by J D Astra
“Why don’t you take a seat and rest up, Jean? We have a long way to go.” Otto patted the spot next to him in the carriage, then extended his hand to me.
I ran my tongue along the backs of my teeth and tightened my crossed arms. “I’ll walk for a bit.”
Otto harrumphed with amusement as he sat back, closed his eyes, and settled in. “Suit yourself.”
I walked, arms crossed and fuming, for about twenty minutes before my Stamina started to drop. The caravan was moving faster than before and I was struggling to keep my breathing from becoming long-winded puffs. A smirk was spreading across Otto’s face when I finally started panting. Oh, I was going to get him... drink all the Camoa-moa poison and barf on his face this time.
“Fine.” I reached up and wiggled my way onto the back of the carriage. I settled in around bags of potatoes, bumping them into comfortable configurations with my elbows.
A yawn, a real yawn, came over me and I popped open my character sheet. Level 4 Unwashed, Level 3 Hungry, Level 3 Tired, and Camoa-moa poison hangover. At least I could get rid of one of those things before we reached the archive. I dismissed the menu, laced my fingers together at my stomach, and closed my eyes.
The cart bounced, and I gasped as my eyes shot open. The white stone streets of Alaunhylles stretched out behind us, and the cookie-cutter buildings rose up on each side. There weren’t any pop-up shops on the sides of the roads here, or even kids trying to hawk wildflowers. People walking south were on the left side of the street, and those walking north were on the right. Faster traffic stuck to the middle, while slower and larger traffic moved near the building stoops. It was so orderly compared to the streets of Harrowick.
Otto smirked and gave me a nod from the road behind, trudging along next to Hiroto as they conversed. He had a sheen of sweat on his brow. Though the air was chilled, the sun was beating down on those walking, and Otto was wearing thick black robes over his chainmail.
I stretched and yawned, then opened my character sheet to find the time: just past 1 PM. How in the hell had I been asleep on the back of a donkey-drawn cart for three hours? I was not a heavy sleeper, but somehow I’d managed to stay knocked out through most of the journey.
My current debuffs were just Poison Hangover, Hungry, and Unwashed. I was hoping the hangover would get better with more rest, like it did with booze. That poison must’ve been strong.
I panned over to the map to see our location in the city. We weren’t too far from where Otto and I, okay, mostly just me, had made a scene the night before, and the archive was only another few blocks ahead. There was some kind of wall that appeared between the archive and the rest of the city that I hadn’t seen in the map before. Could they have erected a barrier in so little time?
There were walls around the war district, and a double-thick wall around the castle. Had our nighttime antics really had that effect on the city, or was something else in play here? Could Patrick have gone to the authorities and tipped them off to our plan? I had to assume he’d already told someone everything.
It was enough speculation for one afternoon. I needed to get my head in the game and see what we were up against. I hopped down off the back of the cart and pulled up next to Otto.
“Have a good nap, Jean?” Hiroto smiled as he cut short his chat with Otto.
I smiled back. “The best. Thank the gods there was a sack of potatoes to lie on!” I didn’t know if a sack of potatoes was god thanking worthy, but Otto had said it enough times now that I felt I needed to drop it in.
“We’re nearly to the archive.” Otto gestured forward, and I scooted closer to him to get a view that wasn’t the back of the cart.
Oh damn. My mouth fell open as I stared at the thirty-foot-tall, purple-glowing barrier that sat between the towering columns of the archive and the business district. It was transparent, but it sparked and shimmered throughout, darker and lighter spots flowing around like a lava lamp. It was pretty, but intimidating. The caravan had gotten into the city without issue, and past the pesky outposts while I was sleeping, but would Otto and I be able to get through whatever that was?
“There’ve been reports of rebel movements in the city, and there was some incident last night with the fugitives from Harrowick that murdered those officials,” Otto said with a hint of disgust in his tone.
