Purpose and Petrichor

It was a rainy day, the kind that would, perhaps, not be entirely unpleasant but for the fact that Adriel was being forced to stand in it. No, in fact, the gentle patter of the drizzling rain on the cobbles was quite pleasing to the ear, and there was a sweet petrichor rising from amidst the tangles of herbs and dying leaves by his feet. The sky was an endless expanse of whitish-grey above, oppressive in a gentle way, as though a heavy blanket had been pulled across its entirety, trapping the whole world beneath. Still, he found himself wishing for an open sky, finding that he could not quite appreciate this sort of swaddling drapery of clouds. It felt far too confined, dense and almost intimate despite being so vast, almost as if he were still sitting in his musty little study, kept beneath its low ceiling by a mountain of paperwork and obligations. This sky did nothing to help settle the unease that had been growing in his chest all week, despite the comforting sounds of rain that fell from it.

He had hoped that this trip would at least be a good break from the claustrophobic nature of the capitol, with its high buildings and crowded streets. He had been feeling quite homesick recently, and thought of his countryside estate often. But Edmund had insisted that it would be easier to monitor his businesses and expand his social circle inside the capitol, so there he was going to stay, cooped up indoors and stumbling his way through weighted interactions with other nobles until his advisor was satisfied.

Sometimes he wished that he had turned down his advisor's suggestion. He never quite took to the city, and felt entirely inadequate in his ability to keep up with the pace that had been set for him there. He worried for his mother, and hoped that her health wouldn't take a turn for the worse while he was away. He refused to admit it aloud, but he was never quite at ease among high society without her graceful presence beside him, her gentle demeanor a sturdy shield that could diffuse whatever was thrown his way. He never understood the ease at which she seemed to command a room, how she could navigate the tensions of the other nobles and change the air to something more amiable with nothing but a few words and a smile. Perhaps it was second nature to her, having grown up the beloved daughter of a duke. Regardless, no matter how Adriel tried to emulate her easy, poised disposition, he could scarcely even remember to stand straight without his advisor nagging at him, let alone maintain the levels of grace and decorum expected of him while in a room full of snakes, all looking to strike the moment he made even a single mistake. Still, if he wished to maintain any hope of returning home with enough funds to finally hire the mages that could cure his mother, he would have to face the snakes. He couldn't afford to regret his decision to come to the capitol, as much as he missed home. Connections were everything, and if he wanted his businesses to do well, something would need to change soon.

And Edmund had told him as much just last week. The businesses were hitting all sorts of misfortunes recently, and were just barely pulling profit. The tea shop's sugar supply had been delayed, and they had been forced to purchase it locally at nearly double the cost. The men's shoe store didn't have enough winter shoes and boots made to match the sudden demand that came with the autumnal shift in season, and were now seeing a lull in customers. The inn had hired too many new maids, there was a new taxation on liquor, which none of the pubs were handling well, and the jewelry shop had recently had a young lady from a distinguished family complaining to all her friends, which were plentiful, that their shop's jewelry had turned her skin green. Despite the fact that this could happen with most gold, not just theirs, they had been seeing a decline in sales ever since.

The advisor hadn't been very reassuring about it either. He spent far too long delivering an extremely pessimistic, emotionally draining lecture, where he had repeatedly reminded Adriel that "We need to succeed here if you hope to ever restore your mother's health, remember? As things are now, if profits keep declining like this, it does not look very promising for us."

While Adriel was still stewing in worry for his mother's future, his advisor had then decided to continue, proposing an outrageous plan to him. He had only agreed to it because he knew that he couldn't risk losing his mother, not if he could do something to prevent it. And it wasn't as if Edmund had never tried to urge Adriel to marry before, hell, even his mother had done that a few times! In all honesty, Adriel wasn't even all that opposed to getting married. Just… something about this entire situation left him with a bad taste in his mouth. He had tried his best to ignore the feeling all week, and he couldn't afford to have doubts now. They had already traveled the half day by carriage, in the rain, no less, to this secluded village. It would be silly to turn back now that they were so close. He just hoped that Edmund was right about this plan of his.

