Now we're getting into more of the stuff that falls outside of canon again! Everything stays the same, I'm just adding more conversations.
'Dust and Gold' is actually a song, by the way :) by Arrows to Athens.
Victoria hisses softly as a stray piece of glass catches her unaware for the third time today. She squints at the bead of blood welling up on her fingertip and decides it's not worth bandaging. Her knees pop as she stands with a groan, stretching as she makes her way to the kitchen to clean the wound.
"These are washed, so if you could chop them up, then we'll-" Morgan cuts themself off as Victoria enters. "Oh, hi, Victoria! We're working on dinner."
She lifts her eyebrows. "I can see that."
Evidently, 'we' includes Mime, who is wearing an apron much too long for her, and Kaidan, who is wearing an apron much too short for him. How the alchemist had managed to pull that off, Victoria can't be sure. Kaidan's markings flash with a tint of embarrassed pink as he nods perfunctorily in greeting and turns back to the cutting board.
Victoria suppresses an amused huff. Morgan grins at her and passes Kaidan some more washed vegetables, which he takes without complaint.
"Did you cut yourself on the glass again?" Mime asks in concern from her perch on the countertop; it's unclear what part of dinner she's supposed to be helping with.
"It was just a little scrape."
As she runs her finger under the tap water, Morgan says, "We have gloves, you know. They're somewhere in the closet. I'm sure Elizabeth can help you look."
"It's fine," she says quickly. "I wouldn't want to bother her."
She's still reeling slightly from the discovery that Elizabeth is none other than the legendary Spirit Alchemist (and possibly from her concussion too). From the start, she'd had a gentle but formidable air around her, and Victoria has always wondered how she knew Alethea so well. But to think that all this time, they've been in the presence of a literal legend…
With a start, she realizes that everyone is staring at her, and in open amusement in the case of Morgan and Mime. "What?"
"Nothing," Morgan says innocently. "Just…never thought I'd see you, of all people, starstruck."
She feels her face flush as she opens and closes her mouth. "Well…if you grew up closer to the capital, you'd know what a hero she was."
"I did overhear you talking earlier," they admit. "Something about being knighted with a silver…chalet?"
"That's not-"
Mime's ears flick up. "What's a chalet? Sounds fancy."
"Uh, I think it's like a kind of house?"
"Woah, they gave her a house?" Mime demands excitedly. "Made of silver?!"
"The silver chalice," Victoria interrupts before this can devolve, "is one of the highest honors one can receive for military service. Commander Alethea received one as well."
Mime blinks. "What's a chalice? Also sounds fancy."
Meanwhile, Morgan blinks in realization. "Oh…so that's what that cup is."
Sounding mildly disappointed, Mime asks, "It's a cup?"
"Yeah. Elizabeth used it as a candle holder once during a blackout. She usually keeps it in her closet—says it's an eyesore."
Victoria lifts a hand to her face, wondering if her headache is starting to return. "That's…"
"I'm not surprised," Kaidan says aloud, sliding a heap of diced vegetables into a bowl neatly. "Elizabeth doesn't seem like the kind of person who finds much value in accolades and medals—not that they would be worth much in a small town like this."
"Besides…" Morgan takes the bowl, dumping it into a large pan that was heating on the stove; the look in their eyes is far away. "From how she talks about it, I don't think she was very proud of the things that she did in the war."
Victoria's first reaction is to argue, thinking of all of the stories and rumors that she grew up hearing, but now she's not sure if Morgan is wrong. She's met enough war veterans, trained under several of them in both the Hunter corps as well as the Knights, to know that it's not as simple as winning or losing. Some of them might look back fondly on time spent with old comrades, but in the end, war doesn't leave any true victors.
"Oh," Morgan adds, turning around, "Ann's eating dinner with Quinn today, right?"
Victoria looks up. "Hm? Yes, I believe so."
