Early the next morning, with sword at his hip, Ahken arrived at the door to the abandoned church, and made ready to knock, hoping that the Librarian (or, with any luck, someone else) was waiting. He already felt conspicuous enough as he was, waiting by an abandoned church with a sword in the early hours of the morning, that having to wait would just feel foolish.
This time, however, the door opened almost before he finished knocking. Ahken noted with some disappointment that it still the Librarian, torch in hand, who looked as prim as ever. He ushered Ahken inside before saying anything, closing the heavy stone doors.
"You came," he said, his face appearing grim and severe in the light of the torch. Ahken wondered if that was the same disappointment mirrored in the Librarian's voice as he felt at seeing him.
"I did," he said. He laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. "I brought a weapon, as requested."
The Librarian eyed it with some nameless emotion, before taking it by the hilt and holding before him curiously.
"Hey!" Ahken protested, and was ignored.
The other man ran a hand along the metal. "Interesting craftsmanship," he said. "Where did you get this?"
"It's been my family's sword for generations,"Ahken said somewhat tersely. "It's quite valuable."
The Librarian snorted and shoved it back at Ahken so harshly he almost thought he was under attack. "This is dangerous business, you know," he said. "You shouldn't bring something… valuable… here. It could get lost."
Ahken didn't answer. He had no other sword to bring; the only ones he had handled besides this one were fake, and besides, he had become accustomed to this one ever since Aherran had taught him how to use it.
"Now," the Librarian said. "You were informed of your purpose here today?"
"I was not," Ahken said irritably.
The Librarian didn't seem to notice the tone. "You are here to be evaluated," he continued without missing a beat. "This is important work we do. We cannot risk it by letting in…" he gestured wildly about the room instead of finishing, but Ahken thought he got the point.
"You think I'm…" Ahken copied the gesture.
"I do, certainly," the Librarian said as they made their way. "Whether or not Oren will feel the same way is up to her. And you."
"Haven't you already done this?" he asked as they arrived in the small room they had used previously. "I mean, before I got the letter? I assume otherwise you wouldn't want anything to do with me."
The Librarian laughed, which Ahken was not sure he had ever heard before. It was surprisingly likeable, almost childlike if not for an edge of mockery. Ahken was not sure how to feel about that.
"We are not omnipotent, you know," he said. "Although I would like to give that impression, there are things we must know, and those we can only find out by letting you in on the details of our operation."
Ahken perked up. "I'm about to find that out?" He knew their purpose, of course, even if he didn't like to think about it, but perhaps hearing exactly how this mad dream would come to fruition would make him feel better about this business.
"Among other things," the Librarian said. He grinned. "Believe me, that is the most important part of the test. What you will hear has driven others off before you. Better, stronger candidates. And, well. We're not always in the business of just… letting go those who have second thoughts. Not after they know too much."
Well, there went that idea. If he thought he had no choice now, that was about to change. For the worse.
"Take my hands," the Librarian demanded. Ahken did so, and felt his nerves increase as he prepared to teleport.
He prayed to whatever god was listening, which was probably heretical, but at this point Ahken didn't care.
"Let's go," the Librarian said, and they went.
…
Oren's office had changed since the last time he had been here. Before, it had been simple enough, with only a writing desk and all of the utensils that accompanied it. Now, it was even more austere, with just the desk and a lone piece of paper sitting neatly at the center.
And Oren herself, who sat behind it. Her hair was no longer quite as neatly kept as it had been, but it was far from hanging freely.
"Ahken," she said, sounding mildly pleased, which took Ahken by surprise. "You're here."
"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I was told I was to be evaluated?"
"Yes," she said. "I suspect you were. You talked to the Librarian."
"Uh, yes," he said. "He told me-"
"Filled your head with stories?" she asked. She smiled slightly. "Sorry about that. Stories are his job, and sometimes he gets a bit too carried away."
Ahken wondered if the part about not letting people go was one of those stories, and concluded that there was no harm in staying on the safe side.
"May I ask a question?" Ahken said.
"You may."
"If it's not too presumptuous; what does the Librarian do?"
Oren folded her hands and leaned forward, and Ahken worried for a moment that he was going to be reprimanded. (Wait, why does it matter?)
"He keeps records," she said finally. "Not just mundane records. He keeps the stories we've passed down through generations."
"Generations?" Just how long had this rebellion been going?
