Author: Lurina

032: Profane Ambition - The Flower That Bloomed Nowhere | Royal Road

Inner Sanctum, Hidden Chamber | 11:41 AM | Second Day

We examined the shelves further, but at first, didn't find anything more than assorted tools and supplies. Bronze sheets and pipes, glue, binding coil, and several boxes of small mechanisms that looked like something you'd see in a golem or logic engine. Tiny little rivets and gears...

Where the barrier split, Kam turned and nudged her head to the right, to which I offered no objection. We turned the corner, and were met with a similar hall, also lined with shelves.

This time, though, they were stacked with something far more conspicuous.

"Good heavens," Kam exclaimed. "Are these guns?"

They were, and in no small number. I could see at least fifteen rifles and ten pistols, and they weren't antiques. They looked like refractor weapons, the bronze still carrying the vivid sheen of recent production. Noticing the ammunition on the bottom shelf - rows of silver rectangles, accompanied by small spheres - confirmed it.

Refractor firearms had been developed at the end of the Great Interplanar War. They functioned on a similar principle to eris storage for modern scepters, using an artificed, reflective container to hold energy in the form of pure light. Except instead of being consumed directly as fuel for the Power, it was employed to excite clusters of particles to immense speeds, and then propel them through a series of lenses to produce a range of effects.

That versatility was what had made the invention revolutionary. Depending on which lenses were down, they fired anything from harmless beams of light, to bursts of electromagnetic charge that would usually stun a target rather than kill them (assuming they got proper treatment for radiation poisoning), to bolts that would carve clean through armor and flesh, to superheated blasts that could set fire to entire buildings or reduce foot-thick stone walls to lava in seconds.

Combined with the lack of any recoil, they turned any moron with working hands and eyes into the equivalent of a passable battlemagi. The ones produced by the military even had shield-conjuring artifices built in, though they needed to be maintained by an arcanist regularly to stay operational.

It was said that the prospect of a proper war with this sort of equipment as the standard had been one of the primary reasons the Grand Alliance had remained so stable over the centuries. And why so many had died in the revolution, despite its relatively small scale and short length.

"Sure looks like it," I said, staring wide-eyed at the display. "Suppose that about rules this being an archive out."

"With this many guns, I should think this could only be called an armory," she said, kneeling down as she inspected the rear of the area. "There's enough here to equip an entire cohort. Look-- They even have explosives!"

I peeked down. I wasn't truly qualified to say for certain, but there were several small, hooked cannisters that certainly looked like grenades, and well as some segmented boxes that seemed to be attached to timers... Or at least, circular meters of some kind. They could've been for something less destructive, like smoke, but I wasn't going to pick at the point. This was obviously serious combat equipment.

"Maybe this is here in case the Sanctuary comes under attack," I speculated. "We already know a lot of it was designed with that in mind. And then, since it stopped being as much of a danger, they abandoned the room and covered it up so guests like us didn't stumble in."

"Not an unfair conclusion," she said, with a nod. "Though, I'm not sure what they'd need a bunch of tools for the uninitiated for. Almost everyone in the order are arcanists with centuries of experience. Even if they're not trained for battle, they could certainly do a lot better than blasting these things about."

Uninitiated, if it's not self-evident, was a term for non-arcanists.

"I've heard of some people who like to use both," I said. "And there some non-arcanists, and maybe some of them don't know any combat techniques at all."

"Hmm... I suppose so," she said, nodding. "That said, you're wrong about at least one thing."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This place having been abandoned," she said. "Take a closer look at the shelves."

I turned back, and looked again, holding the lamp closer.

It took me an embarrassing amount of time to understand what she meant: There was no dust. Not even so much as a visible speck. This room had been thoroughly cleaned, and very recently at that - now that I was thinking about it, I could even faintly smell the odour of bleach in the air.

There was another scent, too, though very faint, to the point it didn't even feel like it was coming from this room. Something rotten, rancid...