After the meeting at the flower shop this morning, they agreed that one of them should be at Quinn's shop at all times, just in case. Ann already stays there overnight and has set up her work station in the back closet, which makes it easier. Quinn was agreeable about it as well, cheerfully saying something about how they should stock up on tea and snacks. They've always seemed easygoing and laid-back, taking things in stride, but Victoria is sure that they're worried. It would be absurd for anyone in their position to be unbothered by the thought of a demon coming after them specifically to steal their soul.
"Did Michael say anything about what he was doing for dinner?" Morgan asks, rummaging around in the cabinets for seasonings. "Hey, Kaidan, can you get that jar for me up there? Yeah, the one with the red cap."
"I'm…not sure," Victoria says slowly, trying to think back. "He just said he was off to the library after we all left Quinn's."
Morgan smiles a brief 'thank you' up at Kaidan and comments, "He's probably still there, then."
They don't always all eat meals together at the alchemy shop. There are several nice cafes and restaurants nearby, as well as the tavern, and some of them will go out in pairs or small groups once in a while. More often than not, though, they eat at the shop, and even Ann will come out of Quinn's closet turned research lab for the food.
Victoria glances at the darkening sky with a disgruntled huff. "Knowing him, he'd be down there until the next morning if we let him."
"I don't blame him," Kaidan says, taking the proffered jar from Morgan and putting it back on the top shelf. "That library is his heritage, just like the sword is mine. He probably wants to spend as much time as possible with it, while he can…"
Though he almost certainly didn't mean it as a jab at Victoria, she's still keenly aware of the warning she'd given Michael when they spoke—that this might only be a temporary solution. Once they finish the mission and seal away the demons, she'll have to report to Alethea and either find a way to omit the library or tell the truth, neither of which she feels good about. On the other hand, it isn't as if they can simply delay sealing away the demons if they have the means to do so.
"I think the rice is ready!" Mime pipes up.
"Great!" Morgan gestures at a pile of bowls waiting. "Can you start scooping it into the bowls, then? I'm almost done over here."
The aroma of fresh food fills the kitchen quickly, making Victoria's stomach growl. Both alchemists are almost as good at cooking as they are at their trade.
She blinks in surprise when Morgan hands her two closed containers full of food. "What is this for?"
"You and Michael," they say as if it's obvious. "It'll take a while for you to walk to and back from the forest, so you might as well just eat in the library and then come back. And out of all of us, I'm pretty sure you two will be the safest walking together, even at night."
Well…she can't exactly argue with that logic. Kaidan can't hide his marks without causing himself discomfort, Ann is already at Quinn's, and she wouldn't want Morgan and Mime wandering around after dark either. She and Michael are both quite unlikely to be accosted, even alone.
Morgan is staring at her intently, as if willing her to accept, and she frowns, remembering that morning when they'd been searching for Marie. The alchemist had said something along the lines of it being 'mission critical' that Victoria and Michael get along. Victoria's still not sure of the validity of that statement, though.
"If you're trying to get us to talk, we already did," she says.
The alchemist starts a little guiltily, rocking back on their heels. "You did? When?"
"Last night. It was late."
"Oh. Well…" They smile, a bit sheepish but relieved. "Good." Turning to the others, they call, "Wash your hands. I'll—hey!"
They sputter indignantly when Kaidan flicks his hands at them, scattering them with little water droplets. The typically stoic young man smirks at the alchemist's expression, then promptly loses the smirk and flees when Morgan grabs a wet dish rag and flicks it at him like a whip. Mime spectates from the countertop, laughing all the while.
I'm definitely in the way here, Victoria realizes with a roll of her eyes.
o0o0o
Stepping over the lip of the circular doors, she lets them swing shut behind her. She wonders if it's possible for Michael to adjust the wards to keep the door locked and key it to only a few individuals. He found a way to lock it when he himself leaves, but whenever he's inside the library, the front doors always remains unlocked to anyone who walks in, which seems like a security risk.
Victoria looks around the main chamber. "Michael?"
The flames are lit and the door unlocked, so he's still here somewhere. The room looks cleaner as well, much more than it did when they first arrived. Any previously overturned furniture has been righted, any spilled ink pots or candle holders cleaned up. There are still stacks of books that haven't been put away, but none on the floor. Things have been thoroughly dusted as well.