"Generations of humans."
"Humans," Ahken said. "Of… Senntisten?"
"Of anywhere," Oren said. "Some are from before the Wars. A precious few date back to before the gods arrived. They're folk tales, mostly. Even the histories have been infused with elements of fantasy. Some are fractured, or biased, or conflicting, or outright falsehoods."
"So what use are they?"
"Well…" Oren said. For the first time since Ahken had met her, she seemed uncertain. "Even without being entirely factual, they tell us much about how our ancestors lived, and what kind of people they were."
Ahken mused at this. All history he had been taught had been Senntisten's, and he'd never considered that there was another kind of history that concerned him.
For as long as he could remember, humans had been scattered around the world, fighting one another, the ones beyond the walls as utterly alien as the creatures they shared this planet with. He'd never thought of them and him having a connection of any sort. The way Oren talked about them, though, they were more her kin than Senntisten was.
"So," she said, bringing Ahken's thoughts back to earth. "Your evaluation has gone well so far."
"I wasn't aware it had begun," Ahken sputtered.
"Mm," Oren said, seeming unconcerned about this. "Now, we move on to the next portion."
"Which is?" Ahken asked.
Oren smiled.
…
Ahken followed Oren outside of the factory. From here, he couldn't make out anything familiar; he was surrounded by grassy hills for as far as he could see, with just the hint of mountains in the distance. If Senntisten was close, he would have no idea.
Oren stopped suddenly, and drew her own sword. It gleamed in the sun, and Ahken caught what he thought might be a sapphire implanted in the hilt.
"Are you ready?" Oren asked.
"This is-" Ahken began, and then stopped, wondering exactly what this was. "Yes, I'm ready."
Oren smiled grimly, and leveled her sword at him. "This is ready, too."
Was that a joke? Ahken had time to wonder before she rushed at him.
He brought his own sword up to block hers, just in time. She turned her sword down and tried to cut at his knees. He jumped out the way and raised his sword defensively. They circled each other.
Is she trying to kill me? Ahken thought, panicked. He'd never trained with real swords before, and, he thought, for good reason. He thought about what the Librarian said. Perhaps, he thought fearfully, this was their way of rooting people out without risking their organization.
Oren lunged again, and Ahken blocked. So far, he was able to defend himself effectively, but as Aherran had made a point of pounding into his skull, one could only be defensive for so long. You had to get tired eventually.
Technically speaking, he could block her thrusts with a fair degree of ease, but she seemed to be inexhaustible, while he could already feel twinges of fatigue nipping at his limbs. Not for the first time, he wished he'd had real swords to train with.
If he didn't go on the offensive now, he would lose. Subtly, he shifted his stance, bringing his sword around to face his opponent.
That's when it happened. The cough boiled up inside of him. He grit his teeth and tried to fight it down, but as always, it erupted. He shut his eyes as his lungs were wracked.
Numbly, he felt his sword batted out of his hands without any resistance, and then the sharp end of Oren's sword pressed against his chest as the cough subsided.
It was over. Ahken tasted bile in his mouth. The bout hadn't even really begun. It must have been only around two minutes from beginning to end, and already he'd blown it.
"Match," Oren said, and sheathed her sword. He opened his eyes to find her looking at him curiously, head tilted slightly.
"What was that?" she asked bluntly.
"I have a blood weakness," Ahken said. He went to retrieve his sword under her gaze.
"Blood weakness is a folk term for a variety of ailments," Oren said, sounding irritated. "Please be more specific."
Ahken thought back, but couldn't think of any proper name for what he had. If he had known, he thought wistfully, some doctor somewhere might have a cure.
"I don't know," he said finally.
Oren continued to stare for a few more seconds, leaving Ahken feeling wretched. Fortunately, she soon turned away and began to speak.
"Your skill is satisfactory," she said. "You display competence both with a sword and under stressful circumstances. I commend you."
Ahken sighed and brushed his hair out of his face. "Thank you," he said.
Unexpectedly, she smiled at him. "Yes. Well fought. I will consider this. For now, we're finished. You may leave. The Librarian will take you back, as usual."
"Joy of joys," Ahken couldn't stop himself from murmuring under his breath. To his surprise, Oren laughed, but did not comment.
"Come," she said as she began to make her way back to the factory.
"Wait," he said. "I thought I was going to be told about this place now."
