Hieronymus

Vert, spectacles Or.

### **Titles:**

Part-time Knight, Archivist’s Apprentice, Keeper of the Records, Beytah of Sittorese, Baron

### **Castle:**

~~A corner in Castle Arkive;~~ A chamber in Los Taelis, Commonwealth of Wechi; Scowler's Hermitage (under construction, highlighted in yellow)

### **Written by:**

Hieronymus Graubart

"Keep It Simple"

**Hieronymus the hermit** is a baron of the Union of Plort.

## The Tale of Hieronymus

Not much is known about Hieronymus the hermit. He travelled wide and far, looking for a place where to dwell when his livelong journey came near its end. Following rumours about a dreaded plague called the Marizu, and the brave knights who fought this evil, he came to the shores of Wechi. Unseen by anybody, he roamed this vast land for over a year, even sneaking into Arkive and the Hall of Ancient Records. Only when a stranger accused the noble knights of vile malefaction, Hieronymus stepped forward to Borrd to defend their selfless deeds.

Since then, he has talked to some of the denizens of Plort, and he began to build his home in Wechi, and to prepare his offerings to Kanun and Spelin, for he pondered to explore the mountain range of Purmeshun, but now he seems to be lost in the wood of Kar'eer. How he got there is still a mystery,  for he has never been seen in Iric.

Some may conclude that Hieronymus is a fearsome mage who comes and goes of his own volition, and has not revealed his full power yet, while others may believe that he is a leaf in the wind, never knowing where he may be tomorrow, and both may be right, for being self-contradictory is his very nature.

Over time, rumours spread that the hermit may have left the dark woods to walk the roads and pathways of Plort again.

Inhabitants of Ozerbord remember a grey bearded man who appeared at the Games of Batveg, clad in the habit of a harlequin, pretending to be a veritable knight, but fighting the atrocities in other knight’s tales rather than the misdeeds of the Marizu. Of course this fool was laughed out of town.

Wordsmiths and Grammagicians at Worhkshap tell tales of a taciturn, grey bearded man wielding a staff – named Androia – in the training sessions for scribe apprentices. Civilians, knights and even barons up and down Plort claim that this very man’s feeble attempts in practising the ancient arts of Beytah may actually have improved their strength. And nobody shall ever again mention the Quiet Baker-Knight’s weird experience at the Shipfest in a nameless harbour.

It is also said that Hieronymus, on his flight from Ozerbord to Worhkshap, passed an unexplored region at the junction of the Wattuf Mountains and the Mountains of Reverence, where he found the Snow Drops, a moste potente potion that helps curing forgetfulness. How these will be used in the future is yet to be seen.

Recently, the peasants living in the lands between the rivers Wep and Friwep began to talk about a newcomer, fitting the hermit’s description, amongst the workers sent by Baron Neshomeh to help in repairing the damage caused by the last earthquakes.

The peasants are probably not mistaken, for one day not far in the past, Hieronymus appeared in the Hall of Ancient Records – as he likes to appear out of the blue – and he bent low, and he spoke up and said, 'Milady Neshomeh, I travelled wide and far. My eyes are old, and my posterior cannot stand perpetually riding against the Marizu. But my mind is still sharp, and my hands don’t tremble. If you would assign me a corner in your castle Arkive, where I can rest and store my staff and flask, I could help you copying and restoring these documents I see are in bad shape and may soon disintegrate into dust. And in case I feel ever fit to follow you into battle, I would appreciate the licence to wear your colour on my shield.'

The humble hermit's request was met with grace. But rather than finding the rest he had hoped for in that tiny corner at Arkive, the archivist’s new apprentice was immediately sent off to demonstrate and improve his Eich-Tee-Ehm-Ehl skills in the devastated lands.

While Hieronymus was supposed to travel between Arkive and the river Friwep, he somehow became sidetracked to the City of Borrd. He arrived just in time for the annually Baronial Council, where he barely escaped imprisonment and prosecution for treason and libel by Baron Thanasius Ampelius. Had he not conveniently gone lost in the wood of Kar’eer again, Hieronymus would certainly have talked his head off.

On his flight from the baron’s ire, the hermit fell into a dubious dungeon. But that is another story and shall be told on another day – actually here, based on this game. Hieronymus did still not reveal how he got out of this mess again.