She sets the food down on one of the tables and ventures further in. "Michael?"
Suddenly, every floating brazier extinguishes in a whoosh, plunging her into darkness. Her heart leaps into her throat, one hand clamped around the handle of her sword, the other reaching carefully around her. Standing here in the middle of the room, she could easily be ambushed from any angle, and surrounded by tables and chairs, she would not be able to move freely.
Is this Ronan's doing? What if he managed to ambush Michael? What if Michael has been held captive all day? How is she going to get him out by herself when she doesn't even know which direction to go, or where an attack might come from?
She gasps when a deep voice rumbles from seemingly all around her.
"Knight of the Empire…"
A defensive booby trap from the library, perhaps? It hadn't triggered yesterday, but then again, she'd entered with Michael and the rest of the group. This time, she'd come alone.
"Where is Michael?" she demands, refusing to let her voice waver. "What did you do with him? If you've hurt him, I swear…"
She trails off, not sure what exactly she'd do or who she's even talking to, and silence fills the space. Then comes a snap of the fingers, and her sword flies from its sheath in an instant just as all of the braziers reignite. Dim blue and purple light floods her vision again, and she pivots on the spot, searching for the cause.
Standing near the wall with a strange contraption in hand is none other than Michael himself, staring at her. From this far away, she can't be certain, but she's sure she sees a hint of surprise on his face before he rearranges it into a lazy smile.
"Aww," he drawls, "I'm touched, dear Victoria."
Realization hits, and she inhales sharply, relief sweeping through her entire being a half second before anger follows in its wake.
"You-" she sputters, marching over to where he stands. "That was you with the theatrics?"
He grins, not even seeming to hear the ire in her voice nor care about the sword still in her hand.
"Isn't this brilliant?" he enthuses, showing her a large, bell-shaped object. "You speak into one end, and it magnifies your voice! You can even change the sound of the voice that-"
"I thought Ronan had gotten to you!" she snaps, the frustration quickly overtaking the relief. "We still don't even know how he got into the library in the first place. Have you already forgotten that?"
Something darker flits like a shadow over his glee momentarily. "Of course not. I've been trying to look into that as well while I'm here, see if there are other entrances. I haven't just been messing around in here, you know."
"I didn't think you were," she says honestly, finally remembering to resheathe her sword. "But Aletheros' mercy, don't pull something like that again!"
"I won't, I won't," he agrees, actually looking a bit sheepish as he sets the contraption down, raising both hands in surrender. "Wouldn't want to get accidentally skewered, with how jumpy you always are."
Her eyebrow twitches. "Keep that up and it won't be accidentally."
"You're spicy today," he snickers. "I assume you came looking for me, though? What for?"
"It's dinner time at the shop."
He blinks. "Is it?"
With an exasperated huff, she takes in his messy appearance, the occasional smudge of soot or dirt on his colorful clothes, stringy pieces of cobwebs in his ruffled hair—a disheveled crown of dust and gold.
"You're lucky that Morgan has a kind heart. If it were me, I'd have been here probably three hours later with no food, and you'd be walking all the way home on an empty stomach." With a pointed scowl, she adds, "Though just for that prank, I'm tempted to let you starve here."
"Ah, let's not be so hasty," he says quickly, dodging around her and swiping the containers of food with a grin. "It looks like you're eating with me? If that's the case, then I know just the spot."
With that, he whisks their dinner off to one of the side halls, and with little other recourse, she follows him. He leads them past several wooden doors and picks one seemingly at random. Inside is a small but surprisingly homely room, with squashy armchairs and couches positioned around a low coffee table. On the other side of the room is a taller table with plain wooden seats. Several neat piles of papers and notes sit on the tabletop, held down by books and other paperweights.
Michael snaps his fingers, and a purple-tinged fire bursts to life in the fireplace. "Cozy, isn't it?" he says cheerfully, setting their dinner down on the coffee table and settling into one of the armchairs. "There are several of these kinds of lounges around the place, probably for the Archivists to have some down time." Gesturing at the notes and books on the table, he adds dryly, "Looks like they still took their work wherever they went, though."
