“No bacon?!” Jan huffed.

  The parchment wrapper clung to his fingers as the two continued to walk down Kag’s winding streets. Half tempted, Jan conjured a twig from the ground, sizzling it into pork only to bite inside and taste a grainy, sand-like texture. He spat it out instinctively, getting a harsh look of condemnation from the other scribe.

  “I’m sorry, maybe if you weren’t getting beat up you could have gotten your own order?” Laura replied jokingly.

  “You still owe me for lunch you know?”

  “What the lunch you blew up?”

  Jan could hear Sill buzz in his pocket as the two approached their destination. He seemed to whisper directions in Jan’s ear, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the young scribe had spent his entire life on these streets. Both of them were nervous. There had been some deliberation but their research into Sill had all but stalled. Just a few days prior the two of them had spent over twelve hours in the university library. Hunched backs and candlesticks in hand, they read page after page, pouring over every tampered and retracted scroll on inanimate to exist. Short of a few sporadic fantasy tales and well-flowered ghost stories that would make any scribe’s spine curdle, they found very little literary value. Inanimate were strictly loyal, resolute and often brainwashed to their masters and unlike what few reputable sources they found, Sill simply didn’t respond like an inanimate. There was no floating seal, no tendrils of power seeping from his rocky frame. Just rock. Plain granite-like smooth welded slabs that seemed almost alien to the charcoal sketches and embroidered pages of Kag’s public tomes.

  Six encounters stated inanimate should respond to soul-light and a simple flick of the wrist for both scribes, revealing a complex network of Sill’s entrapped bondage and a testament to the split between his physical and mortal souls. Instead, that flick resulted in a very windy room and a few harried librarians chasing them both out the door. They went to a copier, a steel master, to have no response or just a simple scorned glance at the very mention of inanimate. The only real help came from a blacksmith who identified Sill’s exterior as metal yet the two still called him a rock despite this development. Sill even almost blew their cover by attempting to give the blacksmith tips on heating the forge, even talking in incandescent tones about mixing sulphur charcoal and some ramble about saltpetre to get it started faster. Words that were very hard to disguise as simply “Laura’s cough”.

  They were getting desperate, further enravelled in the mystery, and there were only a few places left to try.

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Laura asked.

  “I mean what could go wrong” Jan responded almost sarcastically.

  She wasn’t amused by this response. It was clear Laura was actually concerned this time. She chewed on her voice for a moment, a simple grunt of frustration echoing from her lips. In response, Jan shifted his tone, trying to sound confident, yet his voice gave away the lie.

  “Do you really think Sill can help us that much?” Laura asked quietly.

  The stone turned over twice in the scribe's hand. Its smooth exterior glinted in the sunlight.

  “Look, I do, this is the closest we’ve been, closest anyone has ever been, and we can’t throw it away.”

  The thought stung Jan for a moment. His hand was almost teeming in anticipation; he could feel it or almost taste it. Every second they wasted a moment further away from retribution.

  “I know I suggested it, but this could be rash, a little too fast,” Laura

  “What? Break into the imperial library and copy ourselves into the book of institutions?”

  A newspaper clipping brushed in the air as they talked. It’s thick, inky parchment, tearing in the wind to reveal more news about changeling reports. Jan picked it up, mindlessly flipping through the tattered pages as they spoke. His thumb rested on a page with dirt smearing in his palm as a rough sketch of the cloth-masked Dawnshire bandits came into view. He had heard about them before. Sixteen carriages were robbed in the last week. An entire imperial quarterly payroll vanished without a trace. Even an imperial grain-car had been shaken to the wind. Kag was no stranger to crime, but at least not on this level or audacity. At least Irwain would be busy. The two were being careful now, avoiding crowds so no one would interfere.

  “What’s rash about that?” Jan replied, tossing the newspaper to the side.

  “I wonder, let me think,” Laura coughed sarcastically.

  “Relax, it’s nothing worse than we’ve done before and besides, if we want to access those documents, a simple forgery won’t be too ba,d” Jan responded.

