The end of the beginning...
31st October, 1928
In her letter, Marilena directed Amon to the private entrance to her library. The hedge shadowed the stout, iron-banded oak door from the thin light of the waning moon quite thoroughly. The clock had not yet struck 10 when there was a soft knock.
Marilena rose smoothly, and opened the door. "Good evening... Amon, I presume?" she asked him in her soft Russian accent.
The man was dressed in a dark, high collared over coat and a wide brimmed hat. He nodded to her, stark white hair shifting with the movement. "You presume correctly, madame."
She stepped back from the door a bit into the soft lamp light, allowing him to enter. "Welcome. Please do come in." She could not get a very good look look at his features, as his hat almost completely hid his face. His hands were the only indication she had of his unusual paleness. He entered and paused a moment to take a look at his surroundings. Marilena could feel something rather unsettling about the fellow, something dark that she could not quite put a finger on. She flicked her gaze over him, measuringly, and closed the door behind him.
They stood a moment in the small foyer. The floor was dark ceramic tile, the walls of dark wood and plaster, plaster and beam ceiling... simple, elegant, not the least bit fussy. "This way, please," Marilena said, and led him down a carpeted hall, which opened into her vast library. Amon nodded again, and followed a pace behind her, his steps measured, almost hypnotic.
The walls were built in entirely with bookcases reaching the 16' to the ceiling. Ladders on rails attached to the bookcases, provided access to all the books. Freestanding shelves, and glass-fronted cases filled with scrollcases plain and ornate, artefacts, baubles, specimens in jars, Egyptian statues, canopic jars, all manner of oddities filled the library. The floor was a fine mosaic of small tiles in strange patterns. A large mahogany writing desk sat near the center of the library, with paths through the stacks radiating outward like spokes, and Amon noticed that there were no windows, and no fireplace.
"May I take your coat, sir?" Marilena smiled faintly, for the first time, and inclined her head slightly.
"No, I believe I will wear it a moment longer."
She nodded once, and offered him a seat at the desk. He settled down into the offered chair and rested his pale hand lightly on the arm. The Russian did not seem to notice the unsettling aura that emanated from her gentleman caller, turning and going to a glass-fronted case, whose door she deftly moved aside. With spare, precise motions, she withdrew one ornate scroll case from the cabinet, and slid the door back into place, returning to the desk.
"It was... quite the hunt. I had even begun to wonder if, perhaps, you were simply testing me, making something up, and having me scour the region for any scrap of information... but. I found a small chapel in Moldavia. The priests there were..." she smiled a little, "... hesitant. Eventually, one young friar was... influenced." Marilena chuckled dryly.
"Such a find is hard to come by. I have encountered some... resistance in it's acquiring."
Marilena uncapped the scroll case, then set it down and slowly slid on a pair of gloves of thin, white cotton which she picked up from the desk. "Indeed." She flicked her green-eyed gaze over her shadowy visitor, then the barest hint of a smile ghosted her soft lips. "Young men are the same, no matter where you are."
"Some truths are universal I suppose," Amon agreed.
Marilena chuckled again and slipped a sheaf of crackling old pages out of the case, setting the jeweled canister to one side. She slowly and carefully unrolled the pages, setting lumps of glass with scarabs captured inside on the corners, to weight the scrolls, holding them open. Marilena flicks her gaze over him again, one corner of her mouth raising in a smirk. "I have difficulty with the dialect... but here..." she motions with a gloved finger, "Dracul... Dragon."
The pages were dark with age, and the ink was a rusty brown colour. Amon sat forward in his chair, Marilena could feel his eyes studying the pages with intensity as she pointed out passage after passage with her gloved hands, carefully not touching the parchment.
"There are mentions of rites... rituals Knights would perform to strengthen themselves for battle... Here is mention of way to extract more nutrition from food consumed... and here... harnessing rage... great deal of talk about beasts Knights of order might keep..."
Amon nodded slowly, lifted his head a little, and Marilena noticed a flash of gold from beneath the brim of his hat. "Quite a find indeed," he murmured.
