Vesper did the best he could, hiding the Imp Romance book Quill had handed him. The truth was that Vesper wasn't into Imp Romance, nor did he want to be caught dead carrying the book. But that was a small price to pay to keep his secret book a secret. That didn't stop Vesper from tucking the promiscuous cover to his clothes and rushing towards his room at the Slum Pickens Inn at breakneck speed.

Vesper nearly stubbed his toe as he kicked the Inn's door wide open, only to come face to face with Grunkor… well, more like face to knee: Grunkor's face, of course, and Vesper's knee.

Grunkor's eyes bulged as he spotted Damsel and Demon, clearly recognizing the book.

"Into demons? Freaky. Even tribe mates don't mess with demon sex, too many curses, and tentacles. One time Tribesmate Grubbins flirted with one, and it ate him. Two bites and he was gone. Don't worry, no demons here."

"I'm not into demon sex, Grunkor!"

"That's what Grubbins always said. No need to lie to old Grunkor. Client-Innkeeper Confidentiality." Grunkor winked at Vesper.

Vesper groaned. "Look, how do you even know how to read? You're a goblin. The scantily clad succubi are on the back, not the front cover."

"Goblins read. All goblins have three tongues… Wait, no, how do I say it? Learn three tongues plus writing. Humans just aren't as refined as goblins, and that's ok."

"You eat cockroaches."

"Case and point. Cockroaches have a nice chew and squishy inside that only open-minded races truly recognize."

"And rats and moths."

Grunkor just shook his head. It was impossible to argue with a fool who thought he was right, no matter how wrong the fool actually was. Rats and moths had fine textures and flavors, especially when eaten fresh.

The goblin knowing this argument was a lost cause, changed the subject. "Staying another night?" asked Grunkor. It was essential for Grunkor to make sure that Grunkor's only source of income stayed as his income.

"Yeah, let me stop by to put this book away. I'll pay you tonight once I make a stop.

"Yay! Grunkor keeps repeat customers! "The little goblin did a little fist bump and a happy dance. Vesper stepped over the goblin, climbed the stairs to his room, and chucked the book on his bed. He was late as it was, and the risk of Olbin finding out he hadn't been tilling the field was growing every second.

Vesper was out of breath as he ran to the cursed patch of farmland. He could feel the guilt in his stomach as if he'd eaten rocks, and they weighed him down. Knocking on the door, Vesper prayed that Olbin had done what Olbin always did.

Like Clockwork, Olbin opened the door, presenting himself as the drunk mess that he was. Vesper wrinkled his nose as the stench came off of Olbin, his shirt soaked with sweat and stained with ale.

"Hardly sweating, are you, boy?" Olbin had a stern look on his face. He paused. "I'm just messing with you. Getting the hang of that shovel over there, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am."

"Well, too bad you're a useless [bookworm]. If you had a farming class, then maybe this wouldn't have been a lost cause."

Olbin just nodded and placed the meager copper into Vesper's hand. It was brief, but Vesper swore that he saw Olbin look miserable, sad, pained. As fast as Olbin's door opened, it was closed.

Guilt still lingered in Vesper. It wasn't his fault the gods had cursed him with growing up parentless. It wasn't his fault he couldn't advertise his class. As much as he hated lying to Olbin, his only way of making something of himself was to shirk his duties. Even though it was a pointless struggle, Vesper didn't feel great about it. But he got the coin, and that was enough to convince Vesper that maybe what he was doing was fine, just fine.

So at dawn, when the sun rose, Vesper wasn't tilling Olbin's desolate field. Like any good [bookworm] on a warm sunny day, Vesper was sticking his face in musty books in a dark library, choking on the smoke of a dim candle. He'd till the field tomorrow, Vesper repeatedly told himself.

Countless dictionaries sat on Vesper's table as he tried to decipher the strange text in the old book he'd found. Quill was busy writing letters on the other side of the library and paid little attention to Vesper. Partly because he was busy, and partly because Vesper had made sure to cast [unremarkable]. Vesper didn't know how Quill'd react to Vesper's find and wasn't keen on taking the risk of Quill yoinking the book from him. Going to Quill for help was the last resort.

Vesper had checked out these Dictionaries under the premise of a scholarly desire to learn foreign languages. An odd request for someone who could barely sound out the most basic words of his own language. This was a bold lie that had no merit. Vesper couldn't care less about other countries and had no plans to travel. Lucridge was the perfect city. Anywhere else would just lead to disappointment.

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Yet after flipping through book after book, Vesper learned that he was only wasting his time. Not a single foreign language matched the mysterious text in the old worn-out book he'd found. It was frustrating to the point where Vesper was almost tempted to ask Quill for help, but he wouldn't give up this easily, except maybe for the rest of the day.

Vesper knew that eventually, Olbin would realize that Vesper hadn't been putting his blood, sweat, and tears into tilling his field. It was wishful thinking, but Vesper wondered if there was a solution for his problem hidden among the library pages. Ending his [unremarkable] skill, Vesper crept up behind Quill and poked him on the back.

Quill jumped out of his chair like a startled cat.

"Uhm, Vesper. Next time warn me when you're coming over, and don't touch me while I'm entranced in my reading. How can I help you?"

"I need books on farming."

