Needless to say, I took the semester off from Cabotton University, and Pat a few weeks from his job, for this trip to Ancondria.
Today was the third time I have ever flown in my life, and the first time, since my date with Helen, that I had been to the Gentry County Airfield. Now that I could see it in the day time, I've noticed that the Airfield seems stuck between the airship chapter of the past and the gyroplane chapter of the future, having landing pads and gates serving both. I am sure that this has been the case for numerous airfields around the Commonwealth, but I was a tad fascinated nonetheless.
Pat and I took a small gyroplane from here to the Basin District. At the Basin District, we boarded a larger gyroplane, which flew approximately eight hours to the Ancondrian city of Kronoston.
Thus, today served the first time in my life that I set foot in Ancondria.
Before we left for Kearney, I decided to stop at one of the department stores in Kronoston, where I purchased an expensive gyroscope. Pat advised me not to, but I have been hell-bent on using some sort of item bought here to prove to my friends back at Cabotton that I indeed visited Ancondria, just in case they decide that they should not believe me. Afterward, we took a passenger lorry to Kearney.
Now, I need to pause for a moment and describe how interesting the transit system is here. At first, when I heard the term "lorry," I thought they were referring to something like a box truck or a coach bus, or something else of the sort. These vehicles are truly unique to the Ancondrian Domain, however; for though they have the same interior passenger-and-cargo-space structure as that of a bus or truck, these "lorries," instead of being on normal wheels, are placed atop these "super-wheels" housed in a trapezoid-shaped undercarriage much wider at its base than at the top where is located the passenger cabin area. Efficient? I'm not sure, especially since the highway "tracks" they travel on from city to city, at around a speed of 150 miles per hour, are very wide multi-lane routes made of concrete and protected by 100-foot-high walls, topped with barbed-wire fences, on either side. They also seem as loud as gyroplanes when they fly by, according to the local reports. But nonetheless, the interior of the cabin is very comfortable, perhaps even more-so than aboard gyroplanes; and the experience is top-of-the-line modern and convenient.
So we took a passenger lorry from Kronoston to Kearney. And from the lorry transit hub in Kearney, we took a passenger shuttle to the nearest stop to the address indicated in the letter.
***
And it was Albin Gene, as we've suspected. He introduced himself upfront before acquainting himself with a group of super-loyal followers of his, who seemed to feel empowered by Gene's agenda. They toured us through a back-room on the ground floor of the residence, where stood a dymensional plane casting what they stated was a very accurate and realistic representation of the entire supercontinent of Ancondria.
That back-room, we later learned, was referred to as the Salon. And shortly after the tour, we were directed back out to the front-room, called the Great Foyer, where Albin ascended a podium along the wall opposite of the front door, and gave a speech.
The speech basically outlined the progress of his agenda, with the audience displaying very much an excited enamor and energized applause with every little accomplishment mentioned. Pat and I were a bit suspicious with this, as I presumed Pat would bring up as soon as we checked into our guest room at a residence across the street.
Before we left for the night, though, Albin Gene tugged me by the arm.
"Just a moment, please," he said to Pat. "I need to borrow this good man." Despite me fearing the worst, I went with Albin as he guided me back to the Salon, which was empty save for me and him. There, he pulled out from his suit jacket a small framed picture of a young women with strikingly long and black hair.
"Dalia Nahmens," Albin said. "That is her name."
My thoughts went back to what Amanda told me. For a moment, I felt a wave of panic.
"Please. I did not mean to scare you," Albin said, putting his hand gently on my right shoulder. "Despite what you have been told, she is a real person. I met her shortly before I left the University."
"Cabotton..." I began.
Albin gave a solemn nod. "She was the only one who understood me for who I am. Sadly, the forces of conspiracy from the Pageturner Guild sowed their division, and swayed her from me at the last moment. But not before she gave me this." Albin pulled from his pocket a chain at the end of which hung what appeared to be a coin embossed with what looked like a sun-disc with four rays, each right-angled from the other so that the embossment looked like a cross within a wheel. "This was a parting gift," Albin continued. "Dalia knew she was being swayed by oathcrafting from the Pageturners. She knew that she would not be able to resist for long. So she gave me this. She told me to leave...and that was the real reason I left....She told me to leave, to go as far away as possible, for a period of five years. Then she instructed me to send my most trusted stranger to return this to her, at her residence in Cabotton. She said that the Pageturner grip would be at its weakest by then, and that upon the moment she received this from that stranger, she would come here...to our new home."