Hiroto tutted. “Horrible, those monsters. If I were in charge of the forces at Alaunhylles, I’d send the Vastatores Vitae out to find them posthaste.”
“The Vastatores Vitae are powerful, but are not detectives. Finding the rebels, that’s the job for people like us.” Otto hooked a thumb at me and patted his own chest.
“Then thank the gods you’re here, Maester Xavier.” Hiroto bowed his head, then looked off toward the archive.
I grabbed Otto’s robes and tugged him back, then left, trying to get us out of earshot of anyone in the caravan. “What the hell are we going to do about that?” I pointed forward discreetly as I whispered.
“Walk through it,” he replied coolly.
“And then how do we get out?” My whisper was loaded with frustration.
Otto’s chest rose with a deep inhale. “If we follow the guidance of the quest, we will have no reason not to be able to walk out the front door at the end of this. No one will know we were there until we’re already gone.”
“We’re going to be flying blind in there. I’ve never been in a Grand Archive, and I’d wager you haven’t either.” My eyes flicked between the guards in the back of the cart and those walking behind and beside it to ensure we were free of eavesdropping. “To think we can make it in and out without being noticed by someone, or get in a scuffle, is a half-hatched plan. We need options, because if we fail, all of Eldgard will be one step closer to the totalitarian rule of Osmark.”
He nodded. “I will consider our options.”
“Great, I’ll magic something out of thin air as well.” I crossed my arms and returned my eyes to the front.
The shimmering purple wall was now towering over us, and I realized my previous assessment of thirty feet was wildly inaccurate. It had to be at least twice that, and the little sparks I’d seen before, those were zaps of electricity jumping three to five feet, all over the shield.
The traffic had dropped from a thick bustling of merchants and patrons to a few Dawn Elves dressed in thin, shimmering armor. I leaned around the side of the cart for another view of the wall and caught a glimpse of an archway made of red-hot metal, holding back the purple energy.
I’d never seen technology like this in V.G.O. before. I knew there were some advanced, steampunk-type machines, but this was like Tesla’s coils to the nth degree. As the caravan drew nearer to the purple shield, I could feel the energy pushing against my skin. It set my hair on end and turned my stomach, or maybe that was just the anxiety for what we were about to do. The incessant buzzing reminded me of power lines, and the frequent crack-zap of jumping lightning set my nerves on fire.
We were only a few feet out when the captain, Terra, brought us to a halt. I bit my lip and chewed. This was standard procedure, I was sure. Anyone coming or going needed to clear with the guard who they were. Everything was fine.
Terra walked to the right side of the arch where a woman wearing massive wooden shoes stood waiting. They exchanged a few words and nodded to one another.
Otto’s hand gripped mine and I realized I’d been rubbing my hands compulsively down the front of my acolyte’s robe. “We’re going to do this,” he said placidly.
His words weren’t much of a comfort. He could have said “We’re going to be fine” or “We’re going to make it.” Instead, he just stated the obvious. His devotion to the rebels, his dedication to the cause, was so apparent in the single statement. Live or die, good plan or bad one, we were going to do this.
The Grand Archive
UNLIKE CROSSING A BORDER back IRL, there was no inspection. No dogs, no soldiers with guns, no accusations. We passed under the shield and walked out the othe
r side on Terra’s word alone.
Had she mentioned picking up two stray archivists on the road? I doubted it with how few words they’d exchanged. So what could she have said in so short a time to allow us passage?
“Why is it when something is going smooth it feels like a trap?” I whispered the question from the corner of my mouth as I turned to get a good look at the other side of the archway.
It was steampunk-style machinery operating the gap, and the woman working it was definitely some kind of master craftsman. She was loaded head to toe with gadgets and goggles of different colors and shapes, her giant wooden shoes the only part on her not looking to be made of metal. She was a Svartalfar for sure, just a hair shorter than Lenny, but stockier.
