Libriohexer ~ 15!

For the next two hours, Finn gave Sam and Bill a guided tour of the dumpsters of Ardania. They hit up ten different waste bins scattered around North Waterside—the Painted Stranger, the Thundering Crow, Papaya Bear, the Willow Harbor, and half a dozen more. The food was as varied as the names; some focused on seafood that provided water-oriented buffs and debuffs, while others offered extremely spicy takes on Thai that did wonders for fire resistance and cultivating flame essence. In no time, Sam had thousands—even tens of thousands—of golds worth of slightly expired food, all safely stowed away inside his spatial flask.

More than enough to raise a brood of chickens… and if not? Well, there was always more where that came from. Best of all, it had cost Sam nothing more than a little sweat and stench. Naturally, Bill was highly disgruntled about the whole process—said it was beneath them, rummaging through garbage—but Finn actually seemed to delight in the work. The noble gladly pushed up his sleeves and dove in with great gusto, smiling the entire time he picked through delicious smelling entrees.

“My parents would implode from shame if they saw me,” he snatched up a whole lobster slathered in garlic butter. “Divines above, but I wish they were here.”

With his primary mission accomplished, Sam, Bill, and Finn finally grabbed a bit of non-expired food at one of their favorite Inns: the Square Dog. The place was nearly packed to the rafters with dirt-crusted adventurers back from a long day of grinding experience by killing the local fauna with extreme prejudice. The Square Dog couldn’t have been more different than the snooty Peacock Parlor. The food was delicious and affordable—even if it didn’t offer high quality buffs—seating was open, patrons were laughing, and music was blasting full tilt.

A long-haired bard wearing a wine-stained doublet worked a hammered dulcimer, plucking at the strings while he drunkenly slurred out the lyrics to a local favorite called Easy Chances. The atmosphere was festive, and no one cared that everyone was dirty and smelled like old BO or that the entertainment was about one drink shy of passing out face down in the corner. They were living their best lives and enjoying the wonders of Eternium Online. This had been the same tavern Sam had first met Dizzy and the others in. How different things would’ve been if the Mages had just let him enjoy a night out on the town.

But it hadn’t gone that way. Sometimes, it was the small things that resulted in big changes.

Bellies full and hands washed, Sam, Bill, and Finn reluctantly left behind the merriment of the Square Dog and headed over to the city library. Honestly, Sam wanted nothing more than to eat and drink and enjoy the music late into the night, but there was business to handle. The Wolfmen were at war, Sam reminded himself, and if they had any chance of coming out on top, the Pack would need an edge. An edge that Octavius’ L.A.W. might just be able to provide. That meant books and libraries, instead of music and parties.

Finn paid their tab and the three of them slipped into the night, bound for Ardania’s Library.

The building wasn’t far from Ardania’s city square—the location where human Players respawned after death or dropped into the game when logging in for a session. Day or night, it was always busy, and the heightened guard patrols roaming the area made Sam a little antsy. But with their heads down and cowls up, no one paid them any mind. Everyone else was too absorbed in running their own quests or getting off the streets for the night. Quickly, they found themselves loitering outside a tall, but rather plain looking building.

“Eh, I’ve seen better,” Bill appraised the library from Sam’s side. “This place wouldn’t even make it into my top five libraries.”

Sam had to agree, especially once they headed into the foyer. The interior was rather demur, the floors marble but unadorned, brass candelabras casting soft firelight throughout the building. There were several levels, each with towering mahogany bookcases filled with literary works. The place should’ve been impressive, but after spending so much time exploring the stakes of the College’s Exalted Library, the Infinity Athenaeum, it was utterly underwhelming.

But then, how could any library compare to the dizzying labyrinth of interconnected spelled bookcases which was the Infinity Athenaeum? Sam remembered the place as vividly as the first time he’d entered—summoned by Octavius, no less. The towering bookcases filled with the rarest and most powerful books in all of Ardania. Ghostly candles and impossible oil lamps floated in the air, perpetually burning with pale purple witchlight that cast no heat. Coolest of all were the walkways that hung in the air overhead, completely unsuspended—a testament to the College’s understanding of spatial magics.

