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Diabolical - Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2022-12-10 21:58:01 +0000 UTC---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur carefully approached the corner. As he drew closer, the light, cast by his lantern, illuminated the floor. The dark, rust-colored carpet reached its end, giving way to a lacquered wooden surface. It had an interesting look --- there weren’t any identifiable boards or planks; it was all one solid thing, like it had been cut from the world’s thickest tree.
It was so perfect, and the grain so smooth, that he couldn’t help but bend over and touch it. It felt oily underneath his fingertips, but when he rubbed them together, they were dry. He straightened his back before continuing.
As he journeyed into the bowls of the room, he saw something strange --- various pieces of furniture were littered around the place; that’s what he deduced from their shapes, at least. The reason he wasn’t completely sure was because they’d all been covered --- sections of white cloth, cut into varying sizes, had been draped over everything. There were chairs, sofas, tables, desks --- even something that looked like a globe-stand.
He suddenly got the feeling that he shouldn’t be in here. The place felt like a storage room for valuables and for things that were no longer being used. ‘…or shouldn’t be used.’ He thought. His gut was telling him to leave it be, yet he couldn’t help himself. His feet continued onward, and as they did, the stuff around him started getting more and more unfathomable. At first, they were normal things --- he saw a few books, a brass vase, an inkwell, a stack of paper…
However, when he saw a huge shape, loosely covered by something that looked like an enormous, stitched piece of leather, he couldn’t help but scrunch his brows. Where it came into contact with the floor, he could see something gleaming --- it was a dull, metallic color. More than that, it was the many copper pipes, growing out from underneath the leather before sinking into the wall, that furiously stoked his curiosity.
He didn’t know when it happened, but he found himself standing in front of it, holding a part of the cover. It had already been lifted up by him, exposing a very peculiar contraption: it seemed like a type of distillatory vessel, with countless dials, valves and switches. Truthfully, he had no idea if his guess was correct, but it did seem like its function was related to fluids or gasses.
‘What is this thing, but, more than that, how did it get up here? Some of these parts are too large to fit through the door!’ He wondered. He could only shake his head inwardly before releasing the corner, letting it drop to the floor. He’d so many unanswered questions already, most of which were more confounding. This was simply another one to add to the ever-growing pile.
He was feeling pressured for some reason, so he hastened his search. At the very least, he wanted to get to the end before he could be completely satisfied. He encountered more curiosities --- there were chemical, or alchemical beakers of all shapes and sizes, littered all over the place. He noticed them because some of the cloths had slipped down; likely because of their smooth surfaces. There were more copper pipes, also. These weren’t attached to anything --- they were simply lying loosely, unscrewed from each other. Likewise, they came in different shapes, lengths and diameters.
It became more cluttered the further he went, and more difficult to traverse. The floor was densely covered in miscellanea, and he had to carefully scoot around it all --- he didn’t want to accidentally knock something over.
Finally, he reached the end; it was tidier than everything up to that point. It was spacious and free of detritus, and there was a single desk there. It called to him in a way he couldn’t explain --- he hurriedly made his way over to it, and pulled away the cloth.
It was the most incredible desk he’d ever seen --- it seemed like the kind of thing that costed more money than the average person saw in their lifetime. He wanted to examine it more closely, but, he felt that, if he were to set the old lantern down on its polished surface, craftsmen all over the world would spontaneously die from indignation.
He extended one hand and carefully ran it over the wooden surface. ‘I could spend my whole life looking at this thing.’ He thought. It was so incredibly detailed that he was sure he’d notice something new about it, every time he reexamined it. His investigation drew him in and, before he knew it, he was rubbing his sore lower-back and yawning, having become aware of the passage of time.
He straightened his hunched posture. ‘This desk has to be hiding some secret, but I need to get some sleep. I can’t afford to be witless from exhaustion, come tomorrow.’ He thought. However, before he could return, something caught his eye. It was a familiar swirling pattern, one that immediately provoked his sense of concern. Fortunately, it seemed less aggressive --- more in line with what he’d seen outside his bedchambers.
Again, he experienced a sensation on being ‘drawn in’, but he was able to keep a hold of his senses. Keeping one of his eyes closed, he followed the wriggling lines --- they seemed to be going somewhere, twisting around an unknown point like water around a whirlpool. Tracing his fingers over its surface, he followed it until he came to the origin. It was a small oval shape, about the size of a thumb.
