Chapter 93: Dollmaker
Arthur and Aziel talked for a bit whilst Lara and her group studied the pages. The blue candlelight flickered across their faces as they spoke, casting elongated shadows against the stone walls that seemed to dance with each word exchanged.
Eventually, as their conversation lulled, Arthur’s restless curiosity pulled him back to exploring the laboratory. He wandered among the tables and shelves, trailing his fingers carefully over ancient equipment, feeling the grit of centuries-old dust beneath his fingertips. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, dried herbs, and something metallic that tickled the back of his throat.
In the far corner of the room, partially hidden behind a large alembic with copper tubing that had turned green with age, Arthur spotted a rather large wooden square chest. It was plainly made compared to the ornate furniture they’d encountered elsewhere in the castle, but something about it drew him closer. Perhaps it was the way it sat apart from everything else, or the heavy iron lock that hung broken from its hasp.
Curiosity took over, and he knelt before the chest. Grasping the worn wooden lid, he creaked open the box, the ancient hinges protesting with a sound that echoed in the quiet room. A musty odor wafted out, the scent of things long forgotten.
Inside, Arthur found piles and piles of... dolls?
Arthur’s brows furrowed as he picked up one of the dolls, confusion replacing his initial excitement. These weren’t the treasures or magical artifacts he’d been hoping for. He lifted the small cloth doll up to his face to observe it more closely in the dim light. It was crudely made, with button eyes and stitched mouth, dressed in what might have once been fine fabric but was now faded and worn. The doll’s stuffing bulged in odd places, giving it a misshapen appearance that was somewhat unsettling.
’Odd, did the man who worked here like playing with dolls?’ Arthur giggled a bit at his own joke as he turned the doll around in his hands, examining it from all angles. Suddenly, his giggling ceased upon seeing what was on the doll’s back.
’...a-a magic circle.’
The laughter died in his throat, replaced by a sharp intake of breath. On the back of the doll, drawn in some red substance that Arthur desperately hoped wasn’t blood, was what looked to be a spell circle.