Book 1: City of Lies, City of Dust

Prologue.

Come now child, if you will

The night has come and she is still

Her quiet presence and your ear

The only witness to this tale

Of this story do not speak

In light of day while trust is bleak.

Your Familia should all be near

Else our safety you should seek. 

Now you’ve grown, it is time

For you to hear of truth divine.

Of the secrets Churches fear

and how the facts do not align.

Come now child, if you will

Sit down and be silent til

You’ve learned all you can hear

of the Tree called Yggdrasil.

- Variation of the preparatory stanza used in the Familia Oral Histories across Drip.

---- 

Nestled centrally in the Eastern Continent, the City-State of Drip has played host to many historical events, none of which could hold a candle to the words on the page in front of him; Demmic Avalon stood at his desk looking down at the letter he has spent the better part of the afternoon composing. The freshly inked page sat on top of a larger stack that was comprised of his life’s work. The information contained within would change the world, though for better or for worse he couldn’t say. Shaking his head, he let out a sigh before crumpling the letter up and tossing into the increasingly smaller fire burning in his hearth. A small chuckle escaped his lips at the absurdity of his predicament before he muttered to himself “The Institute makes the greatest discovery of the Cycle, and we can’t do anything about it”. Demmic sighs again, grabbing a fresh sheet and putting his words to paper one more time.

---- 

My Lord,

We here at the Institute of Truth would like to be the first to congratulate you on your foresight. The texts you provided, along with your generous funding, have lead to a most wonderful breakthrough. The task of cross-referencing your collection was no small feat but the results have silenced even the most skeptical of our Scrollers; the following text has been compiled from multiple Familia oral histories with roots in Drip in an attempt to strengthen our understanding of Sap Resonance and its historical impact. What you will read is a synthesis of the most consistent themes and passages that we have collected over these last ten years.

I would like to stress that while every oral history is different (which is likely attributed to generational additions, embellishments, and supplementation of knowledge), there has been a consistent message throughout the samples we’ve collected. We strive to live up to our agencies name, and as such, all superfluous information has been purged. I’ve attached a report detailing the findings in depth, but in short: The Familia in aggregate appear to have a greater and more accurate understanding of the nature of the cosmos than even the Church. This has implications that could rewrite a core part of our history, especially concerning Drip; we felt it prudent you receive the information as quickly as possible.

Your continued patronage is appreciated, and as previously discussed, we will withhold all publication of our findings until your interests are secure. The Institute is grateful for assistance in cataloging the Truth; should we find anything else prior to your communication, you can be assured that we will inform you with haste. 

Thank you for your assistance,

Demmic Avalon

Lead Scroller - Institute of Truth: Drip Chapter

----   

The last of the evening light disappeared beyond the western horizon as Demmic lifting up the letter, gently waving it to help dry the ink. He grumbled with dissatisfaction as the thicker droplets were flung and spotted his desk. Absentmindedly wiping the drops up with his sleeve, he placed his letter onto the report that held the fruits born from last ten years of his work and began folding it for delivery. Demmic looked at the unusually thick envelope and contemplated his time spent researching Sap. “We were so close-” he whispered to his empty room, “All those years, and the answers we were looking for were here all along!”. A laugh bubbled up somewhere from his middle, a deep, slow laughter that built upon itself until the room reverberated and tears fell from his eyes. It wasn’t until he heard the third, more urgent knocking at his door that Demmic broke free of his mirth. Feeling only a little self-conscious, he stood up and let out a less than dignified “One moment!“ and shuffled over to let in his unexpected caller.

Wiping the tears away, he unlocked his door and flung it open to find the last person he would have expected. Emil, the Institutes newest acquisition, stood poised ready to knock again; his young face shifted from concern to surprise at the sudden change. That surprise quickly morphed into what Demmic could only assume was fear as he barked out a harsh “What do you want?”. Demmic felt a twinge of shame as the new acolyte began to trip over a hasty apology; he cut Emil off with a sharp swipe of his hand. Following a deep breath that was less for show than he would have liked, Demmic asked again “What do you want, Acolyte Emil?”. The fear remained evident on his face, but Emils reply was strong. “Sir! I was instructed by Master Jonas to report to you that there’s been a breakthrough in the project, Sir!”. Demmic looked at Emil flatly and deadpanned “I’m already aware of the breakthrough, Acolyte Emil. However I appreciate your diligence in-“ Emil interrupted Demmic, causing actual irritation to flair up in his chest. He was about to launch into a full blown tirade concerning discipline and respect before the meaning of Emils’ words finally registered, “What do you mean another one?”.

