I turn another corner, abruptly slowing my aggressive speed to a halt. My legs whip forward, the winds carrying me ahead at a sliding angle. I allow my magic to kick in, and it brings me to a proper halt. The built-up winds washing over me with a slight, almost mean shove to them.
My sabatons touch the carpet-fluffed stone and I walk along it, its beauty as much a tone-matcher as it is a simple respect for the universal law. Quiet in the library. And, like everything else in this temple, this grand, immaculate temple... It's gilded and ornate.
Sectioned off on alphabetical needs as much as it is sorted on heroes and Ordoars. While the colours reflect the current leads for each Ordoar and the Point of the Compass position they hold, their style is distinct beyond colour. Imdvarce and Wiswipide are almost rivals, challenging each other through their elaborate displays of sword-centred art and other trappings. The Ammimpaurst and Staguiffmani, however, are free and independent.
Separate enough that they can be unique, but still not so lacking in pride as to not show off about it. There's a welcoming warmth to it all, really. With all that has been going on with the Valkinvar as of late... Seeing such competition go about its way as it has always done is refreshing.
Tales of heroes will always be the same, tales of heroes. Our heroes. The greats who formerly held the titles of Eurultus-Valkinvar, Zaphadren-Valkinvar, Bordeaon-Valkinvar and Noustoster-Valkinvar. Soon, when their times come... If we win this war and survive, all of the current Points of the Compass will join this library. Lending their name to a new wing or aisle, the same as everyone before did.
It's not just them either, those at the peak of Valkinvar authority, both politically and more literally powerful. All of us who have made a name for ourselves has their visage somewhere. Their name carved into indestructible redstone decoration, gilded with metals worthy of the divine. While not all can be said of everyone, a lot of effort has gone into collecting divine metals for the fallen Valkinvar.
They're remembered here in our histories as much as they are honoured in the main temple complex. Where we... They, worship their husband-to-be.
My fists curl tight, disrupting the quiet with silent anger and grinding steel. I nod to myself and march on, bypassing the quiet tables and empty chairs with not a peep about me. I make my way across the seemingly infinite aisles, so desperately holding back a want to fly. The librarian looks up from her work, her extensive family of colleagues doing the same so they can greet me.
I return the greeting, offering them a traditional Valkinvar salute, although they lack the role. Perhaps they're amazing in some way. This is one of the few places outside of the Hall of Feasts where the staff are not Valkinvar. However, they're not so apart as to be truly separable. In the say a knight cannot be separated from the squire, the squire cannot be denied his future ascendence.
It is good temperance of one's character to know how they treat the men and women of such roles. Many Valkinvar have been directly of such blood, these staff getting so much love compared to other initiates. I hold no such blood, but I am more than aware of those who do have such families. I'm pretty sure my current interest, the Zaphadren-Valkinvar herself, comes from a family tending the temple grounds.
I suppose it has been a while since I've used the library, though... A Valkinvar one most especially. We are encouraged to seek wisdom. But I am too focused on the war.
The quiet could not be found here during the... First Siege of Thurn's Forge. It couldn't. Like all of Thurnmourer-Jherikra, and even Thurnmourer-Thunlanann... The city rang with the banging drums of guns. The bark of orders and the desperate search for anything at all to inspire a counter attack.
Now that it is on mind, some of the library's areas are sealed off. Locked down for the simple fact they were pillaged. But not by the enemy. By desperate Valkinvar who needed something, anything to give them an idea of how to win this impossible siege. Though, I doubt any of them could have predicted what occurred during the Cycle of Screaming Witches.
Whatever happened, the siege was lifted without us ever launching our counter-attack. The enemy never breached the walls, but we never went beyond them, either. No-man's-land took the blows. The Line Before fell, but the city's shield held them back forevermore.
"Excuse me, Honoured Librarians, might you direct me towards the section of the current Zaphadren-Valkinvar, Sister Gemorli?" I ask, getting a surprisingly stifled response as their eyes immediately cling to the scratches on my armour. The shame of losing my rank seems to play a part in their decision, and some heads are already shaking.
"I'm sorry... Sister Valkinvar, but, you don't seem to have the authority to access that section of the library." a sweet old lady tells me, all this magic in the air clearly not doing enough to keep her in a state of youth. Though, perhaps that is the greatest majesty of it. She has lived a truly long life, one where she can almost affectionately be called 'ancient' and have it be true.
"Authority?" I question, eyeing Sister Pymonsia's medallion closely.
"Yes, the section was sealed along with a few others many grand-cycles ago. You need the proof of a Point of a Compass or be one yourself. I'm sorry, Sister Valkinvar." the librarian explains, her voice rattling with an unwelcome nervousness. Though, I suppose one cannot fault her or any of them with how the temper of the Valkinvar is coming out so cleanly as of late.
"Is this an appropriate amount of authority?" I ask, unhooking the medallion so I can hand it over to them. Despite the immense power contained within the metal, its foreign, fire-influenced glow and more. The librarian manages to hold it just fine. The lack of any shade of green in her fairly plain, grey hair making it all the more curious.
