Gathering in the Hidden Lounge

"This place is amazing!" Merida exclaimed, looking around in awe, her eyes sparkling as if seeing magic for the first time.

"Darn it all, how'd it end up between those two red marks?" Stig asked, his eyes darting about like a hare caught in an ambush. He ran a calloused hand over a polished beam, feeling the craftsmanship.

"My brother said I'd be blown away by this place — but wow..." Finn's smirk grew wider as he took in his surroundings. "This is beyond my wildest expectations." He glanced at Merida, sharing in her wonder.

"How'd they make that window look so real, like we're outside?" Asdras asked, his eyes fixated on the light streaming through it. He reached out, half expecting his hand to pass through the illusion.

"Chemicals and Ars, I suppose," Lisandra replied, her tone scholarly. "Until my awakening, I was always suspicious of certain items in my home. Now I understand the reasons behind them." 

The secret lounge room was a sanctuary. Rich wooden beams crisscrossed overhead, and the polished wood floor gleamed softly in the hearth's flickering light. A cozy fire crackled and danced, filling the air with the scent of burning pine and a gentle warmth that seeped into one's bones.

Shelves laden with books and artifacts stretched towards the ceiling. The scent of aged paper and leather mingled with faint aromas of herbs and potions, creating a scholarly and arcane atmosphere.

Tools and relics hung meticulously, their metallic surfaces catching the light and adding a touch of mystery. The round windows, like the eyes of an ancient being, allowed soft, golden light to stream in, illuminating the room with a magical glow.

In the center of the room, a large, intricately carved wooden table stood as the heart of this hidden haven. Covered with scrolls, maps, and vials, it testified to the many secrets and experiments conducted here.

"This place is perfect," Finn said, flashing a mischievous smile. "We can totally use it as our base." He imagined countless nights spent poring over ancient texts, uncovering secrets long forgotten.

"I feel like I've stepped into a different world," Merida said, her voice filled with wonder as she ran her fingers over the spines of ancient books. "These must be older than my gran's tales." She carefully pulled out a tome, blowing off the dust.

"We should keep this secret," Asdras added, still looking at the window. "If others find out, they'll want to take it from us." 

"Agreed," Lisandra nodded. "This place could provide us with the advantage we need for our training and preparation."

Stig walked to the large table, picking up a scroll and unfurling it. "Look! Maps an' drawings bountiful. Ain't seen this much since Father Gregory's sermons." He traced a finger over a map, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Now," Finn spread his arms wide, "we've got ourselves a group with a name. Time for introductions."

"You start," Merida said, settling into the couch and adjusting her back with a relieved sigh. "You brought the idea, made us form a group, so you kick things off."

"Sure, but first," Finn walked over to a steampunk-style mini fridge, adorned with brass gears and copper piping. It hummed gently, keeping an assortment of chilled drinks neatly stored within its glass-paneled door. "Anyone fancy a drink?"

"Drink? Got any milk?" Stig gulped.

"What's this thing? Never seen one before," Asdras said, eyeing the fridge with curiosity. He tapped it lightly, marveling at the cold air.

"It's a refrigerator," Lisandra explained, "used to store beverages or food at a chilly temperature."

"Any beer?" Merida looked up, eyes bright.

"No," Finn shook his head, "but we've got this." He placed a slender glass container with a narrow neck on the table, sealed at the top.

"This ain't milk!" Stig exclaimed.

"Looks fancy," Merida remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Is it wine?" Asdras asked.

"Yes, wine," Lisandra confirmed. "It appears to be a merlot. It has flavors of ripe berries and dark chocolate, with a hint of spice and a comforting warmth that makes you feel quite sophisticated.

Each of them fetched a cup and waited for Finn to fill them.

"Sweet cow's udders! Need more o' this," Stig chuckled heartily. "Back home we ain't got nothin' like this."

"Better than the swill in the city," Merida said, tasting it carefully. "Much better. It's sweet."

"It is warm," Asdras said, sipping. "Makes me feel more comfortable."

"Alright," Finn began after they all had tasted the wine. "I'm Finn, the third in my family to attend this academy. I've always been curious and eager to learn, and I hope to bring that energy to our group. I'm easygoing and honest, and I expect honesty from you guys too. My dream is to become a runic archaeologist."

"Archa-arcae-logist?" Stig stuttered.

"Archaeologist," Finn continued with enthusiasm. "People who spend their time studying ancient buildings or seeking new ones to explore. They also study rune languages. I don't know about the Ars world, but our world is full of ruins waiting to be explored — the most famous being the Ruin of the Headless Men in the dark forest."

"Why headless men?" Merida asked attentively, curiosity piqued. She leaned forward, eager for the story.

"It's said that most explorers were found dead without their heads — no one knows why yet; could be monsters, curses, or something else entirely. I heard a rumor that the academy is offering 50,000 gold for whoever cracks it."

"500—how many zeroes does that have? Damn, you can buy a herd of cows and land with that," Stig exclaimed, slapping himself as he tried to imagine such a sum.

"More than that," Lisandra giggled, "you could earn the privilege to reside within the inner circle of Martimus."

