“What do you think it means, Lo’Kryn?” Cambrin asked as we waited downstairs at the Rise the next morning. We’d agreed to meet Fenlyn here an hour after sunrise. We were going to ask the archivists if we could browse the library. None of us really knew what it was to be a traveller. While Fenlyn knew of the Pantheon of Balance it was only by a passing glance as she’d been devout to Dunerath since she was a little girl.

I’d been wondering what it all means for hours now, days even. When we were dealing with stuff in the sewers it had been easy to put aside this whole traveller thing but really, we had to figure it out if we ever wanted to get home. And, as much as it was pretty cool to be living the game we’d loved for so long, the life and death stakes and lack of air conditioning and electricity were less enchanting.

“Lo’Kyrn?” Cambrin asked again, nudging my arm.

I startled, swallowed, and turned to him. “I’m sorry,” I said, flushing. “I honestly don’t know what it means. Maybe something in the archives will tell us more.”

Fenlyn arrived, dressed again in her chainmail. A majestic battle-axe, glowing with a magical shimmer of golden light and shaft adorned with gleaming scales, was emblazoned on the chest of her ebony surcoat. She jogged up to us. “I’m sorry I am late.”

“No problem. We’re glad you’re here.” I probably shouldn’t have spoken for all of us since Ceylas still didn’t appear to be a fan of the half-elf paladin, but I at least was glad to see her again.

She looked up at the rising towers of the Palladium Rise. “I’ve never been inside before. Are you sure there is no problem?”

“So long as you remain with us I am certain the archivists will permit you access to the resources we are permitted to access.”

“This is Cambrin’s favorite place in the world,” Ceylas added. Her brother flushed. “I’m pretty sure he’s earned favor from at least a dozen of the archivists as an assistant for research.

“It would do you no harm to take more interest in aspects of knowledge and learning yourself, Ceylas.”

“I’m coming today, aren’t I?”

Fenlyn dipped her head, perhaps to ward off the sibling rivalry that seemed to be brewing, or simply to return us to our task. “I thank you, regardless. Shall we go in?”

I nodded, opening the door for her. Ceylas lead the way through the reception to the archivist who was currently serving at the desk. “Ammeros!” she cried, greeting the red-skinned tiefling who lifted her golden eyes as we approached. She tucked a strand of her short, straight, black hair behind her ear from which hung a long chain woven with iridescent feathers.

“Ceylas, you have come to revoke your god and swear yourself to mine, have you not?” the woman asked, raising an eyebrow. Her voice was slightly raspy, as if she’d spent too many years smoking. Beside me, Fenlyn’s back stiffened. The woman lifted her hand, offering the paladin a wink. “I jest, I jest,” she added, “you bring a guest to the archives.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Cambrin nodded, stepping up to the desk. “Yes, Ammeros. This is our friend, Fenlyn. We are intending to do some research together.”

“Of course, of course.” She pushed a ledger forward. “Sign your guest in and I will prepare an access token for them.” She eyed Fenlyn, giving her a stern look, “Only the first two floors, mind. Just as with our initiates there are parts of the Rise that are not open access. Knowledge, can be dangerous if placed willy-nilly into unready hands.”

Fenlyn gave her an understanding nod. Her right hand rested on the pommel of her sword. She eyed the tiefling warily. I tilted my head, watching the two interact. The archivist seemed to completely disregard the guarded way Fenlyn was reacting to her. I knew in some games tiefling were thought to be inherantly evil or corrupt but it seemed odd that the Palladium Rise would keep an archivist that was so inclined. And although Lo’Kryn didn’t seem to know her well I got a clear sense from his memories of their interactions in the past that she was light-hearted and helpful.

Cambrin had finished signing Fenlyn’s name into the visitor log. He handed it back to Ammeros who was whispering a phrase and weaving a sigil over something on her desk. She took the log absently with her free hand. A soft blue glow eminated from the desk before the tiefling picked up the glowing object.

“Here you are, here you are,” she said, holding out a wooden disk to Fenlyn. The glow was already fading. Fenlyn remained still, not reaching for the token.

I placed a hand on Fenlyn’s shoulder and she turned to look at me, flushed, then dropped her hand to her side. I took the token from Ammeros and handed it to Fenlyn. “Come on,” I said, leading the way to the stairs.

Several more archivists were browsing the stacks on the first floor of the library. Cambrin was already making his way to an elderly brown-furred woman with large horns. They had a short conversation and Cambrin nodded his head several times. Ceylas pulled out a chair at one of the largest open tables. She leaned back, resting her thankfully clean boots on the tables edge as she waited.

“Do we need to find books?” Fenlyn asked, glancing between me and Ceylas.

“They’ll bring us something,” Ceylas said.

I drew out a chair for Fenlyn then took the one next to her. Her chainmail clinked slightly as she sat and set the sheath of her sword to the side of her leg. Cambrin was already walking back toward us with a heavy tome. The satyr he’d been talking to had disappeared into the stack.

“We have this to begin with,” Cambrin said, laying the book on the table. “Archivist Nelalwe is gathering others.”

“What did you ask for?”

“Everything related to the Pantheon of Balance or Travellers,” he admitted. He flushed when Ceylas groaned. “I thought it best to be thorough.”

“We’re going to be here all day,” Ceylas complained, tipping back on her chair slightly. I was so tempted to guide my foot under the table to just nudge the leg of her chair but resisted the urge as the archivist, hooves clacking on the wooden floor, made her way toward us with a small stack of books.

“Quite possibly,” Fenlyn said, her voice low. She reached for the book from the top of the pile when Nelalwe placed them on the table. Blazoned on its cover was the title, “The betrayal of good and evil.” I raised an eyebrow, first at the book, then at her. She shuddered as she read the title and pushed it away, “Maybe this one is better for someone else to read.”

I took it from her, and she nodded her thanks as she more carefully browsed the stack for something a little less controversial to her faith.

Despite her initial complaining, Ceylas seemed to settle into the task. And before long all four of us were immersed in various aspects of historical record.