"Ha... Why I've not seen one of these in a long time. I think the last time any sister or brother came down here with one of these they... Oh, oh my. It was probably five-hundred grand-cycles ago? Oh, I bet you weren't even born then, were you, Sister Valkinvar?" she asks, laughing away with such a warm heart that I can't help but copy her.
I nod away, her guess quite right, "Nearly three times my age."
"Ooo, you are quite the young one, then. The youngest, even. The process for making new Valkinvar hasn't really been quite the same since the war changed the way it did... Actually, it's oddly been like that for a while. We used to have so many younglings and initiates coming through our halls, picking up their histories and stories. Mmm, I should see if Zaphadren-Valkinvar Gemorli has any time for an old woman like me. We can catch up and I can dig her brains out for the answers." the elderly librarian rambles on, her fingers going through her tablets and rare books for details.
An ornate box of a peculiarly unfamiliar tree lands before me. While I can guess the metal as being a simple bronze, nothing special there. There's an almost divine essence to the wood. As how thunder-gold is a thing, city-marble and war-bronze... A special tree honouring the God of Plants, perhaps?
Mm, no matter. What I am here for is other information. And this key within will take me to it. However, she isn't quite ready to hand it to me, just yet.
"Might I ask what your reason for your visit is, Sister Valkinvar?" the librarian asks, her reading glasses coming up to her face. The string of pearls either side of them rattling and shaking so gently.
"As I said, I'm here for the section on the Zaphadren-Valkinvar." I answer and she tuts away, shaking her head. It's the wrong answer...? Oh, I get it, I need to be more open.
"I'm afraid that is not good enough, medallion or no. I need to write something a bit more specific, I'm afraid, Dear." she says to me, her formality slipping for a moment as her mind gets to writing out details across the enchanted stone tablet.
"My apologies. I am here for the section on the Zaphadren-Valkinvar, as I've recently experienced a vision within the artefact chamber. What I saw had a lot to do with her, and I'm not quite sure what the imagery is meant to be saying." I say, withholding some of the specifics as... Well, it's true. I cannot really be sure of anything with my vision. Though, my vision is not entirely relevant here. I'm just being nosey.
"A vision...?" she questions, looking up, her aged eyes wide with an energy one might never have expected to ever see from them again. The wonder of grand children is long gone for her, but hearing of a vision brings back such a feeling to her. Reviving it where it once stood.
"Yes... Sister Pymonsia, the Eurultus-Valkinvar, also gives her blessing in this regard. On top of the medallion itself. She was with me when it happened." I explain, somewhat lying, as that's not quite right, but it's also close enough. Not that it matters, I guess.
"I see... Yes, that should do quite nicely, Sister Valkinvar. Here, I hope you find what you need. You will find the directions to where you need to go on the local Ordoar map. The Ordoar Staguiffmani section of course, my dear," she explains, smiling fully as I part. I raise a hand, offering her silent thanks and I get going, balancing the surprisingly weighty key in my palm.
I look back the way of the ancient librarian, my eyes widening in awe at her deceptive body. Though her looks do not show it, there is much power under such refined control. One of her helpers spots my look, and she passes it on. Giggles break out among the staff.
"Oh, hohoho! It's been a while since a Valkinvar has been surprised by that," the librarian chirps, her voice intentionally loud enough to catch my attention. I huff under my breath, putting my attention on the art piece that dares to humble itself as a map. My eyes go over the details, my magic trailing after it like a child's play tablet, so I can find my way.
One of the newer sections, so it is quite far away. Though, looking at what I can, it seems almost ominous to have such a hidden away section in the dark. With all that is going on with the Valkinvar as of late, though, it is easy to let one's imagination get to them. Perhaps that is why the Zaphadren-Valkinvar had it sealed away?
No... The librarian spoke of grand-cycles. I suppose there might be some degree of privacy a Point of the Compass is entitled to, but even then. I can't help but feel there is a connection to the past and present. There always is. It's just a question of how and why.
"Still... Maybe have someone come through and dust the place?" I ask sarcastically, building up an unwanted ball of magic so I can at least save my breath. I roll the simple spell in, shattering the serenity of such untouched dust and watching it explode into a fog. It rains back down, settling where it needs to go, and I slide the key in.
Magic lights up across the gratings and the bars, almost daring me to challenge it. Magic on par with the Zaphadren-Valkinvar herself, even. I twist the key, watching the pre-placed spells die away, their threat a hollow thing. The key turns the final bit, clicking the lock as much as it sends the spells and runes fizzling away.
Though the gate is fairly new, it moves ahead with rusty laziness... A grim air blows at me, shaking me up and I step inside. Surrounding myself on both sides with the records of the Zaphadren-Valkinvar's history. A thoughtful noise fills out my mouth, guiding me astray as I wander about, eager for any hint of what I want to know.
What happened the night before Sister Gemorli became the Zaphadren-Valkinvar?