"Really? No, no...how could I leave the museum?" He trails off, looking lost for a moment, and then his eyes settle on the missing exhibits. "No. No. What if the thieves come back? I'd better be here to give them the old what-for, a dose of battle magic! I may be old, but I can still hold my own!" 

Lusilla is...skeptical. "Battle magic?"

"Yes...my memory isn't what it once was, my faculties are failing me...but at one time, my mind could cut like a diamond. I was a battle mage, one of the few who survived the battle of the Lost Chapel. But I'm an old man now, sometimes I set down my keys one moment, and the next, I can't remember where I've put them..."

"This is what happens to sorcerers. This old fella must have swapped his memory for spells and lost his marbles as the years went by."

"It didn't happen because of magic tricks. He went to war and saw lots of scary things. So scary that his memory ran away so it would never show him the bad things ever again." 

"You yourself are a mad little witch, that's why you're standing up for another of your sorcerous kind--ow!" he exclaims, as Lusilla yanks on his ear. 

"Yep, we do have a lot in common!" Ember smiles, either ignoring or not noticing Lusilla hissing dire imprecations to Ulbrig in her defense. "I've seen scary things, too. Except what he lost was his memory, and I...I...lost something else...I don't know what."

"So, this old fellow was at Lost Chapel. That his mind was damaged isn't surprising--what's surprising is that the old codger can still speak at all. In the entire history of the crusades, which aren't exactly uplifting, this is one of its bloodiest chapters. Some time ago, I wanted to know what became of the abandoned fortifications and estates the crusaders left behind. I read through the accounts of the Lost Chapel veterans--now that was a real bloodbath."

How sad. 

Lusilla dithers a little bit. On the one hand, it really would be safer for him at the Defender's Heart, if she could persuade him to come with them. 

On the other hand, the cultists have had plenty of opportunity to murder him already, and haven't taken it. And his remaining links to reality are all here. 

"Thank you for explaining," she settles on. 

He nods, absently, then turns and regards the disarray the room is in. "What a mess...everything will have to be cleaned up and laid out according to the inventory list," he laments, having apparently forgotten already that there are other people in the room with him. 

They continue searching the basement for a while longer, but don't find any more papers of significance. They do find a handful of things which are presumably the personal effects of cultists, either dead at the Defender's Heart or fled, and there's no reason to tell Woljif not to pocket any of those. 

On their way out, Lusilla stops to prestidigitate the cultists' graffiti off what remains of the walls of the museum. There's not a lot she can do about the structural integrity of the place, but fuck Baphomet's holy symbol and also that one extremely ominous ?summoning? circle.