  “Nothing worse than you’ve done”

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this”

  “It was your idea!” Jan retorted.

  Laura smiled before turning towards the street infront. She dodged a cowpie as she spoke with her leather shoes still echoing among the smooth-cut floor.

  “Well, whatever we end up doing, we still need money.”

  Twenty minutes later the two reached Kag’s library, a magnificent stone structure that stood tall among the marble streets. Granite columns pillared from its slab-like steps as chiselled statues littered the polished exterior, the entire building was perched upon the hill-top, poised and almost pre-disposed to myrr among the clouds. Jan squinted as tinted glass filled the building’s windows and two great doors marked the sole entrance. They were over twelve feet tall, iron stubs sticking like branches out of the chiselled wood. Peasants once remarked the library had survived three revolutions on account of their strength, siege machines and rams having splintered against its rock-like shell. Chisteled cobbles still ran through the corner foundation, scattered dusty rocks showing signs of a splintered past. It was a fortress, a great house of knowledge that held no limit in the eyes of Imperial favour. Jan would often wander its musty halls, scrolls lined like ants along a desert row. There were hundreds if not thousands arranged on every shelf, each page taking hours to transcribe, each yellowed crest a portal to forgotten worlds. It’s achievement lay not in wayward stone but in stability and clairvoyance. Each book held a chronological streak of impunity, power, knowledge, and a world of experience intertwined into a thimble’s weight. A power these two illiterate troglodytes would soon uncover.

  The two neared the administrative section, a group of high scribes and officials swirled beneath a blanket of papers. Jan was able to allow their entrance fairly quickly through the use of his rank. A mere flash of the consul’s emblem had doors opened and direct passage in line towards the lower vaults. Yet this wasn’t their intended purpose, rather than get stuck in the hour-long wait for administrative enclosure the two hurried towards one of the outer halls pretending to visit an office.

  To establish a research institution one needed to register with the Imperial guild and provide validation, a pricey affair that would be expensive even if you were a candid member of society. 20,000 quands could amount to a small organization, 30,000 a larger field of play. With a minimum wage of ten sectans and 30 sectans per quand, this was no paltry affair. The money would come next, but registering was a lot harder. Usually, it was a multi-year process ripe with inspectors, judicial fees and processing waivers. Now all that had to be done in a few mere hours. Luckily it was possible, Laura and Jan both knew that Kag’s officials were easily crooked. There was one person from which they would be able to buy their access, one bribe they could make to high-priest Walen but it would cost triple the amount. Just last year, sixteen imperial consultations were bought through imported wine alone. In fact Jan had once heard of an inquisitor who had traded three hundred swords for thirty cattle during one of the plagues. Instead, they would do something ten times more daring, sneak into the imperial vaults and add the university themselves.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Jan squinted as the vault door came into view. Twelve inches of pure wrought steel imbued with magic power. He could see the shimmer as a magical life force protected it’s guarded plates. On the side was an archaic combination lock followed by six guards and a single mage. All were sworn to their duties and would die to protect their contents. Jan knew all it would take was one cry and twelve more mages could spill into the room. They would be overwhelmed and completely downcast in a matter of seconds. Slowly, he approached the first desk.

  “Excuse me” Jan interjected.

  “Who are you?” the receptionist responded in a half-bored tone. He was a scribe like themselves and was likely only a few years older with scruffy hair and weathered skin.

  “We're two academics from the academy of Lang, listen we need to take a look at the history of uh…..”

  Jan wasn’t too good at this. Laura edged forward, brown robes draped along the marble floor.

  “We need to take a look at imperial census records for grownsprout.”

  Grownsprout! Why didn’t he think of that?

  “Why?” the other asked in a confused manner.

  “There's been a small epidemic in a nearby town, we're looking to see if it’s related to water cleanliness near the coast”

  The scribe nodded haphazardly. They didn’t care.

  “Your access imperial health code?”

  For a moment, the two mages froze. Jan presented the forged document he had hoped to use. It sat plainly in his palm with its thin paper bending in his sweaty hands.

