The magically sealed box sat in the center of the desk.
Veylin brushed his fingers over the runes. A pulse of mental power traveled along his fingertips, and the wax seal cracked silently as the lid sprang open.
Inside lay a letter and a stack of parchment wrapped in oilcloth.
He picked up the letter and unfolded it.
The handwriting was slightly immature. It was Leo's.
[Lord Veylin, I hope this letter finds you well.]
[Please forgive my presumption. Miss Caroline contacted me through the Golden Sail Merchant Guild a few days ago. She is deeply concerned about your situation in Minas Tirith. She hoped I could find you some magical items capable of dealing with underwater enemies, either in the Academy's treasury or on the black market.]
[I have failed your expectations. I searched every text in the Academy and visited several professors who study the oceans, but they all said that our existing magical systems were virtually powerless against races living ten thousand meters beneath the sea. The water pressure and darkness are insurmountable barriers for any land-dwelling mage. I could not find a single weapon ready for use.]
[But just as I was about to give up, I discovered a long-forgotten thesis in the Academy library's catalog. Its author was Phineas, a "madman" expelled from the Academy a hundred years ago. Every professor warned me not to touch his theories, calling them fanciful nonsense.]
[But I read it. My lord, I do not know whether it will be useful, but my intuition tells me that something in it might offer you inspiration. I copied the original manuscript and enclosed it with this letter.]
[Please take good care of yourself.]
[Your student, always, Leo.]
Veylin set down the letter and picked up the stack of parchment wrapped in