---- 

In the Kingdom of Sol, jewel of the western continent, Micaela Goldkin, a middle daughter to a branch of the royal family, found herself forgetting her station and laughing in the face of a dignitary from the east. She felt her face flush and subconsciously called out to her God, feeling his body grow hot against her fingers and neck; the heat contrasting the cooling numbness to her body and mind that told of his presence. Her embarrassment faded as his comforting embrace restored her composure and she channeled the dignity of the crown. “Your pardon-” Micaela stated, her royal mask securely in place. “-however, we simply don’t have any information for you regarding the southern continent”. That was true, they didn’t have any information for outsiders, regardless of how much they were offering. “As your organization was advised in our correspondence, the only possible piece of information that could be beneficial is that death is all that waits beyond the Wail”. Another truth, as what else would one find in damnation? 

As she spoke, she was surprised by the lack of reaction on the face of this eastern ‘Scroller’. “As much as we regret that you’ve come all this way for naught, the Kingdom of Sol is unable to help you with your research”. As Micaela finished, feelings of unease managing to worm their way through her gods presence; the dignitaries’ smile didn’t break until he opened his mouth to reply. “Alas, I couldn’t call myself a true scholar if I didn’t explore every potential avenue.” he started with an air of affability that made Micaela’s teeth itch. “While I do have other business in Sol, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. If your kingdom has a change of heart, kindly let us know.” He stood as he spoke, gracefully incorporating a perfect Solian bow in time with the end of his request. Irritation welled in Micaela’s chest at the sight of a foreigner executing their customs better than half the court; she nodded at the show of respect, and decided to indulge her curiosity. “Scroller Larson“ she said as she raised her hand “If you could indulge a little professional curiosity, what could you possibly hope to find down there?”. The dignitary paused, the same smile back on his face; the chills returning to run up Micaela’s spine. She felt almost violated as he gazed into her eyes from across the room. “Why-“ he said, with the same affability as before, “We could only hope to find the Truth.”; and with that, he turned and left Micaela sitting alone in the audience chamber, feeling numb for an entirely unholy reason.

---- 

That evening, Micaela returned to her chambers to find the report on the dignitaries movements sitting on her desk; the light from her hearth casting iridescent patterns on the ceiling through the jewels inlaid on the exterior. She didn’t really find the stones themselves pretty, as nothing physical could compare to her God. But the refraction of light, even though the very thought itself was heresy, had to be just as holy as Gold from its beauty alone. She sat in her chair,  basking in the warmth of the fire under the kaleidoscope display; after a few grounding minutes, Micaela picked up the report to learn what that ’Scroller’ Larson was up to:

My Lady, 

Below is the chronological summarization of the foreigners activities:

1. Left Audience Chamber and headed west.

2. Stopped at the third market stall and conversed with the vendor before buying a kebab and leaving a generous tip. Contact with the vendor afterward revealed he inquired about directions to a place he could learn about histories.

3. Continued west before cutting south and heading into the artisan district.

4. Destination was an alchemist. He spent the morning conversing inside. Contact with the alchemist afterward revealed they mostly spoke about the properties and uses of saltpeter. 

5. Left alchemist and headed over to the scholars hall recommended by the vendor. Contact with the lead scholar revealed they spoke at length about “sap resonance”. A heretical theory that proposes magic doesn’t come from the body of God; he was chased for thirteen blocks.

6. Visited a church for their afternoon service; made no disruptions and reportedly gave a large tithe.

7. Returned to his inn to eat dinner; spending the rest of the night drinking various local brews, making tasting notes and giving praise to both the brewers and the ingredients.

His ship is scheduled to leave 3 days hence; should you wish to speak with him again, a meeting can be arranged.

Always a pleasure,

 - Torvin

---- 

Micaela finished reading the report, smiling at Tor’s insistence of formality despite their history, and read it again. Something was bothering her, she couldn’t help but feel Larson knew more than he let on. She thought back to earlier, though simply remembering that unnerving expression was enough to make her skin prickle. She studied the report and started ruminating.  “He said that he had other business in Sol…” she muttered to herself. “What else could possibly be important enough to warrant such a long trip?”. She looked over his day, mentally crossing out the ludicrous “sap” theory and his visit to the church. She quickly penned out a letter to Tor, requesting continued surveillance of the foreigner and that he arrange for a shipment of saltpeter be delivered to her; if the east is interested in saltpeter, she needed to figure out why. Satisfied with the course of action she set in motion, Micaela Goldkin, middle daughter to a branch of the royal family, retired to her bed.

----