Arn returned to the Scholar's Shack, wholly exhausted from maintaining the barrier. At some point, exhaustion took precedence over his discomfort with the ominous dark streets. He didn't know which was better. He stumbled into the main foyer, where the long-nosed administrator made a half-hearted attempt to get his attention.

Unfortunately, Arn was far too focused on the upcoming ascent to his room to notice. The administrator didn't seem too broken up about that and went back to his business. Finally in his room, Arn only just managed to take off his boots and parka before slumping into bed and promptly falling asleep.

The call to breakfast woke him up once again. Arn got up from bed and rubbed his eyes. A memory of a dream faded from his thoughts just before he could grasp it. He saw his parka lying on the floor and his boots thrown about at the entrance. There was an envelope beneath one of his boots.

"Oh, bear piss!" he exclaimed and rushed to get it. The paper was partially wet, and some of the letters were smudged. Thankfully he could still make out most of the message:

Dear Arnyrath,

Your scholar mentor will await tonight at the tavern. Her name is Rana Dar Shassar. She is the archives keeper of the Kalarhan Vault and will supervise you for the duration of your stay here.

Arn repeated the name in his mind. Then with a start realized that the letter was from yesterday, which meant that 'tonight' really referred to yesterday night. He fell back onto his bed.

Fifteen minutes later, Arn sat at a table in the first-floor tavern. His interaction with the serving girl went smoothly this time - though she still looked askance at him. He patiently waited for his breakfast while planning to return to the small council and explain why he missed yesterday's appointment. He couldn't decide whether being this incompetent made him more or less suspicious.

"Arnyrath?" he heard someone call. When Arn looked up, he saw a woman in a light brown coat with an old bear pelt draped around the shoulders.

"Hello," he said, "yes, that's me. But, please call me Arn."

"Oh, not a problem, Arn," she said with a hint of relief. "I'm Rana," she added. Arn immediately stiffened, but she continued, "unfortunately couldn't make it last night."

Upon seeing his relieved face, Rana raised an eyebrow. Arn decided to ignore it. Rana pursed her lips, then took off her coat and sat at the chair across from him. "You don't mind that I sit here?" she asked after the fact.

Arn wondered what would happen if he said that he did mind, "no, of course," he said instead.

"Just a bit of business to get out of the way," Rana said softly while taking out a device similar to the one he saw at the Small Council building. "I'll just need to test your token; you know how it is."

Arn nodded and placed his token on the indent upon the tablet. The inscriptions glowed light blue as they did last time. Rana smiled and handed the token back to Arn.

"Congratulations," she said, "you're you!"

Arn couldn't help but chuckle. She appeared more at ease immediately. Just then, the serving girl came back with Arn's breakfast. Rana took the opportunity to request a drink for herself.

While they waited for her drink, Arn wasn't sure whether starting his breakfast would be considered polite. He glanced at his food a handful of times until Rana sighed.

"Go on, eat," she said, "I've had my breakfast, don't worry about me."

"Thank you," he said in a soft voice.

Rana watched him eat for a moment. "Border town history," she said, "not the most common subject to choose, is it?"

Arn chewed slowly, using the delay to shake up the material the Inspectorate had provided him. "I've always liked the old legends and the stories of the people who lived in Nedreal before the great storm."

"But border towns?" Rana asked.

"Have you heard of the Ruins of Scharyssaide?" Arn asked.

"I'm surprised you have," she raised an eyebrow.

"Well, a lot of history can be learned from the old ruins, and there are many near the border towns," he replied, keeping his eyes on the plate.

Rana breathed in deeply and sat back in her chair. "I suppose that's true," she said. "Still, Kalarhan? I don't know why anyone would come here, never mind stay on as a scholar."

Just as Arn began to consider his answer, the serving girl came by with Rana's hot drink. The woman took it and sipped on it slowly.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"So tell me about the archives in Nysaros - that's where you're from, isn't it?" she asked between sips.

Arn froze. How does she know, he wondered. The Small Council, right, they would have told her.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"Yes," Arn blurted out. He decided to go with the truth, well, mostly the truth. "I am fairly new, actually," he said, "haven't gotten my authorization yet."

"Authorization?" she frowned.

Arn began to feel warm. A bead of sweat tickled his temple. "Maybe it's a Nysaros thing; need authorization for everything," he said.

Rana watched him for a moment, but then her expression softened, "I hear that," she finally said while nodding lightly. "I bet they'll push it through after your dangerous training," she said, emphasizing the 'a' in dangerous.

"Dangerous?" Arn asked.

Rana rolled her eyes, took a sip of her tea and leaned on the table. "You know what people say about border towns in the west," she said.

Arn nodded, "my parents were not happy when they found out."

"Here they call the eastern towns 'dangerously unmindful' and 'undisciplined,'" she said, "I bet they're afraid of everything up at the capital," she snorted.

"I've never been there," Arn said, "my father goes there often though," he added, then wondered why he said that.

That seemed to pique Rana's interest. "Your father visits the capital often?" she said, brows slightly furrowed.

"Just council business," Arn quickly replied. He noticed a barely perceptible narrowing of her eyes at his words.

"He's a member of the Small Council?" Rana asked.

"I don't know," Arn responded, "I don't think he is."

Rana raised her eyebrows and stared at him. Arn didn't think she believed him, but he genuinely didn't know. Atrel spoke very little of his work; they all knew he works with the council, and that was the extent of it.

"Well, anyway," she finally said, "we better be off. I'll have to show you around the first few days, but I'm warning you," she wagged a finger at him, "it will get more demanding after that. You'll have to pull your weight."

