Chapter 109: Solar Emblem

The last period of the afternoon was geography. Richard handed in his after-class quiz early.

Carrying his bag, he walked out of the school gates and skipped the line at the bus stop.

Evelyn didn't come out to ask him anything today; she had probably gone shopping with her classmates.

The stone griffin sat on the gatepost. A tuft of dead grass grew in the crevice of its left wing, trembling slightly in the winter wind.

He turned onto the southbound street, walking noticeably faster than usual.

After unlocking the walking skill, a journey of a few miles was no longer a burden.

The air was colder than a month ago, but his chest felt clear and his stride was strong.

Soon, he reached the small alley off Grafton Street.

He pushed the door open to the chime of a copper bell.

The shop was warm, the coal in the fireplace burning brightly.

Clement sat behind the counter, a newspaper and a steaming cup of black tea laid out before him.

The old man looked up at him over the newspaper.

"You're here. Quite punctual, too."

"Yeah."

Clement pulled a small cloth bag from a drawer beneath the counter and slid it across the surface.

It was small, barely the size of an egg in his hand.

Richard untied the bag and tipped the contents into his palm.

A seal the size of a thumbnail rolled out.

The tin-bronze alloy was dark, its surface coated in an uneven layer of oxidation.

The top of the seal featured a flat, circular handle with grooved edges for grip.

He flipped it over and examined the stamping face by the light of the fireplace.

Waves, three dots, a sun.

He had never seen this three-layered concentric ring combination in any of the documents he had studied.

But he was familiar with the sun symbol; he had seen it more than once.

Of course, concluding the seal was related to the Solar Tradition based solely on a sun symbol was hardly rigorous.

Sun worship existed in every corner of human history; it was perfectly normal for artifacts excavated from colonial regions to bear solar motifs.

However, Stuart's appraiser had drawn a circle on this inconspicuous little seal.

That circle represented a Category Two marking, meaning an unexplainable anomaly had occurred during the standard appraisal process.

The appraiser hadn't written any notes, likely because the anomaly was too faint.

Faint enough that he wasn't even certain, and couldn't be bothered to waste ink on it.

But the circle itself was information.

Richard held the seal in his hand, turning it over casually.

The panel jumped.

[Available Points: 0.63]

The number had risen from 0.62 to 0.63, an increase of 0.01.

The increase was minuscule, but it was moving. The panel was reacting to the seal.

He showed no shift in emotion, merely flipping the seal around to check the bottom again.

Clement watched him from behind the counter.

"How is it?"

"The craftsmanship is quite rough," Richard answered honestly.

Compared to the welding on the oil lamp, this seal was likely hand-cast under crude conditions.

The alloy mixture was uneven, leaving visible bubble pits on the surface, and the handle's grooves varied in depth.

"That's true," Clement agreed, nodding.

"Most early colonial artifacts are like this. Casting conditions were limited, and the raw materials were impure. It's good enough that you can even tell someone made it on purpose."

He poured another half cup of hot water into his tea.

"The quality wouldn't even earn it a spot in a proper antiquities exhibition."

"But it has a sun symbol," Richard said.

"It does have a sun symbol."

The old man tapped a finger against the counter. "To be honest, that sun symbol is the only reason I didn't toss it straight into the scrap pile."

"Do you think the appraiser made a mistake?"

"It's possible." The old man picked up his teacup and blew on it. "It's also possible he didn't."

He set the teacup down. "Anyway, it's only three shillings. Buy it, study it, and treat it as a bit of fun."

Richard pulled three shillings and five coppers from his pocket and placed them on the counter.

Clement took the money, tore a receipt from his ledger, and handed it over.

"Mr. Clement." Richard folded the receipt and tucked it into his pocket.

"When a new shipment list arrives, whether the items are big or small, could you give me a call?"

"Are you sure?" The old man raised his eyebrows. "Some things are truly worthless."

"That's fine. I just want to take a look."

"Alright." Clement picked up a pen and jotted a memo in the blank margin of his ledger.

"But I'll be blunt with you," he added, closing the ledger.

"Stuart's clearance cycle isn't fixed. Sometimes a batch arrives in a week or two, and other times it takes a month or two.

Moreover, there are barely any marked items in each batch to begin with. Having one marked piece out of ten leftover items is considered a lot."

"I understand," Richard said, nodding.

