Cinnamon Bun - Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-Six

Chapter Five Hundred and Thirty-Six

Celiga took a moment to ‘be a better host’ as he put it. That meant puttering around in the kitchen and refusing any help. While he did that, I tried to do a bit of subtle cleaning. That mostly meant allowing my Cleaning magic to snake along the floor, scooping up and burning away the dust in the crevices of the floor and disappearing small piles of grime from the corners where a broom might have a hard time reaching them.

Clean was one thing, though, and organized was another. I wanted to start putting Celiga’s books back into their places on the bookshelves lining the room, but that wouldn’t be very polite. Some people found themselves better when they were surrounded by a bit of organized chaos.

Eventually, Celiga returned. He had a tray with a steaming kettle on it that released a strangely bitter smell. “Ah, here, let me put this down... hmm.”

There weren’t any cleared spaces large enough for a tray, but Calamity picked up a stack of books and carefully set them on the floor. Fortunately, the floor had coincidentally been cleaned up just moments before.

“Thank you, my boy,” Celiga said. He set the tray down, then looked about. “Tea?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. “But just a small cup for me.”

A few others replied with affirmatives, and Celiga started to pour. “You know, I may be a historian and professor, for the moment, but that doesn’t mean I spend my day locked up in the stacks burning my eyes out on old tomes. I’ve done a lot of field work in my day. I’ve visited many places on the continent, from Mattergrove to the Snowlands.”

“We’re pretty well-travelled too,” I said with a grin. 

“I can see that,” he said. “What’s a Paladin of Sylphfree doing in Deepmarsh?”

Bastion straightened very slightly, which must have been had seeing how straight he was by default. “I’m on duty,” was all he said.

Celiga’s eyes flicked over to Caprica, who was still wearing her well-pressed Sylfree Army uniform. “Hmph. Well then. In my time as historian I have had a few people come and seek me out, most with questions that I never had an answer to, but I’ve never...” He paused as he settled back down into his big armchair. “Never had a group so diverse pay me a visit.”

“We don’t want to impose,” I said. “We only just found out where you were. If you want, we can come back another time?” I very pointedly didn’t look at all of the wine bottles stacked up on the floor. At least my Cleaning magic had whisked away some of the stains on the floor and the smell of old wine was clearing out. 

Celiga waved a webbed hand dismissively. “It’s fine. What else am I going to do? Keep wallowing? So, where did you first hear of the Black Avatars?”

“When I first heard of them?” I asked. “Or when each of us did? I think it was at different times.”

“The latter,” he said. “I want to know what brought you to my door, but there’s an order to this kind of thing. Sometimes when you start from the start, you have a better idea of why someone wants to know something.”

I glanced at my friends, then shrugged. “I only heard about the Black avatars recently. Like, in the last few days recent.”

“And I’ve known them as childhood stories,” Amaryllis said. “I vaguely recall some mentions of them as I grew up as well, mostly in old wive’s tales.”

“Ah, um, the same,” Awen said.

“Barely heard a thing,” Calamity said with a shrug. “Don’t do much reading myself, ny’a know? I remember the tales of Black Cat the Black Avatar though!”

“That one’s a myth,” Celiga said. “Made up entirely from scratch some ninety years back.”

“What?!” Calamity yelped. 

“We’re here because a really, really mean guy sent us a book about the Black Avatars. It was called, um, Tales of the Black Avatars?”

“I’ve read that one,” Celigo said. “It’s... surprisingly not the worst recounting of the Black Avatars, though it obviously coaches everything as myth and legend.”

“But they’re not, right?” I asked.

Celigo eyed me for a moment, then nodded. “They’re not. I started researching the Black Avatars entirely by mistake. I was perusing some old documentation from one of the defunct banks that worked in the Harpy Mountains. Ancient financial records from two, three hundred years ago. Nothing of any great interest to most people, even the noble families that still exist from that time.”

“I can imagine some being cross with you nonetheless,” Amaryllis said.

He chuckled. “Too bad. The records were pristine. Old magic keeping the pages dry and the ink fresh. There’s a lot you can learn about history just from seeing who has the most gold and what they’re using it for. I’m not even talking about anything nefarious. Just your ancestors spending gold on clothes and property and festivals, and earning it back from merchant dealings and other revenue.”

“What’s all that got to do with the Black Avatars?” Calamity asked.

“I suspect that the good historian is coming to that,” Desiree said.

“Right, sorry.”

“I was,” Celiga confirmed. “In those records, I discovered an account that was particular. It belonged to a non-noble organization that wasn’t one of the merchant guilds or the family of a rich merchant. Lots of gold. And I mean lots. That’s not the truly bizarre, however. The accounts were created in such a way that any member of the group could withdraw from them so long as they presented a certain artefact and visual proof. They were the Black Avatars.”

“Is a bank account enough to prove that someone exists?” Amaryllis asked. “I could open one with a false identity.”

“Sure,” Celiga said. “But would you deposit two hundred kilos of gold ingots in that account?”

Amaryllis blinked and looked a bit surprised. “Is that a lot?” I asked.

“It’s what my family will make in a decade,” she said. “Maybe more than that. The value of gold... hmm, it’s stable, but over so many years... It’s enough to buy a small fleet of ships. The largest merchantman airship we have and a pair of escorts, along with crews and... yes Broccoli, it’s a lot.”

“The accounts twigged me onto something,” Celiga said. “So I did some searching elsewhere and found similar accounts in other banks. Old banks. Banks here in Deepmarsh, that are still active, and some elsewhere as well. Then I started actually digging into the history of the Black Avatars. It wasn’t proof that any of the myths were real, but it was proof that there were people claiming to be the Black Avatars who had a lot of gold to toss around.”

“Circumstantial,” Amaryllis said.

Ceglia sniffed. “If you want to debate that, then I certainly can. I was panned by the academic community for ‘believing in myths’ but I’ve yet to find someone able to disprove or discredit all of my sources. Now, if the Black Avatars are really what they say they are, that’s up to debate still. But that there was a group that claimed the name some time ago? That’s less so. There’s too much evidence. For all we know, it’s nothing more than a group of pranksters with far, far too much wealth, but that doesn’t mean that they never existed.”

“Hmph,” Amaryllis huffed lightly. “Forgive me. We did come here to seek out your expertise after all.”

“That’s right. So, you stumbled on an old fairy-tale book, wherever you were, then came all the way here?” he asked. His eyes narrowed. “Tell me, honestly. Are you Black Avatars?”

“Huh?” I asked.

“A group of powerful, rich individuals, across a broad spectrum of species,” he said with a gesture over them all. “Get some black cloaks on and you fit the bill... though I imagined the Black Avatars would be more serious.”

“We’re pretty serious,” I said.

No one seemed to have heard me, though?

“We’re not Black Avatars,” Caprica said. “We’re looking for information on them because we have a... lead of sorts, connected to a terrorist. And yes, we’re aware of how bizarre the situation is.”

“I see,” Celiga said. He leaned back in his seat and nursed his tea. “I see. Well then, what are you willing to pay?”

“Pay?” I asked.

“Money. I had a nice stipend as a professor, and now I find myself a little... underwhelmed by my savings.”

Caprica rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’m sure we can arrange for something. as you mentioned, we’re rich.”

“Good, I do like that about people,” Celiga said with a devious smile. “In that case, the Black Avatars... I have a suspicion, something that I never wrote about because it would be far too controversial.”

“What is it?” Awen asked.

“Do you know anything about riftwalkers?”

***