Chapter 21: That Which Is Not Dead...
It was a typically grey day in Darmstadt. I stood at the foot of Otto's grave thinking it through. In the end, I left him twelve red roses and the blackbird feather from the grotto of Lombrives I'd been wearing in the brim of my hat before turning away and getting on with my life.
When I first heard of Otto Rahn, I was told by Marius Mounie, the former mayor of Montsegur, that the celebrated Nazi Grail historian was alive and still visited the castle regularly, which jived with the notion that he had found the Holy Grail and attained some form of immortality after all. A cursory search of the records in his home town, however, revealed a surviving family, a death certificate and a grave in short order. Only a DNA test could tell for sure whether it was really Otto in the grave, but the brutal logic of Occam's razor would tend to indicate that the man is dead and not still swanning about the Pyrenees on some fourth dimensional etheric sabattical.
Attempts to track down any of the other immortals who cast a long shadow over European esoteric history were to prove equally fruitless. Count Rakoczy, also know as the Count St. Germain, was a flamboyant Transylvanian diplomat, freemason and alchemical dabbler rumoured to have invented a patent diamond-making process in addition to having obtained the Great Work and hence the secret of immortality. He wore diamond buttons on his frock coat and once presented Princess Catherine of Russia with an artificial gemstone the size of an ostrich egg, but history does record that he died in his late sixties in Schleswig, Germany. He was interred in 1779 in the local graveyard at Eckenforde, and while I'm familiar with the usual argument that he somehow faked his own death and survives to this day, the inscription on his headstone seems unequivocal: "He who called himself the Comte de Saint-Germain and welldone of whom there is no other information, has been buried in this church."
And so to 'Fulcanelli' - the author of The Mystery of the Cathedrals, and the last on this short, distressing list of ascended adepts and modern masters...
The work of author, Patrick Riviere, among others, dovetails with my own making it abundantly clear that the master alchemist was none other than the eminent French physicist Jules Violle, a member of the Academy of Sciences and inventor of the calorimeter. While undoubtedly a genius, he would appear nonetheless to be a dead genius, having apparently passed in his home town, the tiny village of Fixin on September 12th, 1923, at the age of 83. Of course, there are a few irregularities surounding his demise. His son, Henri, signed the death certificate, rather than the local coroner, and I am fully aware of his pupil Eugene Canseliet's long-standing claim of having met the master years later in Seville, where he is meant to live and work to this day, an ageless alchemical hermaphrodite operating out of a ghostly manor that cannot be found on any earthly map, existing seemingly in a fold in space-time.
The thorny matter of immortality, aside the unmasking of the master alchemist, raises more than a few cogent questions. The name 'Violle' immediately brings to mind the name 'Varelli', given to Fulcanelli's surrogate in Argento's Inferno (1980). While the spelling may differ, the names essentially sound the same in keeping with the rules of Fulcanelli's beloved 'phonetic cabbala', yet it goes without saying il mastro denies any conscious knowledge of this apparent 'coincidence'.
A split second after Leigh McClosky tears up the floorboards of his sister's apartment in the last reel of Inferno, a cat leaps abruptly through the open window and then disappears into the newly opened hole in the floor signifying not only that we have found the alchemist's, and hence the Black Mother's hiding place, but oddly recalling a similar moment in Poe's The Black Cat, which Argento was to later adept for television. Quickwitted readers may recall this was the title given to Daria Nicolodi's illegitimate attempt to complete the trilogy with director Luigi Cozzi at the helm - The Black Cat, aka Dei Profundis (1990).
"What secret could possibly lurk between these soundly put together walls?"
What secret indeed ?
In so-called 'real' life, Jules Violle could be commonly found in his favorite drinking hole - the Parisian 'Cabaret du Chat-Noir' or 'Black Cat Club', which he warmly describes in the second volume of his trilogy The Houses of the Philosophers (1929):
“Many of us remember the celebrated Chat-Noir... but how many knew of the esoteric and political centre that was concealed there, of the international masonry that was hidden behind the signboard of the artistic cabaret. On the one hand, the talent of fervent, idealistic youth made up of carefree, blind aesthetes in search of glory and incapable of suspicion; on the other hand, the confidence of a mysterious science mixed with obscure diplomacy - a dual faced picture deliberately exhibited in a medieval frame...”
