spoke with a clear voice that rang across the entire hall. – I and the Fellows had, and frankly, still have the same worries as you do. We know fully well who Malthael is and what he had done… and thus, we know how important he is to all the worlds in existence.
Herodotos pointed back to Malthael with a straight arm.
- Malthael is the source and foundation of Wisdom itself. Without him, we will all fall to barbarism eventually, all our efforts forgotten and lost, all knowledge faded. As Archivists, it is our sacred duty to do all we can to avoid such horrible faith and restore the worldly order as it should be!
The scholars shared uneasy glances, some didn't look happy with the decision, others seemed to understand the stakes right away, or at least accept the explanation.
- We go to the farthest corners of Sanctuary, we seek out the strangest humans and beings and we hear them all out. For that is the mission of an Archivist. Today is no different – Herodotos clasped his hands in front of his chest. – And still beyond that… we shouldn't forget about second chances. For we all stumble, we all lose our way sometimes, and so much knowledge would be swallowed up by despair and oblivion itself, should we weren't allowed to right our wrongs.
Malthael could feel his throat seize up slightly. Second chances. He was the least deserving of them in all of Creation. But here he was, all thanks to two strange humans. He had no idea about his future, but in that one moment, he knew one thing for absolutely certain.
He would make the most of this second chance, come what may. Anu's Order must be restored, his own hubris must be set straight, and he would do it or fade into oblivion trying.
- I take full responsibility of this decision. Should anything go awry, it shall be on my head and I expect you all the deliver judgement upon me. I understand it is a colossal ask of all of you and I do not wish for you to just forgive and forget the terrible invasion we have all lived through. I ask you to give him a chance – Herodotos snaked his arms behind his back. – I ask you all now to welcome our newest disciple into our midst. Help him along his way to become a true scholar… and hopefully, true Wisdom one day again. Do not impair him, do not disrespect him, for you would impair our mission and disrespect our order that way. He is one of us now.
The crowd shuffled and shifted, glances were shared but after a while, a disjointed chorus of "welcome" could be heard. After a couple of repeats, the crowd finally fell in rhythm and pronounced in unison:
- Welcome, disciple Malthael! Study well!
The archangel held Prima firmly, took a deep breath and bowed in front of everyone. The former Angel of Death now would work and learn alongside humans.
Malthael, Firstborn of Anu was an Archivist disciple.
And thus concludes 2023! Been one heck of a year, and it certainly did not go out without a fight at the very end. But we are here, we made it, and the chapter is out despite everything in the way!
Although I have definitely fallen terribly short of the former one-chapter-per-month schedule I have been so proud of previously, I still have pride in my work this year, thanks to all you lovely cupcakes who rewarded my efforts with comments and kudos. Although we cannot tell what 2024 may bring, I am planning to change up my general workflow after a year's worth of one system, and I am hoping that will help this fanfiction update more regularly as well! Granted, that will also be the year when I want to start earnestly working on my original story about dragons, but we will see how the wheel turns!
Thank you all for this wonderful year! Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting! I appreciate you all, cupcakes, and I hope to see you in the new year as well! The end of Act III is truly near.
Happy New Year! I wish you all success, good health and luck in 2024!
Lore & Trivia Corner
- High Curator Herodotos is of coursed named after Herodotus, the Father of History. He was an ancient Greek scholar and the first historian we know of who made a great effort to properly categorize his works, vet his sources as much as possible and try to unearth the facts behind historical events like the Greek-Persian war. I personally could not think of a name more fitting for the leader of the Archivist order!
- Shush: in the April Fool's class introduction video of the Archivist in 2009, "Sush" was an ultimate skill of the character that was basically a screen nuke ability. An entire room's worth of Khazra had their head exploded because of the spell, it was pretty hilarious. I decided to keep it! :D
- Irreplaceable archangels: I will never subscribe to the notion that the archangels can be replaced or that they are merely the second or even third generation of rulers in the High Heavens. I whole-heartedly believe those stories greatly diminish their importance and power and do not fit into the world of Diablo, given what we have learnt about them throughout the franchise's existence. If they were replaceable, there wouldn't be the Prophecy of the End Days. If they were replaceable, Malthael's fall to madness would mean absolutely nothing because the Arch could just create a new Wisdom archangel in his stead. You all see the problem, I hope? There are only Valor, Justice, Wisdom, Fate and Hope, and those aspects are only Imperius, Tyrael, Malthael, Itherael and Auriel. Never more, never less, and their fall has consequences.
- Prima: Cats and libraries go way back. Library cats played a pivotal role in keeping manuscripts safe from rodents. Thus, the Great Library would probably have them as well. Prima's design is based on the Siberian cat breed with a marbled coat pattern. Apparently Siberian cats have a heavy bone structure, great hunting and physical prowess which I think would fit her rather well. Whether or not she's here to stay, well… we'll all see. I honestly have no idea. Prima's name, large size, long age and perfect fur could be eluding to something specific, certainly…
- Origins of the Archivist order: the Archivists don't actually have any kind of lore and history connected to them, beyond the fact that they are based in Westmarch (damn shame, really). So everything you read beyond that in this fanfic, their hierarchy, most of their spells and their entire history are my creations.
- Isaael is an angel created by me. Yes, he is named after Isaac Newton. I just found it a good opportunity to worldbuild, for Malthael to suddenly run into an angelic relic out of the blue which the humans use completely the wrong way.
