The cool breeze and the brief relief from the oppression of the Summer's heat brought with it a cooling mist. Not a true rain but persistent enough to leave a pleasant moisture that left one cool and refreshed. The worn interlocked path leading to the Villa slowly darkening as the stone and soil beneath gradually grew damp with each barely scene droplet.

The clatter of Marengo's hooves upon that very stone forming a rhythmic cacophony that slowly wormed into the mind and banished thoughts of tomorrow and fate with the abandon of the moment. A small thing but one that made it easy to bear the burden of fading fortune and strange new truths of the self.

Along the way the usual medley of travelers, splendid and otherwise, wandered into the bustling heart of Chieri.

Steadily and hardly slowly, the features of the city slowly consumed the landscape until Alessandro found him in the bustling, ever beating hearts of commerce that defined the public squares. The grand marble structures of Merchant Company Offices, Banks, and sundry places of Business rose up all around him with the humbler plaster and wood that catered to those not blessed with the free flow of gold and goods. All painted in bright and bold colours that spoke to an energetic and vibrant culture. The scents of varied spices, food, and drink upon that cool summer's breeze, burdened further by the lively language of the people ever engaged in trade. Storm nor drizzle slowing commerce for even an instant.

The foreigners who had sailed or rode from far away as evident as a nail not struck flush with the wall. Their clothes, as often as not, drab in comparison to the favoured riot of colour that spoke to the lively spirit of Vissio's people. Their accents and manners just that much more so yet they were as welcome as any so long as the coin was minted of precious medal and bore up to the discerning eye of a Master Minter.

It was by necessity that Marengo's lively gait had to be reined in as the press of men and women became all but unavoidable. Fortunately, both horse and rider new the way well to the square of Champions that rested at the heart of the city. Named for the unusual confluence of fate that saw a dozen rival dueling academies rise up within perilous distance of each other. The discourses between them all a matter of local legend and, occasionally, regrettable history. Gentlemen, after all, when impassioned could fall to the most uncivil of conduct.

Marengo needed no direction as they worked their way through the press of the exotic crowds in the Square of Champions and its array of marble statues guarding the perimeter. Alessandro took a private pleasure in seeing naïve foreigners quickly make way for the young nobleman, tarnished as his reputation was in the city of his birth. It was a small thing but it brightened the proud young man's day.

Soon the pair arrived at the Luogo di Ubriachi, a middle class inn providing stables to travelers and a place to relax for locals, students, and others. It was a bit sedate by some standards but it was both moderately inexpensive while providing reliable stables and good food. Alessandro slides off Marengo and greets the stableman with a wave and a few coins dropped into his hands. Marengo was in good hands.

The strolling rake enters the crowds and stalls littering the great square, his experienced eyes on the look out. It was said that a merchant selling books of exotic and rare quality had recently taken up space. Alessandro is eager to meet him and see what he has to share.

The average man didn't pay much mind to the coming and going of the Nobility in terms of fortune and favour as long as it didn't hurt their business or their families. The Stablehand was no exception as he took the coin and tipped his broad had respectfully as he took the reins and guided Marengo into the stables of the inn. A little chit passed into Alessandro's hand to indicate which stall and mark him as the owner of the horse. A custom that had come into place after some scoundrels had taken to fooling a few of the less wary stable managers and making off with a horse.

The crowds, however, brought back all the unpleasant heat and humidity of summer with their vibrancy and liveliness. The only concession to personal space made when a glimpse of steel or noble heraldry was caught at the last moment.

Many things, however, were said in the markets of Vissio and they had to be taken with a grain of salt and researched properly. A few questions here and there among the Academics that roamed the Square were able to give Alessandro a lead or two on collectors of rare and strange tomes but not necessarily direct him to this rumoured merchant. It was ultimately with the help of an acquaintance from the academy, his name forgotten as easily as it was learned, that he was directed to a small and hardly glamorous shop tucked into a shadowed alley. A place that made one feel either cozy or fearful depending no their prerogatives and skill with a blade. Light flickered from the stained glass windows and a plain sign free of the usual garish colours hung over the door. Swaying faintly on the chaotic breezes that swept through the alley way.

The breeze swirling down the alley pushed along tumbling flyers that briefly caught on Alessandro's shoe as he stepped over it. He searched the gloom and corners for potential threats and wondered if his acquaintance had partners waiting for somebody naïve enough to follow his directions. Hand on the dueling dagger's pommel he strode down the alley way to the shop door. Pushing the door rang a bell and he stepped into the shop to take a good look around.

As Alessandro stepped in, he was greeted by a soft voice from the back of the store. Hardly the stern, masculine tones that rumor and hearsay had led him to expect. A woman`s voice by any measure but one that bore a certain timidness that may not have belonged in the voice of a merchant or scholar. The sounds of rummaging and busy work all the more apparent as he slid between the neatly packed shelves towards the commotion. Each ladden with tomes ranging from slim, gold bound volumes to heavier affairs that proudly counted atlas' and encyclopedias as their brothers and cousins.