“You’re sure we need a book from this dump?” Bill’s pages fluttered softly as he spoke.

“It’s not a dump,” Sam hissed at the book.

“Eh, agree to disagree here,” Bill eyed the building as if they were about to walk into an unsavory place. “I mean, technically it’s better than the actual dumpsters we’ve been crawling through all night like hobo degenerates, but only a little better.”

“Play nice, Bill,” Finn whispered through gritted teeth. “This is a perfectly fine library and it also happens to be the only location outside of the Mage’s College that has the book we need. That book also happens to be in the restricted section, so I’m going to need a bit of a distraction.”

“Good evening,” an older gentleman groused from behind a wooden desk heavy laden with tomes, quills, and stacks of parchment. Seeing it gave Sam a warm and fuzzy feeling inside his chest. “A bit late to be out exploring the Library, isn’t it? Perhaps you two would be better served at one of the nearby taverns?”

“Not at all,” Finn peeled off his embroidered leather gloves, and stowed them in his belt. He swaggered forward without letting an ounce of worry show through. That was one of the things Sam respected about the noble—no matter what the situation, he seemed to bleed confidence. “I am Lord Beckham Farrowgem.”

The librarian arched a brow over half-moon spectacles and folded thin arms across a sunken chest. “I’ve never heard of Beckham Farrowgem.”

“Yes, well, not entirely surprised. I’m ninth in line to the Duchy, so my father doesn’t exactly parade me around.” Finn pressed on with a snort of derision.

“I suppose that explains it. Still,” The man nodded and jabbed a gnarled finger at Sam, “That one there is no lord. As a general rule, I don’t let travelers pursue my stacks this late in the evening. Adventurer types tend to be sorely lacking in respect, especially where the tomes are concerned.”

“You have a sharp eye,” Finn agreed in mock approval. He slipped up to the desk and leaned casually against it. “But this is no regular traveler.”

He took a long glance at Sam that seemed to order him to say something. Channeling his inner Octavius, Sam stepped forward and raised his nose. “I’m a Journeyman with the Mages College in the Library sciences field. I’ve been studying under Mage Solis.”

Instantly the man’s demeanor changed, but instead of a smile, Sam was met with a scowl. Studying Wolfman body language had taught him a thing or two about human body language as well, and he could read outright hostility etched into every line of the man’s posture.

“With the Mages College,” the man sneered at him. “Then I suppose you’ve come to raid my stacks, haven’t you? I don’t have any unauthorized books of magic, so why don’t you turn around and scurry back to your masters? Tell them the Scholars aren’t encroaching on their territory.”

Clearly, Sam had badly misunderstood the situation. He’d assumed fellow book nerds would stick together, but it seemed there was a deep rift between the Scholar faction and the Mages of the College.

<Bad choice,> Bill rasped in his head. <The Scholars and the Mages are in an ages-old feud. The Mages hoard knowledge about magic, so any book that even remotely touches on the topic gets carted off to the College. The Mages look down their noses at the Scholars just like they look down their noses at everyone else. This guy probably does have books of magic lying around, but you better believe he has them stashed away deep in the restricted sections. Tell him you’re a bookbinder—that’ll get him to change his tune.>

“Sorry, Mister?” Sam realized that the old man had continued talking, but he hadn’t even noticed till now.

“I sm Senior Scholar and Librarian Boris,” the man replied stiffly.

“Well Senior Librarian Boris, I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. My fault really. I’m not here to seize books, I’m here to help render any necessary repairs. I’m a Bookbinder by profession, and I need to repair manuscripts in order to advance in my profession.”

“You would have me believe you’re a Bookbinder?” Librarian Boris’s eyebrows tried to climb off his face as Sam talked. “That’s a very unconventional field, especially for a mage of the College. Tell me, alleged bookbinder, what is a raised band?”

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “The notches along the spine, which comes from the sewing support.”

“Hmm… and I suppose you could tell me the difference between the recto and verso?” Boris tested further.