The 'Caberet du Chat Noir' was the home of the notorious anarcho-esoteric theatre company - 'Le Theatre d' Ombres', better known to us now as 'The Shadow Theatre', and whose first production at the Black Cat Club was a little confection entitled The Temptation of Saint Anthony - a cracking show by all accounts and yet another 'coincidence' in the endless spiral of maddening synchronicity. Perhaps as Kazanian, the aleurophobic book seller in Inferno so baldly and simply states: "The only true mystery is that our very lives are governed by dead people..."
Some believe that Fulcanelli, like the true Christ, the Cathar parfaits, Lovecraft's 'old ones', or the 'secret masters of the world' is really still alive after all on some other unreachable channel, influencing our affairs with seemingly magical powers, communicating with us in dreams, backward masking, lattices of 'coincidence', glitches in the matrix. Call 'em what you will...
Fulcanelli said: "For an initiate to become an adept he must climb an 'analogic' ladder of correspondences." Or as Agent Cooper puts it in Twin Peaks: "When two things happen at once, you should always pay strict attention," although strangely it is our nature to disregard these moments or discard them altogether just as we forget our dreams. In this way the 'matrix' defends itself. Consensus reality seamlessly rebuilds itself anew and we willingly fall asleep into delusion, willing jailors in our own living prison cells.
The earth is a bridge. We stand on a causeway between worlds and are judged according to which power we give allegiance to. We cannot understand what the creator's plans are for us, or what will happen once we cross the bridge...
The 'Cathars' were typically stigmatized as 'devil worshippers' by Pope Innocent III, who called a crusade against them in the 12th century. It was a war of extermination that claimed some eight million lives. By the time the dust settled, the kingdom of Occitania had been wiped from the map and its language, Romans, a form of Anglo-Saxon similar to English, that came to be known to later historians as 'Occitan', passed into oblivion along with the tarnished ideals of chivalry. I suspect the kings of France were motivated more by greed than anything else, by the desire to possess the fertile lands and the notoriously beautiful daughters of the south. A psychological band-aid to help boost morale after the shock of losing Jerusalem to the Moors, just as the US had to wage war on Iraq to make up for the trauma of 9/11. The powers that were had to poison a couple of Popes to get their way and lacking the mechanization of the Nazis, it took them more than a generation to achieve their aims.
The last stand of the Cathars took place at Montsegur, literally the safe or 'secure' mountain. The siege lasted two years and there were battles and skirmishes fought every day. Many of the great heroes of chivalry fought and died there. "Men such as Lantar, Belissen and Caraman", according to author and historian, Maurice Magre, and the mesmerisingly beautiful Esclarmonde d'Alion, also known as "Esclarmonde the Bastard", swordsmistress of the south, who fought beside her twin brother, Loup de Foix. Through two winters the defenders of Montsegur held out against the Pope, against the Spanish inquisition, the Teutonic knights, the kings of France and Simon de Montfort - founder of the British bicameral parliamentary system, effectively against the world.
The castle fell to treachery just before the spring equinox in the second year of the siege, when shepherds from the neighboring village of Camon showed the Teutonic knights, who were accustomed to the icy Alpine conditions, the secret path up the sheer side of the mountain by which the defenders smuggled in their supplies and on March 16th, the last of the Albigensians, some 225 surviving men, women and children were dragged down the mountain in chains to perish on the Camp de Cremat.
The events of the last crusade were suppressed by successive chroniclers, who all too readily took their lead from the inquisitors. The castle's history as, above all, a symbol of resistance made it impossible for the conquering orthodoxy to Christianize the site as they did with Montserrat and countless other pagan holy places such as Lourdes or Fatima.
Ashamed of their ancestor's genocidal history, it is hardly surprising that the French film industry has thus far avoided the subject matter and the outside world has little interest in what it considers to be a quirk of 'French history'. When the 'Cathars' do surface in films, they are usually portrayed in the inquisitions terms as fanatics or devil worshippers...
Otto Rahn's account, Crusade Against the Grail, was the first to be published outside France, and no mention of Occitania and its vanished tongue was made in the English language until 1940. Despite the title, surprisingly little reference to the Grail itself is made in Otto's opus. Like the Moors, the 'Cathari' admitted to the existence of Christ, but their evident disdain for the material world is at odds with the Catholic veneration of earthly relics, such as the folkloric “Cup of the Last Supper”. Besides, as aforementioned, nobody seems to know what a Grail is, let alone who the damn thing belongs to. Theories range from the sacred bloodline or 'Sangraal' described in Baigent, Lincoln and Leigh's fanciful bestseller The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail, Bran's cauldron, the lost Gospel of Saint John, the Book of Nicetas, a graven tablet or a 'hard, dark stone', symbolic of Christ's suffering according to Wolfram von Eschenbach's Parsifal.