It was, finally, that he found a small woman in black gown and shawl atop a ladder drawing books from a small tray and laying them in careful order atop one of the highest shelves. Her complexion pale and hair no less so hinting at a northern descent and whatever chilling associations one might draw. Notably, however, her eyes were obscured behind silver and silk yet she still moved with the surety of one in full possession of their faculties of sight.

"Welcome to the Old Memory, I can help you in a moment." she greeted with a glance as she set another book atop the shelf. True to her word, it didn't take her more than a moment before she worked her way down the ladder with soft patters of feet and slid it into the small alcove at the end of the shelf. She bowed politely then towards Alessandro with hands clasped before her lap. Allowing a glimpse of the intricate braid her blonde hair was worked into and the small silver clasps that helped it retain such structured form.

"Can I help you find something? Treatises on dueling perhaps? Noble histories? Trade law?" she offered helpfully but not disrespectfully with her presumptions as to his purpose. All easy and likely often enough accurate guesses at the purposes of her small shop's visitor but edging towards more esoteric topics with how such suggestions trailed off into patient silence.

The change from the dubious alley to the nearly stately array of book shelves making up 'the Old Memory' is amazing and Alessandro wonders how he could of missed such a golden place as this while a student. Usually such places were swarmed with students looking for the latest bit of academic trivia to wow their compatriots and professors with.

The discovery of the shop's proprietress drew him from his reverie as he drew one hand along the spine of books. With a respectful return bow the young nobleman introduces himself,"Forgive me interruption, Madame, I was merely window shopping and happened to discover your shop tucked away in the corner of the Square. It is quite an amazing collection you have. I wonder how I never discovered this in my days at the Grand Cervello Academy."

He straightens and looks about at the vast array of books, "Perhaps you could help me? I have been looking for a complete copy of Zoltan Katar's Celestial Diaries, volume 9? He is a rather obscure magician of one of the so-called Bleak Academies of the Raktine Confederacy. I've only a very incomplete copy." 

To determine the woman's ethnicity, Int check 7+.

22:03, Today: Alessandro da Vigo rolled 17 using 1d20+4 ((13)).
This message was last edited by the player at 04:04, Tue 05 Dec 2017.

It was, perhaps, unsettling but her head turned to follow his gaze as he regarded a portion of her collection. The motion smooth and elegant in a way and still speaking to some visual awareness of her surroundings despite the ornate covering that hid her gaze and a fair portion of her upper features from view. Close as they were, fine gold thread could be seen worked into the otherwise total blackness of her gown and shawl. It formed fanciful patterns that seemed to have no other rhyme or reason to them but to draw the eye and entertain the mind.

An oddly appropriate accent when one considered the business she conducted here.

"I'm still a stranger to this place but not one without a certain means all my own. The collection's been a growing project over the past year or two." the Ulstanger, and there was no mistaking that was what she was, replied with a certain pride and a... foreigner's slowness to her handle of the native tongue of Vissio's sons and daughters. It didn't lack in energy or power... merely that it lacked the speed and excitement that so commonly defined it.

Her lips pursed and brought with it a hint of thoughtful lines to her otherwise smooth complexion at Alessandro's question. Her hands clasped behind her back then as she seemed to speak quietly to herself. Summoning memory through recitation and other little tricks of memory that had been shown to him in Alessandro in his academic pursuits.

"Is there a specific language you would prefer it in? If I'm recalling my ledgers correctly... I've still a rare copy of an Oasian translation from the Cinnabar Order... and a briefer summation in Patrian." the Proprietor of the Old Memory concluded with a slight upward tilt of her head. That timidness still evident beneath her voice even as she warmed to the topic of conversation.

An Ulstanger? A collection of barbarians whose reputation was just as foul as the monster-riding tribes of the Howlers to the north of Vissio. Supposedly ruled by witch-queens and their undead slave armies. Sea raiders all along the northern coasts. A few daring raider captains had even sneaked past the Bright Republic patrols to hit spots in Vissio though such events were rare.

Why would an Ulstanger woman settle here in distant Chieri? Alessandro supposed that question answered itself in a way if she was some exile or refugee from her homeland. The many travelers from all over the world would make someone even as exotic as an Ulstanger just another face in the crowd, even in spite of her noteworthy garb. Alessandro dismisses his thoughts as idle speculation without more evidence.

"The Patrian dialect gives me a headache", jokes Alessandro thoughtfully, "And a summary is less useful to me. Let us see the quality of the Cinnabar Order's translation. As fellow magicians I suspect they would be more inclined to accuracy. And it will give me a chance to bone up on my Menekhet!"

"I am very impressed by this collection so far. You've accumulated this all in a few years? Even my family's library is not so large." What is left of it. The bitter thoughts circle in Alessandro's head.

The Ulstanger turned and extended an arm towards the back of the store. The invitation clear as day that she'd guide Alessandro to the particular treasure he desired out of her collection. A prideful smile making a home upon her lips at the compliments paid her collection and the little hints of envy that circled in the echoes of his voice. It was an expression that seemed to have a natural home upon her lips despite that timidness that had greeted the Godbound upon his arrival. It spoke to a certain depth of character that was easily guessed at regardless.