  Suddenly Sill burst into Jan’s ear. It was a faint whisper almost impervious to those around them.

  “Commander, I’ve intercepted their book filing system, based on the ink-pattern ratio the code should be 9865, is this part of our espionage mission?”

  “Yes vital to the Jannics” Jan idiotically said out loud.

  The receptionist froze, taking a quick look into the eyes of the scribes before shaking his head in confusion. Laura’s face turned red, as it sounded like he had just said some kind of insult.

  I’ll have to get used to this.

  Then, surprising Laura, he uttered the code and in an instant the room fell silent. The scribe nodded in acknowledgement before folding back the page which had been hidden beneath the desk's wood frame and motioning for the guards to direct them to a reading room. Chiselled brick caught their view as the arched ceiling caused them both to quickly duck. It was a tiny desk with two chairs and a thin candle for light. Shadows flickered in the four corners as a converted altar served as a table. The tapestries draping the mortar wall were dirty and worn, signifying months of neglect. With a huffled grunt, the guards left them on their own, seemingly searching for the book.

  “Jan how did you know that?” Laura hissed.

  “Sill, he told me”

  “What?”

  “The thing, it must be able to see through objects”

  “That’s…. Good for now” Laura said silently.

  “I can hear you, Commander! Don’t worry I’m equipped with anti-spyware, if there is even the slightest chance of compromise I’ll explode!!!!!”

  “What?” Jan muttered.

  “Explodeeeeeee!” the tiny rock wheezed.

  The two stood for a moment. Not sure what to make of Sill’s comments before springing into action. Laura took out a scroll from her backpack. It was an imperial blueprint for the vault’s exterior frame. Jan had traced it a few hours before by sneaking into the archmage’s office. Surprisingly, it wasn’t well locked. Quickly, the scribe used magic to undo the room’s wrought-iron floor tiles. The metal was impervious to his touch, yet didn’t affect him as it should. The use of steel nails in the interlocking platforms was cheap, and it seemed their security had taken unnecessary cuts. The two would need to break into the secure vaults, alter the imperial record books and escape, a feat that was still no easy affair. Prying up the floor revealed a waist-sized plaster hole just big enough for both to slip through.

  A musty scent filled the air as they floated down towards the library floor. It was a dimly lit chamber, with countless books and scrolls lined on scattered walls as Jan used magic to replace the tile. He could feel his strength draining, each ounce of power getting thinner as they approached the library's core.

  Then it hit him.

  A sinking, dragging, seeping feeling that crawled neatly through his veins. He felt his muscles tense, eyes blurring as they returned to normal vision. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

  Irwain had invested in a watcher. The jagged piece of meteorite would nullify the ability for magic. Extremely rare, watchers were a highly enchanted and extremely expensive mix of wrought iron and artisan skill balanced to perfection. It was likely located at the heart of the vault, yet there was always a possibility that multiple were strewn throughout.

  He cast a glance at Laura. Her face paled with an uncomfortable distortion. She, too, had her connection to magic severed. It felt unnatural, unnerving, like a wispy dream painted over scarlet black. Jan reached out to the source. He had hoped to tap some thimble of power, but felt nothing in return.

  Cold, a jagged, smothering, irretractable cold.

  Careful not to make a sound, the two slipped by the bookshelves with leatherbound tomes and spindly scrolls that sat scattered across the room. All painstakingly maintained as a single librarian slept at a nearby desk. Jan cast an eye towards their entrance. Then he cast an eye towards the hands of a nearby clock. From his best estimate, they only had six minutes to alter the records; anything more and their deception was bound to be caught. Laura slinked forward, careful not to draw attention from the librarians as they approached the first record books. Her fingers ran against the wrinkled spines, muttering the names in her whispered breath. The collection was astounding, forbidden scripts and lengthy swirls of writing almost screamed to have their stories leap from the page and be born into the waking world. Then they approached the records. Dust clung like trees to Shale Mountain as Laura scanned the titles. For a moment, a squeak sounded through the stale air. The two jumped back to see a librarian stacking shelves not four meters away.

