TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 13 (RAW)

Chapter 13 - The Grand Library

Books must be read as deliberately and reservedly as they were written.

- Henry David Thoreau.

“Rashana,” the fair-haired girl greeted, her voice oozing with practiced poise.

“Seraphina,” came the olive-skinned girl’s cool but cordial reply. 

The blonde girl noticed that unlike her and her fellow first-year students, Rashana’s sash around her robes at her waist was red to their blue. It was also a minor point of annoyance that the Academy uniform suited Rashana’s taller, more slender physique better than her.

Though their encounter brimmed with polite undercurrents, Seraphina felt an instinctive twinge of annoyance. Rashana was only a month older, and on top of this, she had enrolled at the Academy early, placing Seraphina in the awkward position of having to show double the deference as her junior. It was all part of Aranthian custom—unpleasant, but necessary. She needed Rashana’s family, specifically their vast wealth, to fund her various projects, and so she donned her most agreeable smile.

Rashana, no doubt, would milk this situation for as long as she could. The original Seraphina’s memories informed her that she could be very petty like that. It was an affectation, a mental condition, that she had observed many, many times in the very rich and privileged.

Just then, the round-cheeked Michelié barreled forward an irrepressible grin. “Oh, come here, Rashana!” she squeaked, throwing her arms around the taller girl.

Off to the side stood Graven Montfortes, stoic as a marble statue, his broad shoulders and sharp features exuding a watchful authority that belied his age. Miriam, Seraphina’s maid, hovered at the edge of the group, her anxious expression a constant these days. Meanwhile, Hughes—thin, timid, and hopelessly smitten with Seraphina—looked on with wide eyes, as though he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite manage. His fingers twitched, playing with his sleeves, and a faint pink flush colored his cheeks whenever his gaze flickered to Seraphina.

Seraphina smiled awkwardly at Michelié’s welcoming hug before turning her attention back to Rashana. “I trust my letters found you well?” she asked, arching one pale eyebrow with pointed expectation.

“Oh, indeed,” Rashana answered. “My father is quite pleased with the way things are developing. In fact, so much so that he’s planning to open a new branch in Sariens.”

Seraphina nodded politely, inwardly cursing that she had to flatter the older girl so early in the day. “That’s wonderful news. Our families have always had good relations,” she said with practiced graciousness. “Now, as I understand it, Rashana, darling, you’ll be our guide around the grounds—”

“Always so hasty, Seraphina,” Rashana teased, a wry twist of her lips betraying her amusement. “Isn’t she, Michelié?”

“Oh yes, Sera,” Michelié chimed in with a happy squeak. “You really do need to relax more! You will get lines around your beautiful face. I do say, you have changed a lot!”

Before Seraphina could protest, Hughes cleared his throat, managing to force out a tremulous introduction. “I–I’m Hughes,” he said, bowing his head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Miss…?” He trailed off uncertainly, darting an apologetic glance at Seraphina.

Rashana’s eyes danced with mischief. “Seraphina, you never told me about your new beau,” she purred, her tone wickedly amused. “Whatever will your fiance Vellens think? You’ve been quite the talk around the capital.”

She could almost feel the rest of the class pretending they could not hear a thing. With friends like these, who needed enemies? Seraphina kept her forced smile in place while willing herself to an impassive calm. Hughes, who had already been pink in the face, flushed a deeper shade of red, his shoulders hunching in mortified confusion.

Rashana then turned her gaze upon Graven, letting her eyes roam over him with a boldness that made Seraphina’s hackles rise. “He is quite the specimen. Wherever did you find him?”

Hughes’ face fell at her remark, and Miriam gave a derisive snort, apparently sympathizing with the boy’s embarrassment.

“Oh!” Michelié exclaimed, ever eager to clarify. “Graven is one of Seraphina’s knights. He’s rather dashing, isn’t he?”

The young de Sariens drew a measured breath, quelling the urge to grind her teeth. “Thank you, Michelié,” she said calmly, each word clipped. She could already imagine the gossip swirling through the corridors by midday.

“Graven Montfortes serves my father,” she went on with cool composure. “We decided that my studies at Meridian Academy provided an excellent opportunity to broaden the horizons of our vassals, too—like, for instance, my maid, Milly.” She gestured toward the still-watchful girl. “The world is changing, after all. It is no longer enough for a knight to simply ride a horse and skewer someone with a lance. This is the age of the more refined gentleman, don’t you agree, Miriam?”

“Of course, milady,” Miriam echoed dutifully, hands clasped before her.

Rashana smiled pleasantly enough, looking almost amused. “You’ve always had a way with words, Seraphina,” she observed softly. “Though, I’ve heard rumors you might be pursuing the more physical arts instead of the needlepoint. Is that altogether wise?”