((Note: The link to the game may be "deactivated" due to inactivity (duh). Since Huinesoron is currently moving, try to find a link to the "Dungeon of the Board" on this site.))

The way through the dungeon may have led to an alternate universe, for Hieronymus clearly remembers that he got out of the Kar’eer Forest by following Baron Dann from Castle Tegnoh to La Wunj, where he attended a great festival, apparently held annually to celebrate a victory over the ypurs. His memories of spotting Dame Karrin the Blue and Baron Thanasius Ampelius, and making an awkward attempt to apologize, are much less clear. Before he could hear a response, Hieronymus fell to the floor, very drunken, rolled under a table, started to snore and never spoke another word in Iric.

When he woke up again, all the Ops and Dars of Iric were gone, La Wunj lay mostly abandoned, none of the few citizens Hieronymus still found remembered any recent festivities, and when he asked for Baron Dann, glares and stares were the only answers the hermit got, for everybody knows that south-eastern Plort is and always was ruled by the fair Baroness Delta Juliette. Thus, Hieronymus joined the last trek that left La Wunj to the west, and since he became more invested in the Riding of Sittorese, he travelled on until he reached the Empire of Fanvik-Neht, where he built a secret hermitage which he hopes will once become a stronghold of goodriding.

How he got across the ocean and then back again, is still one of many mysteries, but although he was supposed to be back on his job of dusting off old scrolls in Arkive, some strange fate took the archivist’s apprentice to the newly assembled Baronial Council again, where he was promptly and retroactively tasked with keeping the records.

On his way home from the City of Borrd, Hieronymus the hermit got no further than the Lhawgin Heights, for one evening, when he sat at his campfire [...] strange noise [... ho]oded figure spoke, approaching the old man, [... some(?)] of the Barons talked among us, and [...] agree [...] your journeys through the nations of [...] works in the archives [...] gain [...]understanding of the ways and mores of Pl[ort, ...] dedication to the Riding of Sittorese and the Law of Goodriding. Thus [...] join the ranks of our armies, riding against the Marizu [...]

[...] addressed like this, the archivist’s apprentice was so fl[ustered(?) ...] forgot that he had not made proper offers at the temples of Kanun an[d Spelin ...] never wandered the Knights’ Road, and he fell to his knees, and he felt a sword touch his should[er(?) ...] became a knight of Plort without much of the pomp and cere[mony(?) ...us]ually involved.

[Archivist’s note: The end of the scroll looks like it was ripped by talons and singed by flames. As far as can be determined from other sources, Hieronymus the hermit did not return to Arkive before the next Baronial Council was held, but  he may have shown up when Baron Iximaz gathered an Army for a campaign to the Bronee.]

## New Tales of Hieronymus

### The Stubborn Knight

or Let an Image Replace a Thousand Words:

### The Archivist's New Apprentices

Out of nowhere – or probably: elsewhere – Hieronymus the hermit, part-time knight and archivist’s apprentice, appeared in the courtyard of Castle Arkive. He stayed there for a minute, marveling in the beauty of the place. Then he turned to the portal that led to a hallway, a flight of stairs and – beyond the stair, on the second floor – the corner where he used to store his staff and flask while he was at home. But he was stopped in his track, finding the portal locked and a message attached to the heavy wood:

Stairs and corners out of service due to renovation and refurnishing.

Please join us at Los Taelis.

We have a chamber prepared for you.

For once, the Kar'eer Forest stayed out of the way and Hieronymus did not get lost again; he crossed the Turaipod Heights rather smoothly and arrived at the fonts of the Kattekri-tri in no time. Fort Los Taelis had been established through contributions from many knights of olden times, conglomerated in ways that did not help to make navigating the place easy. The Landing appeared to be the obvious starting point, but Hieronymus had no idea how to proceed from there to find Baron Neshomeh or any hints at his new chamber. He did not need to worry; help was on the way.

Out of nowhere – or probably, Genie space – the shape of a glowing red-gold fox appeared. "Welcome back, Sir Hieronymus," the Djenni said, with the echo of a distant whisper that implied speaking for the Lady. "We are currently rebuilding Los Taelis in a more consistent manner. The new magical signposts at the Landing, based on a design proposed by Master Huinesoron, will help you find your way around."

