It's Book Club

At the academy, Arno fastidiously took down notes as his history professor ominously recited adages from the last Holy War. He wrote down what she said word for word with his black-tipped fountain pen.

“Beware the Starless Night, for the Shadows shall come and reap you. What is this a reference to?” The professor asked in her black and brown academic regalia.

A girl with light blonde hair raised her hand before answering. “The Night of Fallen Stars.”

The professor pointed her stick at the girl, impressed by her quick answer. “Correct. The Last Great War, most commonly known as the Sixth Holy Crusade, was a military expedition led by disciples of the Church and the Kingdom’s Holy Knights to eliminate a great evil that existed in the world at the time.”

“The Eldrin,” Arno muttered under his breath, a hint of indignation in his voice.

“The Eldrin!” A boy answers, mirroring the words of the young swordsman.

“As many are aware, to the North, their name translates to ‘World Destroyers,’ and in New Lavonian, they mean ‘stars.’ Rather than worshipping Assiah or any of the other Principles, they instead worship an evil god that came from the abyss.” The professor spoke as she picked up her textbook. “They heavily communed with this god, and as such, they gained far more power than any mage at the time. They used that power to terrorize the people of the Southern Continent.”

Another student raised their hand with a puzzled look on their face. “Professor, what was this god?”

“Hmm…” The instructor pondered her response, carefully choosing his words to relay to his student.

“As you are aware, madness resonance is a volatile and dangerous force in which to immerse yourself. You lose your sanity and all sense of self in the pursuit of a selfish goal.” She paced back and forth in front of the lecture hall.

“Since the Eldrin were destroyed, not many records have been found that detail the specifics of their religious practices, but it’s believed they extolled the deity who embodies madness.”

Many of the students murmured in amazement, thoroughly enjoying the subject material.

“I’m sure you all are familiar with the Chaos Sect, anarchic echoes of a forgotten era. It’s believed that they and the Eldrin are closely related in terms of worship.” As she finished, the professor eyed the clock, seeing that class was almost over, and wrapped things up quickly.

“Remember to memorize the section we’re on because we have a quiz in two days!”

Many students groaned in vexation as they began packing up their papers and textbooks.

----

Lawrence’s surroundings returned to the underground office as the light from the magic lamp glowed against his pupils. His breath was ragged as he tried to assess the intense emotions he felt from that memory fragment. A single tear slowly ran down his right eye as he quickly wiped it away.

The emotional pain he felt then was similar to when he experienced Lawrence getting stabbed in the abdomen and dying. Recalling both painful memories made him scrunch his eyebrows and clutch his chest a bit. Despite the heartache, the memory fragment gave him interesting bits of information.

He got some information on the background of the secret society and a bit of the grimoire. But the most intriguing part was two words that kept formulating in the dark mindscapes of the Blackwood son.

The Didact…The Didact…The Didact…

“Are you alright?” The Scarlet Oracle asked in concern, ending its question with a giant written question mark on the page it turned to.

Lawrence blinked a few times, shaking his head slightly as he ended his rumination.

“Yeah, sorry, I was reliving some painful memories.” He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Was it something I said?”

The troubled young man held off on his answer for a moment, replaying the memory in his head. Lawrence wanted to know more about Aris. He thought the memory would reveal more about Lawrence’s past and his connection with Aris. He noted that this was the first fragment to reveal so little direct information about it.

“How come you didn’t choose Aris to be your wielder?” He answered the question with another question.

“Aris? Oh, that charming guy.”

The grimoire paused for a while. Lawrence assumed it was trying to come up with a response. The magic lamp flickered twice before producing uninterrupted light once more.

“For one, since I met you through Aris, I considered you the closest rendition I could find of my creator. You’re both knowledgeable, humble, and always using the information to solve others’ problems.” It explained, revealing a drawn image of a mage reading a book, presumably the infamous Ash.

“And the other?” The young man sat down in the leather seat and placed the grimoire on the desk, as it floated once more to reveal its pages.

“I could not bear to make that man suffer any more than I’d unknowingly already have.”

Even though it was a book, Lawrence could feel that it had real emotions. The pages conveyed what the grimoire was feeling to him perfectly.

“That’s very unassuming of you.”

The Scarlet Oracle moved in such a way that it looked like it was sighing. “I have many regrets, many of which relate to my creation. Not that I resent my creator.”

“I’m surprised a grimoire has regrets,” Lawrence said, leaning back and interlacing his fingers as his arms rested on the edges of the comfy leather chair.

“I am one of the Seven Grimoire Progenitors, and I hold more power than any mage could hope to achieve on their own. To watch hundreds cut each other down to realize they cannot wield me is truly a grim sight to behold.”

“That sounds truly awful.” Lawrence couldn’t help but feel sorrow for the grimoire.

