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Pantalone found himself in a beautiful courtyard. The architecture reminded him of the sketches Dottore had shown him a long time ago. Since he was in a completely different location, he supposed this change happened due to the picture Pierro had found in the diary of the wise. Had they entered some sort of domain? Was it physical? Or only a hallucination?
He took a quick look around, before stepping into the courtyard. A giant, beautiful tree stood in the middle and there, on a bench, sat a young man, with really long, light purple hair. “Ah! Neftervit. It’s not like you to b-”, the man exclaimed while turning around. He stopped when he saw Pantalone. “Oh, sorry. I was waiting for somebody. You know, not many people tend to come here”
Pantalone’s features softened. That somebody was probably Pierro. “I apologize for disturbing you then, Mr…?” Pantalone tilted his head. “Hroptatyr. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Oh, so this man was one of the five sinners? Pantalone chuckled to himself, while silently appreciating whatever intricate magic was responsible for this. The wise smiled and stood up to stand face to face with Pantalone. “I’m Feofan, the pleasure is all mine.”
Hroptatyr looks Pantalone up and down. “You’re not from the Universitas, judging by the clothes you wear.” From the man’s expression Pantalone concluded he found the look quite elegant. “I’m not”, he replied calmly, “just a passerby.” Pantalone opened his eyes a little to hold eye contact. However, his focus shifted to the surroundings instead. Such a beautiful peaceful place.
“A beautiful spot. It’s quite surprising that it seems to be unpopular” Pantalone wondered out loud and came closer. The other man stepped to the side and nodded along. “Indeed. However, my friend and I appreciate the quiet for our lectures here.” That simple sentence reminded Pantalone of the many hours spent in private with Dottore. Listening to the doctor play the piano, drinking tea together and also discussing various topics of his research. A small wave of pain crushed over Pantalone, although it was the familiar sensation of grief pressing the air out of his lungs.
The Regrator decided to pry. “What kind of lectures do you do?” He turned his head slightly to the side. Hroptatyr chuckled a little and put his left hand to his chin. “Well, the lectures differ greatly from time to time. It mostly depends on the type of research we’re doing at the particular time of these lectures. It’s always insightful to ask for a second opinion and ponder problems together” The wise had such a cheerful and yet incredibly calm voice. It was clear that the purplenette truly cherished those lectures they hold in this place.
Feofan himself wondered if the Jester felt the same way. Or rather, had felt the same way back then. Perhaps, their great director was having a conversation with this gentleman as well. Pantalone almost mourned the chance to observe that interaction. It probably would be amusing to no end.
“So, you two just compare research and puzzle on problems?” He asked calmly. Shifting his mind back into the present moment. A burning question already lingering in the back of his mind. He watched Hroptatyr think about his answer for just a tiny bit longer than before. “Essentially-” Pantalone couldn’t help himself. Usually, he’d keep his polite, composed front up longer in front of strangers, but who knew how long Pantalone would stay here, so he interrupted: “What do you know about the leylines?”
Hroptatyr was surprised, not by the question, but by the fact that this man, who just gave the impression of being a patient and calm man, suddenly cut him off. “The leylines? They are streams of elemental energy that carry and record memories. It’s not my field of specialty, but they are still fascinating, aren’t they? Why?” Hroptatyr smiled gently at Pantalone, whose face had scrunched up into a conflicted expression. “Well… let’s say… hypothetically of course, someone were to split his soul… die, so one part of the soul fuses into the leylines and then the other, still alive part of the soul is used to create a consciousness inside the leylines and then died- is there a way to bring that soul back?”
The purple haired man was surprised. “What?” Truly, no one had asked him a question quite like this, but something told him this question was very important to this person. “I don’t know. Something like that has never happened before.” The sinner continued. Pantalone nodded with a soft expression: “It is a hypothetical afterall”
Hroptatyr wasn’t impressed, nor actually convinced, yet he didn’t say anything. Obviously, this man was trying to keep secrets and the scholar would let him. “Well, the first reasonable conclusion to come to, would be no. Once inside the leylines, the soul and memories of somebody are most likely stored away properly. Perhaps, it would be possible to see remnants of the hypothetical consciousness, however that would also require a most likely dangerous defect within the leyline itself.” The Wise thought out loud, so Pantalone could follow his stream of thought. The Regrator nodded along once more.
