[Shattige Mulde] Meeting of the Minds (Alaric) MEMORY

[Podvrak]

Glade 4, 4620¤

Schattige Mulde, a dreary and down right sad place to live. Or so Podvrak thought by the down-trodden looking individuals who walked its streets. Sticking out like a sore thumb, Podvrak was used to being gawked at. Especially in Lorien. But yet here he saw no other rathor, just sickly looking humans covered in basic rags. Having left the Airship he made his way to the library. In fact, the library is the sole reason he came. He had heard in Nivenhain of the esteemed place here, one dedicated to artificing and other treasure troves of knowledge. It was right up his alley and he thought perhaps in the future this could be a good place to work, that was until he had arrived. Seeing how morose this place was he was itching to leave despite having just arrived, it far over shadowed even the poorest place in Nivenhain. Made his heart ache and his belly hurt to see people in such bad conditions. Even now, in the beginning of spring this place was cold, cold to the bone, and possibly the most dreary place he had ever been.

Stepping into the library he ducked the doorframe and made his way farther back, following the Dewey Decimal system to find where his books would be held. He counted as he went by..... 400.... 500.... then to 600 where technology was held. This surely would be where he would find what he was looking for. He stopped and thought for a few moments, staring at the worn tomes.
"Hmm..."
Came his deep thoughtful growl. Finally he chose a well used book, it was frayed at the edges and the title was "Artificing, Novice's Should Know". He flipped through the pages and looked at the strange dioramas for a moment before heading back to the libraries common room and sitting down to read. Taking out his small reading glasses he settled in the largest chair he could find which still groaned under his weight.

[Alaric]

Alaric was beginning to wonder if this entire endeavour was just a laugh at his expense. Really now. Visiting Schattige Mulde for some esoteric Artificing book? Schattige Mulde, known among certain circles as "Shivering-My-Ass-Off"? Somewhere back in the Northern Lodge, a Lector was surely cackling at the thought of his misfortune.

Even if it was a legitimate request, it was frankly a misuse of his talents. Alaric Koenigsmann was more than a simple errand boy. He was a mage on the rise, an excavator of secrets, a man whose tongue was turning to silver. Any old peon could pick up a book and carry it; he was far more suited to knowledge that needed a little more to extract.

Alas, it was far too late to grumble about such things. Even as his quiet complaining had kept him company on the dimp ride there, the fact remained that Alaric had accepted the task without a complaint. At the very least, he was going to make sure it wasn't a complete waste of time for him. Books were meant to be read, after all.

The mage also stood out like a sore thumb, but in a different way to Podvrak. While the Rathor differed by being a towering bull-man, Alaric differed simply by the way he dressed. While the people of Schattige Mulde went about their business in well-worn hand-me-downs, the man from Essen went about his in fine furs meant to protect him from the cold.

Cohesion. Even in a quiet, middle-of-nowhere place such as this, it was important to look your best. Whether or not he drew stares as he walked onto the port, he paid no attention; it was of little consequence.

The rest of his journey to Fallen Tree Library was equally of no importance. The door swung open, and Alaric stepped inside, snow settling around him as he closed it.

Now, where was this book? 400, 500… damn it all, how did this ordering system work again?

[Podvrak]

¤

The book was dull, why was he reading about magic? He'd never had interest in such things but came here under the guise of scoping out the library, and it did reveal what they said it would. The section on Artificing was vast but no book could hold Podvrak's attention long enough for any information to really stick. He kept getting up and down to grab a new book, skimmed through it, became confused by the images and the text, then sought the next one. This went on for some time before another newcomer came into the library. A man dressed much differently than the usual lot here in Shattige Mulde, so far as he'd seen most either wore rags or dirty fur cloak. This man was dressed in finery and set himself apart, could he be someone wealthy who lived here? Or perhaps another like him, come simply for the library itself. Sitting down with "Artificing for Idiots" he stared down his small glasses at the book, but couldn't help but notice the man seemed to be lost.

A twitch of an ear, a snort later, he was on his feet and shadowing behind the man who seemed to be weaving in and out of 400 and 500, not finding what he was looking for. He didn't work here, but he know libraries well. Clearing his throat, a long growling noise, he asked him in his very deep voice,
"Excuse me. Do you have a moment? It looks like you need some help."
If the man looked confused or anything less than friendly he would reply again,
"No, I don't work here but I work at a library in Nivenhain. I may be able to find what you need."

[Alaric]

Any old peon could pick up a book… The echoing thought made Alaric lightly grind his teeth as he peered through the rows of books. He was not going to tell anyone about this. Defeated by the organization system of a library… yes, this one minor humiliation was going to firmly remain a secret. Thank the benevolent and glorious Von Rabe that any cackling at his expense was miles and miles away.

