CHAPTER 88: HISTORICAL TEXTS

After they had finished their training, Wallflower and Charon went their separate ways.

For him, that meant heading back to his apartment and getting some much-needed sleep after yet another rough day.

His footsteps were heavy as they echoed on the wooden staircase, even more so when he made it to the landing with his floor. The toll of his training sat on his bones like a weight, every motion feeling like an uphill battle.

Lights were brightly lit above him, giving off a faint hum that reminded him of a generator.

’And to think I was worried about electricity before coming here.’

Looking up just before inserting his key into the door, he paused just in time to notice standing across the hall, staring at him. A small stack of books was tucked under his arm, as well as a brown bag that Charon assumed held food.

Feeling it would be awkward not to say anything, he offered a small smile.

"Hey, Emerius, what are you doing?"

The tall man pushed his own apartment door open and glanced back at him.

"Oh, hello, Charon. I was just at the library. They have an impressive collection of tomes given their circumstances."

Charon scratched the back of his head.

"I was thinking about that earlier. Annie being so big into history, it confused me how she could have access to all these things without memories of the Living Realms, when it hit me that that’s what my people used to do. The Animancers."

Emerius nodded as he stepped inside his room, ushering Charon in behind him.

"I have come to a similar conclusion. I browsed the shelves of the library and found that they lacked any organization by author name. Dumbfounded by this, I explored more of the books themselves and found that almost the entire collection was written by the same ten authors."

Setting his stack down on the table, he separated them and flipped them open to the front page, the writers’ names on full view. Of the seven books, four had one name, and the other three had another.

"I believe that these could have been some of the Animancers that helped share memories with the River Acheron, and wrote down histories that could be important. These could have then been duplicated and spread across the land."

Charon stepped further into the room, glancing around at the scattered notes and bookmarked pages that seemed to have taken up permanent residence. Emerius’s apartment felt less like a living space and more like a study. A small reading lamp flickered on the far side of the table, just beside a barely touched plate of food and a stack of pens.

’I was just here the other day, and already it has transformed so much. Just what are you trying to learn, Emerius?’

He picked up one of the books, running a hand over the cracked leather spine. The pages were yellowed, but firm, the ink thick and dark. The style was archaic, not just in form but in structure. It made it hard to read, despite being written in the language he spoke.

"You think that we can learn something from their writing?"

Emerius re-stacked the tomes and carried them near his reading chair, reverently placing them beside it on the floor. Standing back up, he grabbed the only open book off the desk, inserting a rectangular card on the page to keep his place before handing it to Charon.

"Read the title."

Complying, his eyes widened.

’History of the River Acheron, Part IX.’

"A history book for the entire realm? This could tell us all sorts of things! Have you read the first eight already?"

It would be a mind-boggling pace; the one in his hand had to have over a thousand pages at least.

Emerius shook his head.

"Only from the seventh onward. The rest are gone. I spoke to half a dozen librarians in the city, and not a single one has even heard of any of the earlier editions. One even claimed that it was a prank being played on us all, that the seventh was actually the first."

Charon flipped a few pages forward, scanning the opening Chapter. The words bled together in thick blocks of text, each paragraph dense with names and events he had never heard before. There were no illustrations, no headers, just a wall of memory pretending to be a book. He closed it slowly, careful not to crumple the page, and handed it back.

"That doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone start a book series with the seventh volume? It makes no sense, especially for scholars."

Emerius accepted the book and returned it to the table, his finger lingering on its binding.

"I suspect it was not their doing. I believe the earlier entries existed at one point. Perhaps they still do, just not here. If we assume the Animancers were responsible, then we must also consider that they could have chosen what information to preserve. That might have gone against the interests of other involved parties."

Charon leaned back against the edge of the table, rubbing his forehead.

"That sounds like manipulation."

"It is."

Emerius spoke plainly, with a nobility that seemed to come and go with his mood.

’He is a teenager just like me. I need to remember that more. We are both figuring this out as we can.’

"It is not necessarily with malice. Knowledge is a weapon. Sometimes, keeping it from certain hands is the only way to ensure it’s used properly. The Empire has become masters of this dilemma, my family chief among them."

Charon sighed.

"So you’re saying someone curated history like a museum exhibit."

Emerius tilted his chin downward in a strange show of affirmation.

"Exactly."

A long pause stretched between them. Charon stared at the floorboards, tracing the grain with his eyes.

"This place... the Fort, the town, the River Acheron in general, all of it. It feels like someone took a hammer to the world, and now the civilizations are scrambling to glue it all back together."

He struggled to find the words, his brow knitting as he reflected on everything. His voice stuttered as he attempted to explain.

"Like the ruins we passed, or the Dead Lands. It reminds me of a story I read, about a hero."

Charon looked up to make sure he still had Emerius’ attention.

"Ethan the Explorer was from Earth, and during one of his missions, he fell into the old world. Where humans first came from. While down there, he saw cities built on cities, of metal and concrete, wood and bricks, all one piece above another."

He rubbed his chin as his eyes darted side to side, envisioning the tale as he told it.

"The ruins he found spoke about societies long gone from history. That’s what the River Acheron feels like. Like there used to be more here, but it was washed away, replaced with something else."

He felt like he was missing something obvious, something he had already encountered that should’ve made the problem feel clear, and yet no matter how hard he tried to discover it, it evaded him.

Emerius sighed and looked at the books.

"You may be correct. The histories reference distant lands, so I have no means of confirming if they are accurate, but the nations mentioned have not been brought up since our coming here. One of them was written as a grand empire that ruled much of the realm, so it would be quite odd for it to still be standing and yet we have not encountered it."

Charon nodded his agreement and yawned, his tiredness catching up with him.

’I need sleep before any more of this.’

Emerius understood, wanting to finish his reading as it stood. Wishing his friend good luck with his studying, Charon shambled back to his own room, unlocking his door and throwing both his dagger and the Mask of the Jester on the table.

’What are the odds someone storms into my room twice so quickly? I already dealt with Emerius doing it, the gods won’t be so cruel as to let it happen again.’

With those thoughts, he threw himself onto the comfortable bed. The tension left him as he allowed himself to sink into the soft sheets, his eyes naturally closing as his body drifted off into the wonders of sleep.