Remnar
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Chapter 49
🕑 Added 2025-03-19 00:08:09 +0000 UTCOtter slumped back in his seat. He was finally finished reading through Emrys Gale’s personal journal. It had been a slog, to say the least. It had taken him over a week. He had missed a meeting of the Guild of Subtle Handiwork over Levi’s protests, but he had hoped it would be worth it.
The journal had taught him a lot. He now knew who Gale was—a brilliant man, deeply thoughtful, and endlessly curious. He had pioneered much of what made the Academy what it was today. His words painted a picture of the early days of its founding, of debates and discoveries, victories and regrets. There were entries full of philosophical musings, observations about his fellow founders, and speculation about the System itself. But he hadn’t found what he was looking for.
There was no mention of secret Classes, lost paths, Luck, or anything that could actually help Otter figure out what was going on with himself or what had happened to his father.
He let out a heavy sigh and closed the book.
Quisling, who had been flipping through his own notes, glanced up at him with mild amusement. “That’s quite the look of despair, young man. I take it the great Emrys Gale has failed to provide you with the secrets you hoped for?”
“It’s not that it isn’t interesting. It is. But it’s all… reflection. I kept thinking there’d be something more specific. Something pertaining to my situation.”
Quisling pursed his lips, then leaned forward and said, “A mistake many scholars make is assuming that truth always lies in what is written.” He fixed Otter with a knowing look. “But I have found, the greatest truths lie in what is left unsaid. What can be read between the lines.”
Otter blinked. How could anybody know what wasn’t written? Gale not writing about secret Classes didn’t prove their existence. In fact, it was impossible to write about something you had no knowledge of.
Yet Otter had spent the last few weeks helping Quisling pull passages from various historical texts to prove a thesis the authors had not explicitly written about. By comparing and contrasting these historical accounts, the professor was building a compelling argument about Fate’s role in history, and more importantly, how people and events can alter that fate.
Perhaps Otter was thinking about it wrong. Maybe there was a secret message hidden within the journal that had to be solved like a puzzle.
Otter’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Or maybe the message simply wasn’t visible.
If there was something hidden—something Gale had deliberately obscured—a spell candle should reveal it.
His pulse quickened. He looked to Quisling. “Would I be allowed to use a spell candle on the journal?”
The professor raised a brow. “A spell candle?”
“They reveal hidden writing. If there’s anything concealed in the text, it might show up under the flame’s light.”
Quisling’s expression was unreadable for a moment. Then, to Otter’s relief, he gave a slow nod. “That would require certain precautions. I won’t risk a delicate historical document on the reckless enthusiasm of a student.” A small smirk tugged at the edge of his lips. “However… in a controlled setting, I see no reason not to indulge your curiosity.”
Otter barely restrained his grin. “Tomorrow night, then?”
Quisling waved a hand dismissively. “Tomorrow night.”
The next evening, Otter arrived early, spell candles carefully packed in his satchel. He was surprised to find that Quisling had already made preparations for Otter’s project instead of his own. A glass barrier was set up on the table—a box-like structure minus the front and bottom panels. It had been placed over the journal to protect it from any stray spark emitted by a candle. The open front would allow Otter to reach in and turn the pages as needed.
“With the set-up involved, I figured we would go ahead and begin with this. There should be plenty of time for my work later.” Quisling looked excited.
Otter supposed the prospect of encouraging a budding scholar wasn’t a regular opportunity for him at a school dedicated to producing Adventurers.
“Proceed carefully,” the professor warned as Otter unwrapped a candle and placed it on the table on the far side of the barrier.
Otter swallowed and nodded, then struck a match. It flared to life, casting a brief golden glow before he touched it to the candle’s wick.
A soft, blue-white flame flickered into existence.
Otter held his breath as he waited for the magic to happen. The light shimmered over the journal. And nothing happened.
He turned the page, waited a moment, and turned it again. One by one, he flipped through each page, his stomach growing tighter as nothing revealed itself.
Until it did.
He was a quarter of the way through when letters written in the margins of the page appeared—a faint, ghostly blue script.
Quisling leaned forward, his sharp gaze unreadable. “Well, well… what do we have here?”
Otter adjusted the candle, bringing it closer, so more of its light fell on the journal, watching as the hidden words fully emerged.
“Control is the craving of my fellow founders. They deem it the surest bulwark against the tide of Kaos, the steadfast guardian of order. Nor are they wholly deceived, for in control lies strength. Yet the price of such dominion is liberty itself. To shun the visage of tyranny, they would contrive the semblance of choice, a shadow play of freedom, while the hand that guides remains unseen.”