A sudden (and incredibly deep) clearing of the throat behind him paused the mage's book hunt. Turning around to see who was there, Alaric found himself having to shift his gaze, looking up at Podvrak's face rather than staring at his chest. A Rathor, in a place as remote as this? Considering how few of them lived in Lorien as a whole (come to think of it, he didn't think he'd ever seen one in the country before), it came as quite a surprise.

“Oh, that's very kind of you,” Alaric replied, offering his hand and a cordial smile. “Alaric Koenigsmann, the pleasure is all mine.” With a breath, he swallowed his pride, cutting away at any indignity felt towards needing help, until it no longer existed. It was a better course of action than fumbling around like he had been.

Regardless of whether his hand was taken or not, the Rien man would continue: “If you don't mind, then, I'm looking for the Artificing section of this library. I'm looking for a specific book, really: ‘On Runic Script: A Metaphysical Analysis of the Language of Contrivance’.” Perhaps it was a little ambitious of him, wanting to learn from such a text without knowing any of the language itself. And yet, Alaric was here to get the book, regardless of his own understanding. In that case, what harm did a little light reading do?

[Podvrak]

¤

Podvrak shrugged his shoulders, then screwed his face up like an old man exasperated. He really wasn't though, he was deep in thought. Finally he spoke after some internal delegation.
"We'll have to look at the numbers once we get there but the section you're looking for is 600."
Plodding over he replaced his own copy into the shelves and gave Alaric a look,
"Name's Podvrak, yours? Funny, I was just reading from this section myself. Artificer then? That sort of thing goes over MY head."
He snorted and shook his head, a shake which traveled down his spine and to the tip of his tail with a flick. Though one would think he was a literal bull in a china shop, the elegance and great care he took while running his fingers over the the spines in the section before saying,
"Ahh.... Here. See its placement between 'On Quiet Gears' and 'On Staying in Turn: Methodology of Connections'? Once you get through the Dewey Decimal system you want to follow each assigned number which has two parts: a Dewey System number, this one is in 600, and a book number; the book number is unique so the librarians can tell books apart within the same subject. This numbers' system works only for the nonfictional books. Fiction books have their own."
Podvrak chewed for a moment realizing he was talking so long. Then said nothing more, but handed the book to Alaric squarely.
"I hope this helps. They have quite a few here! Surely you heard the gossip and came here for these as well, where are you from?"
He would take another tome idly, flipping through the pages of golems in this particular book, interested but not digesting anything.
"It's quite interesting what mages can do, do you work for someone who creates golems? Or aspiring to make them yourself?"

[Alaric]

It had been… the next section over… the entire time. Alaric gave Podvrak a listening nod, even as he internally cursed his own narrow-sighted incompetence. Such a simple task to slip up on, and such a simple way to resolve it.

No matter. It was better to discover one's own shortcomings in a place like this, where they could do no harm. Better still, to learn from the Rathor in order to avoid this ever happening again.

Alaric gave an amused smile as Podvrak spoke of mages and magic. Truth be told, it was a refreshing reprieve from the mistrust the general public held. A plain and simple ignorance.

“It is rather… esoteric, isn't it?” Magic was more than esoteric; it was inherently dangerous to learn. Everything had danger to it, of course — even a farmer could suffer an unfortunate accident — but few things required a brush with death simply to start learning. That trait, and the fact that most people didn't begin to understand the inner workings of magic, left it maligned rather often. In the end, Alaric's first-hand experience was more or less limited to Lorien and the Pact, with the complexities of a religious order slowly peeling away from the main body weaving itself into the mix.

“I come from Essen, though I tend to move around a fair bit. And I suppose it's both, really. While I haven't really dipped my toe into Artificing, that's not to say I'm not interested in the subject.” There was practically nothing on the face of Atharen that Alaric could say he was not interested in. Disdain was a feeling that did nothing but trip you up on your own feet.

“With that said, I'm technically getting this book on behalf of someone else.” There was also no point in lying to Podvrak about his own inexperience with the craft, or his reasons for being here. What good would it do? No need to tangle the web with pointless threads.

“It's interesting, don't you think? The way they keep everything organised, I mean.” If Alaric had his way, he would never suffer through this again.