Rahn identifies the Grail with the 'Crown of Lucifer', that fell from the peacock angels brow when he was cast out of heaven. The diadem fell to Earth in the Hindu Kush, where it was carved by master Afghan craftsmen into the cup used by Salem to consecrate the temple Abraham, built in Ur of the Chaldees and eventually borne back to Europe after those pesky Romans looted the Holy of Holies. According to Otto, the servants of Lucifer still seek their master's lost diadem so that he might regain his rightful place in the kingdom of heaven. Searching from one lifetime to the next, down through the ages...
Legend has it that the Cathars counted the Grail amongst their treasures, but just before the forces of darkness entered the castle, a dove descended from on high and split the mountain with its beak. Esclarmonde hid the cup within the solid rock before turning into a dove herself and ascending into the kingdom of heaven. Others believe the treasure was smuggled out by a small group, who escaped by ropes down the sheer side of the mountain the night before the castle fell, and were hunted like animals by troops acting under the Seneschal of Toulouse, who had drafted in packs of bloodhounds expressly for this purpose.
One band under Esclarmonde d'Alion was allegedly cornered in a cave on the banks of the icy Ariege and buried alive by their pursuers, who did not dare to follow them into the labyrinthine tunnels in which they had taken refuge. Instead, the crusaders sealed the cavern and pitched camp, standing guard until all signs of life from within the mountain had ceased. Then they struck camp, saddled their horses and rode away leaving behind them a rampart of stones that remained untouched for seven centuries.
Despite the emphasis placed on the Grail's essentially spiritual nature, a reminder that it is our sacred duty to strive towards perfection, there is a disturbing literalness to Rahn's quest - a pragmatic, methodical, typically German approach to the mystery.
After his attempts to buy land in Montsegur itself were thwarted, he moved to the nearby valley of Ussat, concentrating his efforts on the ruins of Lordat and the caverns of the Lombrives. A news item from a 1933 edition of the local newpaper La Depeche, headed "Gold Rush in the Pyrenees", puts it succinctly:
“An international secret society known as the 'Polaires' are digging up the foundations of the ruined castle of Lordat under the command of a shadowy German individual named Rams.”
An amused letter from Otto himself appeared in the subsequent issue.
“My dear sir, you are entirely mistaken! My named is Rahn, not 'Rams'!”
In order to continue his increasingly obsessive investigations, Otto negotiated the purchase of a small hotel near the mouth of the largest cave and equipped it with a dark room in which he processed the hundreds of photographs taken during the course of his work, carefully documenting the graffiti found on the walls of the subterranean galleries that honeycomb the escarpments above the Ariege. Rahn's establishment, 'Des Maronniers', was to provide the focus for a convoluted web of local legends. Its patrons were said to include the emissaries of countless obscure lodges and vanished secret societies, fancy women from Toulouse and Paris, English psychics, Basque, Occitan and Catalan nationalists, Italian fascists and German fifth columnists including Karl Wolf, who was later to become personal adjutant to SS Reichsfuhrer Heinrich Himmler, the historian Isabelle Sandy, Dr. Laffont and the mysterious Mr. Baby. Staff included the seven foot tall Somali barman, Habdu, who was later to become Otto's bodyguard and closest friend, saving the young philologists life when Rahn was swept away by the rising floodwaters in the grotto of Fontanet, identified by its phreatic source as Wolfram von Eschenbach's cave of the 'wild fountain'. Typically Rahn makes no mention of any of these individuals in his published works, stating in The Court of Lucifer that his sole companion during his time in France was his cat. To find the real Rahn we are forced to read between the lines!
In 1934, working closely with Antonin Gadal, the minister of tourism for southern France, Otto excavated the caverns of Ornolac, Fontanet and the Lombrives and amidst the blackened bones he is said to have found an ancient vessel forged from meteoric iron, a relic that never tarnished yet somehow secreted a substance akin to human blood, a cup dubbed by Gadal the 'graal pyrenean'. At first, like most folk, I found the story hard to believe, until I saw the bleeding stones for myself.
