The train hissed to a halt at Gare du Nord, exhaling a cloud of steam that mingled with the crisp winter air. It was nearly midnight, and the canopy of Parisian sky was a tapestry of velvet darkness punctuated by the dim glow of distant stars. The city’s heartbeat thrummed beneath the cobblestones, a blend of history and mystery that beckoned to those who dared to seek its secrets.
Arthur Zorba stepped onto the platform, his keen eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble. The scars etched across his face caught the flickering gaslight, a silent testament to battles fought both outwardly and within. The cold air was a familiar companion, but tonight it carried a hint of something else—a whispered warning, perhaps, or a premonition of trials yet to come.
Behind him, Viola Suttcliffe descended with a grace that belied time’s passage. She adjusted her modest hat, her gaze thoughtful as she took in the station’s architectural arches. Paris had always held a certain allure, a juxtaposition of beauty and decay. Beside her, Claire Corning pulled her coat tighter, her breath forming delicate clouds as she marveled at the grandness of the unfamiliar city.
Per Oskarson gathered the group’s belongings with practiced efficiency. The weight of accumulated years and knowledge rested on his shoulders, yet his eyes held a spark of anticipation. There was much to uncover here, much that had been left dormant beneath layers of dust and denial. He glanced over at Arthur. “Shall we secure our accommodations?”
Arthur nodded. “I’ve arranged for us to stay at the Balmoral. It’s not far from the Bibliothèque Nationale.”
The streets leading to the hotel were quiet, save for the occasional clatter of a carriage or the distant strains of a violin. The Balmoral stood as a modest but comfortable establishment, its facade modestly adorned in the style of the times. As they entered, the warm glow of the lobby offered a temporary respite from the night’s chill.
Arthur approached the concierge, his French smooth and unhurried. “Bonsoir, monsieur. Nous avons des réservations au nom de Zorba.” His voice carried the authority of one accustomed to command, yet there was a subtle edge—an undercurrent of vigilance that never fully subsided.
“Bienvenue, Monsieur Zorba,” the concierge replied, handing over the keys. His polite smile did not reach his eyes, and Arthur couldn’t help but wonder if the man noticed the cautious glances exchanged among the group.
Once settled in their rooms, the companions reconvened in the hotel’s modest lounge. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to whisper of hidden truths.
“Do you think we’re being followed?” Claire asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes darted toward the window, where the silhouettes of passersby moved like phantoms in the gaslight.
“One can never be too careful,” Viola mused, sipping delicately from a glass of wine. “Especially not here, not now.”
Per leaned forward, his hands clasped. “Our focus must remain on the task at hand. Time is not a luxury we possess.”
Arthur’s gaze hardened. “Agreed. We start at the Bibliothèque Nationale first thing in the morning. With any luck, their records will shed light on Count Fenelik and the Devil’s Simulare.”
The mention of those names cast a palpable pall over the group. They were venturing into the realm of the unknown, chasing whispers of a past that many sought to forget.
Sleep came fitfully, haunted by fleeting dreams that dissolved upon waking. Dawn broke with a pale light that filtered through the cityscape, failing to warm the stone and iron that surrounded them. Arthur was already awake, savoring a strong cup of coffee and a fresh croissant in the hotel’s dining room. The aroma of freshly baked bread offered a small comfort amidst the weight of their mission.
Viola joined him, her steps light yet purposeful. “A crisp morning,” she observed, though her eyes hinted at deeper contemplations.
“Indeed,” Arthur replied. “Paris wears winter well, don’t you think?”
She offered a faint smile. “It does. Though I suspect our time here will be anything but a leisurely holiday.”
Per and Claire soon appeared, the former straightening his scarf with a determined air. “I’ve been considering our approach at the library. We must tread carefully to gain access to the materials we need.”
“Do you anticipate difficulties?” Claire asked.
“The French are protective of their heritage,” Per replied. “Rightly so. But with the right introductions and a touch of diplomacy, I believe we can secure the necessary permissions.”
Arthur stood. “Then let’s not waste time.”
Their walk to the Bibliothèque Nationale was a journey through history itself. The grandeur of Paris unfolded around them—the intricate architecture, the echoes of footsteps upon cobblestones, the distant hum of a city steeped in secrets. Yet beneath the beauty lurked an undercurrent of tension, as though the very air vibrated with untold stories waiting to ensnare the unwary.
The library loomed ahead, a bastion of knowledge guarded by stone lions and an imposing façade. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of ancient paper and varnished wood. Shelves stretched toward vaulted ceilings, each tome a gateway to another time, another place.
Per approached the main desk, presenting their letters of introduction to the librarian. The man examined the documents with a scrutinizing gaze, his demeanor a blend of formality and thinly veiled superiority.
