Azriel Capoue - The secrets of Al

Chapter 03

Stefan proceeded down the lengthy corridor with a somber countenance, his hands discreetly nestled within his inner garment pockets. Each step he took seemed intentionally amplified by the resounding echoes of his heels striking the concrete floor. This desolation pervaded the corridor, where mounted on its walls, were the formidable trophies of real animals, boasting their colossal horns and menacing features. Despite the creatures' closed eyes, an eerie sensation persisted, as if their gaze was perpetually fixed upon him. It was not Stefan's inaugural journey through this clandestine passageway leading to the cardinal's office, but the disquiet he harbored toward these trophies had remained unaltered.
"Why are these even here?" he would often ponder, inwardly. While he had not yet been troubled by nightmares featuring these macabre specimens, an ominous apprehension hung in the air. Nevertheless, Stefan resolutely repressed any fear, almost defiantly.
As he arrived at the door, Stefan delivered a distinct knock. "Come on in..." came the response from within. With deliberate composure, he entered the chamber and, as he neared the substantial table behind which the cardinal presided, Stefan dutifully lowered his head.
"You need not bow so reluctantly; I'm not your equal," the Cardinal remarked with a hint of annoyance. His tone indicating that he expected Stefan to show more respect in his gesture.
Stefan's eyes widened in response, as if unintentional, he had erred. He promptly corrected himself, performing a proper bow.
"This shouldn't take long; I have a meeting. What news do you bring?" the Cardinal inquired, disregarding Stefan's second gesture of deference.
"Your Eminence, while I haven't yet pinpointed its exact location, I have acquired a lead," Stefan responded.
The Cardinal shook his head with a tinge of disappointment. "A lead?" he queried in an almost whispered tone, as if whispering to himself.
"Yes, Your Eminence," Stefan affirmed.
"How many leads have you pursued in recent months, Stefan?" The Cardinal's voice grew agitated, his intense gaze locked upon Stefan. An anxious perspiration had taken hold of him(Stefan), with a bead of sweat tracing its course down his back, likened it to the sensation of a feather being gently drawn down his neck.
His forehead glistened with perspiration.
"Are you listening?" the Cardinal pressed.
"Huh? Forgive me, Your Eminence..." Stefan apologized.
"I asked you to elucidate this lead of yours and its proximity to acquiring Almezhier's book," the Cardinal demanded.
"Okay... well, uh... I have recently come into possession of one of Professor Peter Capoue's journals."
"Ah, Capoue, the traitor. What's the relevance? We thoroughly searched his office and home after his demise, but nothing tied him to the book. His inclusion in the mission was clearly a mistake. Hmm -- One of his journals? What makes you sure he had more?" The Cardinal inquired.

"Yes. Well, the initial portions of this particular journal are somewhat perplexing, akin to starting a book from its one hundredth page, and the conclusion... elusive."
"Oh - I see your point."
"Yes, your eminence. Within this particular journal, there is a mention of an individual named 'James Adamczyk.' I suspect that James either possessed knowledge of the book's location or had it when Mr. Capoue approached him. I intend to investigate promptly by traveling to Tarkwa."
"Investigate this matter and return swiftly with significant findings for the Holy Father, who grows impatient."
Stefan, with a slight bow, exited the room. As the door closed behind him, he reached into his inner pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. Wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead, he sighed with palpable relief. The white cotton fabric quickly became drenched with sweat. He gazed at the handkerchief in his hand for a moment, then a look of disquiet settled upon his countenance.
Stefan's discontentment stemmed not from the Papacy's ideals or their often-unsavory tasks, but from a deep-seated aversion to being told what to do. Stefan saw himself as above such directives. He felt that he possessed a comprehensive understanding of the task at hand, feeling confident in his knowledge of both the necessary steps and the methodology required for its successful execution. Receiving directives left him with a sense of being akin to a marionette devoid of independent thought.
He neither relished giving orders nor following them. This is why he maintained a direct line to the Cardinal, a unique privilege considering that even senior state alchemists rarely met the cardinal in person.
No senior alchemist supervised Stefan, and no junior alchemist looked up to him. His association was solely with the cardinal because that's who he reported to. Nonetheless, he somewhat harbored an aversion to it.
For many who are Damsgaardians, making it to Pope Aldous' school and becoming a state alchemist in Ωdegaard was an impossible... Stefan had achieved both, primarily with the cardinal's support, and yet, he couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that came with reporting to him, evoking memories of his tumultuous childhood.
Stefan had spent his early life as an orphan, scraping by on the unforgiving streets. He worked tirelessly, often going hungry, while enduring mistreatment from those who employed him due to his dirtiness, malnourished appearance, and the perception that he might carry contagious diseases. His journey to where he stood now had been a formidable one, deeply etched with hardships, struggles, and harsh doses of betrayals.
"Oh no!" he exclaimed as he sent his gaze to his watch; his distress evident.
With only fifteen minutes until the departure of the next train, the prospect of waiting until dawn for the subsequent one appeared dire for Stefan. Especially since he had meticulously devised a specific modus operandi for the task at hand. His plan necessitated reaching Milfhaard before midnight and then catching another train from there to Tarkwa in the morning. While he could opt to wait for a direct train to Tarkwa, he harbored a crucial agenda to address in Milfhaard between midnight and morning. Missing