Victoria sits down on the couch near his armchair. "I suppose it would be hard to step away when you live where you work." As she opens her portion, she asks, "Speaking of which, what have you been up to all day?"
A playful glint dances in his eyes. "Besides finding ways to prank my dearest friends?" he asks teasingly, earning a glare for his efforts. "Cleaning and organizing, mostly. It's not like they left this place in a state of total chaos, and obviously no one's been down here to mess with things, but there's been a lot of dust gathering. Lots of abandoned projects and books left out."
He pauses to take a bite, expression contemplative. "From the looks of things, it also seems like this was a last resort effort by Archivists from multiple archives that were already marked and slated for destruction. Almost all of the books are in the main chamber, but there are a lot of rooms in here that are home to very random collections of projects, like people were in a rush and put their things wherever there was space. So with all of that, I figured it would be easier to do what we need to do in a neater space." Giving her a measured look, he adds, "I can show you around after we're done eating."
After a moment, she agrees, "Alright." It's not as if another hour or two will make a difference; it'll be dark either way, whenever they go back.
Once they're both done eating, he leads the way out of the room, waving a hand to extinguish the fire on the way out. He takes them deeper into the library through dimly lit passages, opening doors to various rooms—a chamber with heat proof walls and floors for welding, a lecture hall of sorts with concentric half circles of seats and a wall of blackboards, even a miniature underground garden.
"You know, I'm sure I could get this working again, especially with Quinn's help," Michael muses aloud, running a hand along some pipes on the wall that look like an irrigation system. "Then we could even grow food, and-"
"You are not going to live full-time down here," she interrupts flatly, crossing her arms.
He grins, lacing his hands behind his head. "Are you sure?" At her unwavering glare, he laughs, dropping his hands, and lets out a theatrical sigh. "Well, I suppose you would all miss me too much."
They continue the tour, with Michael narrating his thoughts on every room and what it might've been used for. Is he trying to convince her to keep this library a secret forever? Loathe as she is to admit it, his efforts are not completely in vain.
"And…" The excitement fades a little from his tone, replaced by something more serious as they reach a door at the end of the hall. "This is the last new room that I went into today."
He places a hand on the doorknob, and a ring of glyphs around the frame of the door glow. They bear a marked resemblance to the glyphs on the circular door to the entire library itself, Victoria realizes. A security feature of some sort? The glow fades, and Michael twists the doorknob.
Behind the door is a dark, cylindrical chamber, a simple spiral staircase going down, down, down. It makes Victoria dizzy; if he told her it went to the center of the earth, she might believe him.
"Judging by where I think we are, and how far down it goes…" Michael sighs. "It probably leads to the mines, and the demon seal." She stiffens, shooting him an incredulous look, and he shrugs. "They had to have some way to get the demons from the mines into this library to study in order to make the locket."
A thought occurs to her. "Is it possible that Ronan made his way into the library from down there? The mines aren't that hard to sneak into, and he'd know his way around since he works there."
He raises an eyebrow. "I hadn't thought of that. I've been wondering about how he did it. If he was one of the demons extracted for the locket experiments, it would make sense that he knows the way here."
"Is this locked from the inside?" she asks, rapping her knuckles against the door.
"I'm not sure." He smirks. "Would you like to find out?"
"Don't you dare."
A chill seems to drift up from the dark, making both of them shiver. Victoria's sword hums in agitation, the dragon bone core reacting to something in the depths of this room. Without a word, they both step out, and Michael closes the door.
Still on edge, Victoria nearly jumps when a lantern suddenly detaches itself from the wall, floating over with a bright and cheerful flame. Michael just smiles fondly at it, murmuring a thank you and taking the handle, and he holds it between himself and Victoria as they return the way they came. The light is welcome, the warmth even more so.
