When Cyrus became conscious again, it was to the sound of bubbling water, and crackling wood. He groaned, and pushed himself upright, blinking his eyes to readjust to the flames dancing in the fireplace. He was surprised to find himself on a wooden cot softer than wool, and draped in silk lavender sheets.
A spacious room filled his view, with high walls, embellished by intricate designs, and a maroon marble floor. Three gilded lanterns hung from the ceiling, and a long oak table stretched across the far wall, neatly stocked with jars of crushed herbs, grounded minerals, and powdered ivory.
The slivers of mushroom, and spores they had collected also rested on the table, properly encased in glass. A stack of books sat to its side, along with a pile of parchment, and a jar of ink. The bubbling noise itself came from a rack of vials, placed inside the fireplace. Cyrus's eyes widened as he stared at the fire, and he blinked a few times.
'I- I can see again…' Cyrus' thoughts whirled through his mind as he slowly lowered his gaze to his body. He wore a fresh tunic, and trousers, and his skin was clean of grime and dirt. He raised his arm, and though still stiff, a sense of relief washed over him as he flexed his muscles.
Furrowing his brow, Cyrus swung his feet over the side of the cot, and stood. His cloak hung from a hook on the wall, along with a new pair of boots. As he pulled them on, he noticed his pack at the end of the cot.
'So Sylven managed to get me inside the city after all,' Cyrus thought. He examined the room one last time before making his way out. A long corridor sat on the other side, graced with high arched windows, which overlooked a lush courtyard, and sleek colorful paintings.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" Cyrus's voice echoed down the hall as he glanced at one of the paintings.
It portrayed a young man in front of a dark canvas, his head of brown hair neatly combed, and dangling just an inch above his soft brown eyes. A woman, perhaps a few years younger, stood next to him, her auburn hair cascading over her shoulder, and falling into the hands of a playful baby with a wide grin.
'This must be Lewn, and his family,' Cyrus thought. The paintings continued with the aging of the family, primarily the child, who grew to be a beautiful young woman. By the time he reached the end of the hall, she greatly resembled her mother.
From there, a stairwell led down to a lower floor, which was decorated with marble pillars, and a wide blue and white rug from what Cyrus could see. He turned as a door creaked open behind him, and a man wearing spectacles emerged, looking up and down the hall.
He wore a finely stitched blue linen shirt, and black jacket, while carrying a bulging pouch over his shoulder. His eyes widened when he first noticed Cyrus, and he pushed the glasses further up his nose.
"Goodness. When did you wake? Had I known, I would have come to see you." The man scratched the back of his head. "Apologies, I suppose introductions are in order. My name is Lewn, alchemist, and old friend of Myrels. It's nice to finally meet you, awake at least."
"Cyrus, and likewise…" Cyrus said. "Were you the one who cured me?"
"You could say that," The man said, waving his hand. "Though your magic did quite the amount of work. To be honest, I've never seen anything like it. You were in quite the shape when Sylven brought you in. Almost looked like we might lose you."
"Does that mean you can cure the others?" Cyrus asked.
Lewn glanced out the window. "Not quite yet, I'm afraid. But I am closer to creating a potion to help. It won't revert those who have already finished petrifying, but it should aid those in the process."
"That's good to hear," Cyrus said. He glanced over his shoulder as the soft chatter of voices carried through the house. "Is Sylven downstairs?"
Lewn nodded. "Yes, if I'm not mistaken, he should be in the east wing, in my study. You can find it at the bottom of the stairs, and across the room. I'd lead you there myself, but I must finish a bit of work before my materials go bad."
"I understand," Cyrus said.
Lewn nodded his head, and slipped into the laboratory. The sound of tools clattering onto the table ressounded as Cyrus made his way down the stairs. The bottom opened into a spacious hall, adorned with sculptures and statues set between marble pillars. Sunlight streamed through the windows, gracing the stone floor.
