The line thinned, and Morne stepped up to the gate.
A guard stopped him, looking much more attentive than the guards at Cetregor, and scanned him up and down. "Reason for your visit?"
"I've heard about Malcinson's Museum of Magicks," Morne replied. "Thought I'd check it out."
The guard looked at Morne's clothes with a frown, as if he couldn't believe someone with his clothes could afford to travel across the empire for no other reason than to see a museum.
"Are you aware of the entry fee?"
"Five small silver," Morne nodded.
"Hmph. Do you have any weapons on you?"
"No."
"Are you currently worshipping or have you ever worshipped the Dark Gods?"
"No."
"Do you know any Spells that could cause trouble in the city?"
"No."
"Are you a vampire, a Boknul, a werewolf, or any other form of cursed human?"
"No."
Morne was unfamiliar with Boknuls, but he assumed he'd know if he was one.
"Are you in possession of any illegal substances, ingredients, or items?"
"No."
The line of questioning continued for quite some time before the guard shooed Morne in with a stern "Don't cause trouble."
Morne strode through the city gates of Untelneb and into the visitor's center that Morgthon had told him about, asking for directions to the museum.
Thirty minutes and a lot of walking later, he stood before Malcinson's Museum of Magicks, a grand structure three stories tall, five hundred feet wide, and made of red bricks.
An overhanging part of the roof held up by thick, rectangular pillars of brick provided shelter for the exquisite double doors of dark oak, which held carvings of Mages casting bolts of lightning and raining down fire upon their foes.
He hadn't been lying when he told the guard of his intentions in the city. This museum was part of the Trade with the Coltha.
According to the memories burned into Morne's mind, within this building he would find Spells to make use of his Necromancy talent, or "Tower" as the demon called it.
He didn't know what to do after making it here, but was sure he would know when he found what he was looking for.
He pushed open the double doors, entering a lobby with white, tiled floors and walls.
To the left and right, hallways led further into the museum, but they were designed so the interior couldn't be seen from the lobby.
He made his way to the desk, behind which stood a young woman who beamed a smile at him, and requested entry into the museum.
"That's five small silvers, sir," she replied, holding out a hand.
Morne dropped the coin into her hands and was given a chain amulet with a small red gem in the center.
"Please put this around your neck," the receptionist told him. "It will allow you to enter through these hallways and into the museum proper. If you take it off, the security system will paralyze you so our guards can retrieve you, so it's very important that you keep it on.
"Also, any attempt to take the amulet home or steal the gem inside will fail. The doors have a special enchantment on them that prevents the amulet and its parts from passing through.
"When you are through, please return the amulet to me. Enjoy your visit!"
Morne slipped the amulet over his head and entered the hallway on the right. A twist and a turn later, he stepped into a large area that easily occupied most of the building's enormous size.
It was the largest room Morne had ever been in, and he stood there in shock for a moment as he adjusted to the feat of architecture.
The second and third floors were directly above this expansive room, a square hole down the middle going from the ceiling above to the floor below and allowing those above to look at the many floating museum displays in this space in better detail.
Railings lined these higher floors, and well-dressed parents examined these displays while keeping a tight grip on their hyperactive children.
The entire museum was flooded with people, nearly all of them better dressed than Morne himself and wearing a similar amulet to his own. Everything from staves to paintings to statues to spell books and journals lined the walls, sat in glass cases, or floated in the air.
Among these were more exotic items, like a giant amalgamation of gears with what looked like a sundial on one side; a chunk of stone that morphed from a bird to a small, serpentine dragon as it flew around the room; and a black box that showed images of faraway lands, with dials allowing the viewer to change the scenery.
It was almost overwhelming to Morne, who had never been in such a large building before, much less seen such fantastical devices. But after he remembered his purpose for being here, he quickly snapped out of it.
He roamed the museum with a mixture of wonder and gravity, searching for the item that would grant him the Spells he needed. The faster he found it, the sooner he could start practicing.
He had no idea if the cultists were still after him or not, but he wasn't willing to bet his life on them packing up and going home.
He knew where their lair was, and he could go to any of the chapels of the Benevolent Gods and have them wiped out. He was a threat that even the dimmest of buffoons wouldn't ignore, simply because of the information he had.
But soon, he'd be a threat for an entirely different reason.
His eagerness quickened his steps, and he examined every display the museum had to offer.
Even if it wasn't what he was looking for, he made sure to read the plaque for each of them in case they might provide some kind of insight into the world of Mages he'd soon be stepping into.
He knew practically nothing about it, and was determined to correct this issue.
But after reading each plaque and scanning every display with his gaze, he felt only disappointment when nothing triggered his instincts.
Dejected and angry at the Coltha for cheating him, he started for the exit…
Only for his eyes to catch on a glass door next to the hallway out.