“Why do you like the library so much?” Blake asked. Carrying our bland school lunches, we made our way down the familiar path.
“Have you ever read classic literature?” I asked.
“Not really,” he admitted. “I’d rather just watch a movie.”
“Well that explains a lot,” I mumbled.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you're an idiot,” I cheekily responded.
“Okay Mr. I made the world’s best AI when I was 12 and am the most wanted thief.”
“That’s my name. Zack for short though,” I deadpanned. “But seriously, there’s just something … special about the classics. Words are the key to a heart, and the classics do it best. They really give you a lot to think about.”
“Nerd,” Blake quipped. In response, I poked his arm with my middle finger. He similarly returned the gesture with a big smile, only putting it down when we walked in and an adult was present and he would face consequences.
Today, it was a bit desolate. The cliques of people normally here were instead out doing a picnic activity. This only left the people without friends inside the library. Well, them and us.
But unlike them, I was actually going to be talking to someone.
“Hey Mr. T! How’s it going?” I warmly greeted him. He was drawn away from his computer screen.
“Oh, Zack, are you here about the paper?”
“Yeah,” I said. “What can you tell me about it?”
“Oh, I have so much to tell!” he said rather excitedly. It caught me off guard from the passion he was showing, so much so that I took a small step back. “First off, where did you get the paper?”
“Uh,” I hummed as I thought of an excuse. “I bought it from a private collection.”
Blake glared at me with questioning eyes. I just shrugged my shoulders at him.
“For how much?”
“A million,” I said with a hint of irony. He stared at me with his gleaming and passionate eyes. Our school was filled with rich kids from powerful and wealthy people, so this wouldn’t have been too surprising.
“You got the deal of a lifetime,” he said before reaching into his desk. He took out a glass case, one that would usually house treasured playing cards, but this one had a small piece of paper.
“What?” I mumbled out. Why was this in a glass case?! Not only that, but it was in a PSA box with wooden edges.
The librarian either didn’t hear me or just ignored me. “So the material itself is parchment on papyrus. The texture and look is consistent with the two materials. Those materials are a characteristic of Roman documents.”
“Uh huh,” I hummed. I didn’t want to be rude and tell him that I didn’t care, so I just resorted to doing the bare minimum.
“The edges are black and heavily singed, indicating that it was burned. The ink on the text has lost its color but blended with the parchment, making it a blue color. This particular shade is ultramarine, which is a-”
“An extremely rare and expensive shade of blue made from lapis lazuli and used in ancient times,” Blake continued. I looked at him, pleasantly surprised.
“What?” he asked. “I know stuff.”
“Blake’s right, it was quite rare and odd to see it here,” he said. “And then there’s this right here,” he motioned to the edge of the paper. Only half of it remained, but it showed what looked like a sideways D.
“It’s hard to recognize, but I think it’s a lyre and a bow. A symbol of Apollo.”
“As in the Greek god?” I asked.
“The Roman one I believe,” he corrected. “But that’s what’s so interesting. I did my dissertation on the Sibylline books-”
“The books that supposedly contained prophecies?”
“Those are the ones,” he said. “But all the features point to this little paper being part of it.”
“Those are myths though,” I said rather pragmatically. “Even if they did exist, the information would be wildly inaccurate.”
“Well we’ll never know for sure. I love myths as much as you do, so that side of me makes me want to believe it. Like how you love Robin Hood and then London happened.”
I chucked at his joke, but for a different reason than he thought. He had a small smile as he slid the box over. Inscribed where the lines:
Ad claustrum solvendum, ubi fata texunt,
Ab turba capere, quod tenent et credunt.
Cum virtutibus intaminatis et operibus quae incitant,
Arcana Plaunae tum revelabuntur
“So what do these translate to?”
“To unseal the gate, where destinies weave,
Take from the masses, what they hold and believe.
With virtues untarnished and deeds that inspire,
The Plauna's secrets shall then transpire.”
A long silence followed. I didn’t know what to make of it, and judging from his lack of explanation, he didn’t either. I repeated the words in my mind hoping that it would make sense. But my eureka moment never came.
“And what about the back?”
“That,” he began as he rotated the box. “-is a mystery to me. It’s in a cipher of some sort, and that isn’t my area of expertise.”
“But you know all about Roman history from your library science degree,” I said. He gave me a side-eye.
The length of the text resembled actual words. Ciphers aren’t really my area of expertise, so after trying the Caesar Cipher, I gave up.
“Well thanks I guess,” I said. I reached over the table to grab the glass box and put it into my backpack.
