Chapter 7: Dabbling |
All spellcraft performed outside of the Union is a crime under Drakthiss law. The Union has the authority to investigate all suspected illegal uses of magic and may draw on local guards in both investigations and arrests. Punishments however must be decided by a council of both Guild of Law and Union representatives along with a neutral representative from among the nobility.
Magic and Imperial Law Volume IV
They returned to the manor and Solomon let himself out of the carriage. He watched as the servants got out of their wagons with bundles under their arms. Dresses, tools, books, trinkets, it was a fair mix of everything. There were two crates and a barrel of foodstuffs that needed to be unloaded as well, but most of what he’d ordered would be delivered to the manor over the next week.
Aside from having his letters sent out, putting in orders, and meeting the priest in town he’d also left a note with the mayor, requesting that he visit the manor. He’d been disappointed that he wasn’t in his office. He had a number of questions about the nearby forest and mine and believed the mayor would be the best man to ask.
He walked inside, pushing the door open. Two servants had stayed behind so the parlor still had a fire burning. He walked toward it, stripping off his coat, and sat down in one of his uncle's old, worn-in, leather chairs. His arms and shoulders ached from cleaning the library and his feet were sore from walking on the rough cobblestone streets.
He closed his eyes. His body was tired, but his mind was moving quickly, assessing everything he’d learned and seen. They were unused to nobility of any kind in Moonfallow, particularly a name such as his. He hadn’t been able to find any signs of his uncle’s former servants or anyone who had spoken directly to him. The town was not in a good state either. The streets weren’t properly cared for and a number of public buildings were falling apart. That was unacceptable to him now that it was considered part of his domain.
There was also the matter of the missing girls. He’d need to go and inspect the guard and their methods himself, but he wanted to meet with the Mayor first to hear his explanation. He also wanted to review the mayor’s books. Aside from needing to know why things were in such disrepair there should be a portion of the people’s taxes set aside for the master of Moonfallow, which now meant him. He didn’t necessarily need the money right that instant, but he did need to know where it was.
He summarized everything in his mind, deciding which to tackle first and when he was done he heard a servant’s approach.
“T-tea sir?” asked Felicity.
“Yes please, could you leave the tray? I prefer to pour it myself.” he lied.
She curtsied, nearly losing the tea kettle, but managing to rebalance and place it on the small table in front of him. He poured himself a cup and mixed in a bit of honey and nothing else, sipping it as he listened to servants all settle back in around the house. Melissa stopped by with a small plate of sandwiches for him. He ate two and, feeling fortified, decided to make his way back to the library to see how much more he could clear out before he slept.
…
Solomon was awoken by a terrible scream and the sounds of commotion near his room. He pushed himself from his bed and grabbed his walking stick, brandishing it like a weapon as he carefully opened his door. He saw no one outside of it, and so crept quietly down the hall toward the sound. He eventually reached the servant’s quarters where he saw all of the maids gathered and Barnabus holding a hammer loosely in his hand.
He stopped sneaking and walked toward them.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
The servants jumped as they heard him.
“Sir!” said Barnabus, bowing slightly, the girls all curtsying next to him.
“Don’t bother with that. Answer my question.”
“One of the maids, Felicity, was having a nightmare,” said Nelda.
He frowned. It sounded like the girl was being attacked, not having a simple nightmare.
“Is she alright?”
A few of the maids blinked, as if surprised by the question.
“She seems to have calmed down now sir,” answered Melissa.
He nodded, then remembered how tired Felicity had seemed. “Are these nightmares a common occurrence?” he asked.
The servants exchanged glances. He got the impression they didn’t want to get her in trouble. Still, that answered his question anyway.
He shook his head. “Go back to bed everyone. You may start your duties an hour later tomorrow. Please let those not here know as well.”
They bowed or curtsied and Solomon made his way back to his room, absently twirling his walking stick as he thought of the volk grimoire he had sitting in his desk.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
…
The next day Solomon made his way out onto the grounds of the manor. He’d done a thorough inspection of everything on the inside of it, but there was quite a bit more to see. He approached the stable first, finding Duncan sitting in front of it smoking a hand rolled cigarette. The stablemaster was old, with a bald head covered in a brown cap and massive gray sideburns. His eyes were hazel, and consistently hidden behind a discerning squint.
Solomon approached him.
“Eh?” He said, dropping some ash onto the dirt in front of him.
“How is the stable?”
“S’alrigh. Loose stones and old wood need replacin soon.”
“And how’re the horses?”
“Anxious. New place. New smells. They’ll settle.”
Solomon nodded; that all made sense to him. “How’s Regis doing?”
“Bit stupid. Works hard though. Horses like him.”
Solomon nodded. That was about the understanding he’d gained from his limited interactions with the boy.
“Have you seen Poth?”
The man pointed his cigarette toward the back of the manor. Solomon nodded to him and started walking that way. Duncan was an interesting man. He never worried much about the formality that was expected of him. He’d been meant to retire a few times, but always showed back up to work. Solomon wasn’t sure he needed two different men handling the five horses they had, but considering Duncan’s age it made sense to have a backup ready.
