The Shining Spire Inn, Nefelden, Nefelden Mountain Range, Kingdom of Alkhana
A peaceful quiet lay over the Shining Spire Inn, the patrons and innkeeper both having retired for the night. Though dogs barked in the distance, and the howling of a cat could be heard outside, little noise travelled through the streets, for very few would be willing to brave the cold mountain air in the dead of night. The moon hung over the city, shining brightly over the streets and casting a silver gleam over the weathered stones.

Despite the overwhelming calm of the evening, a single patron of the inn was still awake, the light from his room flickering orange in the window as he sat at the table next to the door. The muscular jaguar dynthe’s leather cuirass lay on a piece of cloth beside his bed, alongside the rest of his armor. He was dressed in a simple cloth shirt, with cotton leggings that were tucked into his leather boots.

The patron, Drahl Stryde, had fully intended to leave the city before nightfall. However, circumstances dictated otherwise, and because of a rather nasty storm that popped up, Drahl had been forced to stay the night.

On the table in front of Drahl sat The Book of Archons, opened to the back pages. The dynthe had learned from Asterion about a certain peculiar aspect of the tome, and that was the magicks- the Mistbinding- that existed within its pages. His adoptive father had told him in the past that it would be impossible to steal The Book of Archons. Now, Drahl wanted to learn why.

'A warning from the author, Drahl read. Stealing this tome would bring naught but grief, for I have imbued a clever Binding upon its pages:

First: Should this tome be stolen and its owner left among the living, those who attempt to read it shall be blinded till the next full moon, unless the book was returned to its rightful owner.

Second: This book may not change hands by force, unless the previous owner has lost their life. Even if the current owner is killed, the tome will be incapable of leaving their possession unless the previous owner is amongst the dead as well.

Thirdly: This book will alert the holder should its previous owner lose their life. In the case of multiple “previous owners”, the book will alert the holder when the eldest owner dies.

Lastly: The Book of Archons does not change hands by coin alone. They who share its owner’s blood, share too status of its ownership. Should either of them die, then this Binding shall mark their ownership with a sigil upon their left hand.'

That last part jarred him. 'Does that mean… Lucian is considered the previous owner, as well? Did Alubard know of this before he sold it to me?'

The dynthe carefully placed the book on the table, leaning fowards and covering his chin with his hands. The fur on his tail bushed up slightly as he took in the ramifications of what he just learned. If anyone attempted to steal the book, their only option would be to kill both Alubard and his son.

'Damn it… I’ll have to leave him a note before I leave… this could be dangerous. Should I warn Lucian, as well? I don’t want to scare the lad, but…'

The dynthe growled to himself. Alubard was an earnest man- too earnest. 'He probably didn’t read the book before he got it, meaning that he likely had no idea of the rule that was placed upon the book.'
Drahl knew that this wasn’t something to be trifled with- if Asterion claimed something, he probably knew what he was talking about. While the minotaur god may not have known exactly what prevented the book from being stolen, the fact that he knew it would be difficult to take was proof enough for Drahl.

'I’ll go to the bookshop before I leave… The least I can do is leave a note. If I can, I’ll warn Lucian… damn it damn it damn it. This was not my plan.'

The dynthe closed the book, placing it back in his bag, before snuffing out the light and going to bed...

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The Shining Spire Inn, Nefelden, Nefelden Mountain Range, Kingdom of Alkhana
A loud boom shook Drahl back into wakefulness, the mountain thunder rattling the room as a bolt of lightning conjured false daylight outside. Rain pounded hard on the window and roof, the street outside concealed by pitch-black darkness in the wee morning downpour. The dynthe sat up in bed, the storm having thrust him into the full depths of the waking world.

By Drahl’s estimate, only an hour had passed since he retired to bed, but during that hour, this storm must have brewed. It wasn’t uncommon, Drahl knew- mountains often played host to constantly changing weather. However, having stayed up late, the dynthe wished the storm would have at least waited until sunrise. The dynthe shook his head, flinging off the covers and sitting upright in bed, completely incapable now of returning to sleep.

Another boom of thunder shook the Inn, and the dynthe stood, walking over to the table in the corner of the room. His feline eyes strong in the darkness, the jaguar dynthe easily found the small lantern, setting it alight with a small match before once again taking The Book of Archons from the folds of his bag. Then, after a moment’s consideration, Drahl set that book aside, taking from the bag his second literary purchase from Alubard and Son’s.

The book, titled Cergaurde’s Stone Charms, was a rather intricately decorated tome, bearing Cergaurde’s seal upon its front cover. Symbols and partially drawn sigils ran all across the volume’s leather surface, which had been dyed a stone gray color, likely by magick of some sort. At the very center of the front was a small jewel, which was seamlessly embedded into the old gray leather.

The dynthe opened the book to the front page, skimming over its contents. Like most spellbooks, this tome’s introduction consisted mostly of an explanation of the writer’s certifications, deeds, and their purpose for writing the volume. Most of that, he skipped, as he knew a little bit about magick already. Not enough to call himself a proper spellcaster, but those who spent time within Asterion’s Bulwark almost always picked up one or two tricks on the way. Without Mistbinding- as Drahl learned magick was properly called- even the most powerful, skilled, fearsome warrior in the land could still be next to helpless when confronted with a magickal enemy of any considerable power. Since Asterion cared for his comrades as he would a family, the Minotaur god always made sure to teach his followers at least something of the magickal arts.

Drahl turned the page again, beginning to read an explanation and set of instructions on how to utilize the first spell in the book. It was a simple piece of magick- but powerful, too. The spell would allow a caster to sense any stone or boulder that they could carry using their own strength, and then manipulate its movements. However, Cergaurde warned that the heavier the stone, the more Mist it required, and so the more taxing it would be for the caster. Regardless, Drahl took in every word. Depending on his location, it could be extremely useful, for both defensive purposes and offensive purposes. The incantation was easy enough, Drahl thought, though it would take practice to be able to say it on a whim.

“Oemav oestan oforo em,” Drahl whispered, focusing and obeying the book’s instructions. A chill went down his spine, and he felt the bricks in the walls all around him, as if they were extensions of himself. After a moment’s marvelling at how quickly the spell came, he noticed a rapidly advancing fatigue taking his body, and he quickly ended the spell, losing focus at the last second and ending it faster than he intended, sending a sharp, stabbing pain through his head as the magick ended improperly.

I’ll have to be able to use it quickly, Drahl decided, grimacing, Casting it is easy enough, but I don’t have the skill to limit the energy it takes, nor do I have the discipline to keep focused long enough to let the Mists unbind properly. I wish I could say I was skilled enough to call myself a mage, but… I’m afraid Asterion only taught us what he knew. Which… wasn’t much.

He chuffed, amused at his own ineptitude. He’d met numerous Mistbinders throughout the years who scoffed at the minotaur god’s cluelessness when it came to magick, but anytime the jaguar asked them what Asterion was missing, they brushed him off. Of course, that was mostly when the Dynthe was travelling through the elven province, and they were a high-strung sort, but still…

Yawning, the jaguar dynthe closed the book, placing it back into its proper place.

As he slipped the book into the bag, a sharp burst of pain blasted behind his eyes. The dynthe collapsed, blacking out for a brief moment.

When Drahl regained consciousness, The Book of Archons was glowing a bright, bright white. The face of an old man briefly manifested itself within the dynthe’s mind, a stream of information implanting itself into the jaguar’s thoughts.

And with a look of horrified look of realization, the jaguar understood: Alubard was dead. Someone was after the book.

And if they were after the book… then Drahl was not the only one who was in danger.