He glanced at Edmund then, who seemed all too occupied, almost oblivious to the rain that threatened to soak them through. The advisor was reading some kind of written instruction very closely, before he suddenly pulled out a pocket watch, paused, and began muttering something under his breath that Adriel couldn't understand. He wanted to ask, but knew better than to interrupt him. Sighing, he began to fidget with the edge of his sleeve between his fingers, which he found was now starting to dampen despite the supposed water-resistant nature of its woolen fabric. He studied the run down state of the little cottage in front of him, wondering how much protection its ancient roof, which looked as though it were about to cave in, would actually serve to offer against the rain.

Perhaps it had once been a beautiful structure, but it now leaned considerably to one side, a truly impressive feat of time, considering the building was made of stone. There was so much moss between the cobbles that it almost seemed as though that was what cemented the house together instead of mortar. Half of the roof sloped dangerously inward, its concave leaving a perfect place for the rain to pool. He considered it, trying not to imagine how much water was probably dripping into its interior through that spot alone. He just hoped that the cottage was more water-tight than it looked. Then again, maybe that wasn't what it looked like at all. It was a witch's home, afterall, and anything was possible with enough spells in place. Perking up slightly at the thought, he examined the cottage for any of the rippling edges of an illusion spell, disappointed to find nothing out of the ordinary. But Adriel was soon jolted out of his disappointment when the rickety wooden gate in front of him suddenly creaked open on its own, as if inviting him into the overgrown garden ahead. He realized then that Edmund had ceased whatever chanting he had been doing before. The advisor finally glanced toward him, briefly fixing his piercing blue gaze upon Adriel's idle figure, before nodding politely and gesturing toward the garden path.

"After you, my lord."

Adriel nodded in return, subconsciously straightening his posture at his advisor's sudden attention before taking a few hurried strides toward the cottage's door. Edmund followed close behind, and the gate slammed shut behind them.

The door was probably the newest thing about the entire structure, sturdy, solid wood with an unblemished red finish to it. It was oddly slanted, following the cottage's precarious tilt in a purposeful manner. There was a brass knocker at about chin level, which sported an intricate symbol that Adriel didn't recognize. Before he could get a better look at it, however, Edmund had already clasped his hand around it, rapping at the door with it insistently. They heard a *bump* followed by a loud *CRASH* from inside, but after waiting for a few moments, no one came to greet them. Adriel glanced uneasily at his advisor, who was getting ready to knock again.

"Edmund, how certain are you that this is the right location?"

Edmund barely even glanced at him as he struck the knocker against the door again, harder this time. "This is the right place."

Adriel shifted his weight slightly, sighing softly and staring ahead at the door once more. Again, they waited, and again, there was nothing. Not even a sound followed their knocking this time. Adriel glanced back at the knocker, which Edmund was still holding impatiently, completely ready to continue doing damage to the door with it.

"Wait, Edmund, maybe there's a reason she isn't answering…"

Edmund sighed, annoyed as he let go of the knocker. "Perhaps, my lord; a brilliant observation, truly. But as you may notice, we're stuck waiting for the hag regardless of her reasons. So, unless you'd like to wait all day…" he turned back to the door, about to grab the knocker again, before he froze, staring at it. Suddenly, he let out a laugh, bringing his hand back down to his side. "How careless of me."

Adriel stared at the man, slightly concerned. "...What is it?" Edmund fumbled around in his coat, producing a small notebook. He didn't answer, instead flipping through the book, seemingly in search of something. Adriel looked back at the knocker, its design now clear to see. He still didn't understand what Edmund was making a fuss about. On the knocker was engraved several complex swirls and shapes, all set within its circular boundaries. While beautiful, Adriel didn't find it nearly as clarifying as his advisor had. He turned back to Edmund, who seemed to have finally found what he was looking for, and was now furrowing his brow slightly. The advisor glanced back up at the knocker, calculating, before snapping the book shut. He had his lips pursed slightly, quirking down at the edges into a frown.

"What is it?" Adriel repeated, slightly impatient.

Finally, Edmund responded. "It's a question rune, spelling 'Purpose.' I suppose it's meant to be an entry code of sorts…"

Adriel glanced at the rune on the knocker once more, as if understanding its meaning would suddenly help him to make some sense of its seemingly erratic design. "... If it's a question, then… how do we answer?"

Edmund sighed, rubbing silently at his greying temples in contemplation. He looked up to the knocker again, directing his words toward it. "We are here for business. Let us in."