She eyed him coolly. "You can't believe everything you hear," she said, and resumed her path. Numbly, Ahken followed.
…
Once he returned home, he made his way to his room and collapsed bodily onto his head. Ahke nwas never one to mope, but for the first time in his life, moping actually seemed to be a pretty good strategy right about now.
Neither Aherran nor his mother were home, which was a blessing. He didn't want to answer any questions about where he'd been. Not like it would matter at this point. He wasn't going back.
He turned onto his back, and wondered why it mattered, anyway. Hadn't he been nervous that he would succeed? Perhaps the comfort of the known, where he wasn't expected to kill anyone, was better than the uncertain future he would have with these rebels?
He turned on his side now. Maybe it was for the best that the decision was made for him. He didn't know if he wanted this responsibility, the responsibility of choosing his own fate. Perhaps it was better that he forged ahead on the path he was born onto.
Lying to himself, he realized, could indeed make you feel better.
The sun was still high in the sky. As much Ahken wished he could sleep, he couldn't justify wasting the whole day. With a weariness he didn't have before, he set to polishing the family sword before heading out into the streets once again.
…
It was nearing midnight. The Librarian liked this time the best. The factory was quiet but for those unfortunate souls stationed to be lookouts, and him, of course. Even Oren was usually asleep by this time, although tonight she was still working.
The library, which had given him his eponym, was all but utterly silent. He gazed with some satisfaction at the rows of books. Not all of them had been gathered by him, but many, and some of the most important, of them had. He walked into it tonight with a sense of accomplishment, as usual.
Typically, he would use this time for meditation and self-reflection, something he did rarely after being tasked with greeting the new-comers. Tonight, however, was different. The small red letter on his desk made it so.
As he sat, he could see that it had already been opened. The opener hadn't made any effort to disguise their action, either. He could make out writing on the front of the envelope. Oren. Whatever this was, she wanted him to have it.
Curious, he pulled the paper inside out and examined the page. It was written in Infernal, he found to his mild surprise. Most everything exchanged between the denizens of the factory were written in Common, letters included. Whatever this was, it was from someone outside of their group.
He frowned. If someone had discovered their existence, it had the potential to be very bad indeed. Was this why Oren had passed it along to him? Surely if something were wrong, she would announce it? Worried, he read the letter.
Exactly thirty seconds later, he raised his head, and made his way out of the library at a pace just short of sprinting.
…
"You read it," Oren said as he entered her office.
"Yes," he replied equivocally as he placed it on her desk. "Do you think it's genuine?"
"Perhaps," Oren said, gazing at it. In this light, and this late, she looked more tired than usual, like she was feeling every bit of her role pressing down on her. The Librarian had very rarely seen her like this, and it disturbed him.
"If it is, our problems would be solved," he said quietly.
"Hardly," she said. "But the solution would certainly be… expedited."
They both stared at it for some time. Finally, Oren spoke again, this time with a note of finality in her voice.
"We'll keep our eyes open," she said. "And investigate. In the meantime, we carry on like normal."
The Librarian nodded. "Then I will return to the library. And you should get some sleep."
Oren smiled bleakly. "That's unlikely now, but thank you for the sentiment."
He bowed (despite all the times she'd told him not to), and began to leave the room.
"Wait," she said. He waited. "If you find the time, please bring me all of the books you have on diseases involving chronic coughing."
The Librarian frowned. "Of course. Why?"
"No reason," she said firmly. His frown did not go away.
"It's about the boy?" he hazarded. "Did you tell him everything?"
"No," she said, after a few seconds' pause. "Not yet." The Librarian's eyebrow quirked up, but when no explanation seemed forthcoming, he nodded and left as quietly as a shadow.
Oren toyed with the letter after he'd left, idly flicking the envelope as she read the message again. After a few minutes of this, she put it down again, and made to leave her office, hoping she could at least try and get some sleep. She would need it.
Hey all! Sorry for the wait. I was lured into the sweet, sweet oblivion of writer's block, laziness, and Netflix. Hopefully I'm back on track now. R&R, and don't forget to keep being awesome!
P.S. I don't think I ever officially made a disclaimer for this story. I kind of doubt I'll get body-checked by SWAT any time soon if I don't, but, you know, just in case, here it is:
I do not own Runescape. If I did, this would be, like, an official book or something. I'd also be rich and invite all of you to my super-awesome mansion on the weekends.