Marilena watched him with casual intensity. "So, it fits what you seek, yes?" She paused. "Is more... another scroll talks about history of Order... That one.. that was great deal of influence upon young priest to obtain. Strange appetites, Carpathians..." She mused idly, masking her scrutiny of the gentleman sitting before her. She watched him quite closely, wanting to see how he would react to her discovery. A quiet chuckle and a pale finger traced the lines of wood work on the arm of the chair. "Tell me, what sort of appetite would that be?"
Marilena moved with languid grace as she settled her hips back against the desk. "I would say I do not wish to shock you, but all the talk of blood rites in these scrolls... I wonder what you might find shocking," Marilena mused, her eyes warming with recollection.
"Very little," came the reply. "Impressed by even less. and to be frank, that you've found this scroll.." He motioned to the weighted papers on the desk, "is quite impressive."
Marilena regarded him with a touch of satisfaction. "Impressive enough to permit researcher to ask a few questions of client, perhaps?"
"Perhaps. You may ask, but I reserve a right to not answer."
"Of course," she replied with a veiled smile. "I am familiar with workings of blood magicks, but such complicated rites for so simple a purpose as mastery over beasts? It seems a bit... mmm... overly complicated. Surely there are easier ways to make docile even most feral of creatures?"
"It would depend on the manor of creature. Some beasts are not so easily caged by mere iron and chain."
Marilena arched a brow in curiousity. "I see... and this rite, here," she carefully moved the glass weights and turned to another page, "are there not chemicals one can use to avoid sleep?"
"Not that has been found," he stated, matter of factly. Amon changed the topic. "You have an appreciation for the occult my dear, is it not possible that there are things far beyond our mortal ilk that stalk this world?"
Marilena regarded him over her shoulder, with a slight, mysterious smile toying at her lips. "Many things beyond our mortal ilk, sir." Her pause before and stress upon the word was subtle, but spoke volumes. She turned back to face him, leaning against the desk, casually. "Do you not trust my discretion, sir?"
"With some things."
"But, not identity?" Marilena motioned a gloved hand towards the hat, indicating his hidden visage. "I assume you come to me because of my reputation, Amon..."
"Ah, for that there is a price, madame."
"Ah," she said, warming, "and now, for negotiation..."
"Yes. There is much to be negotiated," Amon said, softly.
Marilena slipped her gloves off, laying them aside gently, and raised a hand, palm towards him, almost as if she were feeling his aura. "You want scrolls, that much is certain... tell me what else you want."
"An apprentice of sorts. I believe that there is much we can teach each other."
Marilena tipped her head slightly, regarding him. "You have my attention. Tell me more."
"I take you as my protégé until I deem you knowledgeable enough to survive. In exchange I will share with you what I have learned and you will do the same. However... once you have agreed, there is no turning back."
Everything according to her plan. Her information was confirmed, and she would not even have to seduce him. Marilena suppressed the slight disappointment at that thought and nodded. "And your offer? What will you teach me?"
He paused a moment, seeming to consider this then leaned forward in his chair. White hair drifted down from the shadows of his hat. "More than any mortal has a right to know."
Marilena motioned to the shelves, stacks, cases, stifling a chuckle, and arching a brow.
"This?" he asked, almost snorting. "Trinkets. Impressive, but trinkets none the less." He placed a pale hand lightly on the parchment, and did not notice her slight frown of disapproval at his touching the aged parchment with bare hands. "This, however... is indeed something entirely different." Marilena smiled, true warmth touching her expression for the first time, and nodded once. "But only a small piece of the puzzle," he finished.
Marilena regarded his pale hand and placed her palm towards him again, her eyes narrowing slightly, measuringly. She thought of the long conversation with her beloved matriarch. Did Amon know she knew exactly what she was doing? She had to play it carefully. "Are you..." She hesitated a moment, and looked as if she might draw back her hand.
Again the flash of gold beneath the hat as he seemed to regard her. "Will you accept my offer?"
Marilena flicked her gaze over him again, casually studying him, and let the silence between them grow. "Yes," she said, giving him the impression of a sudden decision, and a steeled certainty. He feigned not to notice the slight blush that came to her cheek, and the flutter of her heart as she felt a flash of nervous fear which she immediately smothered. She could feel his smile as he withdrew his hand and sat back, his long, pale fingers forming a steeple. "Good..."
