“Sadil, I don’t have much time—the battle dean is off checking the prisoners. They told me Tailyn and Forian kidnaped Ronan, and the viceroy is up in arms. Madame Lazul was grabbed, too, and Crobar said she isn’t one of theirs. The nameless have her. I’m not sure what they can do to her without hacking, though. And I know this screws up your plans, but you have to leave the academy since everyone knows about your ties to Forian and Lazul. Try the main gate—the security system was built on hacking, so it should be working right now. If you don’t have any other portal cards, that’s your only way out. Good luck, my friend! I’ll reach out as soon as it’s clear which way the wind is blowing. The mages will see their former glory returned!”
The picture disappeared, and Tailyn found himself staring at a blank wall unsure of how to react to the message. Quite a bit suddenly made sense, one example being the ancient creature’s faith in Forian. He’d been preparing a successor for Sadil. Sooner or later, the old man was going to be sent off to meet his maker, and Forian was the heir apparent. A promising investigator. And that was why Tailyn’s mentor had been sent off on so many delicate assignments—they were both tests and proof of the dean’s trust. On the other hand, Tailyn didn’t trust the dean in the least and realized he’d let his emotions push him to release a dangerous opponent into Mean Truk. Saving Forian’s grandfather had been meant as a favor to the treasurer, but was it a mistake? Indeed, a grave one, and one that something had to be done about. And Tailyn knew what.
Valia, there’s a problem. You need to grab Sadil and keep him under guard until I get back—we’ll decide what to do with him then. Here’s what I just found out...
Agreed. I’ll let Valanil know and assign the guards so we can keep both Sadil and the reptiloid under constant watch. Honestly, I’m afraid of the ancient. The books about life before the exodus don’t have much good to say about the races that showed up on the planet—they were different, with a different logic and moral system. I’m not sure what will happen when he wakes up. Maybe, he’ll thank us by slitting all our throats and show us all how impressed he is like that. Three thousand years as a mana source is too long to retain your sanity, and Valanil and Forian think the same. The divine mission was all that kept us from killing him immediately. Hopefully, you know what you’re doing.
It suddenly hit Tailyn what he’d done. In his rush to hurt the provost, he’d released a complete question mark into his home without the least guarantee to lean on. But he had to maintain appearances.
Of course, I know what I’m doing! The ancient was reset to level one, so he can’t really do anything to hurt anyone. But he does have knowledge we can use. Sadil—that’s the real problem, and we have to take care of him.
I’m on it. Come back quickly.
Time was really starting to become an issue. Checking his logs to make sure there hadn’t been any other defensive machines in the area before the divine intervention, Tailyn ran toward the stairs. The fifth level was empty, though the boy received some unpleasant news the moment he got to the stairs: the first, second, and third underground levels were packed with investigators and teachers running around like bees in a beehive. Presumably, everyone had heard the explosion, and that meant Tailyn had to be prepared for anything. That path back up to the surface wasn’t an option. And right when Tailyn was bracing himself to return to the labyrinth, Raptor showed people appearing in the secret passageways. They were battle mages, not investigators. From what it looked like, their dean was screwing Sadil over by sealing off his escape routes. If the security chief stayed where he was, his only option was going to be to wait for the moment he could activate his portal, assuming he had one. Madame Lazul had been captured, after all...
It hit Tailyn that the lift shaft was his only option, just not the lift belonging to the provost. He needed the one the investigators used to go down to the fifth level. But Tailyn didn’t hit the button to call the lift, not looking to attract attention. Instead, he purchased two slender knives in the store, slid them between the lift doors, and wedged them open. They gave unwillingly. As Raptor evaluated the space that opened up, the boy’s perception immediately chimed in, highlighting metal brackets bolted into the wall. And while they looked sturdy enough, Tailyn didn’t particularly need them—his flying sandals carried him all the way up to the lift cabin. The deans had ridden it to the ground level, which meant Tailyn had a clear shot almost to where he needed to go.
But it wasn’t completely clear. The last barrier standing in his way was the metal floor of the cabin, and it was thick enough that the boy couldn’t so much as scratch it. Instead, he was forced to drop down to the first level below ground. There were thirty minutes left until the provost was going to get the alert.
Judging by Raptor’s indications, a battle mage was standing outside the door. Not a student, he also wasn’t a teacher, apparently the same kind of acolyte Forian had once been. But Tailyn didn’t have much time to think, so he just had to do the one thing he hated most: pull out Valkyrie and aim it at someone who was just following instructions. The trigger clicked; Tailyn’s stomach tensed. Still, his path was clear, and he stepped out into the first belowground level. Tossing the dead body into the shaft to make sure nobody would see it, the boy only made it a few steps before the battle magic dean’s unpleasant shout rang through the hallways.
“He’s on the first belowground level by the lift! Everyone get over there!”