[Podvrak]

Text Here¤

"I have no interest in these things, though I know many would have my tongue for even mentioning that magic doesn't bother me. I have lived a long time and not all in Lorien. I have seen my share of mages in my day."
Podvrak would say nothing more about the subject of magic in general to a stranger. Passing his finger across the spine of a broken book, he saw he had some work to do with rebinding and fixing some of these tomes.
"Essen, then? I enjoy travel. I came from Nivenhain myself. I wish I could say I found Artificing interesting, I can read the books all day but it's going in one ear and out the other-- or more likely I will be taking a nap."
Which, who didn't like curling up in front of the fire for a nice book?
"On behalf of someone else? We do have a policy of, well, time, you see. I may be able to make an exception but as if you couldn't notice, I am not a citizen. So my word may not travel as far. Do you think you will need this book for an extended time? It's a slightly higher payment but only one, it will let you take out the book for a season, but if you don't return it your return fee is double what you paid. Most don't come back. You wouldn't be that kind of person, would you?"
He smiled, the row of large bovine teeth almost looking like a grimace on his serious face.
"Oh yes! Very interesting. You see without it, as I said, we couldn't organize our books effectively. A simple alphabetical ordering would mean doubles or triples of the books we carry could get easily lost, stolen, it's just all in all more effective to run the library with the Dewey System. Though, unfortunately I must say I don't know where it has gotten its name from..."

[Alaric]

Certainly, Podvrak was different to the common folk of Lorien. Magic was not well-loved in Alaric's home country; Essen was by and large the one place mages gathered, and even then they were mostly relegated to its nightlife. Only in the Northern Lodge was it truly accepted, owing to its status as a bastion of the Pact.

He was hard to place. He seemed friendly enough, and had been willing to help locate his book, but the looks he gave ran counter to that, with his grimaces and hard amber eyes. Perhaps that was just how his face was, though.

“Well, it'll be rather far from the library… better to be safe than sorry, I'd imagine.” Naturally, he wasn't thinking of footing the bill. Alaric was here on behalf of another; likewise, his wallet was nothing more than a surrogate. Extra fees didn't bother him in the slightest, and why would they? They would pass by him like detritus down a river. Well, that was assuming the old man was willing to loosen his coin purse to pay his dues. If not… Alaric was flexible in matters of payment.

“Perhaps it's a little peculiar, taking a book to a different city… It does seem especially hard to follow up on returns when the books travel all over the country. Nonetheless, I will ensure it is returned in one piece.” Throwing around the Omen's name should sweeten them enough to make any needed exceptions, or that was what Alaric assumed. The weight of names was such a convenient thing when trying to step out of the norm.

[Podvrak]

¤

"Fair enough."
He told Alaric, unsure how he would pull this off but expected with at least his name and location written down he could find him again should he need to come collect the book himself. Damn the fine, the books are more precious than anything, though he wondered as well if he would be expected to pay all the travel expenses, as a Nameless that was likely. He hoped he could become a citizen soon.
Podvrak snorted, but said nothing more to the man when the conversation was concluded. Perhaps there was an awkward silence between them if Alaric expected more response from him, but Podvrak wouldn't make eye contact and seemed to stare off into space.

That night he read something different from his usual works, a horror novel with disturbing pictures "Spooky Tales to Tell by Candle Light". He found himself pacing while reading and the sound of his hooves eventually made the patron below stab a broom on his ceiling, Podvrak's floor. This in truth was the only reason he set the book down and went to sleep, it was hard to tear his eyes away from the pages. It troubled his sleep with bad dreams of having to break down and dismember poor Alaric for the book. He awoke the next morning in a cold sweat and splashed his face with water, hoping it would never have to come down to that. Book mercenary work? That was never the case, any book that couldn't be retrieved was only ever simply written off as lost or never returned.

[Alaric]

There was in fact a pause, a few free seconds left dangling in silence, before Alaric decided that was the end of the conversation. Apparently, Podvrak had become engrossed in his own thoughts or some such; he wouldn't take it too personally. Strange men had their strange quirks and oddities; Von Rabe knew he knew enough people like that.

"Well, thank you for your help, sir," the mage inclined his head, before departing. The rest of his experience in the library was a drone, not particularly worth documenting; a simple matter of going through the formal process of taking out a library book. As expected, the Pact's name smoothed over most of the doubts that had arisen. After giving the name of the man who actually wanted the book (and quietly sidestepping giving out his own) he was finally free to get away from the middle of nowhere that was Shivering-My-Ass-Off, back to the modern comforts of the Northern Lodge.

As for the book itself, it largely yielded theoretical knowledge, rather than practical know-how. If Runic Script was an altogether more mundane language, it would have been similar to studying the grammatical rules before knowing any vocabulary; useful for the future, but not so much in the present. As the title said, it was a metaphysical analysis, focused on why it was the language that made Artificing work, assuming (or perhaps just not caring) whether its reader was fluent or not. Still, even theoretical knowledge was valuable in his eyes. It wasn't as if he had the technical expertise to use it, anyway.