#Clara Aether#
Right after flashing the enemies from the outside wall, Isla finishes conjuring her fireball and launches it high in the air, its ash producing a makeshift smokescreen for us to pass through. We run to the gate and Isla quickly melts the sturdy metal bars in a matter of seconds.
The obscuring smoke rendered the cultists vulnerable, allowing us to take out a few before running into a house for safety while staying within an arm's length. The smokescreen starts to fade.
"Quick, Vincent!" Isla whispers in a hushed tone, "wear this."
She strips the jacket and pants off a cultist. I look away.
"You too Clara!"
A few pieces of a cultist' clothing gets thrown at me. I reluctantly wear the garments.
It was a slightly larger size, but it'll work. "Vincent you ready?" I ask just as I struggle to strap the belt around my waist. The top of the pants concave inwards. Are all boys' waists like this? I wonder.
Vincent pulls the hood over his head and walks in a more dignified manner. I copy him and veil my face. Nostalgic. The etiquette that I practiced back at the manor comes in use… Quite ironic.
"Stay safe. I'll be staying here to communicate and support. If you're in danger," Isla's voice deepens and she puts her hand on my shoulder, "run. If possible, regroup here."
She sends us off and we walk into the smokescreen. Calm down Clara, just act noble. As if jinxing it, another cultist trails along with Vincent and I.
Then he speaks some language we don't know of, and I panic. What was he saying?
But Vincent, as if knowing this would happen, responded with the same language. With great fluency and no hesitation behind his words. Vincent faces me and nudges his head towards the direction outside of the smokescreen.
Here goes nothing.
I close my eyes and walk straight, I tilt my head down. The smoke dissipates and scatters, the town was littered with cultists, not a single civilian present. I had to follow Vincent. Follow Vincent?
Where was he?
I looked upon the many identical robed cultists. If I tried to find him now, we'd be suspicious and if I get the wrong person, I'll be apprehended. It'll be best to wait for now and talk to him through Isla.
Some sort of siren rings and most of the cultists gravitate towards a direction, leaving some others on a guard post. I walked closer and I saw it was the Argos Library. But why? I assimilate with the crowd and enter the library. We were heading deeper and deeper into the library which felt like eternity. At a point, we walked down a staircase and when I reached the end, a massive sight laid before me.
A humongous room, decorated with intricate art and stuck with torches on symmetrical sides of the wall. The floor was neatly tiled with a mosaic pattern and there were multiple statues of objects that I did not recognise. An unfamiliar place, one slip up and I might very well die. This place, with such exquisite attention to detail must have been here for at least a few decades. Longer, even. If not, there would be no way to build all of this without notice. How long has this been under our noses?
There was no time to contemplate. I must find a place to communicate. Surely they had toilets here? I looked around for any signs of a lavatory. Without Vincent, I'm more vulnerable since I cannot speak their language.
I check every door, making sure I wasn't stared at.
A conference room… I close the door to find a cultist staring at me. I freeze.
It was a man, and he speaks in that weird language, his consonants and vowels mixed all over the place like an insane person with some mental disease. If I spoke in a different language right now, he'd notice.
Then I got a Wallace-like idea. I could try and charade.
Better than nothing.
I make a T sign with my two hands, I jog on the spot while covering my – you know – and I bow down while clasping my hands together. He takes a second to realize and he gets flustered, acting what I thought was a gesture to guide me to a bathroom.
Now I'm in a cubicle, and there's nobody beside me.
I pull out Isla's stone. I hope this works, I hoped as I hold it close to my face.
"Isla?" The stone shakes and vibrates in my hand. No response, "Isla?"
Isla's voice projects from the stone, "Yes, yes! Hear you loud and clear! Where are you?"
"I'm under the library."
"Under the—"
"Shhhhhh," I complain, "you're too loud."
"Just adjust the amplitude by sliding downwards, it's on the rock."
I swipe down and it leaves a blue trail, "better? Marcus had the same problem. Anyways, there's an underground section of the library?"
"Yes," I respond, "all the cultists are gathered here. Where's Vincent?"
"He's in a closet."
A what? How did he end up there?
"He's saying he's found the person we're looking for, the librarian is in an office," I gulp, butterflies fluttering inside my body, "Vincent's going to your bathroom section."
"H-Huh?"
"Relax, it's just to meet up."
The door opens, and multiple people come barging in. These voices. Don't tell me.
I'm in the wrong lavatory… I wince as the men unzip their pants.
Isla speaks through the stone quietly, "Vincent's here, he's in the cubicle closest to the door."
I concentrate and redirect the light from the adjacent cubicle to my eyes. A cursed sight. I immediately squealed. The bathroom goes silent.
Then it becomes lively again. I sigh in relief and attempt to redirect the farthest one. I see Vincent, in his cubicle and I spark a little light in front of his face. Surprised, Vincent backs up to a wall. Realising it's me, he flushes his toilet and walks out the cubicle, pretending to wash his hands. Gathering my courage, I also do the same and wash my hands next to Vincent.
We both walk out the cubicle, entering the clamouring hall and making our way upstairs to the library office. As I pass by, a mass of cultists could be seen through the window with one person at the podium, speaking from their lectern. A sermon, they call it. But what I could see form there is just plain indoctrination. They bow down and lay their heads on the floor. For what?
We make it out of the underground. We had to find the head librarian's office, "Vincent, protect me," I say and crouch down behind a bookshelf to survey the surroundings with my light. Where should I aim for?
I aimed through hallways and doors and I eventually reach a barrier. There wasn't enough light, but I am certain that the librarian's office is in there somewhere.
"Vincent, you have a torch anywhere?"
"No, but there are some back in the underground."
The stone vibrates and I take it out, "Clara? Hello?" Isla's voice rings like home.
"Yes, I'm listening."
"Marcus and Wallace are in, what's your status?"
"We're in the library. But we can't find the office, give us a bit of time," look around just in case I missed the office.
"Ok, be quick but be safe," Isla says, "if you're in danger, just run, okay? I'll contact you later."
Vincent taps my shoulder with urgency, "what's wrong?"
"There's someone coming, they're wearing a different kind of robe," I peek through the gap in the bookshelf. The robe he was wearing was lined with white, but majority of the colour was purple with some occasional golden art unlike the other bland, black, robes. The thing he was holding, a key. We need that.
"That should be someone important," I speak to Vincent, and he also peeks through the same hole.
Just when he passes us, we walk behind him, leaving some distance to maintain normality. The cultist walks through the hallways, progressively getting darker and darker until he reaches a metal door barred with multiple layers of magic. We hide ourselves around the corner joining the hallways and wait for him to open the massive vault.
He chants and says something weird, the seals collapse and he uses the key. Then seconds later he was out of sight.
I check the inside of an empty adjacent room. Vincent stands guard and I redirect the light reflecting from his robe to me.
We'll follow him, and we'll interrogate him.
Then we'll save Argos and we'll all survive.