The 'Pyrenean Grail' was just one of many artifacts removed by Otto and his cronies, including dozens of meteorites, the largest of which now forms the altar in the temple at the European Rosicrucian movement’s headquarters in Amsterdam. The Q'aaba in Mecca is said to have been made of the same hard, dark, extraterrestrial iron identified with the black stone of the alchemists, the negrido, lapis excoelus, a hyperdense alien alloy that never rusts but secretes a blood-like ferrous solution, 99% pure iron. It is easy too see how a superstitious mind (mine included!) would be affected by the sight of that blood, seemingly springing from nowhere. It is iron oxide after all that gives the Ganges its sanguine tint at source, that identifies it as the life blood of the goddess and for whatever reason, placebo effect, call it what you will, it does seem to possess a healing virtue.
My first guinea pig was Andy Collins, a production assistant on the German leg of The Secret Glory, who burned his hand on one of the distress flares used during our descent into the lightless cavities beneath the Wewelsburg. The wound closed and healed over in days without leaving a trace. The second beneficiary of this apparent virtue was Beltane Fire Society founder Mark Oxbrow's then-girlfriend, Liz, who was struck on the head by a bottle during the yearly bash on Carlton Hill. By the time Mark had fetched help, the paramedics were no longer necessary. In 2001, my mother was diagnosed with a particularly nasty form of lymphoma, that led to the growth of tumours behind her eyes that slowly pushed them from their sockets and ultimately threatened the optic nerves themselves. My mother is an author and illustrator by trade, but an artist to the core. Knowing that further attempts at surgery would possibly destroy her eyesight, I resorted to the only cure I knew. I told her to lie down and rest, while I put meteor blood in her eyes. She was so knocked out on medication that she didn't really know what was happening and later told me that she had dreamed there were angels standing around her bed, healing her eyes, a particularly strange admission as my mother is a staunch, die-hard atheist, who then, as now, had little time for The Secret Glory or the whole Rahn fandango, believing like most people that the Holy Grail should stay in the Monty Python movie where it belongs - which tends to rule out 'placebo effect' as a logical explanation. Call it 'coincidence' then, but needless to say she made a dramatic recovery and some six years later the cancer is still in remission.
Wolfram von Eschenbach puts it more baldly, simply stating that whoever has the stones or comes into contact with them "will have eternal life and will be healed".
Sadly it didn't work out that way for ol' Otto. He was murdered by the Nazis in 1939 and the secret of the Cathars was thought to have died with him. Some believe the SS sealed the cup into a mineshaft at the base of a glacier near the abandoned Obersalzburg complex, or that it was shipped to a secret U-boat base in Antarctica at the end of the war, while others say it never left France at all and remained in the hands of wily old Gadal, the director of tourism.
Gadal lived on in Ussat 'til his death in the 60's, and after the war, became the head of the European Rosicrucian movement, reforming it along his own strange 'neo-cathar' lines. My research suggests the meteoric vessel remains in their hands and is probably used in their initiation rituals, which continue to take place in the Bethlehem Grotto in Ussat-Les-Bains. There is evidence the chalice was publicly exhibited at one point in the museum in Tarascon, the home of former president Mitterand, and now a bastion of neo-nationalists and the French hard right.
It bears mentioning that my initial efforts to obtain an interview with the museum’s curator were rebuffed for fear he would be inadvertently implicated in the then current 'Solar Temple' murders. The now disbanded 'Solar Temple' was an obscure right-wing sect that counted Princess Grace of Monaco among its members. The sect all but disbanded over a decade ago after a series of still unexplained mass murders in Quebec, France and the tiny town of Sion in Switzerland. The bodies of the Temple members were found (after synchronised fire bomb explosions in Canada and France!) arranged twelve to a group like the spokes of a wheel, heads pointing inwards, hands tied behind them, gunshot wounds in the backs of their heads. All told some 74 people died in Switzerland alone and at least a further 16 in Quebec. About all you can be sure of is it wasn't suicide! Otto's journal mentions a similar arrangement of Cathar remains from a 12th century grave. There were twelve knights at the round table, the thirteenth chair being vacant, the Siege Perilous. Twelve disciples at the last supper, twelve houses of the zodiac, twelve little pips around the borders of the Cathar cross, twelve departments in the SS, twelve seats at Himmler's round table, twelve empty plinths in the circular Valhalla room or Hall of the Dead beneath the Wewelsberg, twelve men to a workgroup at the local Niederghagen concentration camp (worked systematically to death under the principal of extermination through labour) and twelve standing stones surrounding Gadal's grave on the banks of the Ariege.
