The Redman's Game
Chapter LXIV
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The Royal Library of Valdrick rose above the capital like a fortress built to preserve knowledge rather than repel armies. Its pale stone walls climbed toward the sky in towering arches and columns so vast they made even nobles feel small beneath them, the carved facades worn smooth by decades of wind and rain without losing an ounce of their authority.
At the summit of the broad marble staircase stood the figure that watched over the library and the city alike.
A statue.
Not merely large — colossal.
Mage Aventis, carved in white stone, one hand pressed flat against an open book while the other reached toward the heavens as though still mid-cast, centuries after his death. Wind and rain had softened the monument's edges without diminishing the quiet authority it carried. The Last Mage. Or rather — the last male mage.
His stone eyes looked out over the city with the particular expression of someone who has already seen how everything ends and made his peace with it.
Sera paused only briefly before the monument as the six Golden Cloaks accompanying her continued their steady ascent, polished armor catching the afternoon sun.
Beside her, Lora looked everywhere at once.
"Look at the size of it!" She craned her neck toward the statue. "Do you think the real Aventis was actually that tall? Because if he was, the enemy never stood a chance."
Her eyes darted from the statue to the carved pillars, to the intricate runes etched along the stonework, to the enormous bronze doors waiting at the top.
"I love this place already."
Sera could only ignore her as they reached the entrance.
The doors groaned open.
Inside stretched a world of parchment and silence.
Shelves soared upward in towering rows that disappeared into shadowed balconies far above.
Countless books lined the walls from floor to ceiling while floating lanterns drifted lazily through the air, bathing the chamber in warm gold. The scent of old paper, candle wax, and polished wood hung heavily in the stillness.
Near the vaulted ceiling, enormous windows allowed streams of afternoon light to pour down in long, slanted columns, illuminating drifting particles of dust that moved with the slowness of things undisturbed for years.
The library felt less like a building and more like a cathedral devoted to memory itself.
Behind a desk carved from dark oak sat the librarian.
A dwarf.
His beard — braided with silver rings and ink-stained cords — rested neatly against his chest while a pair of spectacles balanced precariously on the end of his nose.
He wore a high-collared coat of deep burgundy, ink-stained at the cuffs and one lapel, the kind of clothing that had long since stopped caring about appearances. He looked up from his book with the expression of a man personally offended by unnecessary noise.
Borin Stonequill, keeper of the Royal Library of Valdrick, regarded the newcomers over the rim of his glasses.
"Six Golden Cloaks, two young ladies, and boots muddy enough to make me cry," he grumbled.
He closed his book with a soft thud.
"Whatever brings you here, kindly avoid bleeding on the manuscripts."
He hopped down from his elevated seat. The visitors stared as his actual height became apparent. They had, judging by their expressions, expected someone considerably more imposing.
"He's little," Lora said, barely holding it back.
"Aye, yes I am," Borin said, approaching.
"I can tell you lot are Golden Cloaks. How can I help you?"
"Haven't been here before," Sera admitted, her gaze moving across the vast interior — the towering shelves, the upper galleries, the countless sections that stretched deeper into the library than she could immediately make sense of.
"I'll give you this much — you've done an impressive job maintaining this place."
"Lord Silver Fox deserves the thanks for that," the dwarf said. "Since earning his seat among the Lords of the Allthing, he's made it a priority to expand our collection — bringing in books and manuscripts from Luminaris itself."
"I see," Sera replied.
Meanwhile, Lora had already wandered off, darting from section to section with barely contained excitement, pausing every few moments to marvel at something new.
"Feel free to make use of anything the library has to offer," Borin added.
One of the Golden Cloaks stepped forward with a salute.
"Search for everything listed on this scroll," Sera instructed, handing it to him. "Have the others assist you."
"Yes, Lady Sera."
"And bring her along too," she added, glancing toward Lora, who had made her way to one of the upper galleries and was enthusiastically examining the shelves.
"Then get to work."
The six Golden Cloaks scattered through the vast halls without hesitation, boots echoing softly against polished stone as they disappeared among the endless rows.
Borin turned and climbed back onto his chair, already reopening his book, as though the arrival of armed knights in his library had been little more than a passing inconvenience.
Hours slipped by.
The Golden Cloaks moved aisle after aisle, carrying stacks of books from towering shelves to nearby tables, returning them and beginning again elsewhere. Dust rose into the shafts of sunlight pouring through the high windows as ancient tomes were disturbed for the first time in years.
Still nothing.
No answers. No clues.
One of the upper galleries proved too high for Lora to reach on her own.