Nothing happened. Edmund let out an impatient puff of air, opening his little notebook once more. He thumbed at the pages before settling upon one. Adriel glanced at it. There was an assortment of small shapes and swirls, all arranged neatly in rows. The patterns each seemed to correspond with the alphabet, as well as what seemed to be phonetic translations. Edmund, who had been staring at this chart, suddenly stood straight again as he said something in a language unfamiliar to Adriel. When nothing happened, he grabbed the knocker, tapping at the door with it as he repeated himself, louder this time. He stood back, staring at the door expectantly. The door remained silent and unmoving.

As Edmund glanced back at his book, Adriel tentatively put forth his question. "...What did you say to it?"

Edmund sighed. "'Business.' And when that didn't work, 'potion.'"

"Well… maybe it doesn't like your answer? I mean, the question spell is written as a rune, maybe it wants a written answer in return…?" he glanced at Edmund nervously, who didn't say anything in response. He continued, unsure of himself, "Although I suppose there isn't any sort of slot here to put a written answer through…"

Edmund quietly regarded Adriel's words for a moment before suddenly straightening, as though remembering something important. His hand quickly darted into his robes, and after fishing around in his pockets for a bit, he finally seemed to find what he was looking for: a small, ornately decorated knife. Though, it was quite oddly shaped for a knife, almost more akin to a dip pen than any type of blade Adriel had ever seen before. He furrowed his brow slightly, wondering what Edmund could possibly do with a knife. Surely he wasn't going to carve the door? Even if the witch could probably fix it… what if they were wrong? Ruining the witch's door, the only thing here that seemed unmarked by the abuse of time… It didn't seem to be a very wise way to get her on their side… Still, he didn't say anything. His advisor always had a plan, and he trusted his judgment.

Said advisor had neatly tucked away his notebook, and had now unsheathed the knife, whose blade was small and sharp, with a very fine edge. With a steady hand, he lifted the knife slowly. He took a deep, steadying breath, before directing the blade carefully toward his own left palm. Adriel took in a sharp breath, his eyes widening with surprise and worry as he reached for his advisor.

"Edmund! What are you–"

"Quiet!" Edmund didn't even look back at him as he snapped. Disregarding his master's shock, he continued, pressing the blade's point against his skin. Adriel heeded the command and hovered anxiously as he watched. It didn't seem to hurt, or, at least, if it did hurt, Edmund betrayed no sign of pain. Truly, though sharp, the blade did little more than scratch the man's skin, leaving only the slightest trail in its wake. Edmund wasted no time. He moved unhesitatingly, leaving what Adriel could only assume was a rune of some kind scored onto his skin. Adriel watched, brows furrowed slightly, as his advisor lifted his left hand, grasped the knocker with it, and pounded heavily at the door three times. As Edmund stepped away from the door, Adriel noticed with a start that the rune upon the knocker was now glowing a faint red color. After a few seconds, the light faded, and Adriel wondered if he had perhaps imagined it. He didn't hesitate on the thought for long, though, instead turning his focus back to Edmund.

"What in the world was that??? Are you alright? Why would you–" He had grabbed his advisor's wrist, turning his hand to look at the wound. The wound, however, had vanished. Edmund's hand appeared to be completely unscathed by the whole ordeal. Adriel was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion as he finally glanced at his advisor's face. Edmund, the ass, seemed to be trying his hardest not to laugh, his lips pursed into an unconvincingly serious line. Adriel huffed as he let go of Edmund's wrist. "Alright, I get it, there's something I'm missing. What are you not telling me this time? You do realize how worried I was, right? Is that funny to you?"

Edmund's smile finally broke free, despite his better efforts. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he lifted his left hand so that Adriel could see it once again. "Well, I do appreciate your worry, but as you can see it was quite unnecessary." He dropped his hand to his side again. "There's no need to worry, Adriel. I knew exactly what I was doing."

Adriel pouted slightly. He hated the way Edmund always managed to avoid telling him what he wanted to know. "Would an explanation really have been that hard?"

Edmund sighed, but before he could answer, a loud *click* sounded from the door's latch, and it creaked open not even a moment later. They both directed their gazes toward the doorway.

"Well," came a crackly voice from within the cottage, "I hope I didn't make you two wait." A small, ancient woman hobbled toward the doorway from inside. She was hunched and frail, and she leaned heavily on a crooked, knobbly cane for support. "So, your purpose is 'love…'" She grinned wickedly. "Then, you've come to the right place." She stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. Adriel hesitated, glancing at Edmund briefly before he followed the witch's invitation.