She gave a little wave, clearly directed at me since I was the only one looking, and my stomach twisted into a pretzel. Idiot, Abby. Way to go, just tip everyone off that you’re not supposed to be here by ogling the operator of the giant zappy wall.
I returned my eyes to the front and took note of every white statue in the courtyard, every rectangular pool lined with fountains, each bush. Anything here could mean the difference between success and failure.
The massive columns of the archive had to be at least four feet in diameter, supporting the heavy, Roman-style white stone roof. Its resemblance to the Pantheon was striking, and I realized that the Grand Archive, while being constructed of the same white stone as the other buildings in Alaunhylles, was very much Imperial in nature.
The entire front of the archive beyond the columns was open, revealing shelves of books lining the massive passage into the structure. The pointed roof above the entry was engraved with large capital letters, not unlike the Faction Seal. It read “FONS OMNIS SCIENTIA EST POTENTIA.” All science has potential? I really should’ve taken a language class in school.
The building bulged out in a circle on either side past the square, columned entry, making for the look of a stadium. While the building was only three or four stories tall, its mass and width gave it an intimidating appearance. Or again, perhaps it was just the nerves.
The caravan turned right and I could see a large stable nestled between well-groomed trees not far from the entrance of the archive. There were three blue-robed figures standing near the stables, unmoving aside from their sheer garments ruffling in the gentle cool breeze. The wind also brought the scent of ozone and some kind of flower, though there were none in sight. I assumed the ozone smell was the giant electrified purple wall to our right.
The caravan had tightened up its formation since entering the grounds of the archive. The paths between pools were narrower than the streets outside, and I had a feeling it was a strategic move. The caravan had to slow down, taking each turn and curve of the spotless white path with precision to ensure the wheels of the cart would not slip down into the recessed pond.
I spared a glance into one of the long, rectangular pools as we passed. It was immaculate work. Each right angle looked accurate, every leaf, sword, and script embellishment identical to the one next to it. The beauty of the design was in the complete absence of organic flow. Everything was structured to perfection: an embodiment of exactly what Osmark wanted for his ideal future.
The caravan slowed to a halt at the stables, the donkeys hee-hawing at the sight of their place of rest.
“Greetings, Historians!” bellowed the front man of the three blue-robed figures. He was a massive Imperial, at least six feet tall and probably near two hundred and fifty pounds.
“Alaunhylles welcomes you to the cradle of knowledge.” The man stepped forward, and I noticed very feminine features on his face. While that wasn’t uncommon for Dawn Elves, being Barbie dolls and all, this man was clearly an Imperial. His chest-length hair was a deep brown, his nose and brow the strong, angled features of the Imperial race, and his ears were rounded, like mine.
Terra approached the man, her hand outstretched in greeting. “Petraeus,” she said as she dipped her head.
“Evaline.” The man acknowledged her with a shallower dip of his head.
Behind us, the carriages of archivists and their acolytes disembarked. Grumpy old men and women remarked on the stiffness of their limbs, some of them attributing it to the additional stops to pick up “riffraff” and the painful bumps induced by the quickened pace to make up the lost time.
Terra and Petraeus turned away, talking in low voices as the other two blue-robed men approached Otto and me. The tightness in my stomach returned, and I clasped my hands behind my back to get them off the front of my robe.
“I’ve got this,” Otto said through the side of his mouth.
The Dawn Elf men smiled in unison. Creepy.
“Welcome, Historians,” the left man, who had thin blond hair, said. “We’re surprised by your visit, but you’re not unwanted. Please, tell us of your journey so we may aid you in your search for knowledge.” They didn’t look like simple librarians; both men were nearly as tall and muscular as Petraeus.
“The generosity of Alaunhylles is known,” Otto said as he bowed his head. “We were sent with little preparation to address the growing rebellion problem. Alaunhylles is a great city indeed, but it has been infected root and stem with rebel informants.”
The men shifted their posture, straightening and flexing muscles.
