Noble Arcana

Abody born without mana is not used to it. It tears at its insides, trying to unanchor itself. The physical and mental resources of one who completes the ritual are taxed to the limit even if absorbing the most minor of magical creature’s mana. The larger the creature’s mana pool though, the harder it is for the body to adapt. In some cases, it’s not possible at all and the ritualist can die. It should be noted however that this ritual can only be used once. An absorption of a minor magical creature may be safer, but you will need to cultivate and develop the mana you absorb within yourself. The higher the risk, the greater the reward.

Unknown, Living Mana Transference: Permanent empowerment by sacrifice and cultivation

Solomon was slowly going over the symbols in the circle around the chained god, his head only a few inches from its massive claws. He located the next several runes in the sequence, noting their locations and order, then once the page he was writing in was filled he made a small mark with chalk outside the circle to mark where he’d stopped.

He walked back to the desk where he’d left the Union textbook and the Ritual instruction open along with several pages of notes. He’d been going around the ritual line by line, comparing the runes listed with the ones in the book, and extrapolating how their effects would have an impact on the ritual. He wanted to understand the ritual before he attempted it. First he confirmed that the symbols matched what was listed in the ritual instructions, then he checked what they did.

He started cross referencing this newest sheet. As with all of the others, he noticed several changes that didn’t match what was in the ritual instructions. An additional rune representing soul, one that was meant to mean opening or unlocking and another duplicate of the rune for switch or transfer. Those were frequently among the excess runes that were placed around the circle, along with several that were not listed in the Union textbook, or weren’t even human runes at all.

He frowned as he looked over everything so far. He was roughly halfway through the spell, and had located excess runic phrases in six places so far. From what he’d seen of his Uncle, he was a meticulous and careful man. He couldn’t imagine him making those markings unless it was on purpose. He just wasn’t certain if the markings were refinements to the original ritual that he had created, or something else.

He’d hoped he might find the answer in his Uncle’s journals, but he had yet to crack their cipher in any meaningful way. He was certain the letter I was a part of it and A was not. That wasn’t exactly enough to break through. He’d also scanned the journal to see if runes were listed anywhere, but they were not.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He’d read through the ritual as well as all of the warnings it came with. The larger the mana source, the harder it was on the body once it was consumed, and the longer the adjustment to it would be. Perhaps his Uncle was trying to find a way to minimize that adjustment? He could erase the additional runic script from the ritual circle and the remaining runes would perform the ritual as it was originally intended, but if he made a mistake he may not be able to correct it. Luckily, the circle itself wasn’t what was binding the god inside, the chains were. That meant even if he made a catastrophic mistake it wouldn’t be released. It would be catastrophic too. He could feel the hate the god felt toward him. A simmering malice that grew every time he returned to the hidden chamber.

He reached into his pocket and removed his pocketwatch, checking the time. He had made plans to leave for Church in an hour. That gave him time to clean the ink stains from his hands and don a fresh vest along with his mourning coat. This would be the first service he attended in Moonfallow and it was important to make a good impression. It would also be an opportunity to identify who all of the important people about town were, aside from the Mayor and his brother.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

He gathered his walking stick, choosing to leave all of his research down in the hidden room where it would be safe, and began to walk up the steps. He stopped to listen at the top for a few moments before activating the opening on his side. After the last two nights of study he could now identify the runes for blood, open, and quiet, around the central eye. He had no idea of how they were tied together, but he was happy to be able to gather that at a glance.

“Thank you,” he said to the empty suit of armor as he climbed up and into the library. Barnabus and Bart had started their work on repairing the shelving, but so far that had mostly involved tearing down the shelves that couldn’t possibly be repaired. The walls were looking more and more bare by the day, but at least a small corner shelf now had a few of the books Melissa had picked out for her and the other servants to read.

Twirling his walking stick as he made his way back to his room, he saw a few of the ladies doing some sewing in the sitting room, and found Melissa waiting for him when he turned the corner of the hallway into his room.

She gave him a small bow. “Good morning, sir. I haven’t been able to find you since breakfast.”

“I was just looking at all the work everyone’s doing. They’re doing an excellent job so far.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“While you’re doing so, please let them know that if they wish to attend church with me they are welcome to. I can have Duncan and Regis both drive us.”

“Yes, sir,” she responded with a bow and left the room.

Solomon was very tempted to go ahead and promote her to officially be his valet, but they’d hardly been at the manor for more than a week and he worried a woman as young as her might find herself resented by the rest of the staff if he rushed things. He’d always been keenly aware of how easily a noble could cause problems amongst the staff, a trait he wished the rest of his family and class shared.

In his room he locked the door and took some time to clean up and dress before retrieving the A Record of Moonfallow Nobility and sitting to read it. The majority of his focus had been on the god in his basement, so he hadn’t been able to devote much attention to it. He had prepared a letter complete with evidence to have delivered to the garrison in Etling, but wanted to wait until the next morning and have Melissa deliver it just before the mail was to be sent out. The fact that the Mayor had been ahead of any attempts to oust him made him wary of letting that kind of information sit around any longer than it needed to.

The first thing he looked at was the date of the latest entry in the book. It was more than fifty years prior. With that in mind he went back to the start and began skimming. There had been five families of minor nobility at the start of Moonfallow, but now it seemed there were only three. The first of them was the Bythars, who had been chiefs on Moonfallows land who’d willingly joined the founding family the Hartons, during one of their expansions and had been allowed to maintain their titles and some ownership of the land because of it. Unfortunately, a string of bad luck had caused them to lose their titles, though the family still existed in the town. Then there was the Heartrees, who had been a minor branch of the Hartons that had sprung from the legitimizing of a bastard. Finally there was the Pryors. Their family had actually wound up selling off their investments in the manarite mine just before it failed and the majority of them moved to the capital with only a small manor maintained within Moonfallow itself.

Dame Pryor was the woman who had inherited one of his Uncle’s servants. The only one who hadn’t simply disappeared off the face of Drakthiss. He was hoping to meet them both at church since Guard Captain Marcus had mentioned that the servant regularly escorted the Dame to church.

He closed the book and placed it on his desk. How long had he been in this manor? A few weeks? And so far he’d found a conspiracy and a god in his basement. He’d gone months with nothing, but his studies and his plans back at the Morrow Estate. Years where everything moved by only inches as he imagined miles. He was… excited, intrigued. His feelings of duty to those beneath him were a part of what motivated him, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of a challenge, of testing himself, and learning was becoming a greater driving force with every new mystery he uncovered.

He heard a knock on the door, and checked his watch again. It was time for church. He slipped on his mourning coat over one of his purple vests, this one with silver accents, and opened the door to find Melissa waiting for him.