314: Mysterious artifact (part 2)

Mysterious artifact (part 2)

4Her heart still raced as she withdrew her thumb from her mouth, her throat parched with a desire that seemed to belong only to her. For Egon had already refocused his attention on the box, taking it from beneath his arm and following her lead, grazing his thumb along its edge.

The box responded quite differently this time, briefly shining brightly before clicking open with a swift, almost flower-like bloom. At its center lay a perfectly preserved piece of parchment that clearly did not belong to their era.

She anticipated him passing her the box so he could unroll the small parchment, but Egon remained frozen and detached.

He is truly beside himself...

Adela took a deep breath and reached out, placing a loving hand on her husband's forearm, successfully bringing his distant, crimson eyes back to the present.

"This is your family heirloom. It's something your father treasured and kept hidden. Don't you want to see what it is?"

Anger flickered in Egon's eyes. "If it weren't for that cursed fire, I would have never found it."

Unlike her husband, Adela wasn't entirely convinced of that. It was the tragedies befalling her late in-laws that delayed the passing of this heirloom, Egon's father likely intended to hand it down to his son when the time was right.

"I can leave you alone to read it if you'd prefer," she suggested when he showed no sign of unwrapping the parchment.

He scoffed.

"You're the one who had a dream from the beyond about this. Maybe I should give you some privacy so you can read it on your own," he retorted with a sarcasm that wasn't directed at her.

"...How about we read it together, then?" 

Half-heartedly, his gloved hands carefully removed the letter from the box and tucked the box under his arm once more before unfolding the small parchment. The letter was brief and the language used wasn't contemporary Emorian.

Egon frowned down at Adela.

"Can you read this?"

She glanced up from the letter to his face, her expression one of reserved aloofness. She was indeed able to read it, but it was a secret between the Archduke and his youngest daughter.

Like everything else associated with the fallen Empire. The regime that had repressed her ancestors was supposed to have been erased from history, an order enforced by her uncle who had issued a decree punishable by death for those who dared to utter the name of the fallen Empire.

"Can you read the language of the fallen Empire?" She asked with a cautious tone.

He rolled his red eyes, growing impatient.

"Tell me that you can read it, Adelaide."

"I can try," she replied evasively. "Can you?"

He nodded and revealed a secret smile. "Andreas forced me to learn it," he admitted, handing the letter to her. "Read it."

Holding the letter between them, she began to read the sentences written from right to left, the opposite of Emorian.

/Atticus,

Your tree in Lanark has borne fruit. I must come to see it. Perhaps I will./

"What does it say?" Egon requested when her hand slightly trembled.

She looked up at him, her expression startled, while he remained authentically composed.

"It is addressed to your father, inquiring about a-a tree in Lanark," she stammered, her voice quivering. "You understand the significance of this, right?"

"Yes," he replied calmly.

This tiny parchment, with its concise message, possessed the potential to upheave the entire state of affairs in Emoria.

"A letter from the last Emperor?" Adela's tone was filled with trepidation.

Was he still alive?

Egon's bronze complexion turned red.

"No. This letter must have been written by Andreas to my father."

Adela took a deep breath, attempting to calm her racing heart. She felt conflicted knowing she shouldn't feel relieved by her husband's interpretation of the sender's identity, yet she couldn't help it.

Egon chuckled, a sound Adela had sorely missed, and her eyes swiftly found his face.

"You look guilty," he remarked.

Feeling her ears and neck grow warmer under his gaze which gradually hardened again, she tried to reflect as quickly as possible. Shouldn't the possibility of her husband having a living family member take precedence over politics right now?

"...How can you be so sure? What if it was really your grandfather?" She asked, her tone now genuinely hopeful. But her hopeful words only elicited a harsher look from him.

"Of all people to make that assumption. Wasn't the Archduke's manor full of artwork of him slaying the last Emperor?"

Adela tugged at her back muscles to suppress the shudder that threatened to overtake her. She couldn't fathom how difficult it must have been for him to walk through the halls filled with glorified depictions of his grandfather's death.

Her shoulders slumped as she began, "Your grandfather—"

"Stop calling him that," he interrupted sternly. "That person doesn't exist in my life or my thoughts." He briefly glanced at the sun in the sky before returning his gaze to her. "Do you have any other business here?"

A sense of gloom settled upon her. Her inability to open the box while he had managed to do so alone made it clear that Egon had a direct connection to the person who had sent it. The matter was far more serious than he was dismissing it to be.

"I had that dream for a reason," she insisted.

He gave her a flat look. "It's just a coincidence."

She stared at him for a long moment, incredulous. Was he being serious?

"…Are we supposed to just pretend this never happened too?" she asked, her tone sharper than intended.

When he failed to respond or show any sign of being affected, she decided to follow his suggestion.

"You were right earlier; perhaps I was the one who had the dream for a reason."

She handed the letter back to him and turned on her heels, heading back the way they had come.

"Where to now?" he asked from behind, his tone exasperated.

"Andreas von Conradie," she replied in a low voice, knowing he would hear her. "And then Kaiser de Lanark."

One of these two, or better yet, both, ought to take Adela seriously and give her some answers.

pqdm.com