The mage Tailyn had just killed had been in a group, and the group leader knew exactly where his troops had been stationed. Glancing frantically down at Raptor, the boy could see that the nearest entrance into the secret corridors was too far away for him to get there first. Would jumping back into the elevator shaft work? That wasn’t an option—his opponents were on both the first and the second levels. He was in trouble. Chills ran down his spine, his legs practically buckled from fear, and clammy sweat dripped into his eyes, everything threatening to knock him off balance. But that was when a peace came over him.
He couldn’t run. He couldn’t hide. Fighting would have meant taking on the entire academy, perhaps even the entire empire. With the kind of fighters there were entering the picture, he couldn’t take them on, and that left what the System hadn’t yet taken away as his only option.
“Where is he?!” The breathless dean had shown up personally to arrest the criminal. From what Tailyn could tell, he and Sadil had definitely had their differences.
“He headed down—the doors on the fifth level are open,” an aide called over after shining a light into the lift shaft. “Probably used those brackets.”
“Send the lift down to the fourth level so we can trap Sadil on the fifth. The provost gave orders to wait for his return without trying to play the hero—he’s going to deal with the traitor. Do it!”
“Yes, Master!” The aide bowed his head, after which his gaze fell on Tailyn, who was lying on the ground. “What should we do with the body?”
The dean looked over at Tailyn, who’d disguised himself as the mage he’d just killed. Vargot mimicked a snow-white robe thanks to Valanil, who’d forced the boy to put it on and record it to his memory, and the boy had then rubbed blood all over himself. It worked if nobody looked too closely. The worry was that the dean would see through his concealment, but the mage had spent his parameter points on more important attributes than perception. For example, there was enhancement, which had just been deleted. The dean himself hadn’t realized how significant of a role it had played in his life, and so the base level of thirty-five his perception was at had nothing on Tailyn’s level forty-seven concealment. All there was to see was a body in a robe.
“He was a mediocre if responsible mage, so call him a hero and give his family something to feel good about. The academy will handle the expenses. Whose turn is it to loot the body?”
“Garshal’s, Master.” The aide barely concealed a smile, no love lost between him and Garshal, who he considered a fat pig. Slipping him a useless body out of t
urn was perfect. More than likely, the dead mage didn’t have anything interesting on him, so the slob wasn’t going to pick up any loot.
“Let him know it’s his turn,” the dean replied, having decided to ignore his aide’s little scam. With access to the real list, the dean knew very well that Garshal’s turn wasn’t coming up. He made a mental note to put his aide in his place when they had nothing more important to do.
His stride much more even, the dean headed back off to his office. He’d done his job. Sadil was trapped on the fifth level, he wasn’t going to be able to get out, and the provost was going to take it from there. Once the dean’s aide had made sure the lift was down at the fourth level, he ran off to find Garshal, already excited to see the fat mage’s face when he found out what kind of loot he was going to be getting.
It was only when Raptor told him the coast was clear that Tailyn stood up. The whole ordeal had cost him fifteen minutes. Furious at the mages, his helplessness, and the world around him, he still realized he’d gotten incredibly lucky—it was highly doubtful he would have won if a fight had broken out. The dean’s golem proved his capabilities. Presumably, he had something that could take control of named items, some kind of blocker, if only judging by the fact that he handed out named stars to his students as a reward. It would have been silly to give them something he was helpless against. And that meant he had a weapon or neutralizer that worked against them. Or used to have one if it was the deleted attributes.
The boy’s scanner showed nobody right above him, so Tailyn decided to just go with the tried and true and climb up the cables in the lift shaft. Wiping off the blood and disguising himself as a regular student outfitted in a yellow mantle, Tailyn headed up. He shoved the doors aside, headed off, and soon found himself melting into the hustle and bustle that was the main corridors. As Valanil always said, the more people there were, the easier it was to hide. And that was true—nobody paid any attention to the first-year student stepping out of the hallway leading to the investigators. He could have had any number of reasons to visit them. Perhaps, he was discussing an internship.
The flow of people carried Tailyn outside, as students on break always tried to get some fresh air or head to the arena to try out what they’d just learned. Tailyn joined the star students on their way to the library.
“Access confirmed,” boomed the guard as he stepped to the side. The message that had popped up in front of him told him the student there had the right to enter the library, and that was all he cared about. Someone else could check to see why he had access. As soon as the door closed behind Tailyn, the keeper appeared from around a corner.
“Nobody can get to you here, Tailyn Vlashich, so you don’t have to use a disguise. Follow me. There’s something we need to discuss.”
The old man shuffled off in the direction of his office. Tailyn kept up, knowing full well the kind of power hidden behind his apparent frailty. The keeper could have held anyone off from the world’s holy of holies. Perhaps, even a Black Slime.
Mission complete: Book Delivery.
Tailyn’s shoulders straightened up as if a load had just rolled off them. Once again, he had the freedom he’d lost three months before, and he swore to himself to stay away from the spots marked on his map—the ancient settlements and art galleries. He’d had enough adventures. As the keeper accepted the book, his breathing quickened. It was unique.
