Campanella stirred.
"I have... No idea." He admitted. "Since the beginning of the Reality War there is little concrete evidence to work with. All history is circumspect and open to change. Quite literally. I know my Order lost an Athenaeum. I keep finding ghostly echoes - purely rumour and conjecture - of other places. If these fanciful tales are to be believed, the Circle has not always hosted all the Pentacle together. What or where these other Order headquarters were... is hard to say at this point. And that is assuming that the information is genuine."
He scratched at his head.
"But yes. I don't mind having these scratches and dings, as you call them. They do give character. Give ownership of this place. Whatever its history, it belongs to all of us. It is ours. I tell you this, though; once this War is won... once we have a measure of peace... I would sure like to reconstruct the true history of this place. Sort fact from fiction."
He spoke more brightly by the end. It hid the urgency of his thoughts: stop the pancrypta from spreading further.