“So, we have to create a disturbance and hope it targets the right soul?” Pantalone replied. “That would be foolish and way too dangerous as well. It would need further research into the leylines themselves to determine whether it’s possible to filter out specific souls.” Hropatyr shook his head and Pantalone’s face fell. “I see.. Well, thank you for your time.” He bowed his head slightly, but Hroptatyr just chuckled amusedly. “However…”, the purplenette started, as a slight smile and a genuinely intrigued expression found their way onto his face.
What ensued was what felt like hours of theories. Some of which Pantalone understood and sounded like something his doctor had told him before, but also some of which had Pantalone second guessing his own intelligence. But whenever he asked for a repetition, Hroptatyr would gladly oblige and when Pantalone was satisfied with what he had learned, he knew he had understood it just as much.
He was reminded of Dottore so many times that day. Sandrone’s very much targeted insult came up in his mind more often than he would have liked too. Surely, Hroptatyr had noticed the Regrator’s solemn, yes, very saddened expression more than once even when the black haired man was actively listening to the purplenette talking about how the theory of some sort of elemental core that could technically inhabit the memories of a soul and allow it to interact with the present.
Anyhow, with time Pantalone noticed that Pierro had lied. Or at least partially. The Wise was as knowledge-hungry as Dottore, but there were moral lines he wouldn’t cross. Maybe something in the future erased those lines altogether, but in that regard his doctor had been a lot more radical in his approaches.
“This was indeed a very insightful conversation.” Pantalone offered at last. His chest aching too much to continue this now. Their conclusion had been satisfying to his mind, but entirely shattering to his heart. To their knowledge now, it was entirely impossible. Hroptatyr nodded along: “I think so too, thank you for your time.”
The two men smiled at each other and while Pantalome turned around to hide the tremor in his lips that screamed for a cigarette to calm his nerves, Hroptatyr waved slightly. “I do hope you’ll find the strength to move on, Mister Feofan.” The statement was calm, spoken so softly – it felt like another arrow pierced right into his chest. His knuckles clenched. Not in anger, just emotional distress. “Thank you.” His own voice was too quiet for his liking. Too shaky to resemble his pride. He had to compose himself. If he returned and broke down in tears, the other harbingers would either mock him or be entirely indifferent to his anguish. Perhaps, Tartaglia alone would be concerned.
He stepped out of the courtyard and found himself back in Glupov. A few other people seemed to still be in a trance, so Pantalone luckily had time to compose himself. Clearing his throat and realigning his coat was the easy part. The people who were awake were Pulcinella and Arlecchino. They had their eyes on him, so he mustered a smile. None of them said anything. Silently waiting for everyone to come back.
His emotions were still bubbling, and his right hand twitched towards his cigarettes, but he didn’t take them. He should wait until he was back in his office. However, he hoped that would be soon, because nothing else could distract him from the desperate desire to see his doctor again.
Thinking of… his gaze crept over to the traveler. Still in a trance. He wasn’t particularly happy to see them, but it wouldn’t benefit anyone if he let his emotions get the better of him and go off on the traveler. So, just as he did before, he simply ignored their presence as best as possible. Plus, they weren’t solely responsible for Dottore’s demise. Everyone here was involved or had wished for it.
Pantalone could have simply kept 35’s second part of his soul, but what good would that have done? Not much, neither to Dottore nor himself. But it remains clear, he let Dottore go. And everyone else came together to kill him.
Oh, doctor. Are you smiling at the chaos even your death brings about? Or are you far too busy to even ponder the living again?
Eventually, everyone was awake again. All his colleagues gave a brief recap of what they had spoken about with the sinner. Pierro even found a way to defeat Ronova, which was great for them and exactly what they needed. And Pantalone? Well, he stayed quiet. That conversation would remain secret until the day he reunites with the one it was meant for.