He looked out at what had been the garden. He didn’t envy Poth, the gardener, his work. The entire garden was a wild mess of vines, bushes, weeds, and flowers. There had clearly been some real work done to it at some point, but years of neglect had made it wild and unkempt. It seemed severe even for the amount of time Victor had been dead. Perhaps the previous staff had stopped caring about it long before then.
Around the corner Solomon saw Poth hacking violently at a bush with an axe. He had already managed to make good progress in the area directly around the garden shed and the small cottage attached to it. It was a privilege of the stable workers and gardeners that they were allowed their own small domiciles, at least that’s how it was talked about. He’d heard more than one maid comment on the fact that it was simply to keep their smells away from the main house though.
Poth was a short, stout man, with a rough beard, thick eyebrows, and a shaved head. He was often compared to a dwarf, and Solomon didn’t find that to be an unfair comparison, though perhaps an unkind one. Solomon waited for him to finish hacking at the bush before waving his walking stick to draw his attention.
Poth saw him, tossed the axe to the side, and bowed, keeping his eyes from reaching him.
“Sorry the garden’s not up to snuff yet, sir.” He said in a voice that was so high it always surprised Solomon.
“That’s fine. I’m impressed you’ve already made so much progress after only two days. If you’d like I can see if any of the maids would want to volunteer to help? I could even hire some workers from Moonfallow if you needed it.”
He scratched his beard a bit nervously, as if afraid. From what Solomon understood he’d volunteered immediately to be among the servants he brought with him. He hadn’t heard why, but he wondered if he’d been the victim of some overzealous punishments.
“I think I’d like to get a feel for what’s needed before anyone else gets involved, my lord.”
“Understood. I didn’t just come out here to check on your progress though.”
“Oh? What can I help with, sir?”
“I was going through some of my Uncle’s records I managed to find, and he mentioned growing some strange things on the property. I was wondering if you could point them out to me?” It was a bit of a leap. His uncle didn’t mention anything of the sort in the Volk magic grimoire, but the man didn’t like to leave his manor, so it would make sense if he kept materials on hand.
“I have seen some odd mixes of things here and there. Anything in particular?”
“Mandrake, mugwort, foxglove, moonwort, and wormwood are some of what he mentioned specifically.” Those corresponded to what he considered the most interesting of the volk magic spells. Though he had one in particular in mind.
He frowned. “Your Uncle must’ve kept good notes. There are some odd patches of all of those scattered around… It’s strange though, a lot of them really have no business growing and surviving the way they have.”
“Show me,” said Solomon.
Poth nodded and began to lead him through the garden, careful to take him through the least overgrown path. It was appreciated, but even with that consideration it was a dirty and uncomfortable walk for him.
They reached the first patch, which to Solomon simply looked like a patch of green.
“Here’s the mandrakes and the moonwort.”
“Can you pull them for me?”
“Uh, certainly sir." The gardener bent down and pulled out one by the root with ease, but the other he dug around the base of with his axe for a moment before he was able to drag it out. It looked as if he had yanked a shrunken babe from the ground.
“Which is which?”
“This one,” he said pointing to the ugly shrunken fetus with leaves at the top, “is the mandrake. The other is the moonwort.”
Solomon nodded. After that they went from plant to plant with Poth collecting various samples for him after he showed him where everything was. When he was done they put all the samples into a canvas bag.
“Thank you Poth. As you continue your work, try to save some of these plants if you could.”
“Certainly sir. I want to figure out how they’re all growing together here anyway. Should be impossible. There’s even some mint in one corner that somehow hasn’t overtaken the whole place.”
He nodded, his own guess being magic of some kind, and walked back into the manor. He ignored the servants as he walked inside as they seemed busy with the work they were doing, and if he made it a habit to greet them every time he passed by it would quickly become exhausting for everyone.
He reached his room and placed the canvas bag on his desk. He reached inside and pulled out the mandrake root, taking another look at it. He could feel the temperature of the room drop. He’d taken off his coat when he’d first gotten inside, but he found himself putting it back on in the room. There had been odd cold drafts throughout the mansion since the first day they’d arrived. So far Barnabus and his brother Bart hadn’t found any reason for it.
He grabbed a separate bag that already had a bowl and a jar of milk inside it. He slipped the mandrake root into it and went to his door. Carefully, he opened it, and walked down the hall until he reached the servant quarters. As it was midday, there was no one there. He crept into Felicity’s room, and closed the door.
Once inside he kneeled on the floor by the side of her bed and drew each of the ingredients from the bag. He placed the bowl down first, then opened the jar and poured the fresh milk inside. He then took a small sewing needle and pricked the tip of his pointer finger. He drew that finger across the throat of the mandrake root, giving it the appearance of having its throat slit, and carefully placed it within the bowl of milk. He then gently pushed it under the bed.
He felt a wave of something akin to satisfaction wash over him as he stood up. He assumed it was in his head and he went to the door. He listened for a moment, and when he was sure no one was there, he slipped out and made his way quickly back to the main hall. He’d had a few excuses in his mind for if he was caught, but luckily they hadn’t come into play.
He made his way to the library to continue clearing it. He wouldn’t know until the next day if his spell had been successful.
