The Rapheus: Meras Lore (tentative)

Chapter Two: The Keepers

Am I dead? Was the first thing Lionel thought as a fuzzy glow first trickled into the darkness surrounding him. If he was dead at least he wouldn’t have to pay for rent in the city and perhaps someone had found his calculations and would carry on his work. A muffled sound like the low hum of a motor-carriage floated into his ears. It repeated again. This time clearer.

“You’re not dead, Mr. Puck.” The voice said.

“Then where am I?” Lionel asked groggily as more light began to filter through his eyelids and sting his eyes awake.

“You’re safe.”

“Eudas Finch, is he alright?” Lionel asked trying to get his eyes to focus. There were two faces looking at him.

One turned and said over its shoulder, “By all that is Holy! You weren’t supposed to knock him senseless!” There was a short reply, but Lionel couldn’t make it out. The other face kept looking at him.

“Wake up Mr. Puck.” It coaxed. Lionel was finally somewhat awake. A bald man looked concernedly at him from under a pair of thick dark eyebrows. Lionel blinked twice. He continued, “Welcome back. We’re sorry to inconvenience you but times are dire and sometimes our measures have to be slightly extreme. How do you feel?” Lionel sat up and rubbed the back of his head tenderly.

“I feel like someone hit me with a brick,” Lionel grumbled.

“Revolver butt, actually. Broke it in two! My favorite revolver!” The other man held one half of the martyred revolver as he shouted out after someone in the hallway.

The room was very nicely decorated with murals and portraits. Thick carpets, tapestries, and gorgeous curtains, but no windows. The room was illuminated by candle. Lionel violently came to the realization that he had never been here before and he did not know these two men. His head remained stubbornly sore, making escape impossible.

“Who are you? What is this place? What am I doing here?” Lionel asked feverishly thinking of how to exit this lavish dungeon.

“Those answers are sadly a little harder to answer then a sentence or two. Gerulf here will look after you until you are feeling well enough to join us. Dinner is at seven. If your are feeling well enough, Gerulf will take you with him. Rest well. Just ask for anything and he’ll get it for you.” The man in the chair said before pulling away and rolling towards the door. It opened on its own and he exited, leaving Lionel sitting awkwardly in his work shirt with a disgruntled, rumpled man.

Lionel sat back and let his mind clear for a minute.

“You. You’re Gerulf?”

“Yeah. My luck I’d be stuck babysitting. Stupid Abner’s Pet gets to go sit in on the meeting.” His whined, mimicking a thwarted two year old just loud enough for Lionel to hear before he sat down in a wooden chair and exhaled sharply.

“I’m Lionel Puck.”

“I know.”

“I suppose that I told you in delirium.” Lionel meant it more as a stated fact but Gerulf took it as a question and answered it.

“No.”

“Oh,” Lionel looked into his lap, “You saved me then?”

“From what?” Gerulf asked with a funny half snort, half laugh.

“Whatever that thing was that attacked Mr. Finch and myself. Is it dead?” Lionel was doing his best to be serious but Gerulf seemed to find almost everything he said amusing. He laughed again.

“You ask such complicated questions. But, no I didn’t save you. Abner asked me not to speak to you at length about that. He said that you’ll find out everything at dinner.” Gerulf said obviously caricaturizing Abner’s mannerisms.

“I see. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it...really.”

Lionel sat thinking how such a question could be complicated, but when he looked at Gerulf he was forced to acknowledge, that Gerulf might find almost anything complicated.

Deep, brown sugar colored hair tousled quite improperly, sharply chiseled features, with a bony but muscular frame stuck in a rumpled cotton shirt and a brown tailcoat with matching trousers, even his shoes were scuffed. He brought a sense of chaos wherever he sat, throwing a stain into the seemingly rich surroundings.

“How’s your head? Not that I care, but if you’re feeling quite well, I’d like to sit in on the meeting I’m supposed to be in right about now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Go right ahead then. I’m feeling much better. Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Gerulf replied carelessly before getting up and sauntering out of the room, leaving Lionel awkwardly alone in the dim room.

~***~

Somewhere, in this strange catacomb, a clock stuck the seventh time. Lionel woke with a start. He’d dozed off. The candles were nearly out.

