#mim is just another name for mimir

[woundedheartwithin]

On the mountain he stood with Brimir's sword, On his head the helm he bore; Then first the head of Mim spoke forth, And words of truth it told.

Poetic Edda, Sigrdrífumál stanza 14 translated by Henry Adams Bellows (1936)

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[terraclae]

The Crypt

Arodan goes tomb dwelling for an afternoon. 

Lore pings: @yuushanoah-fr @cityofinoue

This was the first time he swore he was hearing voices. Great, he lost his journal for once and he immediately started to lose himself. This was pure torture. Usually he entertained himself in the empty hours by writing conversations to Mimir, the book was quick to respond after all. It’s absence left a hole in him he wasn't equipped to cope with yet.

‘Are you lonely?’

‘I am not.’ He quietly responded. This was the library who asked him and he preferred not to repeat last time. ‘I'm just thinking too much, I'll get back to work soon.’

‘You have the eyes of someone lonely. You've lost something.’

‘Well, how would you know?’ Arodan asked as politely as he could remain. ‘What if I just had a bad night too?’

‘Well, I've seen many librarians that haven't slept well. They spent too much time here, I don't blame them.’ In the distance a pile of pillows shifted. ‘But your being radiates a different emotion.’

‘How do I feel?’

‘Lonely.’

‘That again.’ He bent over the book that lay on his desk in front of him again. Some of the pages were torn and needed to be stitched back into the cover. ‘I'm not lonely.’

‘What would you name it?’ This time a shelf, one a little closer to Arodan creaked and he had the distinct feeling Solaire had the faintest idea of having another taste of his energy again. ‘You know, I meant to ask you earlier, but have I been a good librarian?’

‘You repair the books, clean the shelves, sweep the floors and fluff the pillows. I'd say you're doing a pretty good job.’ Solaire’s voice echoed from a walkway right above him now and Arodan braced himself in the case he was about to be pounced. ‘I appreciate your presence.’

‘Why did you steal my energy the first time we met then?’

Solaire paused, and there was a rattling above him as if the shelves shook in one big shrug. ‘I always do that to the newbies. Your energy tasted rather peculiar and something slumbers in you.’ Arodan’s desk creaked as if someone had decided to sit down on it. ‘Now I know exactly who you are and that I can trust you to take care of these halls.’

‘Has it ever occurred to you that is perhaps a little creepy?’ Why was he arguing with Solaire on this anyway? He doubted a library had an understanding of normal social conventions. ‘Maybe you can just ask people who they are?’

‘Isn't this easier though?’ The desk creaked once more and Arodan gained the distinct feeling he was being watched closely. He expected a follow up question that in the end, never came.

‘... Where’s Mimir?’

He looked up and suddenly there was something solid in front of his desk, not someone, but something that had a body yes, just not a face that made sense. ‘I don't know. I think someone stole it.’ How he had managed to speak so clearly and flatly was a miracle considering what he was looking at. Solaire’s face looked exceptionally remarkable in the sense it looked as if someone who didn't actually know what the function was of a face and what it looked like molded it. Yet, for something so disturbing as soon as Arodan averted his eyes he couldn't remember a single detail of it. ‘There were only dark footprints on the floor and they lead into nowhere when I followed them.’

‘Ah. That's explains your loneliness.’

‘I'm not-’

‘Shh.’ Solaire hissed more than that she spoke. ‘Blackened, almost soot like footprints?’

‘... Yes?’ He lowered his voice and leant closer towards her. ‘Was it Sachairi who stole my journal? Because then why wouldn't he have taken the necklace?’

‘It wasn't Sachairi.’ She responded. She knew he was loose, but otherwise her knowledge on recent events remained fairly limited to what happened or was discussed by library patrons. ‘Do you want to hear a secret almost no one else has ever heard before?’

‘Is that a trick question?’ Arodan’s eyes darted briefly towards the door and Solaire seemed to catch on, the door locking on its own. ‘And why would you want to tell me?’