"Farming? You're a [bookworm], not a farmer." Quill paused, thinking. "Ah, perhaps you're curious about the Victorian Elves Plant Construction or the Living Plant Carnivores."

"No, I need books on farming. Preferably ones that'll help me till hard soil."

"Ah, I think I have just the books. The efficient guide to farming and desolate to fertile should do the trick."

Quill went about and came back with both books, plopping them on Vesper's table. He hurried back to writing letters, pleading for funding.

Vesper took his time looking through the books, but he found no revelations that would help him. He had some experience on Lothar's Farm and knew that animal remains softened soil. It would be a good solution next year, but the field needed to be tilled this year, without skills, of course. The problem was that these books were thick, and Vesper still had to go slowly, harassing Quill whenever he got stuck, which was often.

Animals were another option, but they were costly, likely more than Vesper, let alone Olbin, could afford. Searching through these books was like searching through the mysterious book he'd found. Vesper felt like he was smashing his head against a stone wall repeatedly, metaphorically, of course. The books didn't fight back when he read them.

Vesper, for all of his excitement, left the library feeling disheartened. He was foolish to think solving his problems would be easy, let alone quick. He wasn't the type of person to give up easily, though.

Bashing his head against a wall was what Vesper did best, metaphorically, of course. Vesper could maybe take one or two hits to the head before getting a nasty concussion. Not that it mattered, since no sane person would do that. The week followed, with little success as Vesper scoured the foreign dictionaries while hoping for any hint of what the mysterious book was about, as well as the slightly helpful but not very helpful farming books.

He decided that it would be too obvious if he never showed up to the Olbin's farm. So going to the library only happened every other day. Now, Vesper sat in the library, tired of not finding anything and having to repeatedly cast [unremarkable]. It was a good skill if you didn't want to be noticed. It wasn't good enough to steal stuff or hide a naked person. It was just good enough to hide someone who wanted to be hidden and shut their trap.

Vesper threw his hands up in frustration and slammed the book closed. Quill was startled, nearly falling out of his old rickety chair. He stood up and waltzed towards Vesper, who cringed internally. If Vesper knew one thing about Quill, he hated damaged books or even the thought of damaged books.

"Vesper! That's not how you treat books. You treat books with care, like a precious infant, maybe even better than an infant, depending on the volume you're reading. Let me see the book!" yelled Quill as he snatched Vesper's old, secret book.

Frankly, Vesper was only a little ashamed of what he'd done. That book had caused Vesper more mental anguish than even Lothar at this point. Maybe that was an exaggeration, but even under Lothar, Vesper had enjoyed the progress. The book deserved far worse than a light slam against the table.

Quill moved the book to the table farthest from Vesper and carefully examined the worn cover. He ran his fingers along the spine before flipping through the pages.

"Where'd you find this?" Quill asked.

"Around the fourth row, lodged between two books."

"It's old. Well, no wonder you were having so much trouble finding the language. That's what I assume the foreign dictionaries were for? It is written in the old language, before the fall of the Black King. I might have a dictionary, although it'll be missing a lot of words. The last time this language was used was 2,000 years ago. This book could be over 5,000 years old." Quill remarked.

"You're not going to take the book away from me?" Vesper asked.

"I should, with the way you carelessly tossed this remnant of the past around." Quill huffed. "But you found it and will likely gain a level or two from reading it. I'm not cruel enough to take that away from you. Next time, don't try to hide it, Vesper. I'm not some sleazy merchant trying to fleece you of your belongings."

"Thanks, Quill."

"No Problem, Vesper."

Quill was tempted to snatch the book from Vesper. His former mentor would've taken it away from him without a second thought. But Quill's abhorrence to become his selfish mentor trumped his temptation to take away Vesper's little project. Quill knew it was a poor decision, logically. If the book had even the slightest amount of important information on the wonders before the great fall, it would be enough to fund the library's repairs by itself.

Quill thought about the promise he'd made long ago. Morality and Book-keeping in tandem, something unheard of among scholars. Few folk outside the industry knew how much spying, theft, and horrible gossip went into climbing through the ranks of most libraries. It was politics, and politics were something Quill had grown to abhor. Merit was what should matter, but that was in an ideal world, not a world based on reality.

Quill rummaged through the back before finding the stack of loose scraggly papers that contained all the knowledge that modern society knew of the dead language. Only fourteen texts from this period were publically known to exist. Quill didn't doubt for a second, though, that head scholars had found more and had hoarded the books like fat nerdy dragons who couldn't breathe fire, let alone breathe after a light jog. Quill gingerly placed the loose papers in front of Vesper, along with the old book. As much as Quill wanted to stay and watch, he was pressed for time. It was either obtain funding or let the library rot.

"Vesper, whatever you do, don't lose that book. Don't sell it, don't even crease its pages. It's worth more than this whole library combined."

"Yeah, I'll make sure to keep it safe," said Vesper.

"I mean it, Vesper. I'll want to take a look at it, too. These types of finds are rare, possibly once in a lifetime type finds."

"I heard you the first time, Quill. I gave you my word that I'll take care of it. I promise."

"Good. I'll be back before nightfall."

Vesper felt giddy as he began comparing the words on the cover to the words scribbled on the sheets of translations.