I heard a clunking sound to the side, and saw that Kam had picked up one of the rifles, examining it closer. As she ran a finger across it, I could see some moisture was present - they'd all been washed, too, not just dusted.

"Uh, should you really be doing that...?" I asked hesitantly. "You're going to leave fingerprints.

She scoffed. "Don't be neurotic, Su. Assuming we don't get caught anyway, I doubt they're going to spontaneously decide to do a clinical investigation in this room." She set it back down, and reached into her handbag. "But if if makes you feel better, I'll wipe them off with my handkerchief and put on some gloves."

I furrowed my brow. "You carry gloves around with you."

"Mm? Oh, yes," she said, as she slipped them on. They were silk, maroon-colored.

"Why?" I asked.

She simply tapped her nose as she wiped the rifle down, along with a small smirk.

This girl.

"Let's hurry along, then," she said, heading back the way we came. "Probably already pushing our luck."

We turned and made for the final third of the room. The shelves were near-identical to what we'd seen a moment ago, down to similar equipment - firearms to the side, explosives at the back. The only exception was that the stock seemed to be even more abundant, suggesting this side of the room had been filled up first.

But there were two far more notable differences that immediately caught my eye. The first was the was a large trap door at the back of the hall, left open, the hatch thrown all the way back. The second was the scorch mark against the wall behind it, concerning close to the explosives.

There was no mistaking the origin of it. It had to have been produced by one of the refraction weapons, probably at least a moderate setting. Some of the stone looked to have melted and shifted, if only slightly.

"Good heavens," Kam said, peering. "This place certainly is full of surprises..."

"I've been thinking it since we came out of the floor on our way out of the basement," I said. "That there might be secret passages all over the building."

"For its defense, you mean?" Kam asked.

"Yes," I said, but then hesitated. "Well... Maybe not just defense. I feel like there's something I'm missing, with all of this."

I sniffed the air. That sour smell was a little stronger, now, and I was starting to feel a faint sense of dread. That, even though there was nothing yet to fully substantiate it, I knew what was coming next.

It didn't look like Kamrusepa shared my apprehension. Her demeanour was almost cheerful, like she was on a fun little adventure.

"Well... After you," I said.

"Afraid I'm going to push you in?" She giggled to herself. "Well, don't worry. I trust you."

She stepped forward, and knelt down at the trap door. I followed, and stuck the lamp in to try and illuminate the interior. It was more awkward than I'd expected to actually get a decent look - relying on the Power whenever it was dark had spoiled me.

A moment later, though, I wished I hadn't.

I adjusted my glasses and peered downwards. Unlike the hatch we'd come through earlier, this one didn't lead to a set of steps. Instead, it was a straight drop,with only a ladder nailed to the side as a means of traversal. It was hard to tell how deep the drop was, but it was at least down to the ground floor, if not to the under-chambers outright.

Kam craned her neck. "Well, if we don't see a whole lot of bookshelves down there, I think we can safely write that letter off as, if naught else, misinformed--"

And at the bottom, at the hard stone base of the chamber.. Far enough away that it muted the impact of the sight, but not to the point that I didn't inhale sharply, was a body.

"O-oh," Kamrusepa said, her voice cracking as her previous train of thought died. "That's... Rather not what I expected."

It looked like a woman, though I based that only on the clothing. She wore a vivid floral dress in Saoic style, pink and purple and white, but with boots that looked much more practical, creating a look that was almost at odds with itself.

There was blood from the fall, but that clearly hadn't been what had killed her, because close to half of her head was missing. It was difficult to make out, but her left cheek and eye seemed to have been entirely annihilated, with burns covering a lot of the remainder. Her black hair, long, was scorched in turn.

I'd seen dead bodies plenty of times before - that came part and parcel with being a Thanatomancer. But still, the sight, combined with the now much more distinct smell of decomposing flesh, made me feel sick. I suddenly felt vertigo, and had to look away from the hole to avoid throwing up.