“Dinner! I’ll be late!” He said hurriedly, jumping out of bed and fumbling in the dim light for his trousers and thread bare tailcoat. Thud, thump, crash, Lionel stumbled about hopping up and down on one foot trying to get his free leg into the other trouser leg.

Still pulling his arm into his jacket he flailed down the narrow hallway until it broke into a larger hallway where there were a few more people who stopped and stared at him dubiously.

“Excuse me, could you direct me to the dining room?” He asked trying his best to be polite.

“Which one?” One asked warily.

“The one where Mr. Abner or Gerulf eats.” Lionel said

“You must be the new recruit.” The other said with a hearty smile. That seemed to break the tension of the moment and the other loosened up visibly.

“The Big Wig Dinning Hall is down that way, you turn right at the end of the hallway, and then left, and then right again. It’s right there, you can’t miss it. Have a good day!” The first replied.

“Wait! Recruit?” Lionel asked as they disappeared into a room shutting the heavy wooden door behind them.

What is this place? Lionel wondered worriedly as he followed the directions. Right, left, right. There it was a wide arch with intricate stone work and a much larger room through its dragonesque guardians. A number of people were already seated talking heatedly about some important business.

“I say that there is no such thing. A Compass or Meter for the Particles? Impossible. Why haven’t we ever heard of it before? We’ve been doing this for almost twenty years. Research I mean.” A thin whisp of a man with a violently red crop of hair said angrily, clanking his knife and fork in distaste.

“I don’t know about you all but the Widdershins seemed to think it was important. We all know that the Widdershins cater to Solstis. Therefore, we can almost guarantee that this is important, or something like it.”

“You mean, that we have a vague concept of a tool that will help us win, and Solstis has picked up on that?” A heavier, balding gentleman said in a deeply operatic voice.

“I disagree. I think you are all talking nonsense. It’s just the Anniversary. That’s all this increase in activity is.” Gerulf said gruffly, picking at his food.

“Well, how about we have Mr. Lionel’s opinion? Mr. Puck? Welcome to our table.” Abner called warmly from his chair. A frightening quiet broke through the dim titter of conversation. Lionel stood there awkwardly, pushing his spectacles up nervously.

“Good evening,” Abner continued, “Please take a seat.” Lionel quickly complied, sitting himself in the only available chair next to Abner. Gerulf sat across from him with an impatient stare.

“We were just discussing something you find extremely interesting.” Abner said as if expecting a drum roll for suspense, “The fifth element.”

Lionel’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, “You mean, Meras? Spirit Matter?” Abner nodded.

“The very same.”

“I’ve done all sorts of research on the subject. In fact I wrote a thesis on it, ‘Meras for a Utopian Society.’ I suppose that you probably haven’t heard of it. Not that you would have. I only had one letter on it published.” Lionel thought dejectedly on his frigid reception at the Gathdon Science League.

“As a matter of fact, Cassandra delivered all your work to me personally. I’ve read a fair amount of it. It’s quite extensive. Can you prove it?” Abner challenged lightly.

“I’m afraid that I couldn’t do much for you on the subject. It seems that my thesis is a fairy tale and complete hogwash, according to the head of the Science League. Sorry to disappoint but I’ve learned about being idealistic.”

“Shalestone told you that?” Gerulf asked with an ill-concealed sneer of contempt, “The man’s a twit. Whatever he says can dissolve with the next rain as far as I’m concerned.”

“He’s the head of the Gathdon Science League. A prominent and respected man of his circle.” Lionel said in his defense, although the thought struck him funny. He was defending the man who barely gave him a chance.

“His circle of one. That idiot is in a class of his own. The audacity of it all! Saying that I couldn’t possibly exist.” Gerulf said in utmost vexation. Lionel stopped short. Either Gerulf was not really there, or perhaps Shalestone really was a twit.

“Prominent, yes. The head of the Gathdon Science League, perhaps, but as for his intentions, they leave much to be desired.” Abner nodded solemnly.

“I guess you didn’t know that the longer he stays in office the higher his pay will go. And that with the coming of a new theory he must give up his position. It’s quite simple, he doesn’t want you in there. Your thesis posed a threat. He might not have had anything against you personally, if you had been any other schmoe, he would have done the same.” Gerulf replied disdainfully.

