Chapter 2
Original story and characters set in universe by Square Enix. No for-profit ownership is claimed over any of them.
Off the main highway and down the backroads of the countryside south of Dorter lies a small chapel dating back to earlier days of the middle ages, jutting out and into the marshland. But the rather quaint appearance of Orbonne Monastery above ground easily conceals what lies beneath, as the old stone and stained-glass monastery was not just the habitation of the old clergy.
Orbonne sits atop five stories of a large underground library containing a collection of more than 50,000 books, some of which possibly date back to the ancient Holy Ydoran Empire that once ruled Ivalice prior to the Ajoran era. The literature given study contained instructions on performing skills thought long forgotten, along with lore and legends from bygone eras.
Most, however, detailed affairs only the most skilled of historians and linguists could understand let alone express their interest in. Those few that had yet to be studied were presumably confiscated by the church and were never burned during the ages of Inquisition for reasons lost to time.
When the Order that inhabited the monastery quietly disbanded during the Age of Reformation, the library fell under the care of the Ajoran Universities of Ivalice. Advances in preservation technology allowed the AUI to grant the library and its content a thorough restoration, and modern facilities for those that choose to investigate the ageless knowledge within. Along with state-of-the-art temperature control blended into the ancient walls and pillars, other 'updated' amenities include clean restrooms and wireless interlink access even on the bottom floors.
Yet despite all this, Orbonne remains biblioteca obscura to all but the most obsessive of academics, too esoteric for the dwindling membership of readers that could now access entire libraries on portable electronic screens. The books themselves required the same intensity to preserve as was required to interpret, the oldest ones on the deepest floors requiring special permission to access.
It was therefore the perfect environment for such individuals to tackle their interests in relative secrecy, in the renovated study rooms on the lower floors where the clergy once prayed and meditated.
Only two people occupied the study areas on the 5th and lowermost floor of the library. The shelves on this floor formed a ring around a sunken meeting area sunk into the floor, presumably once used for meditation or other holy discussions.
The first person was an old man in his sixties typing up a manuscript on a laptop, seated at a study desk overlooking the assembly area. His calmly kempt beard and graying hair was that of an academic of such a matching obsession, and his professor's jacket was draped over the backrest of the chair next to him, separate from his button-down shirt and dress pants. His usually wild brown eyes were focused on the monitor of his laptop as he finished saving another document.
The other was his teaching assistant, leaning on the table opposite but facing his senior. Normally the red-haired younger student would have been busy fetching various books and collating notes to aid in their research, but now he was engrossed in a graphic novel, drowning out the silence with music piped into his wireless headphones at half volume, just in case the professor needed him.
After what felt like months of research, the boy could afford to relax a little. Despite his casual clothing and lack of attention to his surroundings, the bags under his dark green eyes betrayed his dedication to what was clearly someone else's obsession.
Of course, this assistant didn't realize at first that he would be committing so much effort just for what now seemed like extra credit. But after the initial stress, such effort became almost routine although he continued to savor what breaks were allotted.
"Done!" the older man quietly exclaimed before leaning back in his own seat, snapping the other occupant to attention at the progress bar appearing at the center of the screen.
"...it is?" the startled assistant replied, curiosity almost overwhelmed by bewilderment as he moved over to peer at the laptop's monitor. The screen only displayed the last page of the manuscript, but the assistant had a good idea of the rest, if he didn't memorize it outright.
Only the author, the assistant, and - to a limited extent - their contact at the publishing company knew exactly what sort of revelations lay inside that manuscript, which had been restored, recompiled and cited with sources drawn from all across the Ivalician Commonwealth.
Where such manuscripts would have once occupied entire bedside chests now took the form of ones and zeroes in electronic storage.
"Yes it is," the author continued, smiling almost tearfully. "At long last, we can finally unearth a truth buried for so long."
Although he was familiar with the idea, the young assistant struggled to remember the exact words from fatigue.
"The one about...the beliefs every Ivalician holds dear?"
"Yes. An injustice centuries old." The author's determination had not faded with his own exhaustion. "One that they will go to lengths to continue concealing."
"So we're finally going to opening a box of horrors?" the assistant then added non-chalantly, "Will it even have the effect it should?"
The old author was not the least bit perturbed by the analogy, if only for hearing it so many times from the young assistant and others who had a vague idea of what sort of project he had compiled. Perhaps it was understandable to him that keeping it concealed this long would have given others the impression that it was just another peddled conspiracy theory.
But for all the bluster of the latest interlink activist sensation, he knew there was always credence to an idea spreading like a virus.
Amidst that brief moment of contemplation, the old author did not find the opportunity to reply as he turned in his seat to face the doorway, where a shadow that seemed to waver in the dim hallway light had caught the corner of his eye.
"Security's down here early," the author muttered as he checked the clock on the computer screen, "They don't usually insist until after ten."
"I'll go check," the assistant replied, taking out his other earbud and tucking it in his shirt collar. Before he could turn to leave though, the author stood up and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't be too hasty with him," the author added quietly but reassuringly, "Remember how close we were to getting evicted the last time?"
To which the assistant smirked, one that looked almost undead where the laptop screen was the largest source of light. "Yeah, I got it," he groaned, before turning to leave.
The older man watched as the kid stretched out his arms a little while leaving.
"Hey, what the-"
The last thing the older man heard from the assistant after his exclamation was a choking noise, then a soft thud, then silence.
The author knew then and there that paranoia was no longer paranoia when it had been justified. He only hoped he had time to write one last chapter before his own inevitable end.
Chapter 2 End