"There's--" I gasped for breath, trying to compose myself. "There's a corpse in that hole."

"Um, somewhat stating the obvious, Su," Kam said, sounding a little shaken herself.

"There's a corpse in that hole," I repeated, as if the universe might understand my objection and abort the whole scenario if I made myself clear enough about it.

My brain processed more information about the sight even as my eyes were averted from it. Based on the smell and the state of the body, whomever was down there, their death had been recent. As in, within the past 1-or-2 days recent.

"A fresh corpse," I appended.

"I should have to take your word for it," Kam said, taking the lantern from my hands, now that I was no longer in a state to position it. "I'm not too experienced with autopsies." She bit her lip. "Though, the skin does seem to be still intact... She looks eastern, probably Viraaki."

Viraaki...

"The chef," I said.

Kam turned to me, blinking. "Pardon?"

"The chef," I repeated. "Vijana. Neferuaten and Yantho mentioned her yesterday. She went missing yesterday morning. No one had any idea what happened."

"Gods..." She shook her head, seeming at a loss for words. "It looks as though she took a shot through the head."

I nodded, and for a moment felt a pulse of irrational fear. I glanced around us, looking back the way we came. Straining my ears for any sound that might suggest another presence, that we might be ambushed...

Calm down, I told myself. There's only two ways in. You're right next to one of the them, and you can't get the other open without making a a racket. And besides, all of this must've happened over a day ago.

That was the rational way to look at it, but it didn't feel like much of a comfort.

While trying my best to look at at anything but the sight down below, I noticed something I hadn't earlier. A sheet of parchment lying on the shelf to the side of us, the words 'TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN' scrawled in large, attention-grabbing print. I reached out, flipping it up.

Kam glanced over at the sound of the rustling. "What's that?"

"Uh, was on the shelf," I said, huddling a little closer to Kam. "Look."

We shifted a little backwards, and Kam held the lantern up so we could make out the smaller text below. In full, it read:

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

Let this stand as my both my confession and last will and testament. For too long, I have been complicit in a crime of the most abominable nature. Not only have I sinned gravely against my fellow human beings, but worse, against both civilization and the natural order itself. I have stood idly by as innocents have been subject to unimaginable cruelty in the name of profane ambition, and at times, even facilitated said cruelties myself.

I have done all of this, not out of selfless motive, but solely for my own gain. I told myself that I sought to free mankind from this accursed fate to which it has been condemned, but in truth, I knew from the beginning this was futile. Instead, I have allowed myself to be ruled by spite and selfish love, and in the process have invited a far more sorrowful end for those I should have cared for most of all.

It is too late to undo the damage I have done, and what little power I possessed that might have allowed for a gesture of open defiance I surrendered long ago. And I know better than to trust any commitment I might make to the pursuit of atonement. Thus, the only thing I can do is to remove myself before a reckoning comes, in the small hope this might frustrate progress enough for someone else to come to their senses, or at least that some measure of further suffering might be averted.

If you are reading this and are one of my colleagues or superiors, then I beg you: Put a stop to this insanity. It is not too late. It is my last hope that seeing what has become of me will move you might see the folly in repeating that mistake, even if I know that is probably a vain hope.

On the other hand, if by some fluke this is discovered instead by one those whom I have sinned against, then I will not indulge myself by asking for forgiveness. I will only say that I was wrong, utterly, that everything I did was wrong, and that I am truly sorry. Please, forget everything that you have heard from me and leave this place, so that you might be at least spared the wrath of the forces arrayed against us.

When I was young, I believed there was an essential justice within the world, beyond the reach of mankind's will. That no matter what, everything would eventually give way to a golden kindness. But as I grew older, I dismissed that as the aspirational thinking of a child. But now I see that I was right all along. This is justice. And this is kindness. Regardless of if its shape offends us.