‘Because I know you won't tattle. I wouldn't be surprised if someone hadn't already threatened to hurt you if you ever spilled a secret so you understand how things work around here.’ Solaire tilted their head and the motion made a noise normal bones really shouldn't be able to make. ‘So?’

‘Okay, tell me. But I don't see how it has anything to do with Mim-My journal.’ Arodan waited for a response and watched Solaire sit down on his desk first, with her back turned to him.

‘Once, a long time ago, when this city’s gates were still open, the castle was more lively with the breaths and voices of people outside of this realm of snow and ice.’ Solaire started, something wispy to her voice. ‘There were far more audiences, people often met with the king, and we held many balls for royalties of other kingdoms. It was always spectacular to see what innovative types of dress people would show up in and how they partied from dusk till dawn. This castle used to be truly alive.’

‘So, what awful thing happened?’ Arodan asked, cocking his head in unamused fashion knowing what he could expect. ‘What changed?’

‘Many things, but this particular shard of being is vital as to who has your book.’ Solaire laughed at Arodan and continued her story. ‘A fire broke out, actually. Not a particularly big one, not foul play, a pure accident. A few guests perished in the fire and hmm… It was a real mood killer.’

‘Mood killer? Really?’ His voice cracked a little at that, because something that detached from reality couldn't just have been used to describe something like that. ‘Who were they?’

‘A duke, some servants, a messenger, and someone who to this day, no one knows of who they were because there was so little left. She however, is not unknown to me.’ Solaire continued and seemed very pleased with herself. ‘One day a little bird, a ghost drifted in here, and introduced herself as Merope. Queen Merope, Balam and Kassa later found out.’

‘Queen? Queen of what?’

‘Queen of the city of Lux Laterna.’

Arodan’s mouth hung open for a moment and before he could close it himself Solaire had already done so with a cold and clammy hand. ‘... What? How, why would she be here? Lux Laterna had a queen?’

‘Had, yes. Then never again. Her death must have left the king of Lux Laterna considerably bitter and it is just one of the reasons he wants this fortress.’ Solaire hopped off his desk and pointed at a shelf in the far back. ‘Merope was the first of the high court who wanted to reach out to Paramo for an alliance. She was what could have been. Here, everyone thinks she simply disappeared, and in the city of Lux Laterna everyone thinks we killed her.’

‘Is this all a big misunderstanding-’

‘No, it isn't. Didn't you hear what I said about the reasons of the upcoming battle?’ Solaire’s ears perked up curiously. They were unusually long for an average pearlcatcher. ‘That was her first time here, and she snuck in uninvited, not unwelcome. She barely got to introduce herself proper to king Balam and by him she'll be remembered as the odd guest that was prone to oversharing to everyone else, even if he knows who she really is. Her bones lie in the crypt below the castle forevermore, proclaiming her unknown, with her family only getting the wrong answers about what really happened.’

‘So… They want her bones? They want what's left of her, besides the fortress?’ Solaire nodded in response and Arodan sighed heavily. That must have been awful and though he wanted to believe the others when they warned him how dangerous the people of Lux Laterna were he couldn't help but feel bad for the grief and confusion they must have felt. ‘And are you implying she has my book? Why?’

‘Curiosity, I'm sure. She spends her days roaming these halls because she can't leave. Something keeps her in this place.’ Solaire’s hand this time rose to point towards the door and then trace to the right as if drawing an invisible route. ‘You might find your journal on the sole unmarked grave in the crypt. That is your best guess.’

‘Okay, okay, would you mind if I left right now?’ He was stuffing what belongings he had with him into his bag already to dash out of the door. ‘I really need my journal back.’

‘Does it have any important or particularly embarrassing secrets in it?’

Arodan was halfway towards the door, but whipped around to answer Solaire. ‘No. But it means a lot to me to have some way to make sense of things at the end of the day.’ He gestured choppily as he made his point. ‘And well… You're the only one who knows but that journal is truly alive. I have to help them.’

