Chapter 73: CRIMSON CRYSTAL

Following the jahgi smoke up the cracked windows, Risens quickly reached the end of the decorated column. He was dozens of meters from the stone below, a fall would mean certain death yet he was unconcerned with the heights. Swinging himself up he grabbed ahold of the protruding talons of the stone raven carved into the elaborate fresco before pulling himself up so that his feet found purchase on the thin border that delineated the feature. Standing flat against the wall, he was nearly eye level with the stone symbol of the kingdom. For a moment he stared into its strangely lifelike eyes before shrugging off the reverence and climbing higher. The symbol was use so often, and now with such vicious, vindictive and self-serving influence that he almost saw it as a bastardization of the majestic creature that had helped found the kingdom.

There was little room climb beyond the decorative strip that highlighted the peak of the building. He breathed a sigh of relief as his hands closed around the thin steel railing that enclosed the veranda that encircled the uppermost level of the roof. With another pulled he clambered silently onto the stone walkway. Barely more than a meter and a half wide, there was no room to sit here, merely a perch to watch the city and grounds that spread out around Excelsior. That is if anyone currently learning here decided they cared for the view, and were granted the ability to ascend to the guarded heights.

Risens gaze traveled across the expanse of the grounds and wall that visible from his current vantage point. The unexpectedly large patrol that he’d encountered by the pond had only just made it circuit around the front side of the substantial building. The roving guards on the wall continued their delineated courses though beyond occasional shifts toward the interior as the turned, the cones of their light continued to focus beyond the borders of the nobles academy.

The wall of windows that covered the rear of the uppermost floor was tall stretching several meters above his head. Like the floors below it was framed in by pillar, though these lacked much of the elaborate decorative features that lead him to where he was now. The features mattered little as he was sure what he desired resided inside the upper chamber. A pair of double door made of large framed glass panels bisected the looming wall of windows.

Moving to the glass, Risens peered into the darkened interior. From below it appeared that the room was entirely blacked out, yet he could see the faint glow of several scattered mageLight burning low, casting dull halos across the room.

The interior of the chamber was set up like a museum, used for wooing those lucky and privileged enough to be granted views  of the relics and treasures within. Pedestals surrounded by crimson colored velvet ropes held aloft heirlooms of Halthome’s past. Staggered false walls displayed artwork and tapestries, created by the hands of masters whose names he had never heard. The artwork and antiquities on display were trivial to him.

The vault, if one could call the upper level of Excelsior that was far different from that of the Gilded Cage. The secrecy there was complete,it had been a void in an otherwise detailed description of what he was to find. Here, information pryed from the various guards and tutors over the years had painted a vivid picture of what he was to fine. He knew that no sentinels stormed the halls of the priceless chamber. Alarms and traps were set on all of the pieces, yet it as their removals that would trigger the reaction. It was inconceivable that none had given credence to someone with ill-intend merely scaling the walls to access the chamber. Perhaps it wast he expectation of the thief making the return trip back down the pillars with alarms sounding and a painting strapped to their back that was too preposterous to consider. Thankfully, what Risens desired was far more compact.

The overall lock that sealed the outer door was complex, in fact a series of smaller intricate locks stacked atop each other that needed to be processed in order. This was not the first time he’d faced steps this challenging. With no other context to go off of, the process was tedious, though not at all impossible. In this instance, it was an old adage of the academy that highlighted the process of the steps.

Excelsior starts with the heirs. They will be reared to rule as head of the houses they will one day inherit. They will lord over their peers and finally, the citizens beneath them whose lives require their steady hand and guidance.

Risens scoffed at the sentiment. The citizens of Windwake didn’t need the guidance of the nobles at the moment. They needed food, and more importantly water. Like the wealth of the life sustaining liquid that was diverted to maintain the grounds while crops beyond the city were browning and dying.

Focusing on the task at hand, he started on the first lock, choosing the second from the top of the column. The heirs, as it was—the second in line to the head of their respective households. The gentle click of the lock disengaging was accompanied by a muted click. Moving the lock above, the head of the houses, he quickly worked through the intricate secrets of the hidden locking mechanism, greeted again with the sound of his success. Following the lines he did the next two in order. The peers was the third in line, just below the one that signified the heir before finally settling on the citizens. The lowest rank and priority for those who were steeped in the teachings of Excelsior.

