Knowledge and Power

It wasn't easy being a librarian with only one arm, but somehow, Glenaeon Hall managed it.

Granted, being a librarian in the Library of Arishaig these days was a pretty easy job, period. The Federation these days was far more interested in expanding its territory than its knowledge. So as wars waged in the Borderlands against the Free-born, and dwarf uprisings were put down in the Eastland, there was a dearth of men coming into the library, when so many of them were sent off to war. Right now, sitting at the desk, marking items off the catalogue, all Glenaeon could see was the very old. Those of the Federation who could no longer work the land or the blade, who had come here to read, to research, to escape from it all. Every so often a young man, or a young woman might come in here. Every so often they might talk to him. But they were few and far between, and getting fewer.

Part of him enjoyed the solitude. He'd always been a quiet lad, and the life he'd been forced to live prior to losing a certain body part hadn't been one he'd made by choice. But he knew the silence was at a price. It was a price to the Free-born, it was a price to the dwarves, it was even a price to the people of the Federation. War didn't make a society strong, and if it did, he'd found no example of such a thing in the histories of the Four Lands. After the Wars of the Races, after the demons' breach of the Forbidding, one might have thought, centuries ago, that harmony would have followed. That as Arishaig built the largest compendium of knowledge in the Four Lands, second only to the libraries of Arborlon, people would have come to share it. Add to it. Not be sequestered away, divided as ever. Fighting a war for decades on end, with no peace in sight for either side. But at least, he reflected, as he turned the page, he could have some quiet.

"Glenaeon?"

At least he could until he heard Marla's voice - his assistant librarian.

"Hmm?" he asked, not looking up from the scrolls.

"There's someone here to see you."

Glenaeon got to his feet. "Well, tell them that..." He trailed off. Not because of the look on Marla's face, but because of the look on the face of the man next to her. Actually, the mere presence of the man at all.

"Hello Glen," he said.

Only a few people called Glenaeon that. Most of them were his friends.

"Caught you at a bad time?"

Whether Arvis Fields was a friend anymore was a question he couldn't answer right now. Not even as Arvis stuck out his right arm.

"Should I...?" Arvis trailed off, smirking. "Is that a thing you do anymore?"

Glen, forcing a smile, used his left to shake it. "I manage."

He didn't feel like shaking Arvis's hand. And he didn't feel he could call him a friend either. But then again, Arvis Fields was wearing the uniform of a Federation Army commander.

Glen wasn't.

"So this is where you have lunch breaks," Arvis said, as he sat at the table. "Nice."

Glen knew that was a lie. The tea room, if it could even be called that, was scarce larger than a latrine. A small fire crackled away, but the chimney was too small to get rid of the smoke effectively. It could be used to boil tea or soup, but such luxuries came at a cost. And with it being winter right now...Glen needed it. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"So how goes the war?" Glen asked. He took the kettle off the fire and began to pour some tea. "Are you still on an airship?"

"Two questions Glen? Why, I'll hardly be able to keep up."

Glen handed Arvis his glass. "You always managed to while I was in command."

"I did." Arvis sipped the tea, and waited for Glen to sit down before speaking. "To answer your second question, I'm doing quite well. Three months ago, I was given command of the Golden Dawn. Three months, and it's already got a higher kill count than some ships who've been captained for a year."

Glen sipped his tea as well. Too bitter, he reflected.

"As for the war though..." A shadow passed over Arvis's face. "Well, what can I say? War goes as it's gone for years - bloody stalemate. Oh yes, it's autumn now, and soon both sides will have to lay off the killing, but come the spring, blood will feed the grass again."

"More kills for your airship then?"

Arvis shrugged. "More or less." He sipped more of the tea. "Hmm. You put something in this?"

"No. Why?"

"Tastes a bit sweet." He chuckled. "Oh for the old days eh? When you and I sailed through the air, touched down, then had a pint or two back at camp?"