I can only imagine the thousands of possible tragedies the Scarlet Oracle could’ve borne witness to…

“Once you have true strength, only then will you understand. When you become the strongest, you also become the loneliest. You can have all the power in the universe, but those you care for and those around you will wither away like dead flowers. You will do nothing because you can do nothing.”

“Strength is a curse.” Lawrence surmised, tapping the desk with the tip of his index finger.

“A curse disguised as a blessing. Some people become consumed by this and lose themselves completely to madness. Do not become a demon blinded by this curse, Lawrence.”

“I’ll try my best not to.”

After he finished conversing with the Scarlet Oracle, he rummaged through his desk and found a thick leather journal. The outside was smooth, but the design was rigid. The edges of the cover and pages were worn, with tiny pieces missing.

His surroundings changed once again as Memory Insight, which he aptly named his ability, activated and brought him back to another memory.

~

It took a bit longer for his vision to readjust, but he made out that he was sitting at the end of a long table in a dark room with the same architecture as The Archive.

A bit bored, he stared down at the scribbles he had made on the first page of the journal, resting his face in the palm of his hand.

Someone knocked twice at the door before letting themselves in, revealing them to be Mary. She softly closed the door and stood at the opposite end of the table, her hands resting in her lap.

“The preparations are complete. We shall soon recruit more members into the organization.” She reported.

“Good,” Lawrence replied coldly, distressed by an issue that had arisen.

“Sir, is everything alright? You seem perturbed.” She leaned her head to the side slightly as she raised her concern.

“I’ve yet to formulate a name for this group.”

“Eh?” The receptionist’s countenance was even more puzzled as Lawrence began expertly twirling his pen.

“Such a secret society cannot be without a name for uniformity, surely?” He asked, mainly questioning himself, as he was conflicted by the heavyweight decision.

“What do you have so far?” Mary asked, approaching a bit.

Lawrence sighed, pulling the journal closer and eyeing the list of several name concepts he’d written down.

“Order of The Parchment.”

“Absolutely not.” Mary vetoed sternly, which hurt Lawrence a bit because it made him wonder what her reaction would be to the other names.

“Society of Great Readers.” He read out another one.

“By Assiah, please shoot me.” She sighed and shook her head, expecting the names to get worse.

“Guild of The Ragged Bibliophiles…?” The leader suggested a bit timidly this time, expecting her to shoot the idea down immediately.

“Are you even taking this seriously?” She folded her arms and raised one eyebrow, looking at him with disappointment.

“I spent five hours coming up with those names…” He admitted, crashing his head on the table.

Mary sighed again as she rubbed her glabella a few times, trying to help him find inspiration.

“Why don’t you come up with something simple so this organization doesn’t sound like some corny con group?”

Hmm…

Lawrence thought for a moment, following her advice as the gears began turning inside his head.

Something simple…something simple…if I could think of something simple, I wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place!

As luck would have it, a light in his brain turned on, and he came up with a new name, quickly lifting his head with a slight smile.

“How about the Book Club?” He propounded happily.

Lawrence noticed one corner of her mouth quivered through her smile as she seemed to disapprove.

“I didn’t think you’d come up with something that simple, but it’s better than the previous propositions. It’ll do, for now, I suppose.” She conceded, relaxing her shoulders.

His face lit up in response to the news, elated that things were soon going to become official for his secret society.

“Since you’re the leader of the ahem ‘Book Club,’ what will you title yourself?”

Mary cleared her throat and approached to see the other names Lawrence had written. Her face filled with horror, but she remained silent.

He pondered for a few moments before devising a simple title that would distinguish the organization's leader from others. Ecstatic, he stood up and held his arms out like a mad scientist.

“I will name myself the Grand Archivist!”

There was a brief silence, and Lawrence noticed that Mary was silently judging him. Feeling a bit awkward, he cleared his throat and resumed his seated position, acting like nothing had happened.

“It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” She shrugged.

~

As the memory faded, the journal's contents flooded Lawrence’s brain with information. He began to understand Lawrence and his personality better. He also discovered a detail that had completely escaped his notice as a possibility.

“Scarlet Oracle.” He called out, closing the journal with one hand and placing it back in the drawer.

The grimoire came to life and opened itself, flipping to an empty page before quickly writing out its response.

“Yes?”

“Is it, um, possible for you to change forms or something? I have some more questions, but I don’t want to strain my eyes trying to understand your handwriting, no offense.”

His words struck her briefly, as the grimoire floated idly for a bit before shining brightly, as if retaliating for his remark, temporarily forcing him to shield his eyes.

Not long after, the light began to dissipate as Lawrence looked back and saw a short girl with midnight-colored hair and red eyes standing on his desk. She was about half his height, but her face was expressionless. She wore a silver necklace with a giant ruby gem attached to it.

Her midnight dress glowed faintly under the lamplight. Lawrence assumed it was just a manifestation of the grimoire rather than an actual dress. She wore black ankle shoes with miniature red roses that sat next to the midnight-colored laces.

“Can’t read my handwriting, huh?”