Memento Mori,

For some reason, it was written in Inner Saoic rather than Ysaran, or even Viraaki, though I knew Kam could read it too, thankfully. I didn't recognize the handwriting, but it was rougher than you'd expect for the eloquence of the prose, more like something you'd see from a teenage boy than the woman lying in the pit below.

I glanced to the side. "Have you finished it?"

"Mm," Kam said, her expression dour. "Gods, this is grim."

I nodded gravely, my eyes falling to rest on the white space at the bottom of the parchment.

"It's stating the obvious, but it looks like a suicide note." She went on, pursing her lips. "Last will and testament..."

"Yeah..." I said, feeling at a loss for appropriate words.

"Though, if that's the case," she said, "I'm not sure why she'd have shot herself right on top of the hatch. Seems a tad, well. Redundant."

I shook my head. "No, it makes sense. You'd want some kind of backup plan, for something like this, in case you flinched and missed the brain. Otherwise, you could end up immobile and in agony for hours."

Kamrusepa twisted her lip a bit. "You're a concerning person to talk to sometimes, Su."

I shrugged weakly.

"As for the rest of the note, I'm not sure I know what to make of it," she said. "You said this woman was the chef? As in, she prepares the food."

"That's right, yeah," I said. "The initials seem to line up, too. Assuming whatever 'A' stands for is her birthplace name."

"But this all reads like a bunch of high-minded objections to the actual practices of the order, from someone who's been participated in it deeply themselves." She bit on the edge of a finger. "Well, some of it. The rest is either so vague it's practically incoherent, or sounds like the sort of luddite nonsense you hear from Covenant fundamentalists. 'Sinned against the natural order', my goodness..."

"I don't know if this is about just researching life extension," I said. "It sounds like she thought they were doing something terrible-- Not in the abstract, but to other people. That she'd done something terrible. A 'sorrowful end'..." I scratched the side of my head. "I mean, unless we're taking the whole thing out of context. It's hard to tell what's meant to be literal."

That wasn't all that bothered me about it. Something about the way it was written felt off in a way that was hard to put into words. It didn't feel like a suicide note should've, somehow, even one motivated by regret rather than unfulfilled emotional need. Something about it felt almost performative.

"The 'memento mori' at the end seems rather on the nose," she said, looking over some of it again herself. "But I agree, it's difficult to parse what she's trying to say. The beginning makes it sound like she's talking about the research in abstract, but then she mentions 'unimaginable cruelties' to individuals... But doesn't go into any specifics whatsoever. She could be talking about anything from illegal experiments to-- Well, some petty interpersonal drama. It's worthless."

"Whatever it is, it sounds as though it's ongoing," I said. "Or at least, that she thought of it that way. And that it was partly her fault."

Kamrusepa scoffed. "Again, that's the most confusing part. She's the ruddy cook, not someone who ought to have bore 'fault' in anything." She shook her head. "If this was all about her fretting about the 'sin' of bad cooking, well, it's certainly a tad melodramatic."

I frowned. "That's kind of inappropriate, Kam."

"Just using humor to bare with a rather unpleasant situation," she said, with an uneasy smile. "Would rather think you of all people would be understanding."

I removed my glasses for a moment, rubbing my eyes. "We don't know for sure if she was the chef. That's just a guess." I paused. "And even if she was, she might not have just been the chef."

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?"

"Based on what we heard about how the organization is built, it doesn't sound like they'd just let a random person into the sanctuary to cook their food," I explained. "She said that associate members weren't even allowed in until recently. So to be here, she'd have to have some broader role in the organization. Were you here when Sacnicte talked about her role? About being a 'steward of the sanctuary'."

She nodded. "That was when we came in, if I'm not mistaken."

"Right," I said. "But while we're guests, she's playing the role of a servant. Maybe the situation was something like that. She acted as the chef, but actually had some... Other role." I frowned worriedly. "Not something pleasant, if we take what's written as literal. Like the order was doing something really bad."