“You know, Mr. Ramsay might be able to decipher it.”
“And in exactly what way is he qualified?” I asked somewhat in doubt. Can you really blame me though? How does a math teacher know how to crack an old cipher?
“He mentioned that he researched ciphers in college. Maybe he’ll know what type this is.”
“Of course he did,” I responded with a sigh. “Thanks for your help.”
“It’s my pleasure. However, I recommend you send that sample to a forensic analyst to see if it’s truly a sample of the Sibylline books.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“Will do,” I lied.
“And here’s for helping us,” Blake said. He reached into his pocket and took out a small diamond. He placed it on the table and slid it over to him.
“Oh, I can’t accept a gift as valuable as that,” he said. His eyes sparkled for a bit though, as if thinking about it’s monetary value.
“Value is subjective,” Blake said. “The price of diamonds is artificial. And this is just some leftovers that I haven’t been able to sell.”
“You sell diamonds?”
“I took over my family’s business,” Blake replied somberly. Mr. T, although not knowing the circumstances, had an inkling of what Blake was hinting at.
“Still, I can’t accept this,” he slid it back over to us. Before Blake could refuse it back, I snatched it into my hand.
“Well, if you change your mind, it’ll be here for you.”
“I appreciate it,” he replied as he began to sit back down. “But this is too much for you to be giving away.”
“No worries, I understand,” I empathize. Turning to look at Blake, I moved my head slowly toward the door. He understood my message and began to walk out of the library.
“Are you really keeping the diamond?” he asked.
“You should know me better than that,” I said, faking a sob. “I’ll just slip it into his pocket later.”
Blake shook his head while laughing. “What else could I expect from you?”
“Heheh,” I laughed.
“So, are we heading to math?”
“An unknown text from an ancient book that supposedly foretells the future. Tell me you’re not the least bit interested in what it says?”
“I am, but what are we supposed to do with a prophecy?”
“It’s about the journey, my friend, not the destination,” I said. “Actually that sounds like a plot for a movie or a book.”
“It’s going to be a very short journey if he knows.”
“Well, at least I’ll learn something new,” I said. As we approached the hallway to the classroom, I took out the paper and had another look at the back. The text, while confusing, imparted a sense of mystical. Not only that, but the enigma that was the message just had me excited to solve it.
“I wonder what you could be.”
----------------------------------------
Augustus was puzzled. Staring at his computer screen, he looked at a seemingly meaningless string of letters.
Xy tbr lddt mnpesilr ou l lyteco, a wyut dhuyl vweuz,
Twp athrt reg'f stnryg, ppct is twp dlrab.
Eo oarpgef ght aanu aco syprtes nuegpih,
Bnt xumg dtnoxr twp scyece hszn dq tbvs hlclrd vpm.
His desk was an unorderly mess. Papers, riddled with scribbles and letters, were scrambled all over. Some were crumpled while others were straight. His eyes were drooping and his eyebrows were scrunched.
As he scribbled to the end of his paper, he let his pen fall. The sound of it hitting the table echoed throughout the room as he leaned back in his chair.
‘I’m not getting any closer,’ he thought in frustration. Turning his head, he looked out of the window of his apartment. It was completely dark outside. The only source were the street lamps.
“How did Sherlock do this?” he spoke aloud as he closed his eyes. “The only clue to the Plauna in my hands … and I can’t even DECIPHER IT!” He pushed the papers on his desk to the floor with great force.
With a sharp inhale, he took a long moment to collect his thoughts and regain his composure. Releasing his breath, he opened his eyes once again. In front of him lay a picture of Sherlock Holmes in black and white. Almost like a shadow.
Augustus frowned. He felt like the picture’s eyes were locked onto him, judging his failure. Almost saying Why can’t you solve it?
“I’m trying my best, okay!” he exclaimed to no one. He kicked the table before returning his gaze back to the letters hanging on his wall.
‘How is someone meant to decipher this?’ he wondered. Nothing he tried worked, only producing even more nonsense. ‘Even using state of the art technology, I can’t figure it out.’
His shoulders slumped as minutes passed. It began to feel heavier and heavier as his frustration increased. His day had been spent thinking about what–ifs and failure. Even his most advanced techniques failed to crack the simple code.
He stood up and began pacing around his small room. His mind never stopped trying to solve the problem.
‘Well what do I know?’ He took a step backward. ‘The length resembles English, so it’s a substitution cipher of some sort. The shift changes with each letter because they don’t repeat. Except for twp.’