In her letter, Marilena directed Amon to the private entrance to her library. The hedge shadowed the stout, iron-banded oak door from the thin light of the waning moon quite thoroughly. The clock had not yet struck 10 when there was a soft knock.
Marilena rose smoothly, and opened the door. "Good evening... Amon, I presume?" she asked him in her soft Russian accent.
The man was dressed in a dark, high collared over coat and a wide brimmed hat. He nodded to her, stark white hair shifting with the movement. "You presume correctly, madame."
She stepped back from the door a bit into the soft lamp light, allowing him to enter. "Welcome. Please do come in." She could not get a very good look look at his features, as his hat almost completely hid his face. His hands were the only indication she had of his unusual paleness. He entered and paused a moment to take a look at his surroundings. Marilena could feel something rather unsettling about the fellow, something dark that she could not quite put a finger on. She flicked her gaze over him, measuringly, and closed the door behind him.
They stood a moment in the small foyer. The floor was dark ceramic tile, the walls of dark wood and plaster, plaster and beam ceiling... simple, elegant, not the least bit fussy. "This way, please," Marilena said, and led him down a carpeted hall, which opened into her vast library. Amon nodded again, and followed a pace behind her, his steps measured, almost hypnotic.
The walls were built in entirely with bookcases reaching the 16' to the ceiling. Ladders on rails attached to the bookcases, provided access to all the books. Freestanding shelves, and glass-fronted cases filled with scrollcases plain and ornate, artefacts, baubles, specimens in jars, Egyptian statues, canopic jars, all manner of oddities filled the library. The floor was a fine mosaic of small tiles in strange patterns. A large mahogany writing desk sat near the center of the library, with paths through the stacks radiating outward like spokes, and Amon noticed that there were no windows, and no fireplace.
"May I take your coat, sir?" Marilena smiled faintly, for the first time, and inclined her head slightly.
"No, I believe I will wear it a moment longer."
She nodded once, and offered him a seat at the desk. He settled down into the offered chair and rested his pale hand lightly on the arm. The Russian did not seem to notice the unsettling aura that emanated from her gentleman caller, turning and going to a glass-fronted case, whose door she deftly moved aside. With spare, precise motions, she withdrew one ornate scroll case from the cabinet, and slid the door back into place, returning to the desk.
"It was... quite the hunt. I had even begun to wonder if, perhaps, you were simply testing me, making something up, and having me scour the region for any scrap of information... but. I found a small chapel in Moldavia. The priests there were..." she smiled a little, "... hesitant. Eventually, one young friar was... influenced." Marilena chuckled dryly.
"Such a find is hard to come by. I have encountered some... resistance in it's acquiring."
Marilena uncapped the scroll case, then set it down and slowly slid on a pair of gloves of thin, white cotton which she picked up from the desk. "Indeed." She flicked her green-eyed gaze over her shadowy visitor, then the barest hint of a smile ghosted her soft lips. "Young men are the same, no matter where you are."
"Some truths are universal I suppose," Amon agreed.
Marilena chuckled again and slipped a sheaf of crackling old pages out of the case, setting the jeweled canister to one side. She slowly and carefully unrolled the pages, setting lumps of glass with scarabs captured inside on the corners, to weight the scrolls, holding them open. Marilena flicks her gaze over him again, one corner of her mouth raising in a smirk. "I have difficulty with the dialect... but here..." she motions with a gloved finger, "Dracul... Dragon."
The pages were dark with age, and the ink was a rusty brown colour. Amon sat forward in his chair, Marilena could feel his eyes studying the pages with intensity as she pointed out passage after passage with her gloved hands, carefully not touching the parchment.
"There are mentions of rites... rituals Knights would perform to strengthen themselves for battle... Here is mention of way to extract more nutrition from food consumed... and here... harnessing rage... great deal of talk about beasts Knights of order might keep..."
Amon nodded slowly, lifted his head a little, and Marilena noticed a flash of gold from beneath the brim of his hat. "Quite a find indeed," he murmured.
