I don’t know where I’ve been, I don’t know how I came back. Everything is a blank, a hole in my mind. Only at the edges of memory can I hear scuttling feet and hissing voices. They tell me I’ve been gone a week, but that no one missed me. No one knew I was gone, and no one at the University cared. It was foolish of me to descend those stairs, to venture down in the most forgotten parts of the archive. But I was hoping to find something, anything that can help me understand Altdorf and it’s inhabitants. Old records, legends, religious pamphlets. I know there are books down there that scholars would kill to get their hands on. So down I went, into the musty and ill lit corridors – dare I even call them dark dungeons – to unearth the treasures of the bulging book shelves. I didn’t tell anyone, cetrainly not Emeritus Gutbelesen. I feel that he would try to stop me, did he know my plans. But as I walked among the wooden shelves I got the feeling I was not alone. Someone was watching me, someone was making plans. As I found a section that seemed particularly interesting, I caught a whiff of lilacs. For a second I thought it odd that lilacs would grown in such a dark abode, and then I don’t remember anything else, until a student found me wandering in the great library, dusty and generously adorned with cobwebs.
Angestag, Sommerzeit 26, 2522 IC