Despite my best efforts to coerce or cojole the secret of the 'Pyrenean Grail's current whereabouts from the former curator, I failed to ever get within striking distance of the relic itself, although I believe it is still somewhere in the valley of Ussat and probably in the hands of a secret society, who use it in their initiation rituals. After seven years, I knew we were still only beginning to understand what the story was really about. I knew the stones had been prized since time out of mind, and that men might kill or die for them, yet without having conducted a full spectrograph, had few clues as to their density or the true nature of the mysterious properties attributed to them. Chemical density is determined by the conditions prevalent during the first few seconds of the 'big bang'. On Earth, the heaviest element in the existing periodic table is Uranium, which can be artificially enriched to form Plutonium and of course, there's really only one thing that Plutonium is good for!
In deep space, far heavier stable elements are known to exist, some of them dense enough to bend light or literally fold space-time, each one containing the latent energy of the original light, the 'big bang', still trapped within it and awaiting some future redemption, like the souls of the 'Cathars' imprisoned in their 'tunics of flesh.' The 'Cathars' accepted Christ only as a prophet and awaited the coming of a true messiah, who would incarnate not as a human being but as pure light, a light that would liberate us all from the 'sin of matter', cleanse the Earth, break the cycle of incarnation and bring us back to God.
The 'Graal Pyrenean' is identified by some as the Emerald Cup, not because of its shade but because of what it holds within, indetectable to mortal eyes, what the deranged Nazi ariosophist Miguel Serrano described as 'the green ray' or the 'condensed light of the black sun.' There is some evidence to suggest that several artifacts from Rahn's initial excavations were shipped to the United States just before the war, where they later came to the attention of one of Albert Einstein's associates, a young physicist named Dr. Herbert Fleishmann, who had a particular interest in the fields of superconductivity and supercooling. The military applications of his work remain classified, along with the details of the first and second SS Polar expeditions, in which Rahn seems to have played a role. Murky 16mm footage exists, depicting some sort of radar apparatus reminiscent of the transmitters found today at the United States installation at Gaakon, Alaska, and some believe that research continues in secret at the American airbase in Thule, Greenland, a former Nazi installation that apparently came over to Allied administration after the war under 'Operation Paperclip'.
But it's all speculation and without tangible evidence will remain so. Like Fulcanelli's incomplete trilogy, the 'Finis Gloraie Mundi', the notorious 'verbum dismissum' of the alchemists, Rahn's work remains incomplete. He speaks of three stones after all...
In the final pages of The Court of Lucifer, written in 1936, a good three years before his lonely demise, Otto describes three completed manuscripts resting before him on his writing desk. On the first pile, the notes that comprised the substance of Crusade against the Grail rests one of the black stones he brought back from Montsegur, on the second, the text of The Court of Lucifer rests a fragment of the Delphi oracle frieze, and on the third, what he promised would be his final and greatest work rests a 'lump of amber, golden yellow', reminiscent of Masonry's three degrees and the whitened final substance of the alchemical 'great work'. The third book of Rahn, begun at the Arctic Circle under the working title Orpheus or A Journey to Hell and Beyond is of course missing, either seized by the Nazis when he fled the SS, or (as his niece Ingeborg would have us believe) burned by his mother at the end of the war.
Rahn's sensational earlier work lead to him being feted by the Nazi elite and for a few years, his research had been lavishly funded by the Race and Settlement department. Then something went disasterously wrong. In 1939, he was accused of being both a Jew and a homosexual and placed before a military tribunal. The department responsible for commissioning him was disbanded and Rahn went on the run. The last people to see him alive were two children playing in the snow outside a farmhouse on the slopes of the Kufstein in southern Germany. According to the oldest of the children, Peter Meier, a tall man dressed in black appeared from the treeline and paused to ask the time. It was late in the day and fearing for the stranger, their parents later went to look for him, but even though the snow was more than a metre deep, found to their surprise he had left no footprints. The following spring a body was discovered only a short distance from the back of the house. Otto had apparently walked up the stream to avoid leaving tracks, before sitting down under one of the trees to swallow a cocktail of pills. According to the report filed by the police in Zoll, however, the pills didn't kill him. He froze to death.