“Professor Oskarson,” the librarian intoned, raising an eyebrow. “Your credentials are… satisfactory. However, access to certain collections requires a degree of consideration.”
Per inclined his head. “I understand. We are most eager to begin our research, particularly into the works concerning the late Count Fenelik and the Devil’s Simulare.”
At the mention of those topics, a flicker of recognition—or was it unease?—passed across the librarian’s features. “Those are obscure and, shall we say, sensitive subjects.”
“All the more reason for thorough academic study,” Per countered.
The librarian seemed to deliberate, then nodded slowly. “Very well. I shall arrange for you to meet with one of our research assistants. He may be of service in navigating our extensive archives.”
Remy Vangeim was a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with an air of eagerness that bordered on the insatiable. His eyes brightened as he was introduced to the group, and Arthur couldn’t help but sense a certain restlessness in him—a hunger for knowledge that could either be an asset or a liability.
“I am honored to assist you,” Remy said, his English tinged with the lilt of his native tongue. “The archives hold many secrets, some of which have not seen the light of day for decades.”
“Let’s hope we can bring some of them to light,” Viola remarked, her gaze steady upon the young man.
They delved into the depths of the library, Remy guiding them through a labyrinth of shelves and corridors. The further they ventured, the more oppressive the atmosphere became, as though the weight of countless stories pressed upon them from all sides.
Hours passed in quiet concentration, the silence punctuated only by the rustle of pages and the occasional soft exclamation upon discovering a relevant text. Per’s fingers traced the spines of leather-bound volumes, his mind sifting through fragments of information in search of a coherent whole.
“Here,” he whispered, pulling out a worn book. “Court histories from just before the Revolution.”
Gathered around a sturdy oak table, they pored over the delicate pages. Remy’s translations flowed smoothly, each word unraveling a thread of the past.
“It speaks of a scandal,” Claire noted, her brow furrowed. “An indiscretion involving the Queen and a minor nobleman.”
“Count Fenelik,” Per confirmed. “Executed without trial.”
“An unusual punishment, even for those tumultuous times,” Viola mused.
Arthur leaned back, his gaze distant. “Perhaps he knew something he shouldn’t have. Or possessed something others coveted.”
“The Simulacrum?” Claire ventured.
“Possibly,” Per replied. “But there are gaps in the records—deliberate omissions, it seems.”
Remy looked up, a hint of apprehension in his eyes. “These are dangerous subjects. Some say that delving too deeply can have… consequences.”
Arthur regarded him steadily. “We’re well aware of the risks.”
The air grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Shadows lengthened as daylight waned, and the glow of the reading lamps cast an eerie pallor over their faces.
“We’ll need to return tomorrow,” Per announced, closing the book gently. “There is more to uncover, but it will take time.”
As they made their way back to the hotel’s embrace, the streets seemed narrower, the darkness more insistent. The city’s whispers grew louder, echoing in alleyways and the spaces between footsteps.
“Do you feel it?” Claire asked quietly.
Viola nodded. “Paris holds its breath, waiting.”
“Waiting for what?” Arthur asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer.
“For us to discover what should perhaps remain hidden,” Per replied solemnly.
That night, sleep was elusive. Each of them wrestled with their thoughts—the weight of history, the allure of forbidden knowledge, the thin line between curiosity and obsession.
The city outside continued its own restless vigil, its secrets entwined with theirs in a dance as old as time. Somewhere in the depths of Paris, the echoes of Count Fenelik’s fate lingered, and the shadows whispered promises that both enticed and warned.
Dawn would come soon enough, bringing with it another foray into the unknown. And as they prepared to face whatever truths awaited them, the companions could not shake the feeling that they were not alone—that unseen eyes watched from the periphery, and that the past was not as distant as it seemed.
The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, but one thing was clear: they had crossed a threshold, and there could be no turning back.
The session begins with Assistant Keeper Brian providing a recap of the previous events. Upon arrival in Paris at around 11:30 PM, the investigators discuss recovering luck points and perform luck rolls. The group discusses finding accommodation near the Bibliothèque Nationale. Concerned about being followed, they decide to observe the hotel lobby. The next morning, January 10th, Arthur Zorba is up before dawn. During breakfast, they discuss their plans for the day. Arthur speaks with the concierge in French about hiring a car. The investigators proceed to the Bibliothèque Nationale, which is within walking distance. The librarian reviews the letter and appears impressed but maintains a formal demeanor. Per agrees to hire Remi as their research assistant. In the meantime, the investigators have time before their afternoon meeting. They return to the Bibliothèque Nationale in the afternoon. Per makes a Library Use roll with a bonus die due to Remi’s help, achieving a hard success. At the end of the day, they check with the hotel concierge about the car. The session concludes with the investigators planning their next steps to uncover more about Comte Fenelik and “The Devil’s Simulare.”Session Notes