Chương 186: Chapter 46: Naturally You Would Come to Me

The following morning, with the first cold, clear light of the mountain, they resumed their journey. The return trip along the Royal Road was long once more, a litany of days unfolding with an almost therapeutic monotony: noisy inns smelling of smoke and ale, occasional bandits who were always poorly armed and worse organized, Fjora dispatched them with quiet efficiency, road guards with their evaluating gazes, and merchant caravans leaving splotches of color and rumor across the landscape.

The scenery itself shifted slowly from jagged gray mountains to green valleys, and finally to plains gilded by the summer sun. It was a wonderful journey by all standards, serving as an interlude between the claustrophobic discoveries of Ashkharum and the familiar complexity of Kaelburg. They arrived at the university city in midsummer. The heat was overwhelming once again, a heavy, humid blanket settling over the city as the end of another academic year drew dangerously close.

When she finally found time, after resting a full day in her room at the Cloister of the Forest, soaking in lukewarm baths that washed away the dust of the road, and dressing in a simple gown of light linen that was both comfortable and practical, Selena went to see Valerian that morning. The jester remained there, like a theatrical constant in the flow of time, stationed beneath the shadow of the massive hourglass in the Atrium of Knowledge.

His black robe trimmed with red seemed to absorb the summer light, creating a small core of artificial coolness around him. Upon seeing her approach, he looked up from a small book he was browsing through and spoke, his voice a mellifluous contrast to the lazy warmth of the air: —Crimson. I see you have found secrets kept in ancient tongues and stones that speak with the silence of the dead. Perhaps that sleeping ring...

—He made a dramatic pause, arching an eyebrow— It could rest peacefully inside one of the royal chests at the palace in the capital. The countess frowned, deeply dissatisfied by that possibility. A playful smirk formed on the jester's lips. —Though, on the other hand, I know a curiously obsessive bishop who might unlock the secrets of that stone you call a ring. Assuming you are interested in unraveling its whispers, of course. Selena was surprised, though she maintained a serene expression.

She carried the black stone ring hidden in an inner pocket of her bag, wrapped in a piece of cloth. Has Valerian heard a rumor? Or is it simply his usual ability to read between the lines, to sense the weight of unspoken secrets? she thought rapidly. Once her mind settled, she prepared herself to speak calmly, adopting a light tone that mimicked his: —Perhaps Valerian. But in truth, I came to resume my lessons. I must learn more, to nourish this ignorance you so deeply deplore. Is that not what you always say?

She returned his smile a flash of complicity forged over months of harsh lessons and shared sarcasm. The lesson that day was, as always under the jester's tutelage, a mixture of sharp theory, perception exercises testing the limits of her concentration, and sardonic comments that seemed to hold more truth than they let on. Valerian had her work with several minor artifacts, asking her to discern not only their function, but the residual "emotional imprint" left by their former owners.

It was equally exhausting and fascinating. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Afterward, with the afternoon waning toward a hot, orange twilight, Selena made her way to Uluas's office. She found him sitting behind his large desk of light wood, admiring an open book whose title read, in elegant golden lettering: Curious Compendium of Mythological Treasures and Their Archaeological Correlates.

The bishop of the Church of the Eternal Sap looked up upon sensing her presence. His eyes a deep, tranquil green like a forest pond observed her for a moment before he spoke. His voice was deep, serene, and laden with a calm that stood in stark contrast to the jester's nervous energy. —Valerian suggested you come to me —Uluas said, softly closing the book. Selena nodded as her only response. Uluas smiled faintly and continued.

—That suggestion was made so that I might teach you about the artifact you found in Ashkharum. His Majesty mentioned that the details on the priest's walls, in his final words, strongly suggested he was a Resonant. Finding no artifact among the reported remains, he assumed you must have recovered it, and that, naturally, you would come to me at some point. —He paused, studying her with a gaze that was both kind and penetrating— Speak, Isabella of Solendra. It was useless to deny it or beat around the bush.

The crown's information network, combined with Valerian's sharp insight, was far too efficient. —That is precisely how it happened —Selena confirmed, her voice clear in the quiet room, disturbed only by the distant hum of a summer insect. This time, Uluas's expression filled with restrained joy, betrayed only by his expressive eyes. But Selena interrupted him. —I found it. My perception of the Void led me to it from a great distance, like a magnet in the dark.

She approached the desk and, with a deliberate movement, pulled the small fabric bundle from her bag. She unwrapped it, revealing the black stone ring smooth, opaque, and absorbing the nearby sunlight without reflecting any shine. —Though I can intuit what it does through the feeling of drowsiness, that abysmal weight it transmits, I do not know how to activate it. I do not know its exact effect, nor how to control it.

—She placed it carefully on the polished wood of the desk, in front of Uluas— Tell me what you know, Bishop. The expert picked up the ring with his long fingers, examining it with meticulous, reverent curiosity. He turned it slowly, observing its lack of ornamentation, its mineral coldness.

—It is important to know something about every artifact —he began to explain, his tone instructional yet warm— They are unique, not only in form, but in essence, because they depend on the echo that dominated the Resonant who generated them upon death. Not the most frequently used, but the one they understood best, the one at the core of their power. The countess gave a slow nod; it was something she had known for a long time. The master paused, bringing the ring closer to the light. —This one is interesting.

The stone is neither obsidian nor basalt... it possesses a peculiar density. —He set the ring back on the table and looked at Selena— It will take me several days of study, consulting certain tomes, and conducting a few discreet tests, but we will know. Its texture, its residual resonance... everything. The young Resonant sighed; she would have to wait once again. Then, the bishop's expression softened further. —His Majesty gave me a clear order: the artifact is yours. You may keep it.

It will, of course, be entirely yours. —A faint, almost paternal smile touched his lips— But a piece of advice from an old master, Selena: give a name to your bronze ring the one you already wear. At least it will feel... cherished and not merely used. The bishop's green eyes gleamed with a spark of serene humor. —Of course, artifacts possess no consciousness. They are objects, vessels of power and memory. But sometimes, for the bearer, giving them a name serves as an anchor.

It helps define the relationship, serving as a reminder that power is a tool, not a master. And that even the most lethal tools deserve respectful treatment.