[Odyleon]

The clerk himself had long stopped trying to second-guess Masters and Mistresses of any kind, and left it at that. Not being an overly curious person, he had never felt the urge to actually take a peek into the box, partly out of honesty and partly because he knew Ikos well enough to fear triggering a curse, should anyone other than the intended recipient unwrap the package.

The streets of Vers were vibrant and rich with activity and art, as usual, though much more quiet in the Hygh District than in the rest of the town. The surroundings of the Imaden, framed by lines of ancient trees that seemed to never have been saplings, reflected the vicinity of the school, and respected the learning that took place within. The people who walked by would never raise their voices any louder than strictly necessary, and the street performers kept their distance from the place altogether.

Lohrtar did, therefore, enjoy some privacy as he unsealed the package that Elorie had left for him. It did not take him long to figure out the content. If Ikos could be compared to swordsmanship, what the Silrosian had sent him was a little arsenal of sharp, tested blades. Drawing material, mostly, though considerably higher-quality than anything Lohrtar had employed so far. Several glass pots of colored ink, coming in most basic tints, and professional pens and brushes to put them to good use. The paper itself – paper, not rough parchment, and with a hint of glossiness on its surface – came straight from Medonia, pretty much the best an artist could wish for.

And there was a letter, written in the same ethereal handwriting as the instructions on the envelope. The Mistress had caressed the paper rather than written on it.

Dear Lohrtar,

if you are reading this letter, it means that my wish has come true, albeit later than I had hoped, or anticipated. Tomorrow, I must leave the town of Vers and set out to my homeland, possibly never to return to Sheria. It is unlikely that I will ever be granted another Fellowship at the Imaden, not after the stones I tried to turn in Vers. I was not scheduled to leave until three cycles from now, but all of the sudden "bureaucratic issues" have arisen that have led the management to kindly ask me to leave.

And thus, I tried and failed.

Granted, I was never fully honest to them. Even before I set foot in Vers, I already had further motives for coming here than just teaching as a guest at the Imaden. I first heard of that item from the mouth of a fellow Ikonomancer who claimed to have been one of Deirdre Lorelei's first students. And judging by his skill, I have no reason to not believe his words.

Oliver was his name. He told me of his months as Deirdre's apprentice, when she was still refining the art, herself learning notions and immediately passing them down to her students. He was one of the select few people to ever glance at Deirdre's journal. An unpublished work that the Archmage bore no love to. More than once was she on the verge of destroying it with her own hands – I can only imagine the painful memories it evoked in her soul.

She probably never disposed of it, though. Deirdre is a being of creation, not destruction; burning books is as foreign to her nature as hunting is to a dove's. Oliver Plotinus was certain that the journal still existed when he left her tutelage; but that she dreaded even being in the same room as that item in the final brightenings. Unlikely, therefore, that she might have brought it with her in her exile.

The last place where the journal was spotted is in Deirdre's former workplace, a shoppe called Width of a Circle. The Archmagess used to own the place, a popular store for enchanted trinkets; it made her good money. She gave her first Ikos lessons in the basement of that building, and the shoppe even continued its activity for a short while after Julos' edict forced her to leave with haste.

A few months later, however, the unexpected happened again, and Vers was attacked by a novel monstrosity, an animated statue of the god Orod that some crazed Mage unleashed upon the town. It slaughtered dozens of people after it stepped into the Arcane shoppe, picked up an enchanted sword and shield and killed the clerk and anyone else who happened to be nearby. It was damaged and driven off the town, eventually, but not before dealing heavy damage to the town. The memory of the attack is still burning in the heart of most Versians.

The Width of a Circle was shut down, forever. A disgusting person by the name of Aeron Mordeth has opened a similar business elsewhere, but the entrance of the first shoppe was bolted and the entire area is still largely avoided by the populace. They say the place is haunted, but by what I cannot say. My investigations on the matter of Ikos must have angered the ruling elite of Vers, for the Thane insists in his policy of getting the favor of the Church, and sees Ikos as a thorn in his side.

Lohrtar, you must recover Deirdre's journal from that place, if it still exists. You must succeed where I failed. Unlike me, you are just another citizen, a nameless stranger in a city of Magi. I know you will try – none among my students ever stroke me with the brush of will and ambition than you did. What you do with the journal, if you manage to find it, is unimportant. What I ask of you, if you find it and it contains what I hope it does – the proof that Ikos is not heresy – is that you spread this knowledge to the masses. The people must know that our hearts lie in the right place.

Good... luck? Is that what the world calls it? I'd rather say, may you shape a future of light, Lohrtar.

Yours,
Elorie Siluvanade