‘Now that's a good reason.’ The door unlocked on its own again and opened, and she hovered over to Arodan. ‘Go. And you do, put these on another grave for me, will you?’ She held out a thin bouquet of strange looking lilies towards Arodan that were colored a bright red. ‘I'd like you to lay these on the most elaborate grave you see, you can't miss it.’

‘Fine. If anyone asks, I'll be right back.’ Arodan grabbed the lilies and bolted off into the halls, keeping his steps muffled as he ran. He knew the way now, as if by heart after these days spent cooped up in the castle. The only thing that occurred to him as he ran down the stairs to the very lowest level of the castle is that the crypt had to be locked and he wasn't sure if it was a lock he could pick. Maybe he could ask Atlas to unlock the door for him. It occurred to him he perhaps should have thought this plan through on how it'd work out in practice.

The door however, at the very end of the lowest floor hallway was wide open.

Arodan's pace slowed to a cautious sneak and like this he entered the crypt, staying close to the walls. Of course someone of the castle just could have gone into the crypt to inspect the graves but he couldn't help but be mildly unsettled by the lingering dread that hung in the long winding halls of the crypt. The air was thick and oppressive, and particularly good at making one's hairs stand on end in caution. Besides that, it was dark in the crypt, only lit by sparse lighting lining the walls that made it difficult to get a hold on where one was going. Yet he trudged on, past many graves that didn't look dragon made until he reached far larger graves that looked like they held the remains of once massive dragons.

Along the row he reached a large hollow, the edge decorated with dried flowers and trinkets. Within was a large sprawling grave, an elaborate image carved in the stone over it, of a guardian with open arms standing over a loving crowd wreathed in light. The sides were decorated with many flowers that seemed wilted but couldn't be more than a week old, and candles and even more trinkets, toys, jewelry, so much a normal grave might disappear under the vast amount of gifts. This had to be the grave Solaire was speaking of. He walked forward and left the bouquet of wiry red lilies on the grave. His eyes drifted to the name plaque by the foot of the grave. ‘King… Waldemar the second of house Paramo, dearly beloved.’ He read it aloud to himself and tilted his head. Maybe this was Balam’s father then, hence why Solaire had requested of him to leave flowers. ‘Now to find Merope.’

‘She isn't here right now, son.’

Arodan slowly turned and expected to see Balam standing behind him. The voice had a telltale depth and reverb to it that it had to be him. Instead, he saw a figure standing behind him with wings like burnt paper and skin black and charred. They were a massive hulking appearance that rivaled Balam’s height. Arodan could guess by his convenient appearance who he must have been. ‘King Waldemar?’

‘Yes?’ The most striking thing about Waldemar’s strange smoking appearance were his almost pearlescent white eyes that scanned over his surroundings thoughtfully. ‘So, to whom do I owe the honor of receiving flowers?’

‘Arodan, sir.’ He bowed his head and looked up in awe. ‘I'm down here because I lost something, so I can’t stick around too long, but do you know where Merope’s grave might be?’

‘Down the hall.’ He pointed idly and cocked his head. ‘Why such a rush stranger? It's lonely down here and I'd like to know who walks the halls of this castle. Whatever you lost sure doesn't require such hurry.’

‘Yeah, well, it's kind of important to me so I'd prefer to get it back fast.’ He wiggled his fingers and at the tips light glowed, illuminating his path. ‘Not that I don't respect you or King Balam’s status, but I like to be able to move around without being monitored or bossed around.’

‘Oh, you've met my son?’ Waldemar’s eyes lit up and he grasped Arodan’s shoulders in me quick movement. The light at Arodan’s fingertips disappeared with a disheartening sizzle. For a ghost he was awfully heavy but he had an eerie aura around him nonetheless. ‘How is he doing, did he find a charge yet?’

‘You… You don't know this?’ He wiggled himself from Waldemar’s hold and surveyed the soot stains on his clothing. ‘I'm guessing he's as alright as he could be doing. There's a war coming, everyone's a little stressed.’ He shrugged. ‘As for the charge, no, he hasn't found one.’