Seraphina gave a tight smile. “In this day and age, I believe a woman should know how to defend herself. Strength doesn’t make you less of a woman any more than lacking skill with a sword makes a man less of a man. We can’t always rely on the men in our lives to be our only shield and sword, isn’t that so Elo...” She paused, remembering that Eloise was in another class. Strange how the absence of her usual companion affected her so.

Why on earth was Hughes looking so visibly happy? she thought to herself irritably.

“We all have our little interests, though, don’t we? But my learning how to swing a sharp stick is but a passing fancy to my love of music,” she went on, schooling her tone into something breezy yet with an edge of firmness. “It’s is a shame that I could not apply for a place at the Bardic college,” she paused while those around dramatically drew in their breath in faux shock. “But it is in the best interest of decorum not to trumpet our extra-curricular activities too loudly in public.”

Rashana de Lehman acknowledged the hint of threat with a slight incline of her head and a playful grin. “Fair enough. Perhaps we can chatter about such curiosities on the way. Come along, everyone.” With that, she swept her arm out in an elegant gesture and set off, taking the lead.

As the group of five emerged into the corridor, Seraphina’s annoyance spiked anew. Further down the hallway stood Eloise and Desdemona, and apparently assigned as their second-year guides was Vellens. The two girls were practically fawning at him, and when the blonde prince caught sight of her, he flashed her a brilliant, self-satisfied smile that made Seraphina’s temper flare. She pointedly refused to acknowledge him, turning her chin away in disdain.

If the boy wanted to play silly games, he would win silly prizes. If he won anything at all, that was.

She sighed inwardly, feeling tensions coil in her stomach like knots of rope. Could this day possibly get any worse? she fumed silently. Yet despite mentally shuddering at the thought that she had to spend three years in this place, Seraphina forced herself to maintain the composure of a good and proper lady—a façade, much to her chagrin, she would have to uphold day in and day out for the foreseeable future.

And so they pressed onward into Meridian Academy’s echoing halls, the awkward group of five trailing behind Rashana’s confident stride, nattering among themselves about the inconsequential things in life. Hughes kept on trying to engage Seraphina in conversation, but she kept her responses polite but curt tone that invited no further conversation.

The soft patter of their footsteps echoing off the stone walls, Rashana led them down a wide, vaulted corridor. The dark-haired upperclassman guided them with confident grace, every tilt of her head radiating the smug satisfaction of someone accustomed to having eyes follow her.

The corridor ended in a set of tall, intricately carved double doors made of rich, dark walnut. A polished plaque above read Gendrian de Sariens Library in neat, golden filigree lettering. 

“The library was rebuilt with an endowment by Seraphina’s family over two hundred years ago. As a small matter of note, the de Lehmans will be financing an additional wing later next year,” explained Rashana, stepping forward and pushed open the doors with a theatrical flourish.

Inside, the library soared upward in a sea of shelves, countless volumes meticulously organized across multiple levels connected by winding iron staircases. Stained-glass windows along the upper walls bathed everything in gentle hues of crimson and sapphire, while brass lamps glowed softly at desk stations occupied by students. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings—overlaid with the faintest whisper of academic desperation—evoked a hushed, reverential air. This was a temple to learning.

“Oh my,” Michelié breathed, her plump cheeks warming with excitement at the sight of endless rows of books. She clasped her hands together under her chin, gazing around with childlike wonder. “I think I am feeling quite sleepy already.”

Graven, stoic as ever, maintained an alert stance near Seraphina, though the subtle widening of his eyes betrayed quiet awe. Miriam hovered protectively at Seraphina’s other side, glancing about for any sign of trouble even though even the hush of the library could hold no hidden perils.

Hughes lingered at the rear, craning his neck for a glimpse of the upper levels. His eyes were bright with fascination. He took a tentative step toward one of the towering shelves—far taller than a grown man—without minding the thick carpet underfoot, which bunched beneath his shoe. With a startled yelp, he stumbled forward.

In an instant, his shoulder rammed against a row of books. The entire wooden shelf wobbled with an ominous groan, threatening to topple. Several volumes slid from their places, tumbling toward the floor.

Michelié squeaked. Miriam let out a scandalized gasp. Graven moved half a step forward—but Seraphina was swifter still. She shot forward and caught the shelf before it crashed. With one hand she casually put it back into its place. The clatter of books falling halted at once, replaced by the rattling echo of Seraphina’s heartbeat in her ears.

For a moment, all was still. Slowly, she let go, ensuring the shelf stayed upright. Glancing around, she noticed a few curious gazes from the older students scattered throughout the library, but most of them, not knowing quite what had transpired, simply returned to their reading once the immediate commotion died.

Miriam fixed Hughes with a look so disapproving it verged on scathing. “You dolt,” she hissed softly, lips tight.

Hughes ducked his head, ears flaming as he bent to collect the books that had fallen. “I–I’m so sorry,” he stammered, his voice barely audible. “I mean, th-thank you, Seraphina. But… how…”

Seraphina forced a reassuring smile despite her annoyance. “Merely, the correct application of physics. And, don’t worry,” she said, her voice a quiet murmur in an attempt to remain respectful of library etiquette. “Just… well, watch yourself from now on.”