"For some people, just trying to slip the noose of mortality is reason enough to to this sort of rhetoric," she said, in a dismissive tone. But then doubt crept back into her voice. "But, to do something this severe... Either she was of greatly disturbed mind, or this was about something far more personal that's going over our heads."

She was right. It was insane to imagine someone going this far because they disagreed over research. But I struggled to believe the order could really be doing something to warrant this level of rhetoric, of total disgust. I knew nearly half of the inner circle personally, and the press had been crawling all over the workings of the organization for the past two decades constantly. We were far from the first guests.

It just didn't make sense.

"M.. Maybe this isn't what it looks like," I suggested. "Someone could have murdered her and put this here on purpose to cover it up." Yeah, that makes sense. Run with it. "Maybe that's why it's so vague, since they wouldn't have known any of her actual personal details. Throw together a suicide note that impiles something personal, then just... Let people draw their own conclusions."

Kamrusepa frowned. "What about the handwriting? Even if we can't tell, if it was someone who knew her, they'd notice right away."

"Could've been forged," I said. "There are even Neuromancy incantations to help with that, if you're willing to go far enough."

"Look, though," Kam said, pointing. "She's still holding the pistol in her hand, down there."

I flinched, then uneasily took another look down into the pit. It was hard for me to make out with my crappy eyesight even after taking off my glasses, but it was just as Kamrusepa said. In her right hand, held on her chest, was a glint of one of the pistols.

"I'm not sure that proves much," I said, all the same. "The killer could have just walked right down and put it in her hand."

"But look at where the shot's landed," she said, this time pointing to the ashen mark on the back wall. "It's not at standing level, but sitting-- And straight rather than angled." She bit the edge of her lip. "Well, I suppose it's possible that the killer might've caught her kneeling and gone to down to her level... But it just doesn't seem likely."

Damn. She was right. It didn't make the theory completely implausible, but every piece of evidence seemed to suggest the opposite.

...well, or so it seemed in the moment. I wouldn't realize it until it was too late, about 30 minutes later, but I was missing several fairly obvious alternative conclusions here.

But we'll come back to that later.

"Don't get me wrong-- I think I'd almost feel less peculiar about this if it were a homicide," She said, snorting. "Honestly, I feel like something of a voyeur having found this. It's obvious it was intended for anyone but us."

Was that really true, though?

My mind was still spinning, trying to reckon with the situation. Was this the place the letter had intended for me to find, or something unrelated? What kind of reckoning did she think was coming?

And who was the last part referring to - the 'people she had wronged'? If she'd done this so close to our arrival, wouldn't she have considered the idea of one of us finding it?

But then, if what were the case, the 'everything that you have heard from me' part made no sense whatsoever. I'd never met this woman in my life, and I was one of the most likely candidates to have had some contact with the order - most of our class had no connections at all.

Again, It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

"We--" I hesitated. "We have to tell someone we've found this. Neferuaten, the others."

She gave me an uneasy look. "Now... Su, let's not rush into anything," she said, sounding tense. "We're trespassing by being here to begin with, remember?"

"That doesn't matter. Not in the face of something like this," I said. "We can't just go back out and act like we haven't seen anything. We're not qualified to make a judgement about what's going on - we can't even use the Power to check if it's been used to interfere with anything. That could easily disguise what actually happened here."

Kam was silent for a moment, her eyes flicking away to the side as she breathed deeply, like she was trying to suppress panic. "If they find out we were snooping around in here, it could damage our reputation. We might never get invited to something private like this again."

"You're the one who wanted to snoop around to begin with!"

"Keep your voice down!" She said, in a terse whisper. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes. "I know, alright? That was stupid of me. It was stupid of me to be curious."

"Someone's died, Kam," I said, in a severe tone. "An actual person is dead right in front of us. This isn't some faux pax to work around for the sake of your record."