Disregarding the inherent deceit and amorality of the priorities, he was pleased to hear the satisfying click of the final of the series of locks. The sudden urge to cause an excessive amount of mayhem, to strike a blow at the vanity that they held dear was powerful, yet he forced the rebellious intent down. Risens had no doubt that the day would come when he would be granted the chance and agency to do just that.

It was not today.

Slipping carefully into the chamber, he moved quickly through the walls of displays. Arranged on false walls forming random corners throughout the room, it felt like a perverse mockery of teh hedge maze he’d become so familiar with navigating. Instead of the constant line of newly wilting, varying shades of green, it a peculiar arrangement of scenes depicting the glorious stages of battle mingled with the arrogant sneers of portraits of varying nobles and dignitaries of the distant past.

Risens paused as he reached a large image bearing a single name, Adalhard. It was peculiar that the King, the first ruler, the founder of Halthome was addressed with just a first name. The image was lifelike, to a degree that was entirely unexpected. The bust of the great king seemed to lift from the page, his piercing stare seemed to follow him as he stalked through the room. The man in the image was dressed not in the expected finery of his station. His shirt was plain, a drab brown and utilitarian in design. Signs of aging an wear were clear along the collar and seams. A strikingly normal as the king appeared, it the subject matter behind him that drew his attention.

Perched atop the back of a high-backed chair to his left were a single bird he recognized immediately. A raven.

He seen plenty of images of the Great King throughout the years though this one in subject and appearance was far different that nay he’d viewed. There was something eerily familiar about the face. The expressive eyes bored into him, imparting a certain feeling of meekness as if the painting itself conveyed a hint of the power that the man embodied. Prior to the very recent events, he’d never noticed any peculiarities of the majestic birds that were the symbol of the Kingdom he had sworn to protect. Ravens were just that.

Ravens.

The bird that stared back at him was small, yet it too seemed to emanate a power that was palpable. It reminded him of the more compact of the pair that was now under his command. The feathers of its throat were sleek yet smaller than its partner.

Risens turned his focus from the peculiar painting and the subject it covered. He was not here to study or comment on the artwork contained within this private collection, but find and return a specific item. In all reality, he had no clue if the particular item he searched for was here. It would make the most sense, so it was the first place to try.

He had nearly finished winding his way through the gallery when the wall at the back of the room caught his attention. Roped off by a similar crimson cord, a grid work of metal bars blocked access to a series of shelves built into the back wall. Carefully positioned mageLights were staged on either side bathing the entirety of the structure in a low yellow glow. He scanned over the relics displayed on the shelves, his grin spreading as he noted the egg sitting in the corned or the upper level.

Among the various tomes, assorted medals, weapons, small vases and urns the egg stood out from the rest. Everything seemed to be encrusted to some degree in precious metals with jewels embedded into their designs, beside the item he sought. Though unadorned like the rest of the featured pieces, its magnificence was unquestionable. Clearly in the shape of an egg, it appeared to be made of a massive piece of blood red gem, polished and cut into shape slightly larger than the size of his hand. In the low light projected on the display, it appeared to glow with a dull red, bathing wooden shelves in a deep crimson.

Risens squinted his eyes as he peered into the depths of the blood red gem. He couldn’t tell if it was one solid piece or if it were merely a delicate shell, though it was clear that something was set deep within. The shape was perplexing, thin and long, though it seemed to move eluding the particulars of his shape as he attempted to decipher what it was. He stopped as he approached the velvet rope. The warning tingle of the magic ward was apparent.

The grid that blocked access to the shelving and his target was metal though it appeared to shimmer in the low light. Leaning over the rope barrier, he could feel the tingle of energy that raised the hairs on his exposed arm. Frowning as he leaned back he studied the design for any signs of weakness, or gaps in its protection. There was neither a lock, nor opening inset into the steel. Those, he could deal with, electrified metal posed an entirely different problem. There were no gaps in where the bars reached the floor or walls, no sections that didn’t radiate the power that he expected would impart more than just a warning shock. The ceiling, like the floor and wall behind were solid stone. Sure, he could tunnel in but that would likely take days. Time which he didnt have.

The openings in the lattice of charged steel was far too small from his nimble frame to fit through. His build was athletic, but the opening were far to small for him, or any man or woman for that matter. The idea registered with the lingering echo of Mother Raven’s words in his mind.

“Perhaps the ravens can assist.”

The opening were too small for man,

Not for a raven.

Stalking back to the door to the veranda, he put his hand to his mouth summoning the conspiracy of ravens.

Two majestic shapes, shadows against the stars circled down from above.