"Wait — what about that one?" she called, pointing toward a thick volume wedged between two enormous books.
The Golden Cloak beside her let out a quiet sigh and crouched down.
"My lady."
Lora grinned. "Perfect."
With surprising patience, the knight lifted her onto his shoulders, allowing her to inspect the upper shelves.
"How's the view up there?" he asked.
"Amazing! Also dusty. Very dusty."
A moment later she pulled free a book nearly half her size.
"Found one!"
"That is a dictionary."
"...Found a very important dictionary."
Elsewhere, the strain of the search was beginning to show.
One by one the Golden Cloaks removed their helmets, setting polished steel beside growing piles of books and scrolls. Damp hair clung to foreheads. Tired expressions replaced the stoic discipline their visors had concealed.
One rubbed his temples.
Another stretched until his joints cracked audibly.
A third stared blankly at the same page he had been reading for the better part of ten minutes.
Even Sera was beginning to feel it. She sat surrounded by open books, notes, and scrolls, turning page after page with stubborn determination despite the exhaustion settling behind her eyes. Dark circles had started forming.
Lora eventually collapsed forward onto the table with a groan.
"I'm starving," she declared, resting her head against folded arms.
Sera barely looked up as she opened another book. "So am I."
"You don't look starving."
"I've moved beyond hunger."
"That sounds unhealthy."
"It probably is."
Lora watched Sera turn another page, then another.
"You're still going?"
Sera closed one book and reached for the next. "Until we find something."
"Mind if I ask him something?" Lora said.
Sera glanced toward the dwarf librarian. Borin sat atop his elevated seat, seemingly oblivious to the exhaustion spreading through the library, calmly turning another page.
Then Sera noticed it.
"Why are you smiling?" she asked.
The dwarf blinked before looking up from the page. "Oh, my apologies. This chapter got me."
He climbed down from his stand and dusted off his coat as he approached them.
"Now then, how may I be of assistance?"
Sera stared at him for a moment. "Now you want to help?" she said flatly. "You should probably go back to your book."
"Very well."
Borin immediately turned to leave.
"Wait!"
Lora hurried after him and caught his hand. "We definitely need your help. Would you be willing to assist us?"
Behind her, Sera looked away with a tired sigh, too exhausted to argue. At this point she would probably accept help from the statue outside if it offered.
Lora gently took the letter from Sera's hand and crouched slightly to hold it out for the dwarf to read.
Borin adjusted his spectacles and scanned the page.
"The Man with a Thousand Names," he read aloud.
Sera let out a tired sigh and dropped the book in her hands onto the pile beside her. "Then this really was a waste of time."
The dwarf remained silent for a moment.
His brow furrowed.
"Hmm."
Sera looked up. "What?"
"I might have come across something similar before."
The effect was immediate. Sera straightened in her seat. Lora's eyes widened. Even the exhausted Golden Cloaks, who moments earlier had looked ready to collapse, suddenly found new life returning to their expressions. One lowered the book he had been pretending to read.
Another sat upright so quickly his chair scraped loudly against the stone.
"You remember it?" Sera asked.
"Perhaps," Borin replied cautiously, rubbing his beard between his fingers. "A title like that isn't something one forgets easily."
For the first time in hours, the library no longer felt quite so heavy with disappointment.
"Here — give me a hand," Borin said, turning toward one of the Golden Cloaks whose weary expression suggested he had long since exhausted his patience for books.
The knight looked to Sera first. At her silent nod, he rose and followed the dwarf deeper into the library.
"There," Borin said a few moments later, pointing toward one of the towering shelves in a distant section. "That one."
They disappeared among the endless rows.
Back at the table, Sera and Lora waited in uneasy silence.
"You really shouldn't go around blurting things out like that," Sera finally said.
Lora raised an eyebrow. "Then you probably would've found out on your own eventually."
Sera looked at her. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
Lora folded her arms. "You took one look at him and decided he couldn't help us."
Sera said nothing.
"Because he's small? Because he spends his days reading books instead of swinging swords?"
"You didn't even think to ask him," Lora said, quieter. "Why do you judge people so quickly, Sera?"
The question lingered between them.
"Watch your tone, brat." Sera's voice came out harder than she'd intended.
"I'm your superior."
"Yeah," Lora said quietly. "You are."
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Lora looked down at the table.
"You're only doing this because Caesar asked you to, aren't you?" Her voice had grown softer.
"You brought me here because Caesar asked you to." A pause. "Would you have done it otherwise?"
Sera opened her mouth.
Lora continued before she could answer.