“The recto side of a leaf folio corresponds to the right or front side of a page, while the verso is the left of back side of a printed leaf.” Sam leaned against the counter and fixed his eyes on the man. “I feel like you’re not even trying—these are soft ball questions and I can do this all night. I can just as easily break down the differences between Coptic Binding and Saddle Stich, or walk you through the basic use of my bookbinder tool kit.”

Sam slipped out his leather tool kit, unrolling it with a flourish to reveal spools of waxed thread, his wood-handled awl and wolf-bone fold creaser. Boris stood and gestured for Sam to follow, “Impressive set, but such knowledge can be faked. Still, I suppose I could test you more loosely myself. I have a few manuscripts down on this level that need some tender care. Follow me—what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” Sam chuckled as they started to move. “But you can call me Octavius.”

“Well, Octavius, you can come with me. As for you, young Lord Farrowgem,” Librarian Boris turned an icy stare on Finn, “you can wait here if it pleases you. I think this goes without saying, but don’t touch anything.”

“I would never,” Finn sounded utterly scandalized. “It would be a blemish on the name of my Father, Lord Farrowgem. I will wait right here.”

“Very good. See to it that you do.” Boris grunted and reluctantly turned and whisked away past his desk and into the stacks, waiting for Sam to follow. He moved briskly, a man who knew this place like the back of his hand. He absently trailed his fingers along the spines of books in passing. Sam glanced at the titles, all mundane and boring as sin. Unseen Shrubs, Exhaustive Fundamentals on Royal Tax Auditing, The Seamstresses’ Anatomical Guide to Inseams. It was a wonder the library wasn’t more popping, what with the friendly staff and the host of interesting books like Elementary Glass Making for the Novice.

“Here we are. This one right here should be an adequate test of your claimed skills.” Boris promptly pulled out a tattered volume that read The Wonders of the Lowland Oryctolagus Cuniculus. The back cover was missing, the pages were badly worn around the edges, and the spine was cracked.

<That is an absolute tragedy,> Bill bemoaned inside Sam’s head. <Who would ever think of doing that to a book?>

<We literally make books explode like bombs,> Sam had to hold in a laugh as he said the words.

<That’s totally different,”> Bill insisted. <You’re comparing apples and flamingos here. Not even remotely in the same category. Now let’s show this pompous naysayer what we can do, huh?>

Sam accepted the book with a smile and headed over to a nearby reading desk tucked away in a small alcove. He pulled out his tools and set to work, though he made sure to take it slowly. The point here was to buy Finn the time he needed to raid the restricted section and get the book they needed. Thankfully, The Wonders of the Lowland Oryctolagus Cuniculus was trashed, so it wouldn’t be hard to pad the process. First Sam removed a small knife with a razor-sharp blade from his tool set and carefully cut the front and back covers an eighth of an inch from the spine, allowing him to easily remove the badly damaged spine.

The stich work beneath the spine cover was in fine shape, so all he had to do there was trim some of the frayed cloth with his blade. He added binding fabric, quickly cut into shape, then proceeded to use a horsehair brush to slather glue into place. Reattaching the front and back cover plates took more glue and a liberal amount of cutting, but he’d done this a thousand times and the motions were as familiar as brushing his teeth. Normally binding glue took quite a while to dry properly, but thanks to a special reagent called Brier Boxwood Powder, the glue set in seconds instead of hours.

In less than five minutes the book was the picture of health—the pages realigned, the covers straight and cleaned, the spine new and completely repaired. Sam handed the book over as a thin smile stretched across Librarian Boris’s pinched face.

“Marvelous,” the scholar whispered, turning it over in his hands. “Who would’ve thought someone from the College would have such talent. Perhaps I was mistaken about you travelers-”

The words were cut short as a clatter from elsewhere in the library echoed off the vaulted ceiling above. Boris’s expression turned sour at once.

“What was that?” he glanced over a shoulder, though there was nothing to see.  He swiveled, glaring at Sam. “I thought I told that noble friend of yours to stay put. Was this all some sort of ruse?”

His fingers dug down into the newly refurbished book in his hands. “A distraction so your friend could raid my stores?”

“No, not at all,” Sam protested innocently, though that was exactly the truth.

