That night, I had no desire to be Motley. That role, with its forced smile and fabricated cheerfulness, felt utterly exhausting. My soul, weary after facing the complexities of the Grivana case and the threat from the Crane Killer, craved something more direct. Tonight, I would be 'W'.
My goal was specific. After reading the Primeval Forger's journal, I realized that my ability to comprehend the ancient Gollum language was still very limited. I could only interpret basic words, but I missed the nuances and technical complexities. I needed a dictionary. A comprehensive Gollum–Eastern dictionary.
According to the records I got from Finch's contact, only three copies of such a dictionary existed in all of Clockthon. One was in the royal library, protected by enchantments and Golems that were impossible to break through. One was in the private collection of Duke Rothenmaar, the head of royal intelligence, whose residence was just as impenetrable as the royal library.
And the third was kept in a far more accessible yet strangest place. It was stored in the office of the head archivist at the Clockthon City Hall, a man named Mr Abernathy. Why would such a rare linguistic artifact be kept in a dull bureaucratic office?
I prepared my equipment. My thick black cloak, leather gloves, and a cold white porcelain mask. I did not bring any weapons.
I left my skyloft through the rooftop route. The night in Clockthon was cold and damp, remnants of the earlier rain. I moved quickly across the slick tiled roofs, my shadow blending into the darkness.
Clockthon City Hall was an ancient and grand stone building in the Government District. Its security was tight, with City Guard patrols rotating every thirty minutes. But I would not enter through the front door.
I had studied its layout for hours back at my skyloft. There was a common design flaw in these old buildings, which lay in the rainwater drainage system. Large copper pipes ran from the roof down to the underground sewers. Those pipes were wide enough to fit my slim frame.
I found the drainpipe at the rear of the building where the guards were least attentive. With some effort, I removed its grate and began to descend into the darkness that smelled of moss and stagnant water. The journey through the pipe was narrow and suffocating, but after a few minutes I found a junction leading into the building's internal ventilation system.
I crawled through dusty vents full of cobwebs, following the plan I had memorized. I could hear faint voices below, the bored chatter of guards, then the scratching of a clerk's pen working late.
I arrived above my target: the head archivist's office on the fourth floor. I peered through the vent grate. The room was dark and empty. A large wooden desk, towering bookshelves, and an old steel safe in the corner. The dictionary had to be inside the safe.
Opening an old safe like this was not difficult. I dropped silently into the room and approached the safe. I did not use my power. I used my ear instead, pressing it against the door while turning the dial slowly. I could hear each click of its inner mechanism. In less than five minutes, the safe door opened with a soft click.
Inside, atop a stack of yellowed documents, lay a large black leather-bound book clearly labeled "Gollum Dictionary." I picked it up.
Just as I was about to slip it into my bag, I felt a change in air pressure from the corridor outside. Footsteps, very quiet. A sign that someone was coming.
Damn it. The patrol was not supposed to pass this floor for another twenty minutes. Someone had strayed off schedule.
I had no time to return to the vents. I quickly shut the safe, scrambled the dial randomly, and hid behind a thick curtain near the window.
The office door creaked open. Two City Guards stepped in.
"See? Nothing here," said one of them. "You just heard rats."
"I'm sure I heard something," said the other, his voice younger and more tense. "A click, like a safe door."
My heartbeat quickened. They were suspicious.
The older guard walked over to the safe and checked it. "Locked tight," he said. "You're imagining things, kid. Let's go."
But the younger guard was not giving up. His eyes scanned the room. "Wait," he said. "This window, wasn't it supposed to be latched?"
I held my breath. I had forgotten to secure the window latch after using it to check my emergency escape route. Such a tiny mistake could be fatal, painfully fatal.
The younger guard walked toward the window, toward my hiding place. He reached out his hand to close the latch.
That was when I acted.
I used my Motley Fool ability, Laughter Curse.
Suddenly, the young guard began to giggle. Then he burst into uncontrollable laughter. Hysterical, unstoppable laughter.
"What's wrong with you?" the older guard asked, staring at him in bewilderment.
"I… I don't know!" the young guard said between laughs. "I suddenly remembered the funniest joke ever!"
As the older guard's full attention turned to his strange partner, I used Masquerade Step. With one silent theatrical motion, I slipped out from behind the curtain, passed right between them, and exited the office door. I vanished into the dark corridor just as my laughter curse faded.
I heard the older guard cursing behind me, followed by the confused giggles of his partner. I kept moving, heading back into the vents.
I had almost done it. I had secured the book and escaped without being detected.
But as I crawled back through the vents toward the rooftop, I felt another presence.
How did they know? Did they have sensors to detect the use of Motley Fool Essence?
I paused at a junction in the vents. I could hear their voices below.
"Minor psychic energy reading detected on the fourth floor. It does not match any known Aberration signature."
"What's the target?"
"Unknown. But there's a report of a disturbance in the archives office. Team Bravo is on the way."
Damn. They were faster than I had expected. I could not get out through the roof. They were probably guarding it already. I had to find another way.
I turned around, crawling in the opposite direction, heading for the lower floors. My mind worked to find a path through this maze. I opened my mental map of the building. There was one emergency exit on the ground floor that led to an alley beside the building. But it was probably guarded.
I needed a distraction.
I crawled over a large empty meeting room. In its center was a long wooden table and several chairs. Perfect.
I used Shadow Sculpting. I manipulated the shadows of the chairs and table to form a creature. The figure was huge, hunched, with long arms and sharp claws. A shadow Aberration.
I made it rampage in that room, smashing chairs and tables, creating a huge racket.
As I expected, I heard the panicked chatter through the Fravikveidimadr agents' communicators.
"There's a disturbance in Meeting Room A. An Aberration just appeared out of nowhere. All teams, move in immediately."
While they rushed to the second floor, I took the chance to drop down to the ground floor. I found the emergency exit. As expected, two agents were stationed there.
I had no time for a clean fight. I needed speed.
I dropped down from the vent behind them. Before they could react, I used Stage Trick and vanished into a cloud of black smoke. While they were disoriented, I reappeared between them, pressing my fingers, coated with Void Essence, to their necks.
They collapsed without a sound.
I pushed open the door and shot out into the dark alley.
I ran through Clockthon's empty streets, my heart pounding with adrenaline. This theft had turned out to be far more complicated than I had imagined.
When I was nearly back in the Jewelry District, I felt a chill behind my neck. Not the cold of the night.
I stopped and slowly turned around.
At the end of the street, someone stood wearing a neat grey suit. His face was ordinary and his eyes stared directly at me.