Glen frowned. "I remember."

"Yes, and you..." He trailed off. "Sorry. Bad memories, eh?"

"I dunno. Are they? I mean, you were my XO, and when it happened, well..." He gestured to the chevrons on Arvis's uniform. "You've done well for yourself in the Army."

Arvis didn't say anything. He just slowly sipped more of his tea, and looked at his former commander. Watching him. Studying him.

The truth was, Glen hadn't meant it as an insinuation. They'd served on the Amazing Grace together - a ship true to both of its names, considering how fast it could dance through the sky, outwitting even the most experienced Rover captains. But sooner or later, their luck had to run out, and when it had, Grace had come crashing down onto the fields below. Half of the crew had perished in the impact alone. The other half had to deal with the Free-born descending upon them. By the time Federation reinforcements had arrived, nine out of every ten crewmen had perished, be it by the sword, by the spear, or simple gravity.

They'd both survived that day. Looking at Arvis, Glen could see the scar on his left cheek where a Rover's blade had found its target. He, however, hadn't been as lucky. He'd survived the crash, but wood from the airship's deck had jutted through his arm, infecting it. By the time the healers reached him, his only choice had been amputation. He'd tried not to scream as they cut through his bone - other men were in worse conditions than he - but he'd failed. And while the review into the downing had exonerated him, the Federation didn't want a one-armed man for a captain, when they had more of those than airships. What they wanted was for Glenaeon Hall to take retirement, and his commander to pick up where he'd left off. He'd killed nearly a dozen Free-born with his sword alone. What could he do in an airship, with him at the helm?

Quite a bit, Glen suspected. The military life had suited Arvis more, and frankly, he'd wondered why he hadn't captained Golden Dawn from the start. But that was then, and this was now. And Glen doubted that Arvis had come for tea.

"To tell you the truth," Arvis said, finishing off his cup, "I didn't come here just to chat."

And there it was, Glen reflected. However he felt about Arvis, at least he was honest.

"I've come here for some books."

Glen snorted. "Well, you've come to the right place."

Arvis forced a smile.

"Anyway, what can I help you with? Military history? We've got plenty on the Wars of the Races, and-"

"Actually, it's something a bit more esoteric," Arvis said. "Something that Federation Intelligence is interested in."

"Oh?" Glen tried to steady his heartbeat. "I didn't know you were involved with them."

"Intelligence and Army are two sides of the same coin - can't have one without the other, and every so often, the coin flips." Arvis pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his uniform, and began to unfold it. "They...we...are interested in books you keep in the vault."

Glen stared at him. The vault was located under the library. It was a collection of the most priceless works of art within the Federation, and not just literature. Kept away for preservation, taken out only with extensive review. Shades, what on earth would the military want with any of that?

"Here's the list of material," Arvis said. "I'm under orders to take them with me today. You, being the head librarian, will make all necessary arrangements within the time remaining to accommodate this request."

Glen spluttered. "That leaves me only a few hours. How can I-"

"I'm sorry, did I say request? I meant order."

Glen, feeling a chill rush down his spine. He looked at the paper, beholding the crest of the Federation, and the signature of a General Brodrick. But what caught his eye, more than anything, was the list of items that Arvis was requesting.

"By the Word," he whispered.

This isn't right.

As they walked down the stone passage, Glen holding a torch with his one remaining arm, he felt like he was back on the Golden Dawn. Forced into a war he wanted no part of, forced to do things that made him feel ill, forced to do things that got easier the more he did them. Leading Arvis down into the vault might not be as terrible as furthering the Federation's imperialist ambitions through steel and sail, but the feeling was the same.

It was cold down here. Not damp though, as all due precautions had been made to ensure that the vault could store its treasures in perpetuity. If history had shown Glen anything, it was that nothing lasted forever - nearly two millennia had passed since the Great Wars, and there was hardly anything left within the Four Lands to mark mankind's former dominion. But even if all was doomed to be dust in the end, people like him could make effort to preserve it for future generations. Even if...He looked at Arvis, the light dancing on his scar. Even if that knowledge had to be handed over to the Federation Army.