"The capital?" Merida exclaimed excitedly. For her, growing up in the outskirts, Martimus was more a myth than a real place. "Blonde boy, you need to sign me up."

"From a Finn to a blonde boy," Finn shrugged, "I guess it's a start. Trust me, you wouldn't like being an archaeologist unless you want to spend most of your time reading or writing."

"No," Merida shuddered with a grin, "I'm more for the fun."

"Then tell us," Finn suggested.

 "Hey there! I'm Merida, just started at the academy. Hail from Baurous, y'know, where the sun always shines and the troupes never stop performin'. Always had a thing for summer days and fixin' stuff up at the old repair shop. Dreaming big 'bout bein' a crafter one day."

"A Crafter?" Asdras pondered aloud. "The kind who build things like the Jumper?"

"I guess so," Merida shook her head. "I don't know much about outside Baurous. The bearded man's stories about some crafters are so childish and nonsensical they make me question what I know about crafting. He once told me an old man from the west built a strange box that can capture and freeze moments in time, like magic, so you can look at them whenever you want."

"Sounds like rubbish," Stig laughed.

"Yeah," Merida nodded thoughtfully, "I hope they help us choose better here."

"They do, but only when we become seniors," Lisandra confirmed. "My mother mentioned that we can choose our field of expertise, and the academy will assist us in that decision."

"How do we become seniors?" Asdras asked.

"There are two ways," Finn raised two fingers. "Either survive an Eruption or stay here for three years and pledge loyalty to the academy."

"Might as well face that Eruption then," Asdras chuckled.

"Right, my turn," Stig said, turning his cup of wine. "I'm Stig from way out yonder in the woods. Good with huntin' an' herdin'. Dream's to be free as a bird an' fly in the sky one day."

"Like a sky pirate?" Merida eyed him keenly.

"A sky pirate? What's that?" Stig asked, surprised.

"I heard from the troupe that sky pirates use ships to navigate the sky instead of water. Few exist nowadays. They said the sky is more dangerous than the ocean." Merida added with fascination.

"Dunno about that," Stig shook his head, "but if it'll get me flyin', I'll be one."

"Good luck with that; you'll need heaps of money," Finn twisted in his seat with exaggerated flair. "If ticket prices reflect their cost — dear science— they must either be rolling in dough or barely scraping by."

"I'm Lisandra Noctis. Yes, from the Noctis family," Lisandra affirmed, noticing their curious glances. "Despite being a Noctis, I'm not well-versed about the academy. My aspiration is to enhance my family's legacy by becoming an alchemist."

"Oh, good choice," Asdras nodded, remembering when he first saw her in the alchemy shop.

"Only if she didn't ask as much as that greedy bastard," Merida snorted with irritation. "No offense to you, Lisandra. But when I most needed that potion to relieve myself from the cold, that bastard charged me 50 silver coins for something he sells at 10. Even the dealers on the outskirts have more morals than him."

"None taken," Lisandra shrugged. "I understand completely. I briefly worked as a Deliverer, so I'm aware of what people expect from alchemists. Holding the power to alleviate suffering can be burdensome. But that's not my path; my dream is to discover Saint Rose's ancient recipe."

"Saint Rose? The same one we swore and learned about?" Asdras asked.

"Yes exactly — Saint Rose — a name many associate solely with sainthood but hardly anyone speaks about her profound impact on alchemy — she devised this miraculous formula capable curing almost anything — from illnesses down physical injuries — it saved countless lives but sadly got lost time and hasn't been found again last 10 thousand years!"

"Never heard that side," Merida frowned deeply. "I hope you find it... If we had that cure, they would be alive..."

A wave of silence swept over the group, enveloping them in contemplative stillness. Their thoughts turned inward as the weight of unspoken words pressed down. Just as the quiet morphed on the edge of discomfort, Asdras broke through.

"My turn now. I'm Asdras. Don't know much about myself; lost my memories and can only recall stuff from a year and a half ago. My dream is to figure out who I am, if I've got any family out there. In my free time, I play the lute and train with my sword."

"Tough luck," Stig said, patting Asdras on the shoulder. "Can't remember a thing?"

"No."

"I was going to let it slide because it's none of my business," Finn said pointedly at Asdras's palm. "But are you cursed?"

"Yes, I'd like to learn more about it too," Asdras nodded.

"Then you're strong!" Merida smiled warmly at him.

"In what way?"

"I always heard about the cursed ones. The stories say they are devious in their strength — the most famous is The Crazy."

"The Crazy?" Lisandra asked.

"Yes, it is said that he once killed a swarm of creatures — more than a hundred — all by himself with nothing but his bare hands! It is rumored he is cursed to never tire in battle and to always seek one to fight over."

"To live for blood and never tire of it," Finn nodded thoughtfully, "is indeed quite the curse."

"Now that we know each other better," Finn continued smoothly, "and since we know our base location—we need to officially register in the staff room. How about we head there now?"

"Didn't you say we need a sixth member first?" Merida asked curiously.

"They'll give us three days to find any remaining members we need," Finn smiled slyly. "Besides — we might even bump into Joah on our way! Who knows?"