TSC - Chapter 3: Façades (6) - Seneschal's (Part 3)

 A little way across the city Shroud and Neave were now headed towards a Guldspar Enclave after Shroud had noticed that the liquids had somehow interacted with the golden veins under his skin. Neave's solution was to see one of the Guldspar to see if anything could be done. He was not showing any signs of the elixir but it was only a matter of time till they manifested themselves and so needed to be rapidly treated. During her time as a lower servant, some her fellow employees were Guldspar. Although on these lower levels the monks were rare, there was a place of worship nestled in-between the cafes and trinket shops. Whatever the possible outcomes would be they would know. The monks of the Guldspar had a particular insignia, three pronged, fork-lightning. Above the door frame now in front of them both, chiselled into the masonry was  this symbol. Shroud did not approve, nor was he willing to go in without a push. Neave sighed and walked in first, her hand brushing against the door handle. Shroud now left alone, quickly followed and shut the door.

The inside of the enclave was not much different to the out. The walls were the same greyed stone from the Dark Hills Quarry. Like the door frame, all the wooden fixtures, from the furniture to the painting frames, were either broken, riddled with woodworm, marked and splintering or any combination of the three. The only thing kept in pristine condition in this room, between the old chairs and littered parchment, was a large black plate, hung on the wall. It was in the shape of an octagon with the same symbol  as above the front door etched onto its surface. To the left hand side of the room there was a side table covered with golden threaded crushed velvet. It had, at least to Shroud's observations, were outlines of vials. He approached the table and was about to lift the velvet when Neave coughed, loudly. He turned around to see a golden veined man, in ceremonial garb standing silently. Neave broached the subject of the liquids Shroud had been dosed with. He tried to explain but after the first few words, his speech became garbled. Shroud approached the man but he started to contort in pain, shouting he could only taste burgundy. Shroud cautiously went further towards the man, to see if he could offer help. The pain seemed to intensify. His words became lost in a jumble of confusion. The taste of burgundy was now accompanied by horror and disgust. He screamed that he hated himself for what he did, that he had unfathomable depths of blood on his hands. Then claimed innocence, not understanding the how's and why's only the images that were apparently flashing through his mind. Shroud retreated back to Neave, who looked as confused as him. Shroud was determined to help the man but as he did the monk wailed in pain again.

With this rebuke Shroud had had enough. There was no way this man had any sanity left in him. The entire thing was pointless. He turned and walked past Neave to head out of the door. Her hand grabbed his arm and he turned aroun. Her grasp was firm and decisive and he couldn't break free. She asked him if he knew what he was doing to the man, after going back over there? Shroud protested innocence but her hold tightened, and was now painful. He pleaded again and again till she let him go. She had heard of the drugs he had been dosed with, colours that could grant you access to memories of your own that you've forgotten, or to replace with someone else's. Memorene. Her only explanation was that somehow he was infected. The golden veins that had absorbed the colours were, perhaps, transferring taste, memory and emotion between him and the monks, rather than allowing him to access them. She apologised for her actions, acting and speaking out of turn. Shroud was a little confused but wanted to test her idea. He purposefully walked over to the monk and harassed him, asking him about what he saw, what he felt, what he remembered but the monk cowered back. He was now writhing on the floor trying to get away. He was in tears with a look of remorse. This looked frightened Shroud, if these were his memories, perhaps they were better left buried. Neave immediacy dragged him out of the Enclave and spat stern words at him. She was not angry about what had happened, but about his intentions and actions. She warned him not to overstep social boundaries, he was not a Lord yet, and the Guldspar were on every level, in every faction, guild and family. She made him promise that until they had found a way to cure him, he must follow her advice to the letter. He, feeling more like a child than he ever had in his entire remembered  life, lowered his head and agreed. She smiled back at him and offered to show him her favourite restaurant, as long as he paid.  

On their arrival they met an angry mob. Neave recoiled, she said to Shroud that she had never known anyone or anything to upset the people here this much. To Shroud there could only be one explanation, Chloe. His expectations were correct, She was in desperate trouble, her feet nearly caressing the void below her. He had to act fast. Shroud asked Neave to hand over the mirrored sphere, one of his only positions. It had a faint glowing white line around its circumference. He twisted the sphere at three precise angles. It clicked and hissed, the light throbbed. He threw it up into the air and it hung there like a bauble. The rays of the sun that now hit the bauble danced off in colours and shapes. The ball started to rotate and so too did the lights and shapes. The crowd couldn't help themselves. They became distracted, the dazzling display, all encompassing. Unfortunately Chloe she had also succumbed. He quickly dashed in between and grabbed her but just as they were about to leave, the ball shattered into sparks and the crowd regained its focus. They both ran, catching up to an already fleeing Neave. The path ahead split, the noise of the crowd and her heartbeat made it difficult for Chloe to hear. Was Shroud going left or right? She made her decision, too fearful to look back.