"I imagine it would be," Michael says. "Locked from the inside, that is. Seems like it might be a security risk if not, especially with how angry they probably made those demons. Then again, magic can decay over time—I'm honestly surprised that I've been able to just waltz into most of these rooms. I'm guessing that many of the more intricate protective spells on the doors have worn away over the last twenty years with no one to renew them."
"Do you think you can fix them?" she asks. "And possibly key the front door to only unlock for us?"
He makes an uncertain face. "If I can find information on Archivist wards, maybe I could set something up, but that would be more precision work than I've ever done. Ann might be able to figure something out, but her specialty is artifacts, not wards, and she's busy enough with the locket."
Victoria sighs. "We'll do this the old-fashioned way, then."
She grabs a chair from a nearby room and wedges it under the doorknob, and Michael manages to find some strangely shaped metal objects to serve as weights to tie to the chair. Then, for good measure, they drag a heavy cabinet out of another room to barricade the door.
Afterwards, she asks, "Are you ready to head back to the shop?"
He shakes his head. "You can go ahead without me. I was in the middle of trying to tidy up the main room when you got here, and I'm afraid I'll lose track if I leave now."
Annoying, but unsurprising. What is surprising is that she finds herself saying, "I'll help."
He looks almost as surprised as she feels. "You will?" he asks skeptically.
"If only to make sure you don't actually fall asleep here," she adds, because judging from how he lost track of time earlier, she wouldn't put it past him.
Michael stares at her, seeming to be weighing his options; they've stopped walking, standing in the corridor, facing each other. She can almost hear his thought process. If he lets her help, there's a good chance they'll stumble upon some materials that are highly illegal, from the Empire's current perspective, and may cement her decision to reveal the library later. Besides, this is his library. It may not belong to him, per se, but he's the closest thing it has to a master now. As a Knight, she's probably the last person he would want poking around.
"Very well," he agrees neutrally, resuming his walk down the hall. "I'll show you what I've worked out so far."
Caught off guard, it takes her a moment to hurry after him. They soon arrive in the main chamber, and he grabs a list of messily scribbled notes, explaining how he thinks the bookshelves seem to be organized by section and alphabetic order of authors and titles. Some books don't yet have a home that he knows of and are sitting off to the side. Over by the workbenches are all of the half-built projects, the bits and pieces carefully gathered and reunited.
He points out the stacks of books waiting to be put away on the tables, as well as a small pile of books that may be helpful when it comes to their mission.
"Just anything that I could find on spirits," he explains.
Victoria picks one up, leafing through the pages. "Any kind of soul magic might be useful, too—especially since we still have to figure out how to unbind Mime and Morgan."
"True."
It takes Victoria some time to get used to the Archivists' organizational system—at least, Michael's interpretation of it—but once she does, shelving books is almost relaxing in its own way. The sheer amount of information stored in these walls is something she still can't quite wrap her mind around. Every single book that she holds in her hands was a labor of love, a product of someone's belief that what is in these pages matters.
Just like Victoria would risk her own life to protect what matters to her, so too did these people risk—and lose—everything for what mattered to them.
She returns to the tables for more books to shelve and finds Michael there already doing the same. Watching him light a candelabra right next to a stack of old, dry parchment with an absent flick of his fingers makes her curious, and she's asking before she can think twice.
"Aren't you ever afraid you'll burn something you don't mean to?"
He glances at her as if surprised, and she nods at the candles burning merrily by the parchment. "Oh." A moment passes, something more solemn flickering in his expression. "No."
Curiosity piqued by his reticent response, she watches him as he picks up a stack of books, moving them to a table near the shelves. "I see."
He glances back at her when she speaks, his mulberry eyes dark and a little bit sad. "Yes, well…I've always been very careful when I play with fire."
"That sounds like an oxymoron," she deadpans.
He snorts. "It does, doesn't it?"
Michael takes a seat on the table, staring at the candles burning strong even after twenty years of storage.
"I don't handle smoke very well," he says absently, fingers interlaced in his lap. "Candles and campfires and stoves are fine—I'd have a problem if I wasn't used to those by now. But things like bonfires…those bother me."