‘Ah.’ Waldemar looked down and shifted. His appearance seemed to smoke for a moment. ‘You see, I can not leave these crypts actually. You'd assume as someone who lived here I can go wherever in the castle but instead I'm confined to these dusty crypts.’

‘That explains a lot.’ He surveyed Waldemar’s form. ‘Say… How did you pass away? Someone told me Merope passed away in the fire, did you get caught up in the same blaze?’

‘No, that was after my time son. I just was careless.’ He huffed and a puff of smoke escaped from his nose. ‘I gambled my own life out of anger in a fighting pit and paid the fiery price for it.’ He held up his hands, which were ashy and cold. ‘Well, at least my son got an example of what not to do, and I do not have to bother with ruling anymore.’

‘Wait, Balam was present? Fighting pit?’ His eyes darted briefly towards the door. ‘Why were you in a fighting pit?’

‘Entertainment. Why else would you be there?’ Waldemar answered. ‘Someone threatened to tarnish my honor so I had to protect it. The only way that I could do that was to pick up the sword and shield myself.’

‘You shouldn't have done that however, that was frankly, stupid and irresponsible.’ Arodan responded before he could stop himself. Immediately he shrank back under Waldemar’s scrutinizing gaze. ‘What sort of example is that supposed to set if you get set on fire in front of hundreds of people watching? You're a king, you should have kept your cool.’

‘Who are you to tell me how to rule my kingdom? Do you have any status to your name?’ Waldemar bristled and his wings flared out in an expression of dominance. ‘I knew what I was doing, being careless once is something that will be forgiven.’ He gestured at his grave. ‘The people love me, even in death. My son is still keeping alive my legacy. What do you have?’

‘Well, I'm alive for one.’ Arodan growled. Waldemar was getting a little too hostile for his liking. ‘Dying for a cause is fine and all that but dying because someone called your cape stupid isn't a noble cause. People need someone to lead them.’ His gaze narrowed and he tried to appear as intimidating as he could despite his height disadvantage. 'Don't think I haven't heard about your dispassion for being king.'

‘They have. They have what I left them.’

‘Balam is not some piece of you or yourself. How can you say that?’

‘That is how it is supposed to be. I protect the legacy of my father before me, as if I were him. He is expected to do the same.’ Waldemar stepped a little closer to Arodan and looked over him. He sounded like someone who was lying to himself, but far more to others as opposed to Balam. ‘Don't stick your nose in matters you will never understand.’

‘Oh, I understand what's going on here fine.’ Arodan's gaze narrowed and he moved backwards and started to walk further into the crypt. ‘I'm done talking to you. I'll leave you to your eternal peace, I have a book to find.’

‘No, we aren't done talking yet.’

Before Arodan knew it he was grasped and hoisted up by his tail, swung upside down. He barely got time to scream in the movement, the sound leaving his throat in the form of an airy squeak. ‘What are you doing?!’

‘You aren't leaving until you understand how things work around here, because clearly-’ He held Arodan higher off the ground now, almost at a dangerous height. ‘It seems you lack the proper respect for those above you, librarian.’

‘Oh, get your head out of your ass!’ Arodan yelled, holding his hands out before him, aimed at Waldemar’s chest. At his fingertips yet again blazed light that burned and raged, that he this time formed into a solid bolt that he fired right through Waldemar’s chest. It stunned the king enough for him to drop Arodan who managed to twist himself sideways just before hitting the floor. A rib painfully ached in his chest but he had no time to recover. He opted to scramble up and away, bolting further into the crypts frantically and disoriented. If he found a vantage point he had time to reorient, and he could possibly dispel Waldemar if the ghost was still following him. Think, think-

‘Come back here!’

Dangit. He veered to a left and dove into the first hollow he saw, hiding behind a grave. He heard Waldemar zip past, and he sounded like a crackling wildfire. This gave him sometime to figure out how to banish him momentarily and escape the crypt. He made a mental side note that he wasn't going to ever return here after this.