There was a story to her.

"If you'd follow me then... and pay no mind to the rumors. Contrary to their frightful reputation the Cinnabar Order doesn't enchant it's tomes and treasures to combust." the Nameless Proprietress said with good humour in kind and that still ponderous feeling handle of his native tongue. It was strange to hear a foreigner speak it so as most tried to match the speed and vivacity of others but this woman seemed content to proceed at her own pace that struck as glacial against the norm.

"It's like I said... I have my ways and I'm told I'm a frightful woman to say no to when I've a mind for something. I can never see it myself." the Proprietress said as she guided Alessandro through the rows of shelves that defined her long and claustrophobic collection. It was only after some time that she came to a stop and that thoughtful pursing of her lips returned as she turned her head this way and that along the rows of her collection before finally reaching out with both hands and drawing a heavy, leather bound tome from the shelf. The act done with all the care of an archivist that dealt in antiquities which was, in a sense, exactly what she was. Rare literature, after all, was often the last vestige of insight and knowledge otherwise lost to man and woman.

She gently opened it then and held it laid open to the table of contents across her arms for his inspection.

A smile quirked Alessandro's lips behind the propietor's back as she led him deeper into the shop. Trim, blonde, and with an academic bent...all qualities that the da Vigo found attractive in the few women he had known. Unhappily being paired with such an...unfortunate heritage as Ulstanger made her strangeness a social liability. But the woman could make a very useful contact for her collection!

Chuckling at the woman's humor Alessandro replies,"I'm sure no one builds a collection like this without being formidable."

He bends over the proffered tome and studies its Menekhet, looking for signs of authenticity. As he does so he continues,"I think there is quite a story in how an Ulstanger woman ended up in the south in my beautiful city of Chieri running a book shop. Perhaps you would grace me with the tale?"

Presuming my Fact covers appraising the book.
19:47, Today: Alessandro da Vigo rolled 20 using 1d20+4 ((16)).

The Menekhet of the original writings were archaic but comprehensible for any reasonably fluent speaker of the language. The task made far easier by the meticulous and steady hand of the foot notes and side bars that further illuminated the manuscript and opened it up to those without a fluent grasp of the language of the Distant Oasian States. It all tied together to support the authenticity of her prior claim that it was a rare iteration of the desired work. All the same, it provided an insightful look into the core aspects of Theurgic manipulation and mechanics. Enlightening to any mind suitably burdened with an understanding of the greater mechanisms of reality... or so much jargon and gibberish as to be borderline incomprehensible.

"Certainly not when I find myself looking up at all these gentlemen... Or serving as furniture." the Proprietress added with another twist of humour and playfully commenting on the situation as she continued to hold the tome for Alessandro's perusal. A hint of humbled pride in her tone despite the casual nature of the moment.

"My shop is named the Old Memory for more than just the contents of it's shelves but for now... I'd rather leave the memories of the past to the Dead and enjoy the warmth of the future." the Ulstanger offered politely but pointedly, her manners not wholly chill but now subtly defensive at such prying. She had her reasons and there was an impression of power and past exploit that hung about her but without means or methods to gauge the manner of that power... It remained no more than a subtle impression. Still, like so many of Vissio, she seemed to have her share of skeletons in the closet... Whether they were proverbial or otherwise was a matter of educated guess work.

"Of course, madame! Of course!", Alessandro replies to her secrecy but its obvious that the man is distracted as he parses the pages. After a long minute a beaming smile lights up his face,"So that is what the old fossil meant by syncretic inflection during the orboros verses! This work is genuine!"

Turning to her he continues,"My copy of the Diaries was badly damaged by some fire ages ago leaving me to puzzle out the various meanings. Its only...uh...recently that I've been able to make headway of any of this and this cinches it! How much, fair lady?"

Alessandros suddenly realizes the bookseller had patiently been holding the heavy volume on extended arms this whole time and bashfully rescues her by taking it into his own hands.

Her arms hardly seemed tired; steady and certain in their handling of the tome even as it was taken offer hands with bashful realization of his inattention. Largely, she seemed patient and content for what could be gleamed of her expression without clear view of her eyes. Her arms clasped now before her at the question of price, crossed over her stomach in a more stern and contemplative posture as she once more quietly mouthed details and information rooted deeply into her mind. Her gaze drifting fractionally upward with the act of deliberate recollection.

"I'm certainly sorry to hear that such a fate came to pass for your own copy of the Diaries. The appraisal valued this one at 200 crowns." The Proprietress concluded as her gaze returned to Alessandro fully. The faintest impression of an invitation to negotiation present in how she postured and positioned herself along side the underlying confidence that an arrangement could be made in her allowing him to still hold the tome despite their clear differences in physicality and life styles... At least at a superficial glance.

Read Wealth 2. Essentially costing as much as a good home in the city.