An obituary appeared on May 18th in the Berliner Ausgabe, filed by Rahn's former associate, Karl Wolff:
“In a sudden storm in the mountains in March or January, SS Obersturmfuhrer Otto Rahn tragically lost his life. We mourn the loss of our comrade, a good and decent SS man and writer of noted historical, scholarly works” - signed SS Chief of Staff, Obergruppenfuhrer Wolff.
Of course, we only have Wolff's word it happened that way and taking the SS's word at face value was never a good idea to begin with. There's plenty wrong with the official account, not the least of it the fact that although Otto seems to have been on the run, no one seems to have bothered looking for him. The body lay in the snow for months, yet his family confirm that no one ever asked after him or called to investigate his abrupt disappearance, which is a little unusual in a police state such as Germany had then become. Of course, the good folk at the SS Order castle acted as if they had known where Rahn was all along, which they probably did...
Himmler's adjutant, Rahn's obituarist, Karl Wolff later became the Nazi ambassador to the Vatican and survived the war. He was granted immunity for his crimes by agreeing to testify against his former comrades at Nuremberg and later became well-known as one of the principal interviewees and narrators of the BBC series The World at War, as well as playing an active role in discrediting the 'Hitler Diaries' for Stern Magazine and helping bring Klaus Barbie to justice in Paraguay. I was mercifully born too late to have attended Nuremberg, but I did get to sit in on the famous libel trial at River City's high court a few years ago, that resulted in the subsequent downfall of British pseudo-historian and holocaust denier David Irving.
Irving had consistently attacked the credibility of the experts introduced to counter his claims that a deliberate policy of mass extermination had never been practiced at Auschwitz or, by implication, the other camps, so when the prosecuting attorney introduced Karl Wolff's testimony, he couldn't help quipping:
"Someone like you would surely consider the Reichsfuhrer's personal adjutant to be a credible witness, would you not?"
Ignoring the polite murmur of laughter from the audience, Irving screwed up his eyes and remarked:
"Well, it's a bit of a curate's egg, really..."
And the funny thing is I know what he means.
Only it ain't funny!
In the course of my own research I collated, translated and compiled literally hundreds of pages of testimony, documents and journal entries, that charted Rahn's quest for the roots of an authentic European 'Ur- religion', a body of invaluable folkloric data from a pre-war Europe now lost to us. His work has informed my own and opened my eyes to much of what I inadvertently stumbled across. While the body of this material has now been transferred to disc and could be downloaded at the touch of a key, Margaret Thatcher and Marie Denarnaud may have had a point. There are some things you just 'can't tell the public'.
Regardless of its merit, Rahn's magnum opus was required reading at a certain level of promotion within the SS and, inadvertently or otherwise, contributed to the ideological underpinnings of the holocaust. The figure of six million Hebrew martyrs so hotly disputed by Irving and his dodgy ilke sadly obscures the wider picture. Let's get this straight, o my brothers, seventy two million people lost their lives in WW2 in mainland Europe alone, and with those sort of figures you don't crap around with fate.
Like Heinrich Himmler, who took time off from hobnobbing with Franco to make obeissance to 'La Moreneta', the founder of Opus Dei, the recently canonized Cardinal Escriva drew inspiration from the magic mountain and Savanarolla's Knights of Heaven. In practise, they amount to a sort of Catholic equivalent of the Taliban, and to make matters worse they're rich, relentless and in government right here in Europe. It's like the Spanish Civil War never even happened...
Sometimes the underground stream ducks out of sight. Sometimes the trail seems to go cold and so-called 'real' life takes pririority. Its just the way of things. There be no other...
The only way you could ever prove whether or not it was really Otto's body in that grave in Darmstadt would be to exhume his remains and effectively conduct an independent autopsy, something well beyond my limited means. The only way to learn the truth about what happened to him at the Pole, Dr. Fleischmann and the continuing experiments at Thule, would be to somehow track down the missing manuscript or access the redacted files which seems equally improbable.
We kept going until we ran out of funds and film stock, and when we were done with The Secret Glory, we split the artifacts we had recovered from the caves and Rahn's effects equally between myself, Mr. Horn, and the other Shadow Theatre irregulars, who had given freely of their time and energy along the way. We divided the stones as fairly as possible before reluctantly winding down the operation and going our separate ways. The four horsemen were abroad in the land and there were wars and rumors of war.