The moment his finger reached it, he suddenly heard a soft hissing sound before something thin and sharp pierced his flesh. “Ow!” He exclaimed. He hurriedly brought his hand to his face and saw a drop of blood, beading on his skin.
Then, there was a soft, drawn-out sound, like a fishing-reel being unwound. Abruptly, a section of the desk slid open. Arthur froze --- there had been nothing to suggest a compartment; he knew, because he’d checked for one.
He silently crept over to it and looked inside --- it was about as long as his forearm, and half as wide. Within it, a book laid. It had a brown, leather cover, and it wasn’t very thick; about the width of two fingers, by his estimation. There were two words written on its surface.
‘Libre Maleficia.’
Arthur felt as if he’d been struck by a hammer. He immediately recognized the second word. ‘It’s the same as the tablet!’ He thought. He quickly brought it up, and confirmed his guess. ‘This must’ve belonged to the old man!’ He realized. This had been his room, after all.
He thought back to the promise he’d made to himself --- that he wouldn’t stick his nose into anything that could prove to be troublesome, but this was different! Those inscriptions had done something to him; he could still feel the after effects. If this book contained the solution, then he needed to read it!
He carefully reached into the small drawer with one hand and touched the book. The moment he did, something incredible happened! Not only did a new line of text appear on the tablet, but the book’s pages rapidly fluttered, from the first page to the last. He felt a massive quantity of information enter his brain through his eyeballs.
‘SCIENTA ASSIMILATUM!’
He rapidly blinked, feeling a burning sensation travelling from his optical nerves into his brain. Once it reached the center of his mind, it ballooned outwards until it occupied his entire skull. Arthur gripped his head; the pain was getting worse by the second --- it was as if someone had connected a bicycle pump to his head, and was trying furiously to inflate it.
His knees touched the ground, and he felt a warm liquid dripping out of his eyes, nose and ears. There was a tinny noise in his ears, like his brainwaves hadn’t been calibrated properly. It kept getting louder to the point where it became disorienting.
He reached out a hand in an effort to steady himself, but he missed and toppled over onto the floor. Different patterns and colors swam in his vision, and he felt like he was about to vomit. As the seconds ticked by, his condition escalated to the point where he felt like he could pass out at any moment.
A sudden pulsating ache, more powerful than the rest, smashed into him like a bowling ball, and he felt parts of himself scattering into different directions. Before he lost consciousness, he saw the tablet change again.
‘Maleficia [ 0.0 ] -> [ 0.3 ]’
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“…rested well, young master?” The butler directed the question at Arthur, who was in the process of dressing for breakfast.
The youth smiled thinly. “I did. Thank you, Mr. Fetcher.” He said, slipping on his black leather shoes before tying their laces. After he’d finished, he took the vest the butler offered him and put it on. When he was done, he followed the manservant out into the hallway. Naturally, he was keeping the events of last night to himself.
His mouth moved as he made small talk with Mr. Fetcher, but inwardly he was thinking his own thoughts. ‘Fortunately, this place is a bit less scary during daytime.’ He remarked to himself. This time, the butler wasn’t guiding him from behind --- they were walking side by side. He didn’t ask why, but he had a feeling that, last night, the butler had been ‘bringing up the rear’, so to speak.
Thoughts were swirling behind Arthur’s eyes. ‘It seems there are things he’ll protect me from, and others he won’t.’ He realized. It was troublesome --- if he knew more, he’d be able to use the knowledge to his advantage. However, given that he didn’t know the rules, he couldn’t take any chances.
It was the manual from last night that had provoked a desire within him --- its contents were… useful. If there were more like it, then he wanted to find them. It was the library he’d seen yesterday that immediately came to mind.
Their conversation had lulled, so Arthur was able to contemplate in silence. ‘Regarding the symbols, it was educational indeed!’ He thought. He could perfectly recall the book’s contents, from the first page to the last --- not only that, but he understood it; better than anything he’d ever studied.
First, he was appalled --- disturbed, even. Truthfully, he still was, but… he couldn’t deny the allure of those yellowing pages. More than anything else, it provided a way forward --- a method through which he could triumph over his perilous situation.