“I didn’t know.”

“We figured as much. However, you’re not the average schmoe, as Gerulf so playfully put it.” Abner replied with a wry smile.

“You mean, I might have been correct? It’s not hogwash?” Lionel felt the warmest tickle of hope trickle back through his fingertips.

“More than might,” The red-headed man replied with a huff, “Most probably, you were correct. You’d just be the first to actually publicly bring it to the attention of the Science League. A brave step, Mr. Puck.”

“You mean others had the idea first?” Lionel felt a little cheated out of the originality of his concept but suffered through it.

“What Mr. Eliezer means is that no one came as close to the truth as you did. Many had a vague notion, in fact all of us at this table with the exception of a few believed as you did, that the Fifth Element, Meras, was as real and as tangible as the other four.” Abner explained.

“How close was I? And how are you so sure of the truth?” Lionel asked, a little skeptical.

“Well, that’s where we pass into speculation, and where we, collectively, come in.” Abner replied uneasily.

“Speculation? You mean you’re still not sure of the validity of my thesis?” Lionel couldn’t help but think they didn’t know as much as they seemed.

“We are quite sure of a number of things. For instance, the existence of Psellos, the King of Agatha. The fact that he was the first to collect the Fifth element into a large quantity. Another fact was that he was overthrown by a close advisor, Solstis, and that as a safety reflex, the particles were dispersed through various folds of universe, other worlds as it were. These worlds were connected by Psellos himself through the art of Tabuletaries, that much is true. These were lost upon Psellos’ death. But the particles remain in the folds to which they traveled and as far as we know, remain there still. However, where the Tabuletaries are and exactly where the particles remain is a mystery.” Abner said leaning back in his wheel chair with a weighty sigh.

“Solstis,” Lionel let the name roll along his tongue thoughtfully, “ according to myth, he unleashed the Flood. Sold his soul, I remember reading it somewhere. You mean, there are such things as demons?” Abner gave him a slight nod.

“Fact. According to fact, there are such things.”

“Where’s your proof for that?” Lionel had a grave irreverence for what he considered the intangible, and it was more than pricked by this seemingly groundless statement.

“My dear boy, Eudas Finch, was a demon.”

“Allegorically speaking. The man might have been bad you mean to say.” Lionel felt like he was drowning as far as this battle was concerned, and he didn’t relish the sensation.

“I mean exactly what I say, Mr. Puck. He was a demon. A Widdershin to be exact,” Abner’s eyes flashed momentarily before returning to their patient stare.

“You’ve classified them? Like genus, species, and sub species?” Lionel asked incredulously.

“Yes. A side project to our current focus. It came upon us as a necessity, since, demons are aligned with Solstis and are as intent upon retrieving Meras as we are, with the added benefit of being much more powerful and deadly than any normal human being.”

“You mean, this project you’ve started, you want to find a way to retrieve all of the Meras particles? You want to recreate the Utopia of Ancient Agatha?” Lionel’s dream realized, he almost stopped breathing.

“That’s not what I need it for,” Gerulf grumbled sensitively, “Abner knows that. I’m just here for the pay off. You can keep your Utopia. No good ever came out of that Utopia other than Psellos’ writings. And you can barely find those.” Lionel was about to argue but Abner cut him off.

“You have nothing to worry about, Gerulf. Your interests and her interests are well in hand. You’ll be paid when the time is up and not before. You and I both know that it’s impossible to pay you until Meras is finally brought back together. At least one of you understands that.” Obviously, Abner meant someone other than Gerulf, who in reply, folded his arms angrily and mumbled menacingly under his breath.

“I think, Mr. Puck has quite enough to think on before we burden him with any more. We shall retire until tomorrow. Gerulf please see that Mr. Puck is conducted to his room and then make sure that security knows about tonight’s activities. Good Evening, gentlemen.” Abner said rolling back as the far wall rolled away revealing a hidden study, into which Abner disappeared without another word.

It took Lionel almost ten minutes after he was finally alone in his room to realize that he hadn’t eaten a single thing.