Chapter 112: Amanuensis

The high borough was quite different from the lower and middle borough, particularly in its structure and organisation. Because it only served to house the most wealthy and the noble families who resided in Leiden, it was both sprawling, yet bare. Most households covered an extensive area, almost the length of one or two streets in the middle borough, and so while the high borough was large, it was also vastly underpopulated. 

Ainsworth and Dietrich quickly traveled to the Eastern Portion of the high borough, to the Tormoul Household. Of course, it was quite an urgent matter, even if they were using it as a pretense for their investigation into the Cattleya family. They had sent a letter to the Tormoul family previous to their arrival, and although they had been expecting a greeting party, who stood alone while awaiting them was quite surprising.

Soon, they met with a man who had extensive scarring over his eyelids and cheeks, obviously blinded. He was quite old, but still stood tall and mighty, like a giant. This was the acting head of the Tormoul family house, Harold Tormoul. His older brother, Rravious Tormoul, was the Consul Laevus, acting directly under the Emperor. Needless to say, they were meeting with someone quite important.

"Thank you for meeting with us, Sir. I'm sure your schedule is quite busy." Ainsworth bowed his head respectfully in order to greet the high figure. He still carried reverence and importance as a member of the clergy, but he was still from the lower borough. He was worlds away from the man before him.

"This matter is something we could have resolved. Really, I told the Saint that we could handle this matter ourselves. I don't know why he sent you two in his place…" Harold sighed, rubbing his temples. He supported his massive form on a large, thick, and ornate cane that dug into the ground with such ferocity that Ainsworth imagined it would fracture the stone paving.

"Sir, this is a supernatural matter. This is something we are equipped to handle, it is our job. This is just the way of things. I hope you won't be an obstacle in our handling of this danger." Ainsworth calmly retorted.

Harold tilted his head to the side, as in the way one would glance side to side, obviously using his hearing before anything else, before letting out another heavy sigh. 

"If that's the case, I wouldn't mind allowing your investigation. Still, I hope you would be careful when exploring that room. Many of the items contained within are artifacts from a very ancient era. If any were damaged… needless to say, they are invaluable and irreplaceable."

Ainsworth nodded his head, gesturing towards Dietrich to do the same. "Of course, Sir. We'll err on respect during our investigation. Nothing needs be taken from its place unless absolutely necessary. Even then, cautious hands used, always. After all, what would be the point of mishandling what could become evidence?"

While Ainsworth spoke as if he were a Peacekeeper engaging in a criminal investigation, it wasn't completely the case. Certainly, Harold Tormoul didn't take it in that way. He knew of Heaven's Roses more than anybody, most nobles did. While the public was also aware of 'Heaven's Roses' as a magical organisation, the fact that their members also held public identities as members of the clergy was not a very public fact. Harold knew that this was just the style of Heaven's Roses, carried out even through their identities as a Priest and an Archbishop.

"The building is just north of the garden, you won't miss it. It's the only building that way. It's where we keep most of our… more 'valuable' acquisitions." Harold smiled politely, his once-opposing attitude fading away.

"Thank you, Sir. We'll see ourselves out once this 'matter' has been settled." Both bowed their heads before turning away from the head of the household, walking towards the garden.

Harold Tormoul watched the two figures, his smile slowly fading as he tilted his head once more, as if to listen behind him.

As Ainsworth and Dietrich faded into the distant garden, a figure in a black-cloak leaning behind Harold's large form let out a sigh. She had been completely concealed from Ainsworth and Dietrich's view, but had always been present. She had long ash-blonde hair, and her gaze was concealed by a bright-white lace eye covering, free of her sight just like Harold. 

"Ms. Amanuensis, my Lady… I'm sorry. I couldn't prevent them from messing about our own studies. If they really kill that spirit… it will become much harder to learn of the Sanguine Guild's plot."

The lady, nicknamed 'Amanuensis', shook her head, smiling softly. "No, that spirit was a lowly member of a bygone version of that organisation. He would only be used as a means of learning more about Anastis Lire and his involvement with the Phantoms. Even then, a foot soldier's view of the Flogged Emperor would be quite shallow, perhaps even directly contradictory towards his true personality. If we lose this spirit, we just need to keep collecting artifacts until we find someone truly useful… let the Priest and Archbishop kill it, it means nothing."

Her brows furrowed, a frown twisting the corner of her lips downwards. "What's more troubling is that figure that left those markings on the artifact building."