How does one banish a furious spectral energy?

‘You seem to be in trouble.’

Arodan whipped around and a deep unsettling block of anxiety gripped his heart. He was being watched but in the dark of the crypt he couldn't discern who and from where. ‘Yeah, well, that happens. Are you a friend or foe?’

No answer came for the moment, until a short staff rolled from the shadows towards Arodan and bumped against his foot. He picked it up as if it was about to explode in his hands and surveyed it, eyes scanning over the many texts crafted into it. In the distance he could hear Waldemar returning, the sound of an inferno roaring down the halls. Arodan sucked in a breath and got up. ‘That'll do.’ He held the staff in two hands and soon it shone with bright golden light that illuminated the room. Light solidified around the staff and formed a spear around the base. Arodan held it besides him now and climbed onto the unmarked grave before him, waiting in a defensive stance.

One.

It was as if he was standing in a furnace now. Around the corner appeared a livid Waldemar, his ethereal body cracking and blazing with columns of fire while his eyes had remained the same frigid white. ‘You have the audacity-’

Two.

‘Can it!’ Arodan aimed the spear at Waldemar in a manner unknown to the king. ‘Either we discuss this like sensible adults or I'll send you back to the spirit realm you belong to.’

Three.

‘Try me small fry, I'll rip you to-’

Four.

Without warning Arodan launched another bolt of light into Waldemar’s chest and immediately leapt forward, swinging the spear into a traditional hold. With startling accuracy he planted the spear into his chest, hanging off of it so he wouldn't be burnt by Waldemar swinging his searing claws at him. ‘Begone!’ The spear discharged in one eye burning flash and it dispelled the lingering ghost of Waldemar completely. Once the oppressive quietness of the crypt returned Arodan dropped the staff with a clatter and dropped to his knees, gasping for air.

‘That was quick. Effective even.'

'I didn't exactly mean to be down here this long.' Arodan steadied his breath and turned, peering into the darkness. The voice sounded familiar but the way it sounded as if ten voices more spoke at the same moment stopped his mind from remembering. 'What are you, another ghost? You know where Merope is?' He knew he was standing by her grave but there was no sign of his journal.

'She ain't here. Probably wandering.' The voices responded. Heavy footsteps sounded as something approached Arodan. That to him meant he wasn't dealing with a ghost, if he was right about ghosts not walking. 'Looking for this?' From the shadows a dark hand appeared holding Arodan's journal. ‘Someone left it here.’

'Give that back.' Arodan started to stumble towards the shadows, lighting a spark of magic on his fingers again to illuminate the room. Although he could see all the details of the room it was as if the corner of the room had been swallowed by a dark void, two bright golden eyes forming the only focus point. Immediately he yanked his knife from his bag, pointing it at the entity before him. 'What do you want?'

'Really? A knife?' The many other voices died out in favor of just one, a recognizable gruff voice that sounded mildly amused at being threatened. 'I can smash your head like a grape, are you feeling lucky punk?'

'Sachairi?' Arodan quietly asked, lowering the knife only to immediately raise it again. 'I asked you before, but are you a friend or an enemy?'

'Does it matter?' Sachairi responded, and despite his current appearance he somehow looked as if he coyly cocked his head. 'Give me the heart.'

'It's kind of vital because I'd like to know if you're not going to murder me as soon as I hand over the heart.' Yet he pulled the necklace from his shirt so it was in view. 'It's safe by the way. You're welcome.'

'Don't play with me you asshole, give me my necklace back.' Sachairi growled, and the void flourished in a manner of geometrical patterns that snaked their way towards Arodan.

'Then let's trade.' That stopped Sachairi from advancing. 'You give me my journal back, and i'll give you your necklace. That journal means a lot to me even if it's in a stupid way.'

Sachairi's gaze drifted momentarily drifted to the book in his hand, then back to Arodan. The patterns withdrew, and he held out the book towards him. 'Fine.' He held out another open hand to receive the necklace. 'Let's trade.'