“Well, we will just see, shan’t we? Come with me now or I will summon the city guards and have you arrested!” The librarian turned on his heel and stormed off toward the front counter. There was nothing for Sam to do but follow.

<This is bad,> Bill muttered distractedly. <We can’t afford to have this guy bring in the city guards. Our story will fall to pieces if they so much as look at it funny.>

<You don’t think I know that?> Sam fired back. <But what should we do? I'm not about to attack this guy. He’s just some old librarian who hates the College as much as I do. I might be with the Wolfmen, but I’m not a monster.>

<Who said anything about murder? Man, that got dark quick. We just need to make another distraction. Come on, this is elementary level Breaking and Entering, Legs. I thought you had the basics down pat.>

Bill had a point. It was always good to have a backup plan. Still following Boris, Sam slowed and traced his fingers along the books, just as the Librarian had done on the way in. He focused his mana, letting energy swell and erupt from his core as he triggered Book Maker’s Book Bomb. He infused a title called the Handbook of Cave Crystals and muttered a trigger word under his breath. He let out a sigh as the magic took, all without the angry Librarian being any the wiser.

They rounded the corner a moment later and emerged into the foyer, where Finn was leaning against the desk.

“What was that noise?” Boris barked without preamble. “I thought I told you to touch nothing.”

“Yes, well. My deepest apologies,” Finn bowed nearly in half. “I may have accidentally bumped into one of your floor lamps.” He straightened and gestured toward a large brass lamp, near the wall. “Knocked it over, I’m afraid. A terrible clutz—which is probably why my parents never loved me. ‘You’re all left thumbs, Beckham Farrowgem’. That’s what my father is always telling me. Thankfully, there doesn’t appear to be any damage. If there is, please feel free to notify my estate. My dearest father would never want an outstanding debt to ruin the good family name.”

Boris sniffed and eyed the scuff mark on the floor. A clear indication that the lamp had indeed fallen over; probably because Finn really was notoriously clumsy.

“Noted,” he coldly announced. “But I think it's high past time you and your friend left. I’ve decided I don’t need any help from the College after all. Please see yourselves out at once.”

“Of course,” Sam appeased the old man. “We were only trying to help, but we certainly wouldn’t want to overstay our welcome. Come on Lord Farrowgem—best we get back to the College before curfew expires.”

“If help isn’t wanted, why would we stay?” Finn bobbed his head as if he were disappointed in the library. Together, they turned and headed for the exit. Sam felt relief wash over him. They were actually going to get away with this…!

Which is precisely when an alarm sounded.

Bells clanged overhead the moment they crossed the threshold, and Boris’s eyes went wide in shock.

“Thief! You’ve stolen a book!” His face turned beet red, and his hands curled into fists. “Do you think I would leave you alone without some safeguards in place? The Guards will throw you into the Royal Prison for this!”

“Only if they can catch us,” Sam raised his voice, and belted out his trigger phrase. “Le~e~eroy… Jenkins!”

The floor rattled as the book-turned-bomb exploded, fire and smoke billowing up from deep in the stacks. Sam loved books, and felt genuinely awful about setting the library on fire, but they were at war with humanity. Sometimes you did what had to be done. The color drained from Brois’s face and his mouth turned into a shocked ‘O’ as he wheeled around and surveyed the tongues of flame.

“My beloved books!” He squawked in horror. Sam grabbed Finn by the shoulder and the pair of them hightailed it through the door, the blare of alarms chasing them into the night. As they ran, Finn fished a thick tome from beneath his robes. Magical Theory of Sympathetic Magic: Mastering the Arcane Forces of Spell Twining. They’d done it. A pair of prompts followed a moment later:

Quest updated: Humanity’s Sabotage (Ongoing). As a racial traitor you are required to sabotage human institutions on behalf of the Wolfman Faction! By burning a portion of the Scholar’s Library of Ardania, you have successfully contributed to the slow but inevitable (hopefully!) downfall of humanity! Congratulations, you unstable maniac. Better yet, you managed to actively sabotage a human institution while also pilfering a valuable item needed to help turn the tide of war—effectively taking out two birds with one stone! You are not only a maniac, but a very efficient one. Well done… I guess!