Harold nodded his head, frowning similarly to the lady. "What could that crazy old man know? And does he have such a hatred for that organisation that he would risk sneaking in here just to leave markings? He resembled a wretch… could he be from the lower borough?"

Ms. Amanuensis let out a slightly laugh, covering her mouth as if politely concealing her amusement.

"Mr. Time has become quite familiar with the wretches in the lower borough. I'm sure that hiding in plain sight is a fantastic perk for someone who can stay eternally youthful… Harold, please track down 'Etta Aziz' for me. He might be able to tell us more about that old man, and if we can find him, we might learn more about Anastis Lire, or at the very least, that Queen of Ghouls that en-maddened that former Emperor of our Empire…"

Meanwhile, Ainsworth and Dietrich had reached the building past the garden.

On the door frame, there were intricate scrawlings of shoddy white chalk, markings that looked as if they served a warning - "Do not remain. Fear the Undying."

Was this something left behind by Harold Tormoul, or one of the few Tormoul family members who knew about the supernatural occurrence? But judging by how they seemed to wish to handle it themselves, as well as keep it a secret matter, would they mark it so strangely? Who were the 'Undying', and had there been another person aware of this matter who had secretly made their way to this building? Had they only left the markings, or had they gone inside the building?

As soon as they entered the room, their eyes widened, their bodies ceasing in movement. The air around them was ice-cold, and eerily silent. Almost… deafened. 

Around them, they heard chattering, like teeth clacking against each other in a fast, patterned rhythm. Nails scraped against the wooden walls of the room, the scars on its surface plain and obvious. Stains of blood, illusory, dripped down from those nail marks onto the floor below, seemingly endless in its source. In fact, the floor seemed to be covered in a layer of thick, viscous blood in such quantities that it couldn't have possibly been drawn from a single person.

Was this the strange uniqueness of an evil spirit? 

As far as Ainsworth could recall from the minute amount of training he had received when first becoming a Priest, an 'evil spirit' was born from grudges and unfinished goals, someone who desperately needed something settled before they could pass on to whatever heaven or hell they had been promised. To accomplish this, their 'malevolence' would spread around the area they were locked to, drawing attention until a suitable 'vessel' would notice the commotion and investigate, tacitly inviting the evil spirit to invade their body and take over, much like a Nameless would, albeit much more temporarily. 

This was why Ainsworth had been so insistent when speaking with Harold Tormoul. He didn't want to risk the evil spirit invading him, as that would put Ainsworth and Dietrich in a precarious situation if they had to fight such an old, decrepit blind man. Although, knowing Dietrich, he might have killed the old man without hesitation or grievance…

Still, why was the 'malevolence' of the evil spirit presenting itself in such a way? Pools of blood? Was this spirit once a soldier, perhaps? If the origin of the item it was tied to was truly from the North, the City of Ghouls, then it remained a high possibility. That region definitely had an extensive history of bloodshed, even as so pertaining to itself, disregarding any wars or conflicts waged against other regions. 

Instead of unsheathing their blades, Dietrich immediately pulled out a paper card, one engraved with runes that would summon 'light', hoping to illuminate the darkness of the malevolence and 'cleanse' it to an extent. While an Astrologer's flame spells had the properties of being quite damaging and 'violent', light was the opposite, having some semblance of properties of 'cleansing' and 'healing'. Of course, such properties could be mixed to an extent, as long as an Astrologer had proper knowledge of their own abilities. But as simple as it could go, the cleansing of an evil spirit was a perfect use-case for a light spell.

Ainsworth pressed his hands together, bowing his head slightly as he began to pray to the Goddess. "Oh Lady of Ivy, the Crown of Thorns beneath the blood-red sun, our Goddess we belove; in you, we are just. This evil in your garden, allow me your blessing- this promise that we will be successful in this cleansing…"

Footsteps suddenly echoed through the room, light splattering noises calling out as it met with the layer of viscous blood below. Ainsworth and Dietrich instinctively looked towards the sounds, but nothing remained. 

"Kill… the Queen… rid… the Nightmares… save… Lord Lire…" 

Heavy breathing sounded out in his ear, but there was no feeling of breaths against the side of his face. Ainsworth cautiously glanced out of the corner of his eye, his gaze widening as he stopped praying.

Right beside Ainsworth, a ghastly figure stared straight at them.