When his disgust had transformed into exaltation, he’d needed to calm himself. ‘This strength is not an absolute advantage, because it isn’t mine alone.’ He realized. After all, his mysterious grandfather had been the previous owner --- there was even a possibility he was the author.
That surely meant the old devil was more accomplished that he was. Arthur very much doubted that his own understanding of the contents were superior; he didn’t actually have any practical experience either.
He idly fiddled with the collar of his dress-shirt. ‘It’s dangerous, but I’ll have to try it out. I simply have no other method of getting stronger.’ He thought. There was ‘Spontanea Evocatio’, but it was a complete unknown to him. Maleficia was dangerous, but he understood the way forward, and what he would gain. He would never have considered something that could cause him to self-destruct; not normally, at least. It was the existence of the tablet that gave him the confidence to try.
His eyes lazily scanned the surroundings, but, in reality, he was trying to map the hallways. ‘I must find the library!’ He resolved. If he did manage it, then he would go there as soon as possible. However, it had to be during the day, when the mansion was safer.
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Breakfast was to be had around the dinner table. There were three participants --- Arthur, Jane and the old woman from yesterday; it went without saying that she was his grandmother. The boy still didn’t know her name, nor that of his grandfather. He found that he didn’t care.
He raised a spoonful of delicious, maze porridge to his lips and blew on it softly. Butter, brown-sugar and full-cream milk --- the three ingredients transformed the plain cereal into something sinfully scrumptious. ‘It’s quiet.’ He noted. After the three of them had exchanged their greetings, nobody had said anything. The atmosphere was tense --- the old biddy was responsible for it.
He took the time to contemplate the Libre Maleficia’s contents --- from what he understood of the, the author’s studies were incomplete. Observing something that wasn’t materialistic in any way was predictably difficult; it was only through ‘Thaumaturgy’ that the author had managed to investigate it.
‘It’s possible that the splinters in my flesh is purely a thaumaturgical phenomenon, but I have a feeling that isn’t the case.’ He speculated. The fact that he could feel them made him doubt that claim. ‘According to the author, that perception is simply an illusion, produced by the interaction with the ‘Anima’ overlay-network. Still, I’m not convinced…’ He pondered the issue while continuing with his breakfast.
A clinking sound roused him from his thoughts. He looked up from his fourth bowl of porridge to see his grandmother, holding her teacup in the air with her spoon next to it. “After you have finished your breakfast, Fetcher will present your schedule. That is all.” She said, abruptly standing and turning before she floated out of the dining room.
Arthur watched silently as she left. He’d noted her plate --- a fancy looking dish rested on top of it; the type of meagre, overpriced item that wouldn’t satisfy anyone’s hunger. It was practically untouched.
When she was gone, Jane spoke up. “Apparently, she’s hired someone to homeschool you. I would’ve preferred differently, but, well…” She started, only to close her mouth halfway through. After giving her head an imperceptible shake, she sighed and returned to her breakfast.
Arthur could guess what she’d left unsaid --- his grandmother wouldn’t have been willing to send him to a boarding school. ‘Keeping me on a tight leash, aren’t they…?’ He summarized. It only served to reinforce his convictions --- he wasn’t willing to have them dictate his life. He’d rather die than be caged like some kind of pet.
‘It’s not impossible that this is all part of their grooming-plan; trying to make me the perfect successor…’ He thought. However, not only did he doubt it, but it wasn’t a safe assumption to make. It was better to believe their intentions were nefarious; that way, if he was wrong, the only consequence would be pleasant surprise on his part.
Naturally, he was stuffing himself as much as he could. And, now that the foul woman was gone, he felt less of a need to restrain himself. The butler wasn’t here either; Jane and Ms. Squint already knew how ferocious his appetite was. He’d already devoured all the porridge, and was now generously slathering butter over a piece of toasted white-bread.
Jane watched him from across the table, looking vaguely horrified.
The boy hardly even noticed her --- his mind and body were preoccupied. In particular, he was considering what his mother had just told him --- naturally, this ‘tutor’ of his wasn’t going to be normal either. ‘I’m so outnumbered it isn’t even funny.’ He realized. He didn’t even really know what any of these ‘people’ were capable of --- not knowing his enemy was something that troubled him extremely.
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f0Ri5
If the terms are confusing at any point, please be aware that I may have changed them around. They're not really final at this point.
