OOC: Before I begin, allow me to explain the delay. It's quite simple really. When I promised to update every Wednesday, I didn't think about college finals. I took time off so I could focus on my finals. With that said, let's get back to the story!
IC: The thick and heavy stench of a thousand books and tomes permeated the air about Sally like a thick fog. As the scarlet priestess strode through the hallways of the library wing, she could not help but feel slight agitation. On either side of her body, shelves that stacked all the way up to the ceiling, filled to the brim with books written in scripts and languages she could not even begin to hope to comprehend seemed to taunt her. Unwilling to not only mock her with the visual appearance of their difficult letters, they had taken to filling the air about her with their smell.
Whitemane didn't like that. Raising the hem of her priest robes to her nose, she frowned as she strode past the shelves and piles of books strewn about on the few benches that separated them to provide a place for the scholars of the Crusade to sit and read in peace. As if to only add to the agitation of the sight and smell of so much knowledge which she could never hope to grasp, several of the scholars were about, books in hand, watching her with curious eyes as she strode past them. She could hear the muttered whisperings of the people, curious as to why she was there in the first place. Sally couldn't even remember having seen half of them before, despite preaching every Sunday morning at the mass.
As she strode past them, one of the scholars decided to approach her, tome held open. "Excuse me!" he called out, his voice strong despite the respectful quietness that the others of his kind had given her. "Madame High Inquisitor! Can you help me solve a puzzle upon which my fellow students and I have been working on?"
An audible groan slipped from Whitemane's lip as a thick scowl lined her face. She could turn the man away with little more than a word, send him to another, more knowledgable, priest. Yet as her lips started to form the words to refuse the man, a faint choir of sinkers came from behind her back. They knew she would refuse, unable to answer the question.
"May I remind all present here that Sunday mass is required by the command of the High Crusader?" she said, speaking not to the man before her but rather to those behind her. It didn't matter. Almost instantly the people became quiet as the man before her quietly turned his head aside, retracting his question. A faint surge of pride at the handling of the situation surged through her body, causing goosebumps to ripple over her flesh and the stench of tome to lessen considerably. Was this what it felt like to have power? A faint smile crept over her face as she continued on.
Two heavy doors, carved of oaken wood, stood at the far end of the Library wing. Despite their size, Sally was capable of easily pushing them aside on their well-oiled hinges. Just beyond a wide and circular room, its floor cluttered with piles of books, greeted her. Striding between the piles of books with the upmost ease was the man Sally had come to see. Upon her entry the man, tome in hand, closed his book and greeted her.
"Ah! High Inquisitor Sally Whitemane." he said, bowing in greeting. Sally gave a slight curtsy in response.
"Arcanist Doan." she said in reply.
"I trust that my library has suited your needs and desires? It is one of the greatest repositories of knowledge in the entire Eastern Kingdoms. Only the mage libraries of Dalaran and the Dwarven archives can compare to the knowledge we have stored here. I can see the scowl on your face though, child. You disapprove?"
Sally looked down, a vein visibly pulsating on her brow, as she picked up a tome from a pile beside her. Holding it out before her like a rat being held by its tail, she gave a visible look of disgust.
"Put that down right now! Do not defile these books!" cried out Doan, almost leaping across two other piles to snatch the tome away from Sally.
"My reading skills are poor at best, Doan. It would take me days to read one page, and I would only understand half the words if even that. Never mind seeking out what it is that I desire."
The Arcanist did not even look at Sally as he caressed the tome like a small child, examining the place where Sally had held it as if it had been bruised. "What is it you required of my library, master?"
Sally winced as the venom in the Arcanist's voice stabbed into her. How could a man care so much about his books as to deliver such a remark to someone for simply holding them? She shock her head in disapproval. "I need information. Very particular information at that. I seek to find a way to remove the curse of undeath from a person."
A cold shudder passed through the Arcanist's body. With a slow, measured motion he placed the book down. "To cure undeath? To seek a way to cleanse the tainted? Such beings can not be redeemed, Sally Whitemane. They can only be granted mercy."
Sally's head hung in acceptance. It was true. Every tenant, every reason she had become a crusader, everything she had done… had been according to that creed. To betray it was to betray herself. What had she been thinking? Had she been so obsessed with her former master as to-
Plumes of dark and shadowy magic burst forth from Sally's eyes as the priestess suddenly stood tall and straight upright. "I did not ask for your opinion, Arcanist." she hissed, her voice laced with shadow. "I gave you a command, and you will follow it!"
Fury burned across the Arcanist's face as he turned about to face Sally. "You would defy the Crusade? You would force me to accompany you on your blatant heresy? I should burn you down right where you stand, High Inquisitor! You are a undead sympathizer!"
"So go ahead! Do it!" said Sally, the plumes of shadow growing wide. Swiftly, she bent down, picking up three books before moving over to stand between two other piles. "Burn me down as the heretic I am! Refuse me and I shall call down Holy Fire to reprimand you for defying me! I won't kill you, but I cannot guarantee that the fire will burn only you and not your books. Or you can accept, and walk away with your books."
A tense moment passed by as flames kindled in the hands of the archaist, followed by the hum of a arcane spell being prepped, then nothing as he hung his head in defeat. "Leave me. I will contact you when I have something." he said glumly, turning about.
After Sally had left, Doan slumped down, his body sliding against the books. Opening the tome in his hand, he looked at the covering. Gentle words, written in loving penmanship, lined the inside cover.
To; My father.
I wish you a happy birthday from Lordaeron. The trade stall is needing my attention full time of late, so I am sorry I could not come and see you at the monastery for your birthday. I bought this with my money. Have a happy birthday father!
Love, your little girl, Felicia Doan.
"I miss you so much." he said, closing the cover and holding it to his chest tightly. Beside him three other books lay with their covers open, each inscribed with the same loving handwriting. These were the rarest and most valuable books in all of Azeroth in Doan's eyes. He could not risk letting them be destroyed. "I'm sorry Felicia."