"Also, if expensive items show up on the list in the future, I'll tell you the price over the phone first.

Whether you buy it or not is your decision. Don't be embarrassed to say you can't afford it."

The old man spoke frankly, without any tone of charity.

The prices were transparent and the decisions independent; neither side would put the other in a difficult position.

"Understood."

Richard tucked the small cloth bag into his inner coat pocket, pressing it against the seal.

He was just about to leave when Clement leaned forward in his chair.

"By the way, that lamp you bought earlier... have you discovered anything from studying it?"

It was a natural question. Given Clement's position and curiosity, of course he would want to know if a buyer had made any discoveries from a marked item.

Richard already had an answer prepared.

"I've looked at the seal structure. It's a textbook example of Black Soil River Basin priest inscriptions."

He selected some information that was safe to share. "The inscription is very well preserved. It was probably placed not long after the oil lamp was cast."

His description stopped at a surface analysis, avoiding any mention of unsealing it.

"You can read priest inscriptions?"

"Just the basic framework. I can't read the deeper content yet."

The old man didn't press further.

"Alright, hurry home. It's getting dark."

Richard stepped out the door, the copper bell chiming behind him.

He quickened his pace through the alley and turned onto Grafton Street.

Only after walking about two hundred paces did he slip his right hand into his inner pocket and press his fingers against the seal.

The bronze surface was cold, the rough oxidation layer pressing against his fingertips.

The numbers on the panel were slowly climbing.

0.67... 0.72... The speed was much slower than with the oil lamp or the Gargoyle, but roughly on par with the bronze coin he had bought on Flower Moon Street.

Keeping the seal clutched in his palm, he continued walking toward home.

The ether seeped from the seal at a steady rate, without any sudden fluctuations.

This indicated that the internal ether deposition structure was relatively simple, lacking a seal to control its release rhythm.

0.75... 0.79... The number was still rising, though the pace was already slowing down.

For a tin-bronze seal the size of a thumbnail, the total ether accumulation was inherently limited.

0.8... 0.85...

As Richard walked, he rubbed his fingers over the concentric rings on the seal's face.

Waves, three dots, a sun.

Within his limited knowledge, the outermost wavy lines likely represented water or the ocean.

It was a colonial region, after all; seafaring symbols were hardly rare.

The meaning of the three small dots in the middle ring was uncertain. They could be counting markers, or perhaps astrological symbols.

As for the innermost sun symbol, regardless of whether it was related to the Solar Tradition, it at least proved the creator had some degree of reverence for sun worship.

This analysis was pure speculation for now. Once he established a basic framework for ancient Greek, he could compare it against the new reference table provided by Mr. Hutton.

0.92... 0.93... The rate dropped to a crawl.

The number paused at 0.94 for a long time.

He waited another half minute, but the panel didn't budge.

The ether reserve within the seal had bottomed out.

Richard relaxed his grip and dropped the seal back into his inner pocket.

The seal was nearly drained; the remaining amount was negligible.

The available points froze at 0.94.

He was short 0.06.

Clement was right. How much could a thumbnail-sized tin-bronze seal possibly hold?

The answer was roughly 0.32. From 0.62 up to 0.94, not even half a point.

He rapidly calculated the numbers in his head as he walked.

A 0.06 deficit. But the panel wasn't human; it wouldn't cut him any slack just because he was close.

He still had a few items on hand that hadn't been completely drained.

First, he ruled out the Gargoyle.

His maternal grandfather had given him that Gargoyle, so it was best not to drain it completely for now.

Leaving the Gargoyle untouched, there were still several other pieces.

The oil lamp was bought right here from Clement. Paid for out of his own pocket, it was a private belonging—no one would come asking questions about it.

But he leaned toward saving the oil lamp for last.

He hadn't finished deciphering the lamp's inscription yet. Preserving some of its original ether deposition held reference value for future research.

If he didn't have to touch it, he wouldn't.

Therefore, his highest priority was the two items he bought from Donner's shop on Flower Moon Street.

The ancient bronze coin and the small censer. Only Donner and Vincent had seen him buy them.

The next time he would see his cousin Vincent wouldn't be until next year at the earliest. It wouldn't matter if he drained them dry.

Whether he drained them completely or tossed them down the sewer, it was entirely up to him.

Richard picked up his pace, hurrying home.