Rashana, who had watched the entire scene unfold with one finely arched eyebrow raised, glided closer. “Well done, Seraphina,” she said, her tone brimming with a faint trace of amusement. “I do see why you value your martial training.”

“Some of us,” Seraphina replied in a carefully controlled voice, “have more practical applications for our lessons than others.”

The young girl was getting rather tired of all this verbal fencing with her childhood friend. What had gotten into her today?

Rashana merely smiled, not rising to such obvious bait, then gestured grandly to the open space around them. “Now, to the rules,” she began, placing a finger to her lips in an exaggerated shushing motion. “First and foremost: no food or drink is allowed in the library. Accidents can and do happen, and the Academy does not wish to see its precious tomes ruined.” Her gaze flicked meaningfully to Michelié, who was known to carry sweet treats whenever she could.

Michelié went pink, pointedly looking away at one of the stained-glass windows.

“Secondly,” Rashana continued, “as you’ve probably guessed, we maintain silence here. Whispering is permitted, but keep it to a minimum. You risk the wrath of both librarians and study-weary students if you cause a ruckus.” She gave Hughes a sideways smile, half-teasing and half-warning. He looked away, cheeks aflame. “And, of course, there is to be absolutely no horseplay among the shelves,” she added, her smile deepening with implication. 

Seraphina, recovering her composure, sniffed delicately. “What about the books we’ll need for our first-year courses?” she asked, keeping her tone quiet but crisp.

“Yes, about that,” Rashana said, turning down a side aisle lined with thick tomes bound in green and gold, her bangles clattering as she walked. “Over here is the Reference Section for new students.” She stopped before a grand wooden desk where a librarian, an elderly woman with half-moon spectacles and a stern expression, sat cataloging returned volumes.

Rashana swept her arm over the nearest shelf. “From memory, everything you need should be found in these sections: Aranthian History, Mathematica, Analects of Quas, the Codes of Chivalry—and if you’re taking the general magic electives—Principles of the Arcane Arts, Basic Spell Theory, and so on. Second-year and upper-level texts are upstairs.” She pointed to a spiral iron staircase. “If you need help finding anything, the librarians will assist you, but they can be… very particular at times. If you really need a copy you should just simply buy one,” the dark-skinned girl explained with a shrug.

Even for Seraphina, she sounded so cavalier. Some of those books, at least in the game, cost more than what a journeyman craftsman could make in a year 

“Understood,” Seraphina answered, eyeing the librarian’s hawklike stare. The old woman’s gaze flickered over the group, then dropped back to her paperwork, evidently unimpressed. Would her charm work on an old bird like that? It wasn’t like she could start singing in the library after all.

Hughes, trying to look smart, busied himself by looking through a copy of An Introduction to High Quassian—upside down, Seraphina noted dryly.

Michelié sidled up next to Seraphina, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she surveyed the shelves. “There are so many books,” she whispered. “I never dreamed it would be this big. Do we have to learn everything…” she gulped, “here?”

Seraphina nodded, allowing a small smile to soften her features.

“Why of course, dearest Michelié, we do,” Seraphina said matter-of-factly, but she could not quite hide the mischievousness in her eyes.

Her friend quailed for a moment before she realized that Seraphina was ribbing her and gave her a weak elbow.

Despite the tension that lingered between Rashana and herself, Seraphina could not deny the thrill of all these untapped resources—a treasure trove of information at her fingertips. Did the scenario writers of her game world envision this? She knew that they could not have put this much detail in this library, let alone the world at large. Just the number of books alone represented lifetimes of human labor. However, she had heard rumors that the lazy dogs had incorporated generative AI in their workflows…

Just then, faint whispers from another group on orientation beyond the towering shelves reminded her that Vellens was somewhere on campus. The bounder was possibly weaving his way through the library himself, or else lurking around the corridors. No. She exhaled slowly, refusing to let him take up any more of her thoughts.

“Yes,” she commented to Michelié, regaining the calm, aristocratic air that was expected of her. “It is impressive. But let us continue with our orientation. We wouldn’t want to impose upon our dear guide’s time any more than we must.”

Rashana raised an eyebrow, but her voice remained pleasant. “I do hope you’ve found everything to your liking, Seraphina. Shall we continue your orientation then?”

Seraphina raised her chin slightly. “Of course,” she said. “After all, it’s only the first day. There’s so much to see—and so much to do.”

“Sorry to bother you,” came a soft voice from behind her.

She turned to see Ms. Templeton, their tutor, standing there. “Err… Lady… Miss Seraphina,” the woman began hesitantly, “you have a guest at the school gates. He was rather adamant about seeing you.”

Seraphina exhaled, her patience wearing thin. “Miss Templeton,” she asked, “what is this about?”