  Covering their breath, the two tried everything to stay silent as their hands reached towards the university section. The book's thin gold title seemed to shimmer in the air as Jan’s palm opened its cover. Without hesitation, they flipped towards a blank section, quickly scribbling in their university name with etching blocky font.

  Sill Coltage

  Strikes, Jan thought as he erased the letters.

  Silt College

  “What’s taking so long?” Laura asked. She ducked as the librarian's vision came into view. Luckily, they had turned the corner just in time.

  “Look I’m working on it” Jan hissed.

  Sill College

  “You don't have to make it catchy!”

  Laura looked down in hesitation. Her face grunted in dismay. It wasn’t the most creative name, but with money, they would be able to pass it off well enough to steal Crous’s files. The tiny rock however buzzed slightly. Strangely enough, the creature seemed happy, repeating its name over and over as it whispered in Jan’s ear. Sometimes I outdo myself,

  Jan muttered before the two slinked backwards. They were moving eerily slowly, tracing step after step along the carpeted floors. Jan was halfway towards the hole. He was helping Laura climb onto a bookshelf when his head peered through the panel.

  A face looked back.

  “Laura look out!”

  A spear thrust splintered into the bookcase's wood. Terror shot through the young mage's veins as over twenty Jannic guards had encircled the tiny opening. He struggled for a moment, and Laura made a dash across the hall and towards the vault. It was a vain gesture as she sprinted past the librarian and into the dimly lit corridors. In a few seconds, they would be doomed, bankrupted and jailswept by Irwain’s hand.

  Struck back to the tutelage and was possibly expelled. Jan’s heart swirled for a moment as Sill sat quiet, tiny whispers disappearing into faded memory. Laura had made it halfway to the vault door, her head turning frantically as she looked for any form of exit. A guard approached sword sheathed, as he tried to tackle her into parchment bundles. Laura rebounded, striking the soldier on the jaw and sending him flying back to have four more sprints from the resounding direction. She kicked more, causing another to grunt in pain. The young mage was soon overwhelmed. Cloak still speared into the wooden plank, Jan shifted his weight, attempting to tear the woven fabric. He opened his eyes to use magic only to find his powers drained. Fatigue slipped through his limbs as he scanned the guard's muffled grunts and smiling faces. He was just about to throw himself at the spear’s shaft when a familiar voice called out.

  “If it isn’t our little consul?”

  Above Scrier Longsa smiled as she plucked the spearhead from Jan’s shoulder and sent him tumbling to the floor.

  Strikes, Jan cursed. He hadn’t expected her to be here, generals were notorious for their lives of luxury. Politics and leisure are imbued into their every waking day. At least for the most part Longsa must have been different. An idealist who led from the front or lived off thrills.

  Ten minutes later, Laura and Jan sat with their hands bound. They were in the heart of the library, spindly iron rope scathing against their skin. Longsa had positioned them no more than a meter away from the nearest watcher. Jan struggled at the sight of the meteoric rock. Its metallic taste clung to the air, a cloud upon their every thought. In ancient tales, a watcher would often induce visions in the powerful mage it suppressed. To Jan, it only slathered pain. A minor wincing tension that shot through his every waking moment. He leaned to the left to see that his cloak pocket had been torn open. She had searched for them for weapons but found nothing.

  For a moment, Laura shot a panic-stricken glance at Jan, but he shook it off. The two followed another scribe towards a locked room where they sat down. There, they saw Sill resting on a nearby table. The oaken chairs were rough against their backs; the wood creaked as the two sat, and a musty tang filled the air. The room was a simple mix of brick and mortar, no windows and only one way out.

  “Two mages, one of which the most talented youth in Kag, found guilty of trespassing and assault on Imperial guard”

  Two soldiers leaned against the foremost wall, nursing their wounds as they glared at Laura.

  “What are you doing here?” she muttered sarcastically.