The Missing Codex

“Who is this?”

Kyr bore his eyes at the painting on the wall as Leatrix walked up beside him.

“That’s Baron Elard Narden,” she said.

“Is he an ally of yours?”

“Not exactly. It was Princess Irenea who knew him personally. It’s why we’re using this house as a base.”

Roy walked past them and headed straight to one of the rooms on the second floor.

Kyr frowned. “Wait, knew him?”

“Are you aware of the hangman’s blight?” Leatrix asked.

Kyr blinked in surprise. He hadn’t heard those string of words in such a long time. 

Of course, he knew what it meant. “That’s the name of the plague that devasted Esmerand and most of the northern provinces,” he said. “Named after the hangman known for leaving the criminals he executed in the guillotine for weeks. It was his way of warning people of the consequences of breaking the law.”

“But it turned out to be a bad idea,” Leatrix continued for him. “One of the corpses carried a disease that festered. The plague killed as many people in Vastille as the war of lances did between our westerly neighbors.”

Kyr looked up at the portrait again. So, this family died from the plague? Same as his parents? For half a second, he considered a what-if scenario of him being their orphaned child. What if these were the parents he used to yearn for? But… that was impossible.

And then it clicked.

“Are these Aven’s parents?” he asked in shock.

Leatrix smiled. “You’d make a good inquisitor, Kyr Solian. You’re almost right. The baron, who I’m sure you recognize as resembling your friend, was Aven’s father. But Aven is his bastard son. That’s the important part.”

“Important how?”

“I told you Princess Irenea knew of the baron. That’s because if you traced the Narden bloodline, you’d see that they’re connected to the Vastillian royal family. Most nobility are related in one way or another, but the Nardens are more direct.”

“Aven has royal blood?” Kyr found the idea amusing. “Why are you showing me this? Does it have anything to do with the succession of the throne?”

Leatrix shook her head. “No. In fact, hiding Aven’s royal blood was critical. It went against the legend.”

“You mean the hero being chosen from the masses?”

Kyr always found it interesting if not hyperbolic. The hero always emerged from the commonfolk. The village blacksmith, the fisherman’s daughter, the thief from the slums, or in Aven’s case, the apothecary’s apprentice. He vaguely remembered one time a viscount’s son was chosen, but history made a point of him being of minor nobility.

“You’re not saying that’s the reason Aven was killed, are you?”

“It's possible,” Leatrix admitted, “but I doubt it. The point is that heroes of the past always had royal blood, hidden or otherwise."

That did not make sense. Why not simply pick one directly? Like the prince or princess?

“How did you come to know this?” he asked.

“It’s what eventually led me to question your crime now that I think about it,” Leatrix said. “After Aven’s death six years ago, the inquisitors were dispatched to help search for anyone of royal blood. I wasn’t a full inquisitor then, but I was curious. I learned that it was the seers who made the request. Unfortunately for them, those who bore royal blood died like many others during the plague. Bastards and minor sons and daughters were snuffed based on records. Until they found Ilara Yarus.”

The current hero, Kyr mused. “What could be so important that someone direct like Irenea couldn't become the hero?”

“I have theories of a political nature,” Leatrix said, fiddling with her hat. “The princess said the king would've done it if push came to shove. And It didn't have to be her or her brother. There were more candidates of royal blood from higher up in society. But she also said that 'It all would be for naught if the codex is missing'.”

“What’s the codex?”

“The princess and I hoped you would know,” Leatrix said with a shrug. “It’s apparently something given to Aven. It went missing after he died.”

Kyr felt a sudden knot in his stomach. 

He knew of this. 

It happened during the first year of his imprisonment. One of the inquisitors who tortured him for a confession asked for that word. “What do you know of the codex?” Kyr couldn’t remember the man’s face, only the twisted snarl across his lips. “Did you take it? Are you hiding it from us?” It was a memory buried beneath a mountain of other questions and torture.

He told Leatrix of this memory.

“I’m not entirely sure if he used that word ‘codex’,” he confessed. “It means something like a book, right? An old tome of sorts?”

Leatrix nodded in thought. “Do you remember which inquisitor it was?”

Kyr shook his head. “No. There had been so many.”

“The codex is something the hero uses to perform the rites,” Leatrix said eventually. “There’s a time when the hero goes into a chamber inside the spire, correct?”

Aven’s face flashed before his eyes. The last smile he gave his guardians was at the testing ground, saying he really wanted to check something in the inner chamber. After that… who knows what happened to him.

“I did not know he used anything,” Kyr said. “We guardians thought he was… praying or something. Vysa and Morick made bets on what else he could be doing.”

“Pressing buttons,” Vysa said. “A hundred gold coins.”

“I bet he’s communicating directly with the giant,” Morick replied. “A hundred and one gold coin.”

“Cheap ass. Deal.”

Kyr treasured those moments, despite their betrayal. He longed for them to be true.

“From what I understand, the king eventually found another codex,” Leatrix continued. “He gave it to Ilara so she could do the rites. But as you know, the new hero is struggling.”

“You think this new codex is at fault?” 

“The thought crossed my mind,” Leatrix replied, “but it’s also true the spires became more difficult according to reliable reports I’ve read.”

Kyr nodded to himself in thought. 

What was this codex? 

He tried to remember everything Aven owned during their journey, but the former hero didn’t bring anything out of the ordinary. He and Jessa even tried convincing Aven to read books once upon a time. “I’m not a big reader,” Aven said nonchalantly. “But if the story is as good as you say it is, why not read it to me instead?” It was a subtle way of saying ‘I want to, but I’m not good with letters’.

Maybe the reason the inquisitor gave up on torturing Kyr was because he didn’t posses anything in prison. He couldn’t have had whatever this codex was.

Eventually, Roy came out of a room and brought clothes for Kyr. The baron’s house had all sorts of supplies for their group and Roy was adamant that Kyr looked his best in his newfound freedom.

Leatrix agreed and said they should continue their conversation later.

The first option Roy offered was something similar to the academy’s robes, but Kyr turned that down immediately. He was nostalgic, but he wasn’t a student anymore.

The second option was a lot more practical: a black doublet, grey trousers and tall boots. Kyr asked for a cloak, but the only one available came attached to a pair of pauldrons. Which he eventually agreed to wear after Roy insisted it looked ‘modern’ and ‘awesome’.

Another thing Roy insisted on was a large pointed hat with a wide brim. It was aggressively sorcerer-like, as per the stereotype, but he knew Roy just wanted a semblance of their academy days back. “See, the wide brim is perfect,” the man said. “I’m gonna make a hole in it for your, err, horn. It will look like its an accessory attached to the hat, I promise!”

Kyr sighed and relented. He detested wearing pointed hats, but something must be done about his horn.

They waited for Irenea to arrive. Cinza was sure the message said ‘shortly’, but the day passed by without a peep from the princess or Karlan.

As much as Kyr worried for both, his sense of time was lost these last six years. 

So, he simply enjoyed the food Roy prepared, the bath he hadn’t had in months, and the fact he could move more than five paces in any direction. He felt like a king. And when night came, he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to. He was afraid this would all be over if he did.

That turned out to be the right choice.

By nighttime, they came knocking.