He smiles ruefully at Victoria. "I was only four or five when the Cleansing happened. I barely remember my parents—all I know about what happened to them is what Elizabeth could tell me. But I remember the smoke. The smell of burning books." His voice trembles almost imperceptibly; two weeks ago, she might not have heard it. "Burning people."
Victoria breathes in deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of melting wax and dry, dusty old books. "I…know what you mean."
Bandits and demons alike both leave destruction wherever they go. It's not uncommon for Demon Hunters and Knights to have to perform collateral damage control on their jobs. She's seen an entire village burn down thanks to a single demon throwing a torch into a barn. The stench of burning flesh—of villagers, of animals, of her own skin—took weeks to wash out of her clothes, and it was never quite washed out of her memory.
And that's to say nothing of the rogue mages that she's had to hunt down before. Those were even worse, at times.
She glances up at Michael, who hasn't moved, still staring into middle space. The candlelight seeps into his hair and pours down his frame; the blue and purple tones highlight the vivid hues of his clothes. The flames seem to bend towards him ever so slightly, wanting to keep him warm.
He was made to belong here.
Taking a deep breath, she says, "I don't want this place to burn."
He was honest with her just now; it's only fair that she be honest with him as well.
"There might be things in here that shouldn't exist," she continues. "Things that would cause a lot of harm in the wrong hands. But I don't think that means that this whole library should be destroyed."
He doesn't mock her, not even playfully, doesn't press her about her responsibility.
"Neither do I," he agrees softly, holding her gaze. "You said we'd figure it out together. And we will." With a quiet huff, he admits, "I don't want to fight you."
I don't want to fight you either. "Yeah. I'd kick your ass."
At that, Michael doubles over in laughter, free and genuine and so contagious that she can't help but breathe out a quiet laugh of her own. Holding onto the bookshelf for support, he lifts his head, still wearing his crown of dust and gold, and grins at her, and some part of her feels a glow of relief that the shadows in his eyes are lighter now.
"Maybe," he allows, smirking. "I'm sure it'd be unpleasant either way, though. I'd rather avoid that."
"As would I." Lifting her chin, she promises, "I'll do my best to find a solution that we can both agree on."
Gently, he corrects, "We will do our best."
Slowly, she nods. This is scary, for both of them. If he convinces himself that she'll report the truth to Alethea, he could try to stab her in the back at a crucial moment. If she convinces herself that he'll turn on her and the others to save the library, she could sell out him and the library with a single call on her crystal. She wouldn't, not when she's already given her word to try and find a compromise, but he can't read her mind, and vice versa.
They can't let fear rule them, though, not at a time like this, when so much is at stake, when they can achieve something better if they don't fall prey to fear, if they just…
Have faith.
It's terrifying. It's as if they're leaping into that bottomless chamber, not knowing how far they have to fall or how hard they might hit the ground.
But, she supposes, the possibility that they might find salvation at the bottom is what makes it all worth it, in the end.
Okay, you know, when I said last chapter that I wanted Victoria to smile more, I really didn't mean to turn right around and make Michael sad again :3 oops. But hey, they both did a laugh at the end, yay. Also, Victoria's character fact is literally "she will kick your ass" and I had to pay homage to that at least once XD
The idea of Michael pranking Victoria kind of just happened on the spot when I realized that that's totally something he would do :3
I always wanted to write the idea of Michael showing off to light a bunch of lanterns in the library with fancy firebending skills, like Zuko lighting the fountain lanterns for Jin in ATLA, but the library welcoming him home and being eager to help him with everything seemed more...I dunno. Right? Wholesome? And with the ~extra spicy PTSD~ I've given him with regards to fire and the smell of smoke...well. As I've said. Not looking forward to the burning :')
The pit leading down to the mine was just a little idea for how Ronan might've gotten in. Was that ever solved in the game? I tend to read non voice acted dialogue really fast since I'm always impatient, so I might be missing something. (edit: with new AF 2 lore, I think I know how Ronan got in now.)