He paused then and there, looking at me. To fill the awkward silence, I could only venture what was on my mind. "...so...I am that trusted stranger?"
"So it would seem," he said. "Though I need to have further discussion with you at a later time, to consider a test of endurance...I'll call you when the time comes; and you may invite Pat."
***
Indeed, Pat was suspicious. And furthermore, I have not been believing Albin in the slightest, though I dare not mention that to Albin himself. Regardless, Pat and I, back at our guest-room across the street, shared our experiences.
"That does like the missing spellcrafter cross," Pat said when I told him about the coin-shaped medallion with the sun-and-plus symbol. "The one stolen from Kelvin Schraber at Lerutan Theatre several years ago."
"Didn't it belong to Kontacet?" I said. I remembered at that moment. It was never really in the news, for both the Schrabers and Kontacets wished to keep quiet on what they perceived was a damaging degree of publicity. Nevertheless, the story has made its way around Cabotton University and the Third Level Society.
Accordingly, in October 1276, Alexander Kontacet commissioned an organization known as "the Vaults," located in the city of Budlapeyay, a bustling seaport along the North Coast of the island-nation of Tandeiyah, to forge a spellcrafter cross for a reason known only to those trusted Keepers of deep Kontacet family matters. Alexander then traveled to "the Vaults," attained the newly-made spellcrafter cross in person, and took it home to Jestopole.
Five years later, in October 1281, Alexander Kontacet was sitting in the back row of the audience in Lerutan Theatre to see a musical production, when a masked figure placed a cloth sack over his face and forcibly took the spellcrafter cross. The authorities were called and before long, suspicion arose that the incident was connected to, at the time, the ongoing Weyne-North feud; thus an investigation was launched. The Kontacet family, in the meantime, pulled all of their ropes to ensure that the press did not give them unwanted attention. The investigation would continue for five months, at the end of which an anonymous witness found the spellcrafter cross along a sidewalk in a part of the East Side of Lerutan rather notorious for spellcrafter gang activity. The witness turned the cross back to the authorities, who realized that the spellcrafter cross was damaged.
The thief was neither found nor identified; and the spellcrafter cross was given back to Alexander Kontacet, who decided not to have it repaired owing to the expense, but instead opted to return it to "the Vaults" for safekeeping. He did plan to eventually have it repaired but decided that it was not a top priority at that time.
The spellcrafter cross would rest in "the Vaults" until its involvement with the Schraber family some forty years later. No one is quite sure of the reason, but the Schraber family requested to borrow it, to which the Kontacets agreed. Thus, through the Schraber family, it landed in the possession of Kelvin Schraber.
Nearly an exact repetition of the past, Kelvin Schraber sat in the back of the audience of Lerutan Theater in October 1338 for a performance. When the show got to a loud part, some cloaked figure incapacitated Kelvin and stole the spellcrafter cross in the same fashion. This was followed by yet another round of investigations as well as another round of publicity cover-ups. Only this time, the spellcrafter cross has apparently been missing since.
"...but here it is, now, in Albin's possession," Pat concluded. "Though I will have to confirm by seeing it, myself."
"Of course," I said. "But how do we return it? He seems to have everyone around him swayed. So I'm sure he has spies...personal guards..."
"Oathcrafting," Pat said. "Right there in front of us. But nonetheless, we need to find a way to stop him. His influence is spreading. It seems contained within this street block if not solely within his residence. But we surely need to keep it that way if not stop him altogether."
I was just about to ask how, once again, when both of our communication tablets, in our pockets, gave off signature chimes indicating new messages. It was a group message over a new OCEA channel from Albin Gene, himself, inviting us both to a private dinner tomorrow.
"He did say that he wanted to speak with both of us tomorrow," I said, remembering now. "It's just the timing..."
"I wouldn't worry this time," Pat said.