"She's dead already. It's not like the stakes are particularly high," she said, her eyes flickering to the side. She didn't even sound like she was convincing herself on that point.

"Don't be stupid." I chided her. "And anyway, this is an emergency. I really doubt they're going to punish us. Hell, we can say we smelled it from outside and came in to investigate, if you want!"

"That's--" She cut herself off, biting her tongue. "That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"If we tell them about this," she said, her tone slow and deliberate, "then at bare minimum, they're going to end up cancelling this whole event. You realize that, don't you? Especially with what already happened to Ophelia."

"So what if they do? That's not..."

But then I stopped, the words dying in my throat.

Because it was important. If this caused a big fuss, and we all ended up being sent home... Then Ran and I would never have a chance to speak with Samium. And based on what Autonoe had told me in her letter and Neferuaten had basically confirmed, if we didn't speak to him today, there might never be another chance. And that was the optimistic version - where I was right instead of Kamrusepa, and they didn't never let us back in on account of being a security risk.

I gulped, my breathing growing heavier, an anxious knot forming in my gut.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are, Su," Kam said, her gaze focused. "I know there's something you need to do here, that you've been fretting about all week, especially in the last couple of days. Something important."

I didn't say anything, looking at the floor.

"Has it occurred to you," she went on, "that you might not be the only person that applies to?"

My eyes widened in surprise, and I turned back to regard her. Even though she was obviously still worked up, there was a strange determination in her eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago.

No, determination was the wrong word. This was an expression I should have recognized at once, because I'd seen it on myself so many times in the past decade that I couldn't even begin to count.

Desperation.

What's she talking about...?

There was no time to think about it. And even if it felt like a horrible, horrible idea, she was right. I couldn't destroy this chance.

Not for anything.

"...what could we even do?" I asked, after a moment had passed. All the conviction from a moment ago gone. "We've moved stuff around, left our fingerprints here. And now they probably will do a proper investigation." I twisted my brow in pained worry. "We can't just leave now and say nothing about it. They'll know. And on the off chance this is a murder, somehow..."

Kam closed her eyes for a moment, going very still. "Here's what we'll do," she said. "You go back outside. Tell Theo and the others I got impatient and went to find another set of facilities, and will be back in a moment. I'll stay for a few minutes and do a little cleaning up here."

"How?" I asked. "You won't be able to use the Power. Not without them knowing."

"I won't need to. We haven't touched much, thanks for your... Diligence, so it should be easy to wipe off the prints," she continued. "As for the note, I'll take that with me. Then, when the main event is all wrapped up this evening and we've both finished what we need to do, I'll make some excuse to come back up here. Then I'll come back down and tell everyone I found it inserted half-way into the bookshelf. That way, this'll still be drawn to everyone's attention sooner rather than later."

"But they might suspect you," I said. "If there are no other witnesses..."

"That won't happen," she said, with what felt like inappropriate confidence. "Don't worry. I'll find a way to make it all work."

My heart was racing. This whole notion gave me a sense of dread, like I was stepping out in front of a tram line. That there must have been a better, more rational thing to do. But we were already so short on time. I didn't have time to debate it, to come up with a laundry list of problems to pick away at until the solution felt refined enough, like I normally would. It was do or die.

"U-Uh," I said, my voice shaking. "Alright... I'll, uh. I'll go, then."

"Mm," she nodded firmly. "Don't worry. I'll be along quickly. Just try to stay composed when you're talking to everyone."

"Yeah," I said, breathless. "Can you-- Will you really be able to take care of this?"

"Yes, Su," she insisted. "It'll all be fine. Just go."

It didn't feel like it would all be fine, but nevertheless, I went. Back through the room, out through the bookcase, back to the lamplit hall. Trying desperately to calm myself down.

There's a dead body.

There's a dead body, and you're going to just ignore it. Because it might cause too much of a fuss.

This is such a bad idea!