"We there yet?" Arvis murmured.

Glen scowled. "We're walking down a narrow stone corridor to the most secure vault in the Federation. What do you think?"

Arvis snorted. "If you call this place secure, you clearly haven't been in some of our forts."

Glen hadn't. And he didn't want to. Nor did he want to do any of this. But Arvis had come, Arvis had given him orders, and even if he disobeyed, what was he to do? Defy the entire Federation Army? The prime minister might voice his support for the arts, but Glen knew where most of the budget was going these days. And each year, less of it was dedicated to the arts.

Nevertheless, they arrived. The vault. Not a literal vault, but rather an underground storage area where old scrolls and books were kept in storage. On a good day, Glen would have been able to fish something out, give it to a patron, and allow them to read it as long as they followed the proper procedures. But this wasn't a good day. This was the day when he had to led Arvis through the maze of shelves to where the library's most priceless treasures were located.

"Shades, how many books do you have down here?"

"By last count? Over eight-thousand."

Arvis let out a whistle. "Not too bad."

"Indeed. Though they're usually kept inside the library, not taken out."

Arvis remained silent. And he remained so until Glen arrived at their destination. It was little more than a glass box from the outside. In reality, it was the Federation's best attempt at creating a vacuum for the works inside. Not anything near on the level managed in the Old World, where it was said that mankind could sail through the stars in ships of steel, carrying their own air with them, but close enough. It was science, when so many other races relied on magic. And at least so far, it had succeeded in preserving what was inside.

"Books from the Old World," Arvis said.

Glen nodded, and mounted a torch on the brazier by the box. "Very little survived the Great Wars. Even less in the years that followed. And often, people wanted nothing to do with them. They feared the power of science, and by extension, anything to do with mankind's old domain."

"And you?" Arvis asked.

Glen looked at him. "I think knowledge is knowledge. It exists, whether we know it or not. We know the world goes around the sun, we know the moon affects the tides, and we know how to make diapson crystals work. What we do with that knowledge is up to us."

Arvis said nothing. It was as if he already knew there was an "and" or a "but" coming. So while he took care to start his next sentence without those words, Glen nonetheless spoke.

"Arvis," he said. "What's the point of this? Why do you need to take these books?"

"I'm not taking all of them, only the ones on this list."

"The ones on this list are of science. Of splitting the atom. Of chemicals dispersed throughout the air. Of chariots of steel, fed by black gold. You're not doing this for knowledge, you're doing this for power."

Arvis folded his arms. "Knowledge and power are two sides of the same coin. Besides, knowledge has made the Federation plenty powerful. Why not more so?"

"For the war?"

Arvis snorted. "That war gives us the land to pay your salary, Glen. As smug as you might be back here, the only way your precious library can be maintained is through war's spoils."

"That...you..." Glen told himself that Arvis was wrong, and it wasn't worth debating. "Arvis, the text has faded, and no-one can read it. Languages change. And even if you could read it, and understand the knowledge of the Old World, what then?"

Arvis said nothing.

"What then?" Glen whispered. "If this war ends, what then? What about the next one? And the one after that?"

"You...me...will be long gone by then," Arvis whispered. He nodded to the glass door. "Now open it, get me those books, and you can take solace in the knowledge that you may have played a role in giving the Federation the upper hand."

Glen shook his head. "I played my part in the war long ago. It cost me my arm. And I won't let it cost me my dignity."

Arvis, after a moment, pulled back his cloak. In his belt, Glen saw a dagger and a flash rip. Their eyes met, and he understood.

Knowledge is power, Glen reflected. And power always wins.

Slowly, and with heavy heart, he opened the glass door.

Knowledge and power awaited on the other side.