“Glome Corrie is on the brink of a rebel resurgence. We’re at wit’s end to prevent what seems inevitable, and have sent many parties to neighboring archives in search of old tomes that may reveal the rebels’ ways.”
Though they were still uncomfortable, the anger seemed to disappear from the men’s faces, replaced with suspicion.
“You can see,” Otto continued, “this is why we will take no rest, and must set ourselves to work immediately.”
The man on the right smiled, a wicked thing. “Glome Corrie has many great historians, Maester. Which might you be?”
Otto put his hand to his chest and bowed more deeply. “I am no great historian. I am a Battle Warden, a tactician, and a strategist. Glome Corrie saw fit to send me because of my history, not because of the history I have in mind.” He tapped his temple as he returned to an upright position.
“This is Jean Grey and Charles Xavier,” Hiroto said from behind us.
I turned and gave him a smile I hoped looked genuine. Fear dried my mouth and tickled the back of my throat as I thought of how south this could go in an instant if Hiroto was no longer captivated by my performance.
“Yes, well, their names are not—”
“They were ambushed by bandits in the forests just beyond the Shining Plains, fought for their lives, escaped traps, and nearly died to get here.” Hiroto kept his eyes locked on the blond man. “Captain Terra accepted them into our caravan after a rigorous investigation of the facts. These historians are welcome here among us.”
The two squared their shoulders and puffed up their chests. They were larger than Hiroto, but he exuded confidence. He knew he was in the right, and these bullies were in the wrong. Dear gods of V.G.O., I hoped they were in the wrong.
“Yes, of course.” The man with the thin blond hair smiled, bowed as shallowly as could still be called a bow, and waved a hand toward the archive. “You must get to work straight away. What is it you’ll be seeking first?”
Otto didn’t wait even a second to start in on his demands. “Everything related to the Great War. We need to review the records of rebel movements and tactics for our report back to the archive in Glome Corrie. Next we will want the diaries of Levectus Borom and Celestine Yi. Last, we need everything you have, in progress or confirmed, on the current rebel activity in Alaunhylles.”
I jumped in with my own demand. “We’re investigating the movement of the current assassins at large, Abby Hollander and Otto Staldain. We believe they’re connected to the rebel factions in the east, and their recent activity in Harrowick is connected to some plot for the rebellion to gain control of that city.
“We will need any information available on anci
ent artifacts used in warfare, objects for kings and rulers. There’s reason to believe they may have something of great power in their possession, but we’re not certain what it may be. With their presence now identified here in Alaunhylles, the threat for this city is real.” I paused, allowing the guards, or whatever they were, to come to the conclusion I was about to give them. “They have killed officials of Harrowick in cold blood, they may feel emboldened enough to do the same here.”
Hiroto’s eyes widened. “They have sent two historians to do the work of a hundred men!”
“All the more reason for us to begin without delay,” Otto said as he placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
The left guard looked toward Terra and Petraeus, who were well out of earshot as they made their way up the white steps to the opening of the archive. “Yes, well...” His voice faltered as his veneer of confidence seemed to break. “We will of course aid you in your search.”
“We appreciate the gesture,” I said, my own confidence renewed at his show of weakness. “But we’re not in need of aid. We simply need access to your tomes, good lighting, and plenty of quiet.”
Both men cringed, or snarled, I couldn’t really tell what was happening with their faces, but I could see it wasn’t favorable. “Yes,” the left man finally said with clenched teeth. “Of course. Let us show you to your work alcove.” He did not bow this time as he swept a hand toward the archive. The two guards led the way, Otto following behind, and Hiroto took a step in that direction.
“Hiroto,” I said, and he turned back. “We’re so grateful for all of your help, your daring and courage. The way you leapt through the trees to my aid without fear, I’ll never forget.” He grinned, and I gave him a grimace in return.
His smile melted as he realized I was dismissing him. He nodded, tapped his teeth together a few times, and stepped off to the side. “May the gods lead you, Jean.”
