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The tea is different this time. A Chinese variety, perhaps? Golden chrysanthemum petals float gently as you bring the steaming cup to your lips. The tea is sweet. A little light for your tastes, but Leng gives a nod of sincere appreciation.
Again, Kerashim doesn’t drink anything himself. After steeping tea for the two of you, he slides over a page filled with elegantly penned notes. You suspect that they were written solely for your reference – not his.
“A pleasure to see you as always, Pilot. And you – a fellow scholar I see – welcome to our humble library!”
Leng shakes his proferred hand with more enthusiasm than you expect.
“Originally, I had arranged another reading list for the two of you. It was shortsighted on my part – I was not entirely aware of the time constraints you were being subjected to.”
You manage to catch a glimpse of the note sheet before Leng steals it away. There is text, but the center of the page is occupied by a drawing that almost looks…anatomical. Like a cross section of a particularly ugly mushroom. Or a ripe tumor.
Unhurriedly, Keratin continues. “Regardless, I believe that I have identified – to an extent – the entity responsible for this event.”
He tilts his mask towards the two of you. “The first individual to name her was an Assyrian scholar. Aššur-šumi-aṣbat if I am remembering correctly. His writing is fragmented, but he references a rival queen – or more accurately female king – who steals settlements away to a kingdom beyond reach. First the fog. Then the viscous rains. Then her tithe is complete.”
“Since then, I have found scattered references in our history. A few medieval occultists have made references to a similar entity – dubbing her the growth-in-regal-purple or the filamentous queen. Again, there is the fog and the rains. They describe her motive as something between lust and greed. A desire to grow and become.”
While you were familiar with Kerashim’s particular…style… of speaking, Leng was not. She looks at him with mild confusion.
“Like biological hunger…?”
Kerashim gives a slight nod. “Close. When you were a child, have you ever spat in someone’s food to make it yours?”
Leng frowns in disgust. “No.”
“Well, that might be the best human translation I have. There are many ways of declaring ownership. You can put labor in it. You can trade for it. You can raise it. But the easiest – and most disgraceful – way is to ruin it for all others. To soil it with a part of yourself so that it is acceptable to you and you alone.”
“That is the base motive behind the entity you will be facing. A desire to steal and own, enforced through corruption.”
As Leng mulls over Kerashim’s words, you try to press him for more practical advice.
