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That orb in the vault—Father never uses it, but perhaps it might be of use to you. Deep within the vaults of the castle there was a sphere of a blue-black stone-like material. A seeing stone—your grandfather had excavated it, though when he tried to use it, it horrified him into never using it again. Father never bothered using it, and it lay there collecting dust deep under the Albrechtsburg.
Of the exact capabilities of the orb, you knew little, only that it could drive the uninitiated mad.
Nevertheless, you decided to get up from behind your desk; with a summoned gust of wind, you blew out the candles before making the long journey from the highest tower to the undercroft.
It was dark as you descended the staircase; the storm outside had yet to subside, and this tower suddenly felt fragile.
At this late hour, the only remaining lights were those set up by the patrolling guards, who let you through without any fuss.
The deeper you went still, the undercroft was cold, though you by nature could stand such temperatures with much more comfort than your average human. You walked past the corridor and storage room, deeper and deeper, until you hit the third level underground.
When you reached the royal vault, it was guarded by the two knights of the Argent Swan Father had charged with keeping the crown jewels safe. They too let you pass, most likely assuming you were on a missive from your father.
You walked past the crown, the sceptre, and the royal orb. Though they glittered much in the torchlight, you weren't there for them. Nor were you there for the gilded scabbard of Silberkralle, the only piece of the crown jewels your father keeps with him, and the only one with any practical use.
There, nearly shoved to the side like an unfavored child, lay what you had been searching for. Under a heavy dark velvet cloth, lay it. The orb of things yet to come.
You took a deep breath, took off the cloth, and placed both your hands upon the orb. You closed your eyes, and what you saw was a kaleidoscope of things: strange men, in strange clothes, upon strange horses, living in strange buildings. The images flashed before your eyes, overwhelming your senses with visions of a world beyond your own.
Though unlike your grandfather, you felt it, your own will, and the overwhelming feeling had worn off, and you were beginning to get some grasp upon what was going on. Leaving nothing to fate, you concentrated and imposed your will upon the orb. It slowed down the images, and you managed to narrow it down to simply revealing the coming years.
You saw fleets of ships sailing, a Svengalian fighting a Greifswalder, your father proudly jumping from the ship onto the beach, and Father talking with an Elf for some reason. Better still, you managed to peer into the locations and positions the Svengalians would, or rather could, take. You could thus conclude that this foray into the arcane had borne its fruit.