Marilena watched him with casual intensity. "So, it fits what you seek, yes?" She paused. "Is more... another scroll talks about history of Order... That one.. that was great deal of influence upon young priest to obtain. Strange appetites, Carpathians..." She mused idly, masking her scrutiny of the gentleman sitting before her. She watched him quite closely, wanting to see how he would react to her discovery. A quiet chuckle and a pale finger traced the lines of wood work on the arm of the chair. "Tell me, what sort of appetite would that be?"
Marilena moved with languid grace as she settled her hips back against the desk. "I would say I do not wish to shock you, but all the talk of blood rites in these scrolls... I wonder what you might find shocking," Marilena mused, her eyes warming with recollection.
"Very little," came the reply. "Impressed by even less. and to be frank, that you've found this scroll.." He motioned to the weighted papers on the desk, "is quite impressive."
Marilena regarded him with a touch of satisfaction. "Impressive enough to permit researcher to ask a few questions of client, perhaps?"
"Perhaps. You may ask, but I reserve a right to not answer."
"Of course," she replied with a veiled smile. "I am familiar with workings of blood magicks, but such complicated rites for so simple a purpose as mastery over beasts? It seems a bit... mmm... overly complicated. Surely there are easier ways to make docile even most feral of creatures?"
"It would depend on the manor of creature. Some beasts are not so easily caged by mere iron and chain."
Marilena arched a brow in curiousity. "I see... and this rite, here," she carefully moved the glass weights and turned to another page, "are there not chemicals one can use to avoid sleep?"
"Not that has been found," he stated, matter of factly. Amon changed the topic. "You have an appreciation for the occult my dear, is it not possible that there are things far beyond our mortal ilk that stalk this world?"
Marilena regarded him over her shoulder, with a slight, mysterious smile toying at her lips. "Many things beyond our mortal ilk, sir." Her pause before and stress upon the word was subtle, but spoke volumes. She turned back to face him, leaning against the desk, casually. "Do you not trust my discretion, sir?"
"With some things."
"But, not identity?" Marilena motioned a gloved hand towards the hat, indicating his hidden visage. "I assume you come to me because of my reputation, Amon..."
"Ah, for that there is a price, madame."
"Ah," she said, warming, "and now, for negotiation..."
"Yes. There is much to be negotiated," Amon said, softly.
Marilena slipped her gloves off, laying them aside gently, and raised a hand, palm towards him, almost as if she were feeling his aura. "You want scrolls, that much is certain... tell me what else you want."
"An apprentice of sorts. I believe that there is much we can teach each other."
Marilena tipped her head slightly, regarding him. "You have my attention. Tell me more."
"I take you as my protégé until I deem you knowledgeable enough to survive. In exchange I will share with you what I have learned and you will do the same. However... once you have agreed, there is no turning back."
Everything according to her plan. Her information was confirmed, and she would not even have to seduce him. Marilena suppressed the slight disappointment at that thought and nodded. "And your offer? What will you teach me?"
He paused a moment, seeming to consider this then leaned forward in his chair. White hair drifted down from the shadows of his hat. "More than any mortal has a right to know."
Marilena motioned to the shelves, stacks, cases, stifling a chuckle, and arching a brow.
"This?" he asked, almost snorting. "Trinkets. Impressive, but trinkets none the less." He placed a pale hand lightly on the parchment, and did not notice her slight frown of disapproval at his touching the aged parchment with bare hands. "This, however... is indeed something entirely different." Marilena smiled, true warmth touching her expression for the first time, and nodded once. "But only a small piece of the puzzle," he finished.
Marilena regarded his pale hand and placed her palm towards him again, her eyes narrowing slightly, measuringly. She thought of the long conversation with her beloved matriarch. Did Amon know she knew exactly what she was doing? She had to play it carefully. "Are you..." She hesitated a moment, and looked as if she might draw back her hand.
Again the flash of gold beneath the hat as he seemed to regard her. "Will you accept my offer?"
Marilena flicked her gaze over him again, casually studying him, and let the silence between them grow. "Yes," she said, giving him the impression of a sudden decision, and a steeled certainty. He feigned not to notice the slight blush that came to her cheek, and the flutter of her heart as she felt a flash of nervous fear which she immediately smothered. She could feel his smile as he withdrew his hand and sat back, his long, pale fingers forming a steeple. "Good..."