“You’ve made this old man’s day,” he said with a smile. “Tartila Mine has always intrigued me, though nobody has ever been able to bring me a description of the beasts there. This will completely upend our understanding of the place and give the mages a way to prepare for it. Perhaps, some of them will even survive.”
Level +1 (88).
Named star +1 (1).
Tailyn had long since decided for himself that he would dump all his points in Frankenstein, which stood at level forty-seven. He wanted to be able to give creatures dual immunity again. That had proven useful.
“You wanted to talk about something?” Tailyn said.
“And there’s nothing you want to talk about?” the keeper replied with a grin. The book Tailyn had brought disappeared only to reappear somewhere in the depths of the library.
“Why does the god only give some the book delivery missions?” That was something the boy had been wondering ever since he pulled the book off the lix body.
“That’s the imperial law, and everybody with the emperor’s stamp is supposed to follow it,” the old man replied, though that didn’t sit right with Tailyn.
“But I’m not an imperial subject. I was banished!”
“When you got this book, the emperor was still on your side. You were banished later.”
“So, you’re trying to tell me that I won’t have to bring you any more books or sculptures that I find?” The boy’s spirits lifted only for the keeper to bring him back down to earth.
“If you were just a simple person with no responsibilities, then yes. The System wouldn’t impose its will on you. But that’s not the situation—you aren’t some adventure-seeker. You’re the head of an independent city, basically your own empire. If you find a book, you’ll get a new mission. A unique one. Actually, that’s what I want to talk to you about so we can get out in front of this. Tailyn Vlashich, I’d like to set up a library branch in Mean Truk.”
“What’s the catch?” Tailyn asked immediately. He liked the idea, only he’d been having too many half-baked ideas of late. When someone offered something, he’d learned to first ask what the point was for both sides.
“There’s no catch. Your city will be home to a small new building I can give you the blueprints for. Once every three months, I’ll show up to accept divine book delivery missions, so you won’t have to come here to the academy. Also, your branch will have a way to give out books with access controlled by the city. You, basically. You’ll decide who has and hasn’t earned the right to read the works of the ancients. Although, yes, there is a catch: you have to protect the library, making sure nobody without access goes in. I’ll handle the verification system—you won’t have to pay for that.”
“Once every three months?” Tailyn’s eyes narrowed. The old man was trying to confuse him with the deluge of information, but he’d been able to pick out the important bit. “What if there isn’t anything to accept?”
“If my visit is fruitless, the city will simply compensate me for the expenses. But what does a hundred thousand coins matter? I’m sure there are plenty of ancient artifacts around Mean Truk.”
The old man looked at Tailyn, his expression frank as the button to agree popped up in front of the boy.
“A hundred thousand?! Never!” the boy shot back indignantly. He declined the offer, not willing to subject his city to the fine.
“You need to leave the library, Tailyn Vlashich.” The keeper’s tone had suddenly gone from friendly to borderline aggressive. “We’ll see how you get into the academy next time.”
Tailyn was momentarily taken aback. The keeper’s previous neutrality had turned into open dislike, though the head of Mean Truk was not about to let his emotions govern his response. Settling more comfortably into his chair with no intention of leaving, he continued.
“Before I leave, I’d like the answers to a few questions.”
“You aren’t welcome here, boy!” The expression on the old man’s face darkened, though the Tailyn knew how to counter that. Dur-Sha-Gun’s journal appeared on the desk. It was the small book Halas’s advisor compiled on the habits and temperament of all the experiments.
“This is a unique addition to the book I just gave you, though I’m not required to deliver it to the academy,” Tailyn said when he caught the keeper’s eye. The latter was able to quickly understand new deliveries and fell silent, suddenly in no hurry to kick the boy out. “If my questions are answered, the library will get this journal.”
The only answer was silence. With the keeper’s gaze fixed on the small book, Tailyn took that as assent and
continued.
“My first question. Why is Isr Kale’s journal, an ancient book, not part of the library?”
The keeper finally pulled himself away from the book on his desk and glanced strangely at Tailyn, pausing for a while before continuing.
“The provost isn’t an imperial subject, so the law doesn’t apply to him. Some of the books he found around the world were given to the library, though the most interesting remain in his office. The System can’t do anything about that—the library is part of the academy, and the provost will never take out his treasures. Since they’re in the building, they’re in the library. That was enough to get around the god. Actually, he doesn’t just have Isr Kale’s journal—there’s quite a bit in his office, and all of it should be here with me.”
“My second question. What can we do to make sure Mean Truk has a library but doesn’t have to pay for trips you don’t need to make? You should only have to come when you’re actually needed rather than every three months.”
That time, the keeper waited even longer before answering. Tailyn was starting to think the function was avoiding the question when he finally did come back with a reply.
Isr Kale's Journal (The Alchemist Book #4): LitRPG Series Page 29