‘The positioning at the front of the first clause and end of the first suggests that it’s an article due to the flexibility of its position. So something about the cipher makes it repeat after 24 spaces.’
‘And the magic around it was old, so the cipher couldn’t be something too recent. That narrows it down to around 20 different ciphers.’
With renewed determination, he hurried back to his seat and began to do research into the possible ciphers. It took hours for him to properly research all of them. Much to his dismay, he experienced failure after failure as he tried more and more ciphers.
“And that leaves me with one left,”
----------------------------------------
“Well, those are just my thoughts about it,” I said to Mr. Ramsay. “And again, take it with a grain of salt. I’m more comfortable with modern encryption.”
“Well, your points are good,” he said. “Especially about the repetition. The length of the key might be a multiple of 24 and probably more than 3, so 4, 6, and 12.”
“That’s great and all, but it doesn’t help if I don’t know what cipher was used,” I said, taking a seat. “And again, I don’t know a lot about ciphers.”
“Um, just so we’re on the same page,” he said. “This was on the back of an old piece of paper, one with Latin Text mind you, and is encoded.”
I raised my hands. “I didn’t write it, so don’t judge me!”
Mr. Ramsay chuckled before dawning a look of realization. “You know this reminds me of the Latin phrase quid-pro-quo.”
“Something for something,” I translated out of instinct. “Is that going to help us at all or are we just saying our intrusive thoughts?”
“You know Latin?”
“My dad traveled a lot and took me with him,” I grumbled. “Is this relevant at all?”
“Depends on your definition,” he said. “If I figure it out, are you going to go into the tournament?”
I stared at him with narrowed eyes. So that’s what this was about. “You know what? Sure. If you figure it out, I’ll participate.”
He reached into his desk and pulled out a white form. When I saw what it was, I couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll sign the form after.”
“I’d rather you do it now.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“No we don’t,” Blake said, his first words in this entire conversation.
“I’d rather have all my bases covered,” he replied. “And you’re not exactly known for your honesty.”
I quickly grabbed a nearby pen and began to fill out the necessary info. “And I thought teachers were supposed to see the best in their students. You couldn’t at least pretend to be impartial?”
All he did was wink his eyes and grin. The pen flew across the paper before I finally lifted it up. I rotated the paper and allowed him to examine it. “Your turn now.”
He picked up the case that the paper was in and stared at the letters for a minute. I saw his eyes moving from left to right constantly as he analyzed the paper. After he analyzed it, he began to write equations onto a piece of paper. He worked on them for a few minutes before having a satisfied grin.
“You’re looking at a Vigenère Cipher,” he said confidently.
“How can you be sure?”
“The repeated string is a give-away, but not a definitive one,” he explained. “But the index of coincidence, or how likely you are to draw two matching letters by randomly selecting two letters from a given text, is 0.0471. It’s definitely a polyalphabetic cipher. And the IC is close to that of a Vigenère Cipher.”
Most of it went over my head. I may be a nerd, but not that big. But just from the way he was talking, with passion and all the technical detail, I could assume that he was right. “Yeah, exactly what I was thinking.”
“And the good thing about that,” he began as he turned his chair towards his computer and began typing. “Is that with the advent of computing, it’s really easy to crack.”
He flipped his screen in view of Blake and I. Looking at the website link, I opened my laptop and went to it. I pasted in the code and pressed the bright-green decrypt button.
Three seconds. That’s how long it took to crack it. A lot faster than it would’ve taken centuries ago. Hell, it even provided me the key.
“There’s that word again,” Blake said while he looked at my screen.
“Did it work?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It says …”
----------------------------------------
“In the lost diamond of a legend, a clue shall gleam,
The azure gem's secret, part of the dream.
To unravel the path and secrets therein,
One must decode the silent hymn of this sacred gem.” Augustus said. His voice, while predominantly carrying a sense of tiredness, had a proud undertone.
“It was so obvious!” he exclaimed aloud. “Why didn’t I think of it before? Especially Plauna being the decryption code. Only a treasure such as that would be the subject of the prophecy..”
With a big smile that seemed to stretch from ear to ear, he leaned back his chair with his eyes closed. He reached into his pocket and speed-dialed a familiar number, not even bothering to open his eyes.
“Military Intelligence Section 5, how may I direct your call?” the operator asked.
“Supernatural division,” he replied. “Augustus Holmes.”
“Understood,” they said. The line clicked before a set of ringing played.
“Augustus,” a feminine voice said. “It’s been two days, what do you have?”
“I’m sorry it took so long,” he began. “But I’ve deciphered it.”
“And?”
“It says,”