This is what Otter had been looking for. Finally, something of substance. Maybe. If there was more.
He turned the page.
“Order is a needful thing, and in our cause, we have won not only the divine favor of Caelum but the steadfast aid of his devoted throng. Yet scarce can I conceive that Elarion shall suffer this unchallenged. How might she endure the fettering of mortal growth, the shackling of boundless will? Surely, the spirit of freedom that she guards so fiercely will rise in defiance.”
Otter’s heart soared. Gale was certainly talking about the Restricted Classes here. He had never imagined the gods were involved.
“My protests fall upon deaf ears amongst my brethren, yet not so with Altheris. Ever have the gods stood in strife, and yet in balance been unbroken. Though my devotions have long been sworn to fair Elarion, in this endeavor, 'tis Altheris who lays her hand upon mine, steering my course aright.”
So, Emrys didn’t agree with the other founders and the god of deceit had a hand to play. This was becoming more and more intriguing.
“Perchance thou wonder’st why these words I veil in secrecy. ‘Tis but a safeguard 'gainst treachery’s hand or untimely revelation. But who, then, art thou, my reader? Only the Fates may answer. Yet if my guess bears truth, thou liest far beyond my years — decades, mayhap centuries, since quill met parchment. And mark this well: it is no mere chance that hath led thee to my hidden words. I reckon the hour I dreaded hath come to pass, and Kaos, unbridled, doth rise once more.”
Otter’s heart skipped a beat. This passage felt like Emrys Gale was speaking directly to him. The founder had predicted someone would find the secret message hidden in his journal. And what was the dreaded hour he mentioned? Was it connected to the increase in Kaosborn attacks? It had to be. He turned to the next page.
“Answers thou seek’st within these pages, yet none hast thou found. For how may I answer, knowing not the question? Thus, no answers shall I bestow. Instead, I leave thee a question, dear reader. Shall you stand in the shadow of their will, bound by the choices of men long departed? Or shall you seize what lies beyond their grasp — the truth obscured, the path untread? The choice, as ever, remains yours.”
Yes! thought Otter. Now we’re getting somewhere. The handwriting was growing more deliberate, each curve and flourish imbued with urgency. He could almost feel Emrys Gale’s presence lingering behind the words.
“Seldom does the world offer certainty, and rarer still is the moment when all paths converge. But if my words have reached thee, then the moment is nigh. Know this: I did not leave the fate of our making to mere chance. There is a way back to the beginning.”
Otter’s mind was ablaze with curiosity. He read on, desperate for more.
“Seek not in temples nor in vaults, for no stone chamber holds it. Seek not the written word, for no map shall guide thee. The path is hidden, but the way is near. To the one who understands, its bearing shall be clear.”
A riddle? He should have known. Otter turned the page yet again, but the secret text appeared no more. A quick scan of the rest of the journal showed nothing else.
Otter glanced at the candle. It was burning low.
He reread the glowing script, committing it to memory. Then he looked up at Quisling who was watching him intently. “Did any of that make sense to you?”
Quisling frowned. “Interestingly enough, I was unable to decipher the script. It seems, however, that you were.”
“I… yeah.” That was very strange. Otter didn’t know any other languages, so how could he read something Quisling couldn’t? Magic, of course, had to be the answer. But that still didn’t explain much.
“Well, what did it say?”
Otter hesitated. If the magic only allowed him to read what Gale had written, was it wise to tell the professor everything? Then again, if he didn't tell him something, that would seem suspicious. “Well, it seemed like he had a disagreement with the other founders of the Academy about something, but he didn't go into specifics. He also talked about the gods working against each other.” Otter screwed up his face. “There may have been a riddle. I feel like he was trying to say something important, but he talked around whatever point he was trying to make. I’m going to have to give it some thought.”
Quisling said nothing for a moment, but something in his eyes told Otter he was disappointed. Then, “Well, let’s get this cleaned up, and get back to work.”
“Of course.” Otter blew out the candle and stuffed the remaining nub back into his satchel.
Quisling returned the journal to the Restricted Section while Otter fetched some other books Quisling wanted.
When they met back up, Quisling looked him up and down. “I’m sorry if you still didn't find what you were looking for. I hope you don’t feel like that was a waste of time.”
“Oh no!” Otter said. “Not at all. I think I just need to digest it all. Put it in context, you know?”
Which was a lie. Otter didn't need to digest anything. He’d already solved the riddle.