Overhead, an iron chandelier hung from the ceiling, fitted with unlit candles, and clean of any melted wax. Cyrus eyed it, then made his way across the floor, passing by an archway which led into the dining room, and stopping in front of a partially opened door.
He glanced at a second set of stairs to his right, which led back upstairs, and most likely to the living quarters, then pushed open the door. A great study laid on the other side, filled from wall to wall with sleek bookshelves, and glass cabinets. While not as overwhelming as Myrel's library, Cyrus found the number of books to be quite impressive
Across the room, Sylven sat at a desk, encircled by a number of books, with a large glass window behind him, revealing the bustling city of Phislock. A beautiful young woman, who resembled the girl in the paintings, stood beside him, leaning slightly forward, with her brown hair braided neatly over her shoulder.
With a cough, Cyrus made his presence known, and the young girl quickly straightened her back, her cheeks blushing furiously. Sylven also looked up, and a wide grin spread across his face. Jumping to his feet, he hurried over to Cyrus.
"So you've finally decided to wake up, eh? You definitely took your time."
"Was I out long?" Cyrus asked.
"Only for three days," Sylven said. "Lewn said it may take you another day or so."
"Still… three days is a while to be unconscious." Cyrus said, furrowing his brow. "I can't believe it…"
"Indeed. I've already sent word back to master Myrel, letting him know of our arrival, and what we encountered along the way," Sylven said. He led the way back to the desk, where Cyrus caught sight of detailed records regarding aetherial beasts, and their habitats. A charcoal drawing of a drake, shorter than the one the robed man summoned, and without a barbed tail took up most of the page on the book Sylven had been reading.
"Did you learn anything more about the drake?"
"Not yet. It's strange, but none of Lewn's records speak of a stone drake, with the ability to petrify people. In fact, most drakes have been hunted to extinction, out of a desire to collect their blood for alchemy," Sylven said. He sighed, and shut the book. "Lady Swyn here was attempting to give me a hand, though it seems none of these books possess the answers."
At the mention of her name, the young woman curtsied. "It's nice to see you're awake. My father had quite the time creating a potion for you, and I'm glad to see his efforts didn't go to waste."
"As am I," Cyrus said. He shook Swyn's hand. "It's nice to meet you, Lady Swyn. My name is Cyrus."
"Please, call me Swyn. I've been trying to convince Sylven here of it these past few days, but he stubbornly refuses."
Cyrus raised his brow at Sylven, who pretended to study a few scrolls regarding the mountains. Turning back to Swyn, he bowed his head.
"As you wish. Is there anything I can help with?"
"Not at the moment," Sylven said. He set the scroll to the side and leaned back in his seat. "Since you just woke, why don't you rest for a bit, and have a meal. It'd be wise eat before we meet Lord Verihos."
Cyrus frowned. "Who?"
"My grandfather," Swyn said. "He owns a number of merchant ships and barges, and is willing to discuss travel arrangements with the two of you, when you're free."
"We were waiting until you woke before going," Sylven said. "But I'd rather not wait too long. It's only a matter of time before word arrives from Galeden about you."
"I see. I'll eat quickly then."
"Do you need me to lead you to the dining room?" Swyn asked.
Cyrus shook his head. "I saw it when I passed through the front. Though, I am a bit confused on how to get food. Do I just call for a maid or…?"
Swyn smiled, and headed towards the door. "One moment. I'll get our butler for you."
The young woman swept out the door, and Cyrus glanced out the large glass window. It overlooked a cobblestone street, lined with small cobblestone houses, and well-kempt gardens. A horse-drawn carriage rattled past, carrying three young ladies dressed in slim dresses, and silk jackets.
"It's quite different from Galeden," Cyrus said. His gaze drifted towards the sparkling sea in the distance, where ships carefully navigated the rolling waves as they approached the docks.
"Indeed," Sylven said. "Though taxes are higher here, and the laws are stricter, it's still a decent place to live. As long as you're human, without any magic that is."
Cyrus frowned. "What do you mean?"