He hesitated for a moment, then pocketed the knife again. Arodan pulled the necklace from his neck. ‘Come closer.’

‘No, you come closer.’

‘Are we going to argue over something as stupid as this?’ Arodan asked. The quick footsteps in the distance didn't register to him.

‘Just give me the damn necklace.’ Sachairi stepped closer and this time a foot actually appeared from the void. ‘There's only so long I can upkeep this.’

‘Arodan?’ Atlas appeared and peered into the hollow and immediately froze once he registered what he was seeing. ‘Dan. Move back immediately.’

‘Atlas, I'm kind of in the middle of-’ A spear made of light immediately was flung right past Arodan into the wall behind him. It didn't hit its intended target but took out part of Atlas’ ear and pierced the brim of his hat, nailing it to the wall. ‘Atlas!’ Sachairi stood with only one foot in the void, eyed wild like a cornered animal. When he focused on Arodan he could first notice now that he didn't quite look at him but a little off to the side because he was blind in one eye. A row of burns scars ran alongside the left side of his body and no doubt the eye had gotten damaged a similar way. Immediately Sachairi bolted back into the void and disappeared completely. Arodan immediately rushed towards Atlas’ side who had dropped to the floor clutching his ear. ‘Are you alright?!’

‘I've had worse.’ He pressed his hand to the damaged ear in an attempt to stop it from bleeding. ‘I can deal with a chipped tip but it does hurt.’

‘Oh gods.’ Arodan scrambled to check if Atlas had been scraped anywhere else and was glad he wasn't. He ended up placing his hand over Atlas’ that clutched the ear. ‘I'm so sorry, this is my fault.’ All of this happened because he wanted his stupid journal back, he thought.

‘I wouldn't call it your fault but yes, you probably shouldn't go talking to people like that. Solaire warned me you were down here.’ Atlas managed to joke, sitting a little more comfortably. ‘Are you okay though, he didn't do anything to you right?’

‘No, I’m fine, not counting emotional damage.’ Arodan responded. That loosened a laugh from Atlas at the very least. ‘I am never entering this place ever again. There's too many people trying to kill me down here. Your former king doesn't like me very much.’

‘Waldemar?' Atlas gave him an incredulous look, that softened immediately as soon as he guessed what might have happened. 'You know, I never liked that man. It's why I left in the first place.' He got up slowly and searched his pockets with his free hand for a handkerchief of sorts. 'Tell me everything on the way back to the infirmary, okay? I'm just glad you're okay.

'Well, you're not.' Arodan threw a brief glance at the necklace that still lay in his hand and lamented he hadn't gotten his journal back. He then immediately came to the more chilling realization Sachairi had it and that he had no way to track him. '... Why did Sachairi attack you?'

'He doesn't like me. You know, I made one visit back here, when he was still around as a guest and not a fugitive. He knows exactly what I can and will do to him if he hurts others.' He found a handkerchief that was large enough to wrap around his head. 'He was already going bad back then.' By his words that seemed to not be the entire truth but know was not the moment to ask. 

'I… I see.' He lit the way into the hall and shot Atlas a look. 'Did he hurt you before?'

'No.' Atlas gave him a clipped answer and sighed. He seemed light and nervous on his feet and clasped his hands together with a finality to it, his face blooming into a smile. 'Say, you wouldn't perhaps want to carry me up to the infirmary right?'

'What, did he take out your legs too?' Atlas didn't want to continue the conversation, it seemed. Arodan was fine with that, just talking to someone was enough right now. 'I'm not carrying you but come here, you get to lean on my shoulder. Is that enough for you?'

'That's a compromise I can get behind.' Atlas immediately slung his arm around Arodan and slung his lanky weight on him. 'Let's go.'

'Yeah. Let's go.' Arodan threw one last glance into the hollow, noticing only the faint figure of a woman sitting on the tomb who examined him with her head resting on her hands. Typical.