"Do you even care?" She looked up. "Do you care that I'll be sent away with Hollowbane?"
The words landed harder than Sera expected.
Because Lora had known. That much was obvious now.
All this time she had known about Hollowbane, about what was waiting for her, about the future everyone else discussed in whispers when they thought she wasn't close enough to hear. And all this time Sera had told herself the conversation could wait for another day.
A part of her wanted to say it immediately.
Of course I care.
The words rose to her lips.
And never came.
"It's probably for the best," Sera said quietly.
The silence that followed felt heavier than any book in the library.
"I see."
Lora wiped at her eyes before the tears could fall properly.
Around them, the Golden Cloaks became very interested in the books they were holding. One hurriedly opened his upside down. Another stared intensely at the same page he'd been on for the last five minutes. Not one of them looked in their direction.
Sera noticed anyway.
And somehow that only made the weight in her chest feel heavier.
At last, Borin returned, moving far quicker than anyone had expected. Behind him came a Golden Cloak struggling beneath five towering stacks of books balanced precariously in his arms.
"What did you find?" Sera asked, immediately rising.
"A whole lot," Borin replied, pointing toward an empty section of the table. "There."
The knight gratefully dropped the books onto the wood with a heavy thud that echoed through the library. Dust rose into the shafts of light.
Borin pulled one of the volumes toward himself and laid it carefully on the table. Sera and Lora stepped closer.
Stamped across the worn cover in faded gold lettering were the words:
Events of the Births of the Faceless — Recorded by Mage Aventis.
"Faceless," Lora murmured.
Borin opened the ancient tome with surprising care, turning page after page until he reached one particular entry.
"Look at this."
One thick finger pointed toward the parchment.
"This symbol appears in almost every account involving the Faceless — or the Man with a Thousand Names." He adjusted his spectacles. "The oldest records place it over three thousand years ago."
"Three thousand," Sera repeated quietly.
Her eyes narrowed. "What exactly is this symbol?"
She looked down at the page.
At first glance, it appeared simple.
A serpent.
But the longer she stared, the less simple it became. The creature had coiled itself into a perfect circle, its body winding endlessly around itself until beginning and end became impossible to distinguish. Its jaws were wrapped around its own tail — eating itself, devouring itself, and yet somehow remaining whole. The scales had been drawn with impossible detail, each one appearing to shift beneath the lantern light as though the thing had been sketched from life rather than inked onto parchment centuries ago.
A circle without beginning. A circle without end.
Life becoming death. Death becoming life. An eternity trapped within itself.
For reasons she couldn't explain, merely looking at it sent a chill crawling up Sera's spine.
"The Man with a Thousand Names. The Man with a Thousand Faces.
The Faceless." Borin's finger rested upon the symbol. "Different names spoken by different peoples across different ages, yet every account points to the same being."
His finger traced the circle of the serpent consuming its own tail.
"All of them belong to the House of Ouroboros."
Silence fell over the table.
"What?"
The word escaped Sera before she could stop it.
Somewhere Within Valdrick Castle
Heavy footsteps echoed through stone corridors as Sera marched forward, six Golden Cloaks following behind her, Lora hurrying to keep pace beside them. Torchlight danced across banners bearing the crest of Valdrick as they moved deeper into the castle.
Sera stopped before a pair of towering oak doors reinforced with black iron.
A Valdrick knight stood guard outside.
"Is Captain Caesar inside?" Sera asked.
"Yes, but I cannot permit entry. He is currently in a meeting with—"
He never finished.
A casual flick of her wrist. Invisible force seized him and deposited him several feet to the side in a heap of armor and indignation.
Sera didn't slow her pace.
The doors swung open.
"Caesar."
Her voice carried through the chamber as she stepped inside.
The room fell silent.
At the center, two men sat across from one another beside a roaring fireplace. Captain Caesar. And Lord Ozym, immaculately dressed as always, the firelight catching the silver at his temples. A chessboard rested between them, evidence of a battle conducted with considerably more patience than the one Sera had just fought her way through a library to report on.
"Pardon the interruption, Lord Ozym," Sera said, offering a small bow. Then her attention shifted. "Captain Caesar, may I speak with you for a moment?"
Caesar began to rise.
"No."
The single word stopped him.
Ozym's gaze remained fixed upon the chessboard as he lifted one piece between his fingers.
The queen.
He placed it upon the board with a soft click.
"The conversation can happen here." Only then did his eyes rise to meet theirs — sharp, measuring, uncomfortable to hold for long. "I'd like to hear it."
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— To Be Continued —