The hermit had already wondered why Los Taelis looked so different from what he remembered from his previous visits. It was still mostly made of brick-sized books, with an occasional scroll used as a sill or lintel, but gables and thresholds appeared to be more ornamented in ways that made the buildings, despite their different functions, look more similar. And the whole thing looked unfinished, and somewhat alive, with bricks moving around, scrolls unrolling and rerolling themselves, and ornaments appearing in unlikely places, only to suddenly dash off to where they actually belonged.

While looking around, Hieronymus noticed a desk set amidst the central yard, covered in construction plans, sketches and scribbles. A nondescript figure sat on a stool at said desk, shrouded in magic.

"Did you meet Sir Thoth?" asked the Djenni, the echo gone from her voice. "He is in charge of everything that can be done automagical."

Sir Thoth hunched forward, his fingers moving rapidly over diagrams and formulae, and another series of ornamented bricks were hurled about, some right through the flinching hermit’s chest.

"Don’t worry," the Djenni said, baring her teeth in what probably was meant to be a smile. "Weaving his magic, Protector Tomash set up a multitude of parallel realities, so that you won’t get into each other’s way. In the end, all your achievements will be combined and moved to the *true* Los Taelis."

Hieronymus was so used to weird stuff happening to him, he did not even bother to check for any holes in his body or his robes. But something else worried him. "Protector Tomash? Sir Thoth? All the advanced magic and automation? Are you going to replace me?”

"Did you not hear us say ‘you’?" The whispering echo returned to the Djenni’s voice as she spoke. "There is still a lot of tedious manual work to do for our oldest apprentice."

### The Baron on the Rock

"Lords and Ladies, knights and civilians of Plort, I don’t know even half of you half as good as I should, and I don’t like half of you even half as much as you probably deserve – nah, wrong canon."

Hieronymus the hermit stood on the highest top of the Auriantym Chain, practising the address he hoped to get away with never actually delivering. He didn’t quite remember how he had gotten there. This was probably the price he had to pay for delving into magic, bartering the ability to stay in one place – and visible – over an extended period of time for the ability to travel instantly to any place he wanted to visit, and go unnoticed until he revealed his presence.

Last he knew, he had been at Los Taelis, thinking about some constructive details of the Halley-Talia-Barracks and the Echo-Kat-Shooting-Range. There they got onto him – about a dozen knights and barons with an odd civilian in the mix. He didn’t stand a chance, and his boss didn’t help at all. Might she even have been part of that conspiracy, sending him to Los Taelis in the first place? *Nah*, he thought, *that’s paranoid. Mylady Neshomeh has always been benevolent.*

So now he was a baron, looking over the land that had been thrust into his hands, and strange thoughts whirled through his mind. Far to the east, beyond the fructuous fields and lush meadows of the Riding of Sittorese, a dark line loomed above the horizon – the edge of the Kar'eer Forest. *I thought I had that left behind. For Kanun’s sake, I’m retired! If Baroness Juliette wants to keep the Southeast of the Riding, she can have it.*

Much nearer than the distant forest, a flock of huts and sheds huddled against the landward slope of the Coastal Ridge (which may deserve a better name) – the rural village of Reewryght. *Does this compel me to rewrite the Uncanonical Department of Inaccuracies to make it canon? If I ever find a way to make it goodfic while keeping it funny...*

Even closer to where the hermit stood, the market town of Koewryght bustled with life. *Someday I must visit this place. But not yet; right now I like my solitude.*

The hermit turned to the left, his gaze sweeping over the border rivers Meibot and Jid'ryv – Barony Larf J. Stockins, Barony Eshakhar and Barony Huinesoron, *a good neighbourhood* – and the Auksidentym Chain, until it rested on the wide dale between the two branches of the Raeltym Mountains. He still didn’t feel fully at ease with taking this away from his Master. But then, Castle Fanvik, except for the Whirl, had only just been a museum for so many years now, and somehow, the Fanvik Whirl had always been Baron Huinesoron’s domain. Which brought another thought to mind: *After three years of apprenticeship, the time may come when I have to be a journeyman, and this not involving an actual journey may suit an old man quite well.*

*Ach, we’ll see what comes from this*. Hieronymus rammed the staff that doubled as a flagpole into a crevice and began to gather stones and rubble. After several minutes, he stopped to wipe the sweat off his brow, glanced over the small square he had outlined on a somewhat smooth piece of rock, and started to do some calculations. Somehow, rigging up that shelter in Fanvik-Neht had been much easier. Building the Scowler's Hermitage would take a lot of time.