Argus: We can't say for sure if this ritual was created by the last guest.
Argus: Fact is, you can find all kinds of unusual markings in this motel—most of them less than a month old. Very recent indeed.
Argus: The maid said that there ain't many tourists these days, so my guess is that a group of skilled arcanists have left their work in every room.
Argus: Based on the markings I've seen so far, there were about three to five people in this group.
Vertin: And was there a sheep-headed arcanist among them?
Argus: Well, that I don't know.
Argus: What I can say, though, is that there was a sheep living in here. I saw some hoofprints on the hallway floor.
Argus: It looked like someone had stayed in this motel with a sheep—sounds pretty odd, but I suppose it ain't too strange given the local farmland.
Argus: But I'm sure this will catch your attention.
Vertin: What?
Argus: We all know that sheep walk on four hooves.
Argus: But the hoofprints I saw were different. They were small and delicate and, most importantly, followed the movement pattern of a human. Judging by the trail ...
Argus: The owner of the hoofprints was about the size of a slender kid, maybe 5 feet tall.
This description exactly matches the Foundation's report.
Vertin: That's it. That's the one I'm looking for.
Argus: Don't I know it—they can question my morals, but nobody can question my competence.
Argus: So, may I enter your room now, Ms. Vertin?
Vertin: Please.
Argus: Now, let's start with this little thing.
Argus: The carvings are new. No sign of woodworm damage or moisture absorption.
Argus: These splinters along the edge are extremely sharp. Mm?
She dips her finger into a dark red, crumbly residue.
Argus: Is this dried blood?
She rubs the granules between her finger and her thumb, reducing them to a fine powder.
Vertin: Blood was used as the medium for this array.
Vertin: The circle isn't fully closed here, and the lines are a bit uneven. Whoever drew this doesn't seem to be an expert.
Vertin: You know how to deal with this, right?
Argus: All you have to do is ask, boss. You might be surprised.
Vertin: We need to destroy it as quickly as possible. I think it's been left by a dangerous occult group.
Argus: Hold on.
She places a pillow over the wood and pulls the trigger.
After a faint gunshot, the lingering light goes out.
*squelch*
Fresh blood oozes from the array, settling in the faded carvings.
Vertin: Is that blood?
The mercenary, unfazed, dips her finger into the red liquid and sniffs it.
Argus: Yup. The blood of an arcanist. So it can't be Kayla's.
Vertin: Can you discern the owner's identity?
Argus: Hah, I ain't all-knowing. I can't identify people by their blood.
Argus: No, I'll need more than just blood to find out who was here.
Argus: Mm?
She fishes out a dusty sheepskin journal from the gap between the cabinet and the wall.
Argus: ...
She flips through the pages.
Argus: "We are the beginning and the original source of metals."
Argus: "Through us, the highest tincture of art is brewed."
Argus: "There is neither a spring nor water like mine. I heal and help both the rich and the poor."
Argus: "Yet I am full of hurtful poison."
Argus: What the hell does that mean?
Vertin: It's a quote from a text on alchemy.
Argus: "All challenges will be resolved with the provision of sufficient and high quality materials and the precise execution of the array."
Argus: "But where do we find these materials?"
She continues to flick through the journal, releasing the accumulated alchemical residue on its pages into the air.
On the last page, tortured words are scrawled on the paper. It looks like something a criminal would write in their final moments before their death sentence.
Argus: "What was once sundered shall reunite."
Vertin: cough
Her nose burns as barely visible sparks heat the air.
Argus: I've seen this handwriting before.
"Order" Follower I: And here. My phone number.
He hands over a dollar bill with a string of numbers scrawled along the blank space.
The mercenary pulls out the crumpled bill from her pocket, comparing the handwriting with that in the journal.
Argus: Yup. This is definitely the same.
*bang*
Vertin: ...!
Argus: That sound. It's a Flying Arrow M1903 pistol.
???: Ahhh.
Argus: Kimberly? What's wrong with her now?
Argus: I better go check it out, boss. Something don't seem right. You coming?
Argus: That Kimberly must've run into something.