Arn laughed nervously. He glanced at his plate, still containing some food, but felt that Rana was eager to go. "I'm done; we can go," he said.

Matte grey clouds obscured most of the sky, only adding to the general greyness of Kalarhan. It wasn't so much the tones of the buildings and cobblestones as the oppressive atmosphere. Arn felt a chill run up his spine, and it wasn't due to the temperature. He readjusted his parka in a futile effort and followed Rana, who, for her part, didn't seem affected.

They veered off the main thoroughfare he'd used the previous day, opting instead for the small alleys he'd been trying to avoid. They didn't seem quite so foreign and hostile with Rana by his side. The narrow passages opened up into small squares every block or two, each with a stone statue at its center. Arn couldn't quite believe the disrepair around him; the walls were crisscrossed with cracks, cobblestones missing from the road. Worst of all were the statues that depicted Elar'Saga and some of the other spirits.

How could the council allow that, he wondered.

"Kalarhan had seen better days," she suddenly said as if reading his mind. Arn glanced at the decrepit statue one last time as they turned a corner. Things improved when they approached the town's center, he marked. The last of the passages they passed didn't seem much different from what he was used to in Nysaros.

"Kalarhan isn't a large town," Rana said, "it's not a village, mind you, but there are bigger and livelier centers." They'd finally exited the residential alleys. Once again, he was taken aback by the absence of the central roundabout, the large road that encircles a town's center. The lack of a clear boundary for the end of clan houses and the beginning of civil buildings felt wrong to Arn.

"Oh, I know what you think," Rana sighed, "it was jarring for me too at first."

Arn glanced at her, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes fixed on a distant point somewhere ahead. He noticed her hand fidget with one of her leather charms.

So many, he thought. Five charms hung on her belt alone. Why does she have so many? Arn had never seen anyone wear more than a single one.

"Kalarhan is old," Rana said, her voice distant and drained of its earlier ring, "before the urban planning mandates. Maybe that's why so many young historians come here." She glanced at Arn and gave him a one-sided smile, "come on," she beckoned.

Arn wondered why she had asked him about choosing Kalarhan if she knew that many historians come here because of the town's age. Was it before or after I told her that I study border town history? But, she should have known, the Small Council would have told her - that's why...

"Don't fall behind, or the guards won't let you into the archives," Rana interrupted his thoughts. Arn picked up speed.

The archives weren't what he expected, though he didn't quite know what to expect. He stood in a small room - the foyer, Rana said - with a low, arched ceiling. Several metallic frames held glowing blue crystals that bathed the room in a cool light.

He must have been staring at the devices because he didn't notice Rana come up behind him.

"The Inspectorate sure does love its archives, won't spare any expenses to keep the tomes and scrolls safe," she said bitterly.

Arn jerked in surprise at her closeness.

"Oh, I didn't mean to sneak up on you," she said.

"It's fine," he replied hastily and glanced at the emitters again.

"The blue ones," she motioned towards the emitters, "don't give off heat and don't change the humidity in a room. Very rare, but perfect for a place such as this," she spread her arms, "and, of course, when you have unlimited resources, why not?"

"Um, right," Arn replied. He wasn't used to people talking this way about the Inspectorate. He wondered whether it was a border town peculiarity or perhaps Rana was testing him. Either way, he decided to leave it alone.

Rana led them through a curtain of pelts and into the inner archives. Arn gaped at the scale of the place. While the ceiling was still low, the room itself stretched out into the distance - at least twice as large as the Great Hall. Thick columns supported the arched ceiling with rows of bookshelves creating a veritable maze.

Blue light illuminated their immediate surroundings, but the emitters in the distance were inactive. "I take it you've never turned one of these on?" Rana asked.

"Afraid not," Arn replied.

"Watch closely then. This is something you'll have to do quite often," she said and walked off to the first depowered emitter. Rana reached out her arm and touched a small stone at the base of the metallic frame. Arn saw a faint blue glow emanate from her fingers, and a moment later, the emitter buzzed alive.

"Very simple," she said, "channel Esarel into the stone base," she pointed at the place she touched earlier, "and it will turn on. Don't worry about turning it off. It will deactivate on its own within a few hours."

Arn was eager to try, which Rana let him do at the next deactivated emitter. The expectation was better than the act, though, and soon Arn thought of the action as more of a chore. The hall must have had dozens of emitters, all deactivated, and after the first one, Rana made him turn on each that they passed.

They soon stopped by a large table with a collection of tomes piled up in disorganized stacks. Rana thrust her arm towards the pile, "the first - and last - part of today's shadowing."

"These books?" Arn asked.

"These tomes were recently updated and repaired. Now we need to put them back in their proper place," she replied.

"Their proper place, right," Arn mumbled while his eyes took in the books - the tomes - he corrected himself.

Rana furrowed her brows while looking at him, "you must have started in the last few weeks, haven't you?" she said,

"Something like that," he replied sheepishly.

Rana let out a breath and shook her head. She picked up a tome, checked the spine and cover, and carefully leafed through the pages.

"Looks to be in good shape; we can return it to the shelf," she said. "But first, we'll need to separate them by starting date." She looked at Arn, "this is quite an important step; it must follow the starting date of the tome, not the final entry," she said, then put the tome on a nearby empty table.

She offered him one of the tomes, but then pulled her arm back before he had a chance to grab it. "Perhaps a refresher will serve the both of us," she said.

Arn didn't relish the idea of a refresher on the science of preserving old books, but it seemed a necessity if he were to maintain his cover. What followed was nearly an hour of highly detailed descriptions of various